#sorry if parts of this are a little weird or hard to read I'm in a weird brainspace today

[1toreyouapart]

The Lies We Tell

***FANFIC THAT INVOLVES REAL PEOPLE. 18+ ONLY. MDNI. DO NOT READ IF YOU DON’T LIKE FANFIC THAT INVOLVES REAL PEOPLE***

Summary that tells you nothing: Sometimes everything you ever wanted has been right there, within reach, all along.

CW/TW: Angst, fluff, swearing, friends to lovers, jealousy, smut, fingering, PinV, pet names, friends with benefits, more to come as I actually get things written out.

Masterlist

Apologies and Heartbreak

Quinn lay there in the dark, watching as the clock ticked over to 1am. She had been in bed for hours, desperate for sleep yet unable to. It was too quiet in the house. Usually there was the telltale sounds of everyone downstairs. Random shouts, usually followed by the boys laughing. The sound of a cupboard door closing. Water running in the kitchen as someone rinsed their dishes.

They had been gone all day, hard at work in the studio. Their brief little respite after touring done before it was back to the grind. It was funny how quickly she got used to those sounds and missed them as soon as they were gone. Might as well get used to it now. It was only a few weeks out to their next tour. Then it would be another two months of silence. They seemed to always be touring these days. Or always in the studio. Sometimes she missed the days when there was more time to just hang out. When all of them could spend lazy days at the beach, or head up north for a weekend.

A soft knock at her door interrupted her thoughts. Weird. She hadn't heard anybody come home. Normally it was chaos when they walked in. Her hand slowly reached to her nightstand, searching for anything she could use to defend herself. Everything was locked up. She was certain of it. It had to be one of the guys letting her know they were home. Had to be.

"Quinn? You awake?"

Noah.

"Come in," she called out, scooting over to make room for him in her bed.

The soft click of her door opening and closing, followed quickly by her bed dipping as he slid into her bed beside her. She couldn't see him but knew by the way he moved that he was exhausted. One long arm slid underneath her, the other wrapping around her to pull her into him, those same arms locking her in place. Carefully she reached up, trailing her fingers down his face. Of all the things she missed, she missed this most of all. These quiet moments with her best friend.

"I'm sorry, Quinn." His voice was barely above a whisper.

"What for?"

"I shouldn't have ghosted you like that. I kind of, uh, panicked. I shouldn't have done any of the shit I've done." He sighed, his breath fanning across her face. "I can't lose you, Quinn."

Brow furrowed she pulled back slightly, willing her eyes to actually just fucking adjust to the dark. She could just barely make out the outline of his features. Apologizing for the weird attempt at hiding from her was one thing. But the rest? When she was a willing participant? That was a bit insane to her.

"Yeah. You shouldn't have tried to disappear on me over a fucking kiss. We live together, dumb ass. Did you really think that was going to work out for you?"

"Like I said. I panicked."

"Okay. So, maybe don't do that again? I don't know what to tell you, dude."

"Quinn."

"Noah."

"You're doing that thing where you ignore half of what I said again."

Quinn shrugged. The best she could, anyway. It was a little difficult with how tightly he was holding onto her. Noah wanted to talk about it, but she wasn’t ready to. Nor was she ready for the inevitable “it won’t happen again” part of that talk. That was too much like a full on rejection, and a girl could only take so much before she snapped.

“Doesn’t need to be talked about, Noah. It happened. It’s fine. I’m a big girl that knows how to say no.”

Noah was quiet after that. So quiet she was certain he had fallen asleep. There would come a point where it had to be talked about. She knew that. Even with him not trying to hide from her anymore things were different. Almost like he was distancing himself entirely. But yet, here he was, in her bed at 1am like nothing had happened and everything was totally normal. Everything was confusing. He was confusing.

“I’m sorry.” He pressed his lips to her forehead, squeezing her just a little tighter. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

Her throat constricted and she swallowed, desperate to shove down the urge to cry the more he talked. Sometimes she wished he could just take the hint and shut the fuck up.

“Go to sleep, Noah,” she whispered, not quite trusting her voice. What a fucking mess.

Tags: @collisionofyourkissmakesitsohard @mrscevans @supersquirrel1996

[forgettable-au]

How did you envision 'slipping through my fingers' to work with Forgettable?? I LOVE LOVE LOVE that song and when i make the animatic thing of it I REALLY wanna do it justice

I might start rambling about this so I'll add a keep reading lol

OKAY SO I'VE BEEN THINKING ABOUT THAT SONG FOR THIS AU FOR SOOOOOO LONG

Gonna use this as my chance to talk about it lol

Okay so, it's definitely from Sans POV!

The very first part could be about leaving for work, Wingdings is probably working from very early in the morning! Sans takes it more easy

and like "The feeling that I'm losing her forever. And without really entering her world" OH MY GOD THAT PART

IT WORKS SO WELL

He actually is losing him forever soon

Sans still doesn't fully understand what Wingdings thinks, which must be frustrating

"Slipping through my finger all the time" OUGHHH HE IS SLIPPING THROUGH HIS FINGERS

AND THEN "each time I think I'm close to knowing. She keeps on growing" Sans might think he's close to comprehending things, but Wingdings keeps changing and surprising him and it's at a faster pace everytime (until he's changed so much he's like a different person...and also at some point he becomes Papyrus, that also happens)

YOU GUYS HAVE TO UNDERSTAND,,, THEY'RE THE SAME AGE BUT SANS REALLY DOES SEE WINGDINGS AS HIS YOUNGER BROTHER,,,

I mean, he's always been taking care of him, helping him communicate, sticking with him through school, college, the lab

The fact that Dings is so far away from his grasp/understanding is AUGH

Why did I make this AU so self-indulgent, it is SO angsty in just the way that hits me hard LMAO Idk as someone with a little sibling, brother!Gaster hurts me more than father!Gaster

You've heard about monsters getting a sense of deja vu when seeing the human

Now ...what about Sans getting a sense of premonition about what's gonna happen?

This part would definitely be about their wish to be on the surface someday and all the other dreams they had

Some of them they did (getting that job at the lab), but most they didn't (seeing the real stars)

I envision this part as the last happy thing that happened before the incident! A little group photo! Wish you could freeze the picture? Wish things could stay this way forever? WELL, I'M SORRY BUT WE ALL KNOW THAT'S NOT GONNA HAPPEN!

Time is about to play a very silly game! (also this is so fitting with Gaster doing weird time things, maybe he is the funny tricks of time)

I obviously can't say what the incident is or how it plays out... because... that would be a huge spoiler... to the people reading this, you'll need to use your imagination!

Then there's the whole guitar part! Love that part! I imagine in the animatic I'm gonna make about this someday that there will be a shot of Sans' arm trying to reach one last time... sigh... The day I finally make this animatic it will be amazing...

But I really can't rn because spoilers! THAT DOESN'T MEAN YOU GUYS CAN'T TRY TO DO ONE I WOULD LOVE TO SEE THAT

Then we can have two, or more idk

OKAY! That last part of the song mirrors the first part of the song!

But this time!!!!! IT'S PAPYRUS!!! Leaving early In the morning for royal guard duties :D gotta calibrate those puzzles early!

AND THAT'S IT!!!!! obviously avoiding spoilers! but OH MY GOD

I SWEAR THIS SONG WAS ONE OF THE SONG THAT INSPIRED ME TO MAKE THIS AN ACTUAL COMIC BECAUSE I NEEDED TO MAKE THAT ANIMATIC AND FOR PEOPLE TO UNDERSTAND UJFIEF

What a girl is willing to do just so people can understand her silly angst animatic c: a whole comic

[kakusu-shipping]

*kicks down your door* ALRIGHT ALRIGHT LET’S GET THIS STARTED

First off I want the basics!! Who and what is your S/I? What’s their backstory and how did they meet everyone?

Aaaaaah!! Thankyou for your interest!!!! I go back and forth between "He" and "I" when talking about my S/I so apologies if this isn't cohesive!!!

I actually have two Mario S/Is technically,,,

One really really old one baby me made in... 2011 or so that I lightly revamped a few years ago; That post can be seen Here (bowuigi and Mariocest mentioned)

And the newer one made in part thanks to the Mario Movie finally giving me confirmed extended Mario Family outside of the Super Show, my Mario Brothers Cousin S/I is the one I'll talk a bit about.

I have a few posts about him and the rest of the Mario family floating around my art tag but to give the summery:

Emilio (nicknamed Emile) is the only son of Tony Mario and his ex-girlfriend Pauline. He is 5 years younger than Mario and Luigi, and 6 years older than their younger cousin Louisa. He's currently in collage at his mother's wishes to become a politician, but has no real interest in it. He has a pet turtle named after his favorite Pokemon Turtwig.

I'm using the movie's cool isekai plot of how Mario and Luigi got to the Mushroom Kingdom as my base, because I personally like it better than Yoshi's Island/Partner's in Time's sort of They were Always there plot, and it just is the only story we have on Mario Family and I love them they are my Familia. However Partner's in Time is canon to my S/I's later plot just in more of a Cross Dimensional adventure rather than just time travel because I love that game a lot

So I'm not plot important in the movie at all, that all still happens as it does in canon, I was blissfully unaware of their adventure sitting at home in Brookyln with the rest of the family until they came home.

After that, and after Mario and Luigi fully move out and into the Mushroom Kingdom, I start visiting them and crashing at their place often.

I have a deep fascination with Mushrooms, in both real life and in this Self Insert, so of COURSE I have to come be a biology nerd all over the Mushroom Kingdom, and the bros are happy to have me around. We're all pretty close, especially sense I'm the only family member who knows the brothers are together Romantically, and am willing to cover for them.

While in the Mushroom Kingdom I start getting interested in more than just the Mushroom Forests. I start asking about the people, and the other kingdoms, and the people in those kingdoms, so on and so forth. Mario and Luigi don't really know much aside from Evil King Bowser and his kingdom of Killers which. Bros I know he tried to kill you but that's a big sweep to make of a whole country. So we go ask the Princess for more information. But she's busy doing Princess Things.

Enter Toadsworth my beloved old man who deserved to be in this movie. Toadsworth has been the royal adviser sense before Princess Peach, so of course he knows plenty on the surrounding Kingdoms and their governments and justice systems and trade rates and all that juicy world building.

So I start getting into fantasy politics.

My S/I for this one is really smart, smarter than real me by a lot, he retains information well and makes more logical conclusions and can grasp big concepts my little dropped outta highschool pea brain can't, so he soaks up every bit of information Toadsworth gives him like a sponge.

A month or two of this goes by and I start missing my real world collage classes to run off to the Mushroom Kingdom and learn Fantasy Politics. I read every book in Peach's Library, and then everything in Toadsworth's personal collection, and then everything in the Toadtown local library, all while listening to any story or extra detail Toadsworth himself knows.

Meanwhile my poor dad, Tony, has Pauline breathing down his neck about me skipping classes to run off with those Hooligan cousins of mine to some Fantasy land doing who knows what throwing my future away. This isn't super plot important just. Pauline is a Mother Knows Best kind of parent while Also being a Hands Off kind of parent. I was raised in the Mario household, she paid for my schooling, that's the dynamic.

Anyway eventually I fully commit to dropping out of Human Collage to fully study under Toadsworth to become the Mushroom Kingdom Royal Adviser under him. I'm now doing super official stuff like helping plan events like galas and the Star Festival, I'm sitting in on meetings both with the Toad Court and with other Nations, I'm meeting with Monarchs and Politicians of other Countries on the weekly. I'm rubbing Elbows with King Koopa himself! The bros are not happy about that one but they ARE supportive

I even get my own room in the castle!! Which tends to go pretty unused because at this point I'd been sleeping exclusively in the Bro's house. Occasionally if I'm really focused on a job Toadsworth gives me I'll work overnight on it in my room is the castle, but that rarely happens because Luigi always calls me when dinner's almost ready so I can get home just as it's done, and no one can resist a Luigi home cooked meal. The few times I have stayed overnight working in the Castle Mario's ended up calling me at like 3am because he can't sleep and doesn't want to wake Luigi. Another reason I end up coming home.

Ah this is getting long I'm sorry thankyou so so so much for asking I don't think I've posted all this information cohesively yet?? Is it cohesive?? I hope so!!

Uhm but I think that's all the Basic information!! To summarize:

My S/I is Mario and Luigi's cousin, Son of their Uncle Tony and his ex-girlfriend Pauline. He's about 18-19 years old at the start of the movie

His Backstory is he's a Gifted Kid raised under a Projecting Mother who has an interest in Economics and Politics, but only for the fantasy world Mario and Luigi stumbled into

He meets everyone through becoming the Royal Adviser in training under Toadsworth, leading him to attend important meeting and Galas with high ranking figures like Princess Daisy and the Koopa King Bowser

Thankyou for reading this all if you did!! I hope it was interesting!!!! Please feel free to ask more if you'd like!!

[angel---eater]

Don't know why when I switched in I immediately felt like I was dying, but I guess we're back in the fuckin' building again.

[pomefioredove]

could you perchance do a part two to the yuu getting sold to the highest bidder? like how would that characters treat them if they actually get them? sorry if this doesnt make sence!! but thank uu!! ^_^

more than happy to! <3 I'm writing this as a follow up/pt. 2 to this post but if you'd like something different don't be shy! I love getting requests

parts 1 | 2 | 3 | kalim | bad ending

summary: joining their dorms + wearing the uniforms (for some). a proper ending to this type of post: short fics characters: trey, cater, leona, rook, idia, lilia, malleus additional info: yuu is gender neutral, rook is weird, both fem and masc french words are used during rook's part but reader is still gn, I need to replay book 2 to get leona's voice down, Idia being fun to write, maybe a little ooc

If you thought it was bad before, the news that Malleus intended to marry you made everything about twenty times more chaotic. Bids were upped to insurmountable sums, rumors were spread like the plague, fights were raging through campus as the deadline to donate approached. Even Crowley was starting to feel a little antsy, despite all of the brand new amenities he had already ordered for his office.

Finally, the day came. The announcement was held in the courtyard, where just about any student who had stakes in the matter had shirked whatever after-school responsibilities they had to gather. The prefect themselves was nowhere to be found, though only few noticed their absence.

"Maybe it'll be nice," you say to your direbeast companion, the both of you tucked away in a dark corner at Ramshackle.

"It'll definitely beat living in this dump. You think they got good food in Diasomnia?" Grim murmurs.

You grimace. "Uh... sure. I can't imagine they wouldn't, right?"

Crowley clears his throat, pulling a thin, delicate envelope out of his coat pocket while the crowd eagerly watches on. He takes his sweet time opening it, much to everyone's utter dismay, and when he finally withdraws the contents the entire courtyard falls quiet enough to hear a pin drop.

"And our winner is..."

Trey and Cater's Ending

"Cater Diamond and Trey Clover!"

Everyone stops dead and turns to the back of the crowd. There's a certain sense of unity that, for a brief moment, everyone can feel in the form of a single thought: Them, of all people?

Cater, ever the people-person, can already tell what's on everyone's minds. "What can I say? I run a mean social media campaign. I had some sick infographics,"

Trey can only smile and shrug at the growing disdain coming from the other students, most of which from his own housewarden, who is s currently turning a lovely shade of crimson.

"...Right. Well, the prefect will be ready for you shortly," Crowley says, folding the envelope and setting it back in his pocket. "I trust your housewarden will help you sort out the details."

Riddle looks more like he's about to start throttling them.

"Nah, it's cool. We got this," Cater smiles, though he's only half paying attention as he posts an update to Magicam. "The prefect is in great hands. Right, guys?"

Ace and Deuce shrug. Not the best outcome, not the worst, and either way it's still their friend coming to stay with them. Riddle is gritting his teeth so hard you could practically hear them grinding from Ramshackle.

"Was anyone going to tell me you two had pitched in, as well? Or was it a surprise?"

Trey smiles, almost nervously. "Well-"

"We were only giving the dorm a better chance. It's basic statistics- more Heartslabyul names in the hat, more of a chance one of us will be drawn, y'know?" Cater beams. "No disrespect, of course."

"None whatsoever," Riddle hisses back.

---

"And you're sure he's not really mad?" you ask, trailing behind the two third years.

It had been almost an hour since you'd updated your Magicam feed and read the announcement firsthand, but the shock is still wearing off.

Cater scoffs. "Whaaaat? No, he's totally cool about it,"

"Well. Now he is, anyway," Trey murmurs back. "But he certainly won't kick you out. As long as you're in the dorm uniform, you're one of us. He's just upset we went behind his back."

"...Understandable,"

Cater holds the door open for you, letting you inside to see a precariously placed mannequin with a dorm uniform in your size already on it. You hate to admit it, but it's lovely.

"Riddle had one ready. You know, just in case," Trey says, gesturing you forward. "And don't worry, we'll all be taking it easy on you while you adjust."

You run your fingers down the durable fabric. "Hm. Thanks,"

"You should get changed, I need a post to commemorate the moment," Cater says, beaming. "And I kindaaaa want to rub it in for everyone else who lost out on the best giveaway ever."

Leona's Ending

"Leona Kingscholar! Please... be responsible. Ruggie, I hope you'll keep an eye out for the prefect,"

Ruggie rolls his eyes but doesn't say anything. Leona, who had been absent-mindedly picking his teeth before the big announcement, flashes a big smirk to the audience while swaggering to the front of it.

"Well, well. Look who's come in first place, after all. What, didn't think I'd bother to try?"

Vil grimaces, crossing his arms. "Is there a point to this?"

"Obviously. I'm showing off," he rolls his eyes. "I guess I'll be seeing the rest of you lot around my territory a lot more, then?"

He snickers and then disappears back inside the building. Ruggie can only shrug at the disgruntled crowd before tailing after him.

---

"Well, that felt nice," Leona sighs, stretching out on one of the lounge chairs. "Pity that I couldn't see the lizard's reaction, but I'm sure we'll get to that eventually."

You're sitting at the table across from him, playing cards with a very invested Ruggie. You raise an eyebrow. "Who?"

"Malleus," Ruggie mutters, shuffling his cards around in his hand.

"It's never a party without him, right? He was probably off cowering somewhere with his tail behind his legs," Leona chuckles, picking his teeth again. "But everyone else's faces just about made up for it."

"Whatever," Ruggie grumbles. "I'm all in."

Though you're not exactly invested in the game anymore. You set down your cards, much to Ruggie's dismay, and stand over Leona with your hands on your hips.

"I hope you know that I won't be one of your errand runners for you. I've done enough of that with Crowley,"

He pauses, sharp eyes scanning you over. "You certainly know how to rain on someone's parade,"

"This is not a parade. This is my sanity we're talking about,"

"Tch. And what're you gonna do? Run away?" Leona rolls his eyes. "Hide in the jungle? Maybe you can take Ruggie with you and make it a party!"

"Hey, leave me out of this," the aforementioned says, shuffling the deck.

You stand your ground, though you don't know what else to say. Eventually, Leona sighs.

"Fine. I won't make you do anything you don't want to if you're just going to whine about it,"

He pauses, and a small smirk crosses his face. "But you'll at least have to wear the uniform. I need the satisfaction of seeing the look on everyone else's faces."

You smile triumphantly, and sit back down across from Ruggie for another round while Leona watches on, pretending not to care about the game.

It could be better, but it could also be worse.

Plus, something about that smile of his let on more than just a little self-satisfaction.

This could definitely be interesting...

Rook's Ending

"...Ah. Rook Hunt!" Crowley says, folding the paper back in his pocket and leaning down to whisper to Azul in the front row. "Tell the prefect I said good luck."

At the heart of the crowd, Vil turns to Rook, hands on his hips. "Rook..."

"Ah, magnifique! How happy I am, my heart could weep for joy!" he says, completely ignoring whatever disappointed comment Vil was about to unleash. "I must run to my prize at once, there's not a moment to lose!"

Vil grimaces as Rook bounds off into the school, moving so swiftly that he cuts through the crowd of confused (and mildly concerned) students like an arrow.

As always, Rook is genuine with his words- he truly feels as if his own heart is about to leap out of his chest and race him towards Ramshackle.

What a chance, what an opportunity! Not only to be close to someone he has his own private fan club for, but to truly, finally possess beauty in physical form. He would display you on a shelf if it were feasible.

The idea so overwhelms him with joy that you barely had time to ask what was going on before you suddenly found yourself sitting beside him in the Pomefiore lounge as he smooths out the crinkles in your new uniform.

He murmurs under his breath, kneeling before you while inspecting the uniform. "Magnifique, joli, belle, quelle beauté, une rose parfaite..."

...Leaving you in a torn state of embarrassment and shyness. You look across the room to Vil for help, and he rolls his eyes.

"I coulda get used 'ta this!" Grim shouts, lounging on a nearby silk pillow with a mouthfull of pâté. Two freshman are tediously brushing his fur with the nicest set of combs you've ever seen.

"Comfortable?" You ask, only a little sarcastic.

"Uh-huh! Ya know, when I found out the winner was Rook, of all people, I was a little worried. But this is way nicer than collecting dust in Ramshackle!"

You couldn't have said it better yourself.

Rook smiles. "Tsk, tsk. I would never let anyone harm a single hair on your precious head,"

The question is directed to Grim, but he looks straight at you when he says it. "Like a delicate porcelain doll, I will handle you with the utmost care,"

You're not exactly sure what you had been envisioning- maybe he'd release you on a remote island and hunt you for sport?- but this had far exceeded any of your expectations.

Though his gaze is as unsettling as ever, and any hopes of personal space are gone out the ornate glass windows, his usual guarded demeanor had softened just the tiniest bit.

It was unnerving. But nice, in a way.

"Mon trickster, this is just the beginning for us. We have many shining days ahead, and I plan on spending every beautiful breath of them with you. Do you hunt?"

"Oh, sevens," Vil murmurs.

Unfortunately for Vil, Rook's smile is contagious and you can't help encouraging him. Just this once. "Not usually, no,"

"A merveilleuse opportunity! I will teach you all I have learned, then. Ah, this reminds me of a poem I wrote for this exact occasion!"

He may or may not be watching you sleep tonight. Hopefully you're the kind of person who can live with that.

Idia's Ending

LOL. Normies.

Look at them, crowding around like a bunch of sheep. As if anyone has a real chance. SMH.

I knew it was pointless to begin with, but getting into Crowley's banking account and seeing the bids... now I feel lame for even trying at all.

That money could've gone to some new parts. I've been itching to build another PC...

The door flies open, slamming against the wall behind it so loudly that even if Idia wasn't completely absorbed in watching the announcement on his biggest monitor, he would've jumped anyway.

He whirls around in his chair, wide-eyed and shaking like a prey animal, expecting to see some high level boss or classic horror game antag waiting for him.

Instead, it's Ortho. "Idy! You'll never believe-"

"Geez, Ortho, you nearly killed me. And I don't have any extra lives this time," Idia says, spinning back around to face his screen. "Something wrong?"

"Actually, I have some really great news! Wanna guess what it is?"

Idia grumbles, powering off his computer. "Nah, not in the mood,"

Ortho's brow furrows as he catches a fleeting glimpse of the camera feed playing over his brother's screen before it flickers to black. "You've been watching the announcement on the courtyard cam footage?"

"No! I mean- well, I was just curious," Idia says. "I watched for like two minutes. Who even cares about this thing, anyway?"

"Well-"

"I mean, it was a game over from the start. Taking on the highest level bosses at our school with my measly stats? Forget it,"

"But Idia-"

"Who even cares where the prefect ends up, anyway? I doubt they'd wanna be trapped in a basement like this for all eternity,"

"Idia!" Ortho shouts, loud enough to shake his brother from his ensuing pity party. Idia can only stare as he moves to the side, revealing a rather surprised looking you, dressed in the dorm uniform, behind him.

"Idia, you won!"

And then he dies.

That's what he thinks, anyway. Really, Idia goes into a state of complete shock and blacks out so hard that, for a moment, the blinding light shining through his eyelids feels like the light at the end of the tunnel.

"Is he okay?" you ask, tentatively watching as Ortho clicks off the small light he'd been shining in his brother's eyes.

"He's displaying symptoms of a panic attack. Don't worry, he gets them quite frequently,"

A distant groaning pulls the both of you back into the present moment and you watch Idia slowly rise.

"His heart rate has steadied to 70 BPM," Ortho says. You raise an eyebrow. "That's normal. Idia, can you hear us?"

He takes a long moment to respond.

"This isn't real. I'm sleep-deprived from my last speed run and now I'm hallucinating. There's no way,"

You look between the two brothers. This hasn't exactly gotten off to a stellar start.

"Your vitals are normal, although you're lacking Vitamin C. Might I suggest having a fruit cup while we talk?" Ortho asks. Idia shakes his head. "Yuu? Snack?"

"I could go for something,"

Ortho hovers out of the room, leaving the two of you alone. You're too nervous (or is he too nervous?) to ask to sit, so you stand over him while he practically rocks back and forth. His face is so red and hot with embarrassment you could cook an egg on it.

"Um..."

He mumbles back. "Just pretend I'm not here. IK you probably wanted one of those epic SSR students to pull you, I don't blame you for being disappointed,"

He talks so fast and quiet it's hard to make out what he's saying... but you get the gist of it.

"Hey, don't put words in my mouth. This is a hell of a lot better than it could have been,"

He seems to genuinely consider your words for a moment before you're interrupted by Ortho coming back with snacks.

Idia is back on high alert the second he's returned. "This doesn't make sense. I got into Crowley's online bank info and saw all the bids, I wasn't even close to the top five. How?"

"Oh, easy!" Ortho chirps. "I simply rewired funds from Crowley's bank account to up your offer!"

"You... took money out of his account and sent it back to him?"

"Clever," you murmur.

Idia grumbles. "I guess that's not technically stealing... fine. But why? I thought I told you not to bother!"

"My user intel indicates that the prefect is very popular amongst the student body. Their top three descriptors are helpful, kind, and friendly! I thought you two might be able to practice your social skills together... Perhaps you could show them around the dorm as a starting point?"

You turn around to look at Idia, who's sheet-white. Nonetheless... he sighs and stands, muttering a quick "Let's get this over with,"

You watch, as still as stone, as he stops in the doorway and turns to look at you from over his shoulder, his face and hair a pleasant shade of pink.

"Well? Are you coming?"

Lilia's Ending

"And our winner... is... hm. I don't even remember seeing this one in the pile," Crowley grumbles, scratching his head under his hat. "Um, Lilia Vanrouge!"

Silver is the first to look at him. "Fa-Lilia, I thought we talked about this,"

Lilia, currently hovering in the shade of one of the courtyard's signature apple trees, simply shrugs. As if it were the most normal thing in the world.

"Oh, we did. I really thought about what you said, about the prefect's freedom, and I decided that you're right! But how could I guarantee their safety from everyone else?"

Silver groans (which turns into a yawn) and Lilia puts on his best cute look as everyone else in the audience turns to him.

Crowley clears his throat. "The prefect will be ready for your-"

"Oh, no need! Thank you, though," he says, and then disappears into the building.

---

You've been distracting yourself by counting cobwebs for far too long, as evident by your headache and the taste of dust on your tongue.

You turn to look at Grim. "Should be over by now. I'm surprised I haven't heard anything yet,"

"Surprised, you say?"

No matter how many times he does that, you're never quite prepared.

You jump, nearly hitting your head against the table you'd been taking refuge under. Grim yowls, clawing into your sleeve (and just barely missing the tender flesh on your arm, thank goodness), and you both stare at the fae ahead of you.

Lilia is sitting on the table, hanging his head upside down and staring right at you. Grim mumbles.

"Don't even tell me. I'm out!"

Lilia waves him goodbye as he makes a swift exit, and then turns back to you.

"I have a secret. Wanna guess?"

You're a little curious (aren't you always when it comes to him?) but that isn't enough to overpower your rising dread.

"No,"

"Aw. Really? I'm sure you'll like it,"

"Definitely not, then,"

He slinks off the table and lies on the floor, cupping his face in his palms and kicking his legs back and forth.

It would be amusing if you weren't so sure of what he's about to say.

"Well, despite your best efforts, I'm not surprised at all. But Malleus couldn't even come here to get me himself?" you sigh.

Lilia tilts his head to the side. "Now, why would he do that?"

There's something written within the margins of his tone that makes your eyes lower at him. Something he's keeping from you.

"...Well... he did win, didn't he?"

"Oh, my. You were hoping for Malleus to win? Now I'm sure we both feel silly,"

You raise an eyebrow. "Hoping is... a strong word. But I was expecting it, yes. So he didn't win?"

"No, dear, Malleus is not the winner,"

"Then... who is?"

Lilia gives you a sweet, self-satisfied grin, his fangs glinting. "You're looking at him,"

Ah.

If there's one thing Lilia Vanrouge is good at, it's surprising you. No matter how stoic you act, no matter how clever you are, he always manages to catch you off guard.

This might take the cake, though.

"I didn't even know-"

"No. Initially, I wasn't going to. But Silver and I... we had a long talk about valuing your freedom and independence, and thus I so valiantly threw myself into the flames to save you from becoming someone's slave," he pauses to smile. "Chivalrous, yes?"

"...Charming," you mutter. "But what was that thing about-"

"Oh, yes. Don't worry, you'll be treated as any other student at Diasomnia. In fact, I'm sure we already have some uniforms in your size!"

"This is... quite the turn of events,"

"Ah, isn't it? I haven't felt this elated in... well... a long time," he grins. "Come along, now. I plan on treating you to a hearty welcome dinner!"

You can only grimace at that.

Malleus' Ending

During all of the confusion, the fighting, the rumors that shook the school, no one, again, had remembered to invite Malleus Draconia to the announcement.

Not that it mattered. Not this time.

One knock at Ramshackle's creaky door and you were suddenly in the depths of the forest around the school, admiring a crumbled stone structure.

"What was it?" you ask, turning to your walking companion.

Malleus smiles slightly. "I believe it was a wall. Fascinating, no? Since you have inhabited Ramshackle, I come here when I want to be alone,"

Ah, right. You'd almost forgotten that you'd made a home out of his ruins of preference.

Ramshackle was in a much better state than this, though. At least you had four walls and a roof over your head.

"Are you alone a lot these days?" you ask, rather absent-mindedly for such a heavy topic.

You're well aware of the answer already. No, of course not. Malleus is constantly surrounded, whether that be his friends, personal guard, mentors...

"Yes,"

Oh.

"I'm... sorry to hear that," it's all you can think to say.

Fae don't seem to know the conventions of human small talk. Or maybe that's just him. Not that you mind. "What about Silver, and Sebek, and Lilia...?"

"Fine companions," he crosses his arms. "I owe them a debt of gratitude. But being physically surrounded does not amount to closeness."

Oddly profound.

You can't help but relate, thinking back to everyone you know. Even with good intentions, they're still out there, bartering over your life.

"I'm glad you came and got me," you say, breaking the tense silence. "I was afraid you'd gone to that... announcement thing."

He raises an eyebrow. "The what?"

"...Never mind. I guess my point was that I've been feeling a little lonely lately, myself,"

Malleus is quiet for a moment, staring directly ahead at the mess of stones and moss that once made up a sturdy wall. Now crumbled, scattered across the ground.

And the, he smiles.

"Well, there is a solution to this trouble of ours. But I'd need your consent,"

What exactly is he getting at? You raise an eyebrow. "Go on,"

"I've been so preoccupied with the formalities that I haven't had the chance to ask you properly, yet. Lilia suggested I might have more success this way,"

He pauses, and then smiles. "I would like us to marry. Does this agree with you?"

You thought you might be stunned. Speechless, even. But the answer comes so naturally.

"Yes, it does,"

[oatmilk-vampire]

Steve Harrington needed hearing aids.

He wasn't born needing them. In fact, he was just about as healthy as a young man in his social class could be. But numerous head injuries eventually led to gradually worsening hearing loss, leading him to needing mostly useless hearing aids.

His damage was so severe he actually needed cochlear implants but his parents kicked him out of their house and off of their insurance plan when he got caught kissing his teammate back in high school. With his minimum wage job and splitting rent with his roommate Robin, he currently did not make enough money for such a luxury.

So he did the next best thing: he learned ASL.

It was free, other than his time invested, and Robin was the one to suggest it. After all, she was already fluent in five languages and had been in band for twelve years. If anyone could teach herself and a hard of hearing person to sign, it was Robin Buckley.

The only bad part was, they were the only two who seemed to know the damn language, leaving Steve to strain to hear or read lips lest he get (mostly) silently yelled at by some deranged customer.

So when he spotted a guy around his age with long, dark curly hair and perfectly round black glasses with side shields, he knew he had to act.

He knew what it was like to have people gloss over the fact that you exist, or even berate you for it; so he took a page out of Robin's book.

He learned braille.

Sure, technically Steve could still speak to the boy, but wouldn't it be more special if he could read what Steve wanted to say?

So he practiced and practiced until he was happy, bringing the card to work where his crush appeared to be a regular.

As Steve sees him walk in, he knows today's the day.

⠓⠊ ⠊ ⠁⠍ ⠎⠞⠑⠧⠑ ⠎⠕⠗⠗⠽ ⠊⠋ ⠞⠓⠊⠎ ⠊⠎ ⠺⠑⠊⠗⠙ ⠃⠥⠞ ⠊ ⠚⠥⠎⠞ ⠺⠁⠝⠞⠑⠙ ⠞⠕ ⠎⠁⠽ ⠽⠕⠥ ⠁⠗⠑ ⠗⠑⠁⠇⠇⠽ ⠉⠥⠞⠑ ⠁⠝⠙ ⠊ ⠺⠕⠥⠇⠙ ⠇⠊⠅⠑ ⠞⠕ ⠁⠎⠅ ⠽⠕⠥ ⠕⠥⠞ ⠕⠝ ⠁ ⠙⠁⠞⠑

Hi I am Steve sorry if this is weird but I just wanted to say you are really cute and I would like to ask you out on a date

Steve is giddy when he wanders over to the boy in dark clothes. He had on black jeans that are ripped at the knees, a Metallica band tee, a leather jacket, and a denim battle vest. He's perfect. He's hot.

Steve's footsteps must be louder than he expects because the object of his affection immediately turns in his direction.

"Hi," Steve greets as he presses the thick stock paper into his hands.

The boy angles his head down with a frown as he traces an index finger over the raised dots, before looking right at Steve behind those dark frames.

He takes them off, and Steve learns after so long that his eyes are brown.

"I'm sorry," his crush says, Steve recognizing those syllables easy enough, "But I can't read this. What is it you're trying to say?"

But now that response is too much, Steve can't keep up. All he knows is the card he worked so carefully punching little holes in with a special tool he had to buy was now being pushed back into his hands.

Steve doesn't try to answer, he just wants to get the hell away before his tears spill over, but a hand on his shoulder stops him in his tracks.

He tenses, squeezes his eyes shut and braces for impact, but when a familiar hit doesn't land on his face, he cautiously opens his teary eyes to find him staring right at Steve.

"Are you okay?" He asks, but Steve can't be quite sure if he's checking on him or asking if he's gay.

Steve's own frown appears on his face as he points to his ears.

"Can't hear too good."

His mouth drops open, rushing to spiel something Steve doesn't catch. He must realize this because he's taking Steve's card back from him now as he mimics writing something with raised eyebrows.

Steve nods his head, more confused that the guy he thought was blind seemed to be understanding him perfectly.

He fishes out the little pad of paper and pen he keeps with him for moments not quite like this, passing the two items over.

He scribbles for a moment before letting Steve read what he's written in big loopy letters.

Hi, I'm Eddie. Sorry, I can't read braille. What did you say?

Steve furrows his brows.

I thought you might know it. Aren't you blind?

Eddie shakes his head with a little smile.

The glasses? I have killer migraines. Never go anywhere without them.

Steve smacks himself in the face. He's been such a fool!

Eddie taps him to gain his attention once more before handing him the notepad and pen.

What did you say? I'd like to know :)

Steve worries his bottom lip.

Hi I'm Steve. Sorry if this is weird but I just wanted to say you're really cute and I would like to ask you out on a date

He's nervous as he hands it back, but Eddie's wide grin and eager nod does wonders to knock back those worries.

I thought you'd never ask, Steve.

[lightfeltmemories]

dungeon meshi | delicious in dungeon; reactions to reader having a crush on them / having a crush on reader

dungeon meshi various x gender neutral reader

note: hey everyone, please be mindful that this is the very first time writing for these characters, i have watched every available episode but i am still reading the manga (though i do have a general idea about the setting and the characters backstories and personalities) so if any characters are ooc to you my apologies, don't be harsh im new here lol. sorry some of them are shorter than others i kind of ran out of ideas when it came to certain characters :p let me know in the comments or reblogs or more preferably in my ask box if you want me to do any other character.

characters: laois, falin, chilchuck, marcille, senshi, namari, shuro, izutsumi (i'm adding her here because feels weird leaving her out when i've added former members of the party, also this is purely sfw so nothing weird will be aimed towards her.)

trigger warnings: nothing out of the ordinary but just read the manga or watch the anime before reading this.

if you like this and my other fanfics, please be considerate to reblog my work, it not only helps reach a broader audience but it also motivates me to make more content like this!

laois touden

reader's crush: when laois finds out that you have a crush on him, his reaction is.. well, how do we put it this way? is he flattered? yes and no, he doesn't see himself as ugly but also doesn't look at himself as the most handsome guy in the world, but someone straight up having a crush on him is kind of new, he doesn't really care much for relationships at the very moment but has thought about settling down with someone he likes, will it be you?

laois' crush: when it comes to having a crush, he tries to be his normal self around you, but sometimes can't help but be a little nervous especially when the two of you are alone, sooner or later he comes to the conclusion of realizing the he indeed, likes you, but confessing is the hard part, he's never thought much about rejection, it is a normal part of life after all, but when it comes to you? it's an entirely different ball game.

falin touden

reader's crush: falin already has someone chasing after her; shuro, theres a 50/50 chance of her reaction to reader's crush being the same as shuro's, but could there be a different reaction this time?

falin's reaction: surprisingly less shy than her brother, when she comes to this conclusion she'll build up the right time to actually confess, not wanting to rush things, just watch out for shuro i guess.

chilchuck tims

reader's crush: chilchuck learning about reader's crush is a bit sad, though he's no stranger to romance as he not only had a wife but also three whole kids, he's not really good with emotions so he's kind of scared you'll leave him just like his wife did, so, if reader confesses, there's gonna be a high chance that you'll be rejected, just give it some time.

chilchuck's crush: this weird feeling in his chest whenever he see's you will confuse him at first.. there's no way he has a crush on you?? after his wife leaving him he didn't really have any interest in romance, he might as well just focus on his work at the moment, one of these days he'll bring up the courage to confess, just not right now.

marcille donato

reader's crush: she can't really decide on whether she'll return the feelings or not, definitely flattered is what i'll say.

marcille's crush: she's similar to falin, she'll build up a better relationship with you for the right time to confess, she tries to make it seem as if she's not into you but it's quite obvious to the other party members.

senshi of izganda

reader's crush: out of everyone, he'll definitely be the most flattered, someone having a crush on him wasn't something he put much thought into, not to mention romance kind of isn't his thing, nor does he think he have the time for a significant other.

senshi's crush: i don't think this is the very first time he's ever had feelings for someone, but it's definitely a special feeling, he's not nervous of confessing his feelings at all actually, and he's not that sensitive to rejection.

namari

reader's crush: namari wouldn't really know how to react, honestly, she's never given the idea of someone having a crush on her much thought, she won't care much about rejecting the reader, at least she's honest.

namari's crush: her crush will be a bit hard to spot but when it comes to you, there will be a notable soft spot, she treats you like everyone else and isn't afraid to scold you if you do something wrong.

shuro | toshiro nakamoto

reader's crush: in an au where he still has feelings for falin, he immediately rejects you, telling you boldly that his heart is for falin and falin alone, but lets go to an au where he either loses interest in her or doesn't like her at all; definitely flattered, someone liking him (back) isn't unheard of but it is... nice?

shuro's crush: just look at what he does with falin, he will propose to you at some point, of course when time goes by and he starts to fall for you harder and harder, until he just can't contain it anymore.

izutsumi

reader's crush: very, very strange, someone having a crush on her is.. almost unheard of, or she doesn't pay much attention, anywho, she doesn't know... how to react? she knows what to do if she doesn't return the feelings but... someone liking her is just weird lmao.

izutsumi's crush: she won't make it obvious.... or try to at least, she accepts affection from you much more than she does from the others and sticks by your side more.

[riizebabie444]

𝙨𝙚𝙭𝙞𝙚𝙨𝙩 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙙𝙤 𝙬𝙞𝙩𝙝𝙤𝙪𝙩 𝙠𝙣𝙤𝙬𝙞𝙣𝙜 ♥️

hey all, sorry for not posting for so long, here is one of the requested pac's. this reading is about the attractive and sexy things about you that you don't realise. there are two parts, general and from your person's pov. hope you enjoy!

picking your pile: take a deep breath and allow your soul to centre itself. when you feel your mind balanced and cleared, allow yourself to be drawn to an image.

be sure to check out my other readings and don’t forget to share and give feedback. disclaimer: all readings done are for entertainment or guidance only. please do not use my tarot readings as a replacement for legitimate advice.

♥️ ─── masterlist. paid readings. exchange rules.

donations. games/events. feedback.

pile one

in general, the sexy things you do without knowing are represented by eight of pentacles, eight of wands rv and death. with two eights here, i'm seeing your body type could be a major cause of your sexiness. it could be your chest or your booty, maybe you have curves or an obvious hourglass or pear figure. there are definitely parts of your body that people notice and find sexy. it could also be your eyes too, your eyes are sensual without you realising.

i think you have an air of mystery around you, you are private and don't like to show everything to the world in the way some other people do. it could be your body, your style, your business, even your plans for the weekend. but this privacy you have for yourself makes you seem like an enigma to others. people find the mystery sexy because then you leave it up to them to think what you are really like. mystery is just sexy anyway, so it doesn't need a lot of explaining.

furthermore, i see you being labelled as "hard to get" some may joke about you playing hard to get. maybe you're not even playing, you're just plainly not interested but others will still thank that way, that you are not easy. maybe you do it on purpose, maybe you don't i get i a mix here. but overall, others think it is hard work to get close to you whether romantically, sexually or platonically. you intimidate others with your no bullshit attitude and they find that attractive. what is rare is sought after. so many people will think you are "sexier" because there is a limited number of people you will allow your time and energy towards.

for your person, what they find sexy about you is your brightness and optimism. it is weird to describe traits like that in a "sexy" way however, i do see this. the person you are thinking of finds it so attractive how bright you are, how so many people look towards you when you don't realise. like you're nonchalant or unbothered by the attention. your confidence is also so sexy, your bravery in standing for what you believe and finding success chasing your dreams. you don't let things stand in your way.

this person really loves your back, they find it so sexy. i think you may actually be insecure about your back or just think it is not sexy, but trust me your person loves your back so much. they love your arms. they love when you are topless. they love when you wear dresses and skirts. they love when you love down at them, they get really turned on. i also think if you wear cute, coquette frilly and lace style of clothes/details on your clothes, they find it sexy. like cute lingerie or clothes in general. even floral, they find it so hot even though it's just your style preference. if not, then they want you to wear more of it because it is so sexy to them.

pile two

i think sometimes the clothes you wear and the way you hold yourself is sexy to others. it might be normal to you, you just wear what you want to wear. but some people might find it a little sexy even if you don't intend it that way. and the way you carry yourself, i see a lot of confidence here. good posture, the way you sit, particularly the way you lean down is very sexy. like say you dropped something and bent down to get it, it is quite sexy if someone saw it they wouldn't be able to stop thinking about the image. i'm seeing bending down and your hair falling or moving in that direction, like something out of a movie. but then when you fix your hair after standing back up, that is also sexy.

i think your hands are also sexy which you might not realise. people might like seeing you hold something because there is something about the way you hold things, your hands and fingers look so graceful and sexy. i see you might also be a bit clumsy, i'm seeing stars in your eyes or little stars spinning around your head. you could be a clumsy person, doing or saying silly things. in a way, this is sexy to others because they see you as a cute little, bright eyed, starry eyed thing. i get a hint of corruption here, people find it so sexy because you seem innocent and sweet but they're having different thoughts.

i see others may think you'd make a good mother or parent in general. you are seen as wife material. not the type to have a casual fling with. someone to settle down with. this is sexy because they think of having a family, how you would be as a mother. because of this, you might attract people who have breeding kinks. this message is random but yeah, the people who think you'd make a good wife and mother (or father/parent) would find you sexy because they want to breed you.

for your person, who you are thinking of, they will love your shoulders and collarbone. like i'm seeing someone kissing their a lot. they would love when you wear strapless tops or dresses. they also find it sexy when you wear gloves. the way you style your hair is sexy. again, i see when you hold things in your hand, with your person you might be holding something more particular if you get my drift, they find it sexy.

this is an odd one to look out for but i'm seeing that they find it sexy when you are emotional and crying. definitely be careful for people who are just trying to manipulate you, but i'm seeing this in a way that they like when you cry during sexy times or when you have emotional sex. for this person, emotions are a big turn on so sometimes even when you're being genuine with emotions, they can get excited by it because it is somehow sexy to them.

pile three

hey pile three. the sexy things you do without realising are represented by the hermit, justice and two of cups rv. with the hermit, i see that you have a sort of lone wolf vibe. you may have lots of friends or maybe not a lot but either way you look confident even when you are by yourself. people look at you and see that you don't need to be surrounded by people to feel confident. they think you are confident without people. you don't need anyone else to fill your inner life because you make it rich enough already. i think you also take things at your own pace, you don't conform to things easily. i'm seeing a scenario where most people are easily influenced by things they see in the internet on tiktok, but you are not so influenced. you won't follow trends for the sake of following trends but rather you'll follow things if they suit you. so people would think it is attractive because in an age where everyone thinks the same because we all consume the same, you stand out and can think for yourself. a lone wolf and smart is how i'm seeing you and it is attractive to others.

with justice, it is similar to what i previously said, you are strong in your beliefs and the things you follow. you don't believe things just because others believe it. you have your convictions. you are truthful and upright in your own regard. you judge others fairly. i think some may think you are a bit stuck up in this sense, because you stand out from fitting in with others. but i see that some still find this sexy, even those who don't like it. like, i see them thinking "i wish i was like pile three" or "i want to be with someone like pile three" but at the same time they will say "pile three is judgemental and stuck up". but still people find this attractive. there is nothing sexier than a person who knows themselves and believes themselves.

lastly, the things you don't realise are sexy, i see you personal style. i think when you wear formal attire or you dress up for an occasion, people love it! they find it so surprising and sexy for some reason. dressed smart but flashy. also, wearing high contrast colours or outfits with contrasting components makes you look sexy. in terms of your style, when you pair two colours together, it looks really good and others will think positively of your style. honestly i think again the way you are out of sync with others makes you unknowingly sexy. it's giving hot aquarius vibes, don't conform to society, doesn't think like everyone else. i also see that your shoulders and even collarbone, as well as your forearms are the physical parts fo you that people would find sexy.

for your person, what they find sexy is represented by three of wands, queen of swords rv and the artist. the way you are in control of your life and your future makes others feel proud but also scared of you, if that makes sense. and it makes them more attracted to you. for example, they would think you can sustain yourself without them and it scares them because they don't want to be without you but at the same time your power and confidence is sexy. also, your passions to travel and learn continuously comes up.

okay i'm seeing that you may have a no bullshit attitude, however, sometimes it can come off as a lack of empathy for others. whether true or not, what your person finds sexy is how you are the opposite with them. how you can trust and be soft with them and how you will confront your flaws and work on yourself as a part of your journey. and i think it is perceived as sexy because not a lot of people can do this honestly. and even when you do, it is difficult but you don't sugarcoat it. the power and the confidence and the creativity you have makes them so attracted to you and you would never think that they find it an appealing aspect of yourself.

pile four

i'm going to start with your persons perspective pile four because i'm relly excited by what they have to say. you are literally marriage material to them, or at least "i want to spend the rest of my life with them" and they find it so darn sext pile four! they love the joy and victory you bring into their life, as well as the simplicities, the domesticity. they see a beautiful and bright future with you. and i also lowkey see like the sweet forbidden fruit, so maybe you and this person aren't supposed to be together or you don't expect it and it makes the connection a bit more tense but exciting. it brings that spiciness, they aren't suppose to have you but they still want you and believe you will have a future together and that's hot to them.

i see you hands, when you're holding something long if you get my drift. your person would love it if when you giving them some hand action, it goes both ways but i'm mainly seeing the hand holding a stick so you're either playing with them or yourself. again, goes both ways. it could also be just holding random things, they find your hands so pretty so you could be holding the tv remote and they'll think it's sexy. you mind is stimulating also, you and your person could be people who need intellectual stimulation rather than physical and visual alone. your mind is like a maze they want to get lost in, they get turned on by your witty remarks and banter especially when flirting, they just want to kiss your face off.

and lastly, i see that your peaceful aura is so attractive to them. one wouldn't think calm and cosy vibes is a sexy thing to to your person and many others, peace and comfort is a turn on. you stay away from drama. like sure, everyone loves a bit of drama but i mean this in the sense that you aren't actively involved in drama, nor the cause of it, and can easily distance yourself from drama caused by other people. they love seeing you overcome things, and this makes you attractive to them because it furthers the agenda that you are the person they want to spend their future with, someone who is peaceful and warm.

now for the things in general that you do not realise are sexy. i see hands again. so not only your person, but others in general find that you have pretty nice hands. when you're holding things. i'm seeing the curve of your hand or your arm, the same and size can be a turn on for some. it could also represent the way you create opportunities for yourself. i see that you also look or act rich. whether you are rich or not doesn't matter, just the way you hold yourself, like you come from a good background. definitely a desirable feature that makes you sexier.

i think some of you may have had a glow up or your looks significantly changed. could also just be something as simple as your clothing style or hair colour that changed. this change in your appearance makes you sexier. it may not seem much to you, like say you just changed your hair colour. but others, especially the opposite sex or desired sex, find you more sexy after the change. i think you may not go out a lot, like hanging out with friends or attending parties. maybe it is not you thing. but when you do go out, everyone is excited to see you. like, you are rare to others, so people find it mysterious and kind of cherished. it makes you more desired. you may think "oh im so lonely and boring" but others are like "when will pile four hang out with us? i really want to see them" and lastly, i see the trust you have in yourself and the world or god, you seem so content and peaceful pile four and it makes you so sexy and desirable.

© riizebabie444 — all rights reserved. please do not copy, steal, repost or translate my readings on any site. any act of which will be classed as plagiarism.

[miraculouslbcnreactions]

About the "kwamis as mentors" angle: Interesting to read and analyse, yet I can't help but feel they were not necessarily meant to be seen as mentors. At least to me, they seemed to be kind of whacky mascot characters who are tied to the lore, who have a personality to crack a joke or point something out or cause a little situation or be cute, but nothing more.

They are rather naive magical entities chained to jewelry (a fact they don't seem to mind that much or think about at all except for Plagg) and all that talk about "being around for 5000 years" and having seen many holders before is just there to make them seem more wise than they actually act like. From what I've seen on the show I would even assume there's a threshold to how much they can even mature emotionally and understand humans. Sometimes Tikki and Plagg even come off as indifferent and egoistical towards their holders (like an example you gave with Tikki, or Plagg's fixation on cheese over Adrien at times).

So...sorry if I missed it, but why do you view them as mentor characters? You made an interesting post about rom-com vs magical girl and the magical girl part is exactly why I always viewed them just as critters to appeal to kids, but nothing more. I can see that the show's writing is so inconsistent that sometimes they are portrayed as wise but more often then not they are just background noise to get a little interaction on screen so that the characters are not talking to themselves about miraculous stuff or to point something out for the audience.

The show's writing is pretty weird, so there are elements that are hard to get a clear read on. The Kwamis are one such element. When they're one-on-one with their chosen, they often feel like mentors to me. When they're all together, they almost always read like "critters to appeal to kids" (mostly because there are too many of them to let them have individual personalities when they're all together). So while I think that they're supposed to be mentors, it's not like that's the only canon-accurate read.

To dig into what I mean by the one-on-one writing, let's look at this exchange from Feast:

Master Fu: See, Wayzz? If Marinette had kept her Miraculous, the sentimonster would have swallowed her right up. Wayzz: Or she would have transformed into Ladybug and fought it. Master Fu: Sometimes fighting is futile, Wayzz.

And then later on we get this:

Wayzz: Master, look! Ladybug and Cat Noir, despite their ridiculous costumes, they haven't let you down! Wang Fu: That's impossible! They don't have their Miraculous! Wayzz: Master, it's obvious it's them—who else would do something so crazy? Cat Noir (Adrien): Hey, have a taste of this! Some exploding banana split from Bananoir! Ladybug (Marinette): Much tastier than any Miraculous! Wayzz: Look, Master, there's no use in running! Your disciples never give up the fight, no matter what! With or without their Miraculous, they are Ladybug and Cat Noir!

That's some pretty active mentoring right there.

Wayzz is probably the character that feels the most like a mentor to me. When he's with Fu, he feels like Fu's partner or adviser, which is why I think that the Kwami's aren't supposed to just be cute critters. They're regular ol' Jimmy Crickets meant to act as a conscience that the characters can talk to since this is visual media and you want a way for the characters to talk through their thoughts instead of having them do it all internally.

I also present this exchange from Desperada as evidence:

Adrien: Plagg, Ladybug needs me. She needs "Adrien"! Plagg: If you asked me, this whole idea is worse than cheese in a can. Adrien: She thinks I'm the perfect guy for this mission. Plagg: You can't be Cat Noir and another superhero at the same time! Which means that you're not the perfect guy for this mission. Adrien: The Lucky Charm told her I am. Plagg: That's not how it works. Why am I bothering? You're not even listening.

We then get Plagg reiterating that this is a bad idea through multiple loops, ending with this:

Plagg: Ah! At last, you've come to your senses. Adrien: I'm not sure Ladybug will have very fond memories of her experience with "Adrien Agreste". Plagg: Then make up for it as Cat Noir.

See? I told you Plagg can be a good mentor when he wants to! Tikki, take notes!

I'd even call this bit from Sapitos some quality subtle mentoring from Trixx:

Alya: Oh please, Ladybug! We'd make a great team! I could help Cat Noir and you every day! Ladybug:(her earrings ring) I'm about to transform back! Hurry! Alya: Please? Ladybug: I have to go! I'm trusting you! (opens a nearby door and goes inside, so she can detransform) Trixx: You're absolutely right, Alya. I'm sure the three of you would make quite the team! You have all the makings of a true superhero. You're strong, brave; but most of all, you're trustworthy.

Way to both build Alya up and reminder her of her duty, Trixx. Gold star. Quality mentorship!

So are the Kwamis supposed to be mentors? Who knows! I just see them fill the role often enough to feel comfortable judging them through that lens.

Miraculous also isn't the only magical girl team show to make the cute critters into mentors. That's a pretty standard path even though it's also common to see the critters used to sell merch/appeal to kids and nothing more. In terms of classic magical girl team shows, I'd say that the Kwamis are written way more like Luna and Artemis from Sailor Moon than Mini Mew from Tokyo Mew Mew.

[schattenhonig]

The A in LGBTQIA+ doesn't stand for aspec because they're not repressed!

(please read the disclaimer at the end of this post)

Ummm, excuse me? Would you mind telling me what your definition of repression is, then?

Because I feel repressed when a doctor asks me about my sex life, and if I say I have none, it gets marked down as a symptom without being asked if I suffer from it.

I feel repressed when my gyn tells me I can't get a hysterectomy yet despite losing so much blood on every period that I need to take iron supplements all the time, because I could change my mind about not wanting children (which is a whole other post, I know, but it's most likely linked to sex).

I feel repressed if I can't use dating apps or platforms because my sexuality doesn't even exist there, and the one time I tried, I got called names because I didn't want to meet for because it was clear where this date would go, despite my explicit "what I'm looking for".

I feel repressed when I think about how recently a paragraph was finally abolished in my country that considered sex a vital part of a marriage, basically entitling the spouses to having sex with their partner (both gender neutral, because entitling people to having sex with somebody else by law is wrong. It's basically a rape permission).

I feel repressed when I can't watch any film or show without it being about love and/or sex, no matter if it fits the narrative and furthers the plot.

I feel repressed when I plot my own stories and automatically put a romantic couple in there as main characters, even though I have no idea why this would be important for the plot. Not even my own stories, my own thoughts are mine.

I felt repressed when I was asked accusingly in a relationship if I wasn't missing something before I even knew asexuality as a spectrum was a thing, and having to lie about this being a side effect of my medication instead of genuinely not feeling attracted to someone in this way.

I feel repressed when I can't tell people I'm not sexually attracted to them because they will take this personally no matter how well I explain myself.

I feel repressed when everywhere I look there's advertising relying on naked skin, suggestive posing and objectification. Why are expensive cars still presented by women considered beautiful and tempting? It's not like that's necessary to convince people of spending so much money on a thing that gets you from A to B. Couches with women in smart dresses and high heels. That's not what a normal person looks like on a couch. But the worst is a truck in the town where I live: it's from a small fruit and vegetable stand, so whenever I see it, it comes from the warehouse, delivering groceries. On it is a woman clad in very little, presenting fruit. I'm sorry, but why? Does a misogynistic picture convince you of the necessity to avoid scurvy?

I feel repressed when I tell people and get the answer "you just haven't found the right person yet", because there are two possible assumptions from that point: I'm either not trying hard enough (so it's basically my own fault) or something about me is not right, appalling even (which circles back to I'm not trying hard enough or frames me as a victim of my genetics, upbringing or circumstances to be pitied).

Do not tell me how I feel. Do not try to tell me everything is fine and I shouldn't complain or ask for acknowledgement if everywhere I look, I'm reminded of how odd, how weird and how not normal I am. How much it inconveniences you to even acknowledge my existence, let alone respect any of my traits, views and choices.

And while I can only write from my own asexual point of view, I wrote this with all kinds of flavours of aspec in mind, so I'm explicitly including aromantics, aroace people and every shade of the spectrum in this. Not all my examples may apply to you, but I hope you can find something to relate to.

ETA: please feel free to add your own experiences of repression!

[luxurychristmaspudding]

watch

summary: after showing frankie what he was missing, something seems to have been awoken in you all. with joel away on a contract and santi called out of town, you're left in frankie's care. except one rule still stands - you can't touch.

read part 1, listen, here BONUS: al's handy guide to reading watch

grouping: f!reader x joel miller x frankie morales x santiago garcia

rating/warnings: 18+. MDNI. no outbreak (tlou) - but based after the tf mission. alright, buckle in. softdom!joel, softdom!santi, sub!frankie, sub!reader, lil bit of softdom!reader and bratty!reader as well hehe. drinking, pet names (inc. little/baby girl, baby boy). rules get broken (surprise!), praise kink, dirty talk, daddy kink, oral (f receiving), unprotected p in v (wrap it!), exhibitionism, voyeurism, public fingering, blowjobs (m receiving and giving), rimming, mutual masturbation, phone sex, use of toys (f&m), consensual somnophilia, cumplay, edging, facesitting, anal fingering (m), mfm, anal sex (m receiving), tiny bit of breath play (not reader), light bondage, brief gagging, very high sex drives but who can blame them, once again so many orgasms i lost count, and in the immortal words of @thatredheadwriter, 'so much fluid exchange I think a hasmat team should probably go in to clean it up' reader wears dresses and has hair, but has no other descriptions. no use of y/n.

wc: 25k (i know, i'm so sorry)

an: many many many thanks to the peeps who waited an age for this. you've all been so patient and kind and i hope you enjoy! for @schnarfer, @swiftispunk, @5oh5 and @janaispunk who, without their constant encouragement and recommendation, this may not have happened at all <3 dividers as always from the wonderful @saradika-graphics

In the weeks that follow, you wait for the ball to drop. 

You wait to feel weird about what the four of you did, for the kick of it, for Joel to reveal that he actually wasn’t that sold on it. You wait for a text or call from Frankie or Santi to say it was nice knowing you, but it was a little much, a little weird to see you around now. 

It doesn’t happen. 

You stay slotted into Joel’s life like you were always meant to be there. You stay over at his, he stays over at yours. You spend lazy Sunday mornings making waffles or pancakes and getting fucked dumb. He brings you flowers when work is hard, you rub his shoulders when he’s had a rough day on site. Your body is marked beneath your clothes with his bruises, the shape of his teeth, and his is marked by yours, the scratch of your nails traced delicately down his back. 

You spend your time orbiting around each other, close and safe in the bubble you’ve built, warm and soft in the afternoon sunlight that streams through the curtains on your days off, eating in and eating out. He becomes more familiar than anyone else has ever been with the inner workings of your mind, the inner workings of your body. He introduces you to his brother, Tommy, and his wife, Maria. He talks about you to Sarah, and she says she’d love to meet you next time she’s home from college. He makes space for your books on his shelves, and your clothes find a way into his wardrobe; his squeeze into your drawers, a spare toothbrush for him in your bathroom. He kisses you, hot and open mouthed when he drops you off at work, does the same when you find his truck waiting outside for you when you’re done. He asks how the boys are when you come home from drinks with them, listens with sparkling eyes when you tell him Benny’s latest hookup is from the bar you used to work at, the place where they first met you. He chuckles and tells you he's glad Santi introduced the two of you when he did, before any of the others swooped in and took you for themselves. 

Sometimes, you think he forgets about the night that Frankie asked you out, the conversations that followed. How close it could have been. 

But that's naive of you. Naive of you to think that he doesn’t see, doesn’t seek out the claim that Frankie and Santi have also made on you. Because he knows. In some infuriating, impossible way, he always knows. 

He shows you he knows one morning, when you have already been awake for what feels like hours, watching his broad chest rise and fall with deep, sleeping breaths.

You trace the curve of his nose with your eyes, the scruff of his beard, the way his curls have grown out. Luscious and thick, spattered with grey, curling down into the nape of his neck. His lips look so warm, so soft, that you’ve been challenging yourself, seeing how long you can go without kissing him awake. Seeing how long you can go with just remembering how they felt between your legs last night, wet with spit and your release as he soothed you through orgasm after orgasm, kissing your thighs, sucking marks into your soft flesh as he held you down with one thick palm braced against your belly, the other with its fingers gently pumping in and out of you. The deep timbre of his voice when you made yourself look at him, his praise, good girl, there she is, doin’ so good for me, sweet girl through your tears, as you begged him, begged him for something else, something more. More, daddy, you’d pleaded. You'd needed something thicker, something deeper. You always do.

You squirm beneath the sheets, pressing your thighs together. Try to think of anything else. The green of his bedroom walls, the boots you know will be at the end of the bed. His trinkets on the dresser - the watch Sarah bought (and fixed, many times) for him, the picture of him and his family at Tommy and Maria’s wedding, your clothes scattered about the floor, the chair in the corner of the room, the chair where he sat that night, as he watched, as he watched you -

You roll over onto your side to look away from it, squeezing your eyes shut, barely able to control your whimper. You’re slick between your thighs, too warm as your wetness mixes with the cum still drooling out of your cunt. You try and count his freckles instead, starting from his forehead to his cheekbones, down to his neck - his neck - his shoulder, the bite mark you left there as he spilled himself into you, the hand resting on his chest, his thick fingers, his fingers -

It’s no good. It’s no fucking good. He needs to rest, so you take a deep breath and steel yourself. Coffee. You’ll head downstairs, you’ll make coffee, and when he’s slept enough you’ll talk him through everything you’ve been thinking about, and he’ll make it better. Starting with his tongue.

You press your hands to the mattress as you start to raise your torso from the bed, and almost immediately at the shifting of your weight, Joel’s hand shoots out to grab you.

‘Where you goin’, pretty girl?’

You smile, smug. So he's awake. And you know, with his grip like this, you’ll get anything you want from him.

‘Coffee,’ you say, leaning over to press a lingering kiss to his soft lips. He returns it, eyes still shut, hand shifting from your forearm to your bicep, to your shoulder, to the back of your neck. He holds you there as he draws his tongue across the seam of your lips, and with a groan you let him in. The bristle of his moustache tickles as he licks into your mouth, sucking your bottom lip between his teeth as his free hand skates between the sheets to skim over your bare thigh. You shift against him, bringing your calf over both of his legs. The movement brings his hand forwards, dipping between your legs to trace two fingers up through your drenched cunt. You moan loudly against him, and Joel chuckles.

‘Last night not enough for you, little girl?’

You hum against him, shaking your head. He retracts his fingers.

‘Words, baby.’ He reminds you.

‘No, da-’ you start, but as soon as your lips part he has his fingers on your tongue. On instinct, your eyes flutter shut and you suck them, swirling your tongue over the thick digits, savouring the taste of you both.

‘Rude to talk with your mouthful, sweet pea,’ he murmurs, ‘Somebody oughta fuck some manners into ya.’

With his fingers still in your mouth, Joel turns you onto your back, bracing himself away from you to watch you continue to suckle on his fingers. He pushes them further back, further, further, only to watch you begin to gag around him.

‘Good girl,’ he says, withdrawing them, spit-slick, before bringing them back to your pussy. He watches your face as he pushes them easily inside, the crease between your brows, the way your jaw slackens, the way your eyes widen as he curls them into your sweet spot. He nods, pleased. ‘Think you’re wet enough to take me already, baby,’ he says, swiping them over your clit. You jolt, moaning again at the feeling. ‘What do you think?’

‘Yeah, daddy,’ you sigh, ‘Ready for you.’

Joel chuckles.

‘Always so ready f'me, isn’t she, princess?’ He says, lining himself up at your entrance, gripping your jaw to keep your eyes on him. He doesn’t expect an answer this time. ‘Yeah, always dripping for me, aren’t you? Poor baby girl. Poor baby girl and her messy little pussy.’ 

He feeds his cock to you slowly, so slowly. You whine and arch against him as he does, brain trickling away from you, already so given in to the sensation; mind deliciously blank, nails scratching at his forearms as he cages you in, thrusting deep, bottoming out. When he sees your eyes roll back, he picks up his pace smoothly, thrusting faster and harder, deeper. You moan out a long daddy, and he huffs in amusement.

‘Does daddy feel good, sweet girl?’

You gasp out a yes, fuck, daddy, and he hums in response.

'There she is,’ he says, ‘Didn’t need coffee, did ya, baby? Just wanted daddy. Just needed your daddy, hm?’ You nod furiously, tongue loosened by the heavy weight of him inside you, babbling away about how good he feels, how deep, how big he is. You lock your ankles around the bottom of his spine to pull him closer, and he groans, head dipping to yours. ‘Yeah,’ he breathes, ‘You take what you need, baby. Just wanna get fucked, huh? Woke up dreamin’ a me? Dreamin’ a me fuckin’ you full of my cum again, babygirl?’

You moan again, neck pulling taught as you arch further, pull him in deeper. The coil deep in your belly tightens, jaw clenching as you scratch at him, as you tug the hair at the nape of his neck.

‘Poor baby, can’t even get her words out,’ he coos, and like he wants to prove his point, he pushes even deeper, tip kissing your cervix, the bruising feeling making you gasp, making you plead, making you beg as you try and move your hips away from him. He brings his hand away from your face to your waist, keeping you in place.

‘Relax, sweetheart,’ he smiles, rocking in and out of you again, ‘I know you can take it, just relax f'me. That’s a good girl. I know it’s big but you can take it.’ 

You clench around him, painfully, try to mumble out how close you are, but you can’t even summon the words. In this room, he is all you can see, all you can hear, all you can feel. The slickness of it, the heat, the burning pleasure rising inside you as you writhe beneath him.

‘I know, baby, I know,’ he murmurs, ‘You’re close already, huh?’ You hum, body tight, so close, so close, head so empty. ‘Yeah, you are. Fuck, love when you get all stupid on me like this. You like getting fucked dumb on daddy’s cock, baby? Can you feel me all the way in here, sweetheart?’ he asks, moving the hand on your waist to press against your lower stomach. You clench harder as he presses down, the coil tightening, spiralling, and you’re right there - ‘Wish you could fuckin’ see yourself right now, baby. Wish you could see how pretty ya look getting fucked. You like being watched, don’t ya, darlin’? Yeah. Want Santi and Francisco to watch again, baby?’ You gasp at his words, surprised, vision blurring, hurtling towards your climax, the build up scorching, impossibly long. ‘Sure you do. Or d'you want Santi to fuck you again, make you scream his name while he’s inside you, huh?’

Fuck, okay. Okay -

‘Yes, daddy -’ you breathe, pussy fluttering around him, the beginnings of your orgasm.

‘Santi? Or is it Frankie, baby? You want his mouth on you, want to feel him stretch you open? He’s big, isn’t he? Wanna see how he feels, if he fits like me?’

He is, you remember, he is, and you could try. If you can take Joel, you can take Frankie, and oh, what a thought -

Your body pulls tighter, aching, painful, and you cry out.

‘Shit -’ you moan, ‘Shit, Joel, I’m -’ 

‘Come, babygirl,’ he tells you. ‘Come all over my cock, princess. Get it nice and wet, just how daddy likes it.’

You burst aflame beneath him with a shout, body jerking as you hiss and gasp, gripping him to you as he fucks you through it. You whimper with every thrust as he keeps talking through gritted teeth, thrusting harder.

‘Yeah, that’s it. So sweet, baby. Good fuckin’ girl. You want them again, darlin’? Want to play with 'em? Want to watch 'em play with your daddy?’

A needy whine slips past your lips as you picture it; Frankie on his knees, Santi on all fours, and you grow even wetter at the thought, the slick of your orgasm and Joel’s words making the prettiest noises.

‘She likes that,’ Joel says, almost to himself, ‘Yeah, she likes that. Dirty girl. Dirty girl, wanting all three of us, wanting to watch, hm? Wanna touch, baby? Wanna see how it feels?’ He looks so fucked out on top of you that even you’re not sure if he knows what he’s saying, what he’s asking you. But you gasp out a yes anyway, something warm and quick trickling up your spine, tightening your cunt again.

‘Another one,’ he grunts, ‘Another one, darlin’, and I’ll give you what you want.’ 

You don’t need to be told twice. Your second orgasm rips through you lightning fast and white-hot, so good that you hear ringing in your ears, so tight that Joel stutters inside of you, groaning, breathing your name as he pumps and spills and twitches. You’re both breathing so heavily that it’s all you can do to lie there, licking your lips as Joel pulls out with a moan and flops beside you. A breathless little giggle escapes your parted lips.

Joel reaches across your body and tugs you by the arm until you’re nestled into his side. Too hot, too breathless, but you breathe him in all the same, tracing patterns on his chest.

The room is quiet as you both come down from your highs, your eyes falling closed as Joel presses a kiss to your hairline. Your brain tries its best not to think, not to read into it, but even through the exhaustion, his words come back to you.

Watch, touch. 

You have to know. You have to ask, now, want to know, want it, want it, want it -

‘Do you - do you want to do it again?’ You stutter.

Joel puffs out a laugh to the ceiling.

‘You’re gonna have to give me at least ten minutes, baby.’

You laugh and nudge his side with your fist.

‘No,’ you smile, ‘No. The - the thing you said, about that night -’

He raises an eyebrow, and you bare your teeth awkwardly. 

'You know - that night.'

‘Mm?’ Tease.

You lean further onto his chest and take his skin gently between your teeth. You nip, and he relents. You lean back slightly to look at him.

Joel smiles at you, crooks his head so he can nibble at your ear lobe.

‘Baby, I’d love to.’

The sound that leaves your lips is obscene, and you don’t care. Fuck, the thought of it. The three of them together, the four of you together.

‘All we gotta do is send the text,’ he says, ‘Could send it now and they’d be here in the hour.’ He chuckles. One of his hands moves down to your thigh, hooking it over his hip before moving to your ass to rock you against him. You groan into his shoulder. Your next question leaves your lips before you can even stop it.

‘Did you - did you mean what you said, about you and Santi and Frankie?’ You ask. It sounds clumsy, almost like you shouldn’t be asking. Fuck, maybe you should have waited for him to bring it up. You tense, waiting for his reaction.

Joel opens his eyes again with a small smirk, peeking down at you down his aquiline nose. His movements still.

‘Wouldn’t say it if I didn’t mean it.’

You draw a quick breath and hold him closer. You won’t ask anymore questions. Try to push away thoughts of what Joel could do with his hands, his mouth, his cock, of what the two other men could do with theirs, what it would be like to watch, what it would be like to feel -

‘I’ve never… I’ve never done it before.’ Joel says, quietly. 

You pull back from his chest and watch him watch you. His dark eyes are honest, wary, and a question forms on your lips. He said he had been with multiple people in the past, it was something he’d done, something he was clear he had enjoyed -

‘With a man. I’ve never… done anything with a guy.’

Your stomach swoops at his nervousness. You feel your brow crease, a hand reaching up to touch his cheek.

‘That’s okay,’ you whisper, ‘That’s… I didn’t realise, that’s all. ‘M sorry if I pushed you.’

Joel shakes his head. He hums beneath you, a deep rumble in his chest. 

‘Y’didn’t. You ain’t.’ 

You stroke your thumb along the patches of his beard.

‘Do you… want to talk about it?’

Joel closes his eyes again, takes a deep breath. 

‘I’ve thought about it. For a while. Watching people, watching you. I’m… curious.’

You nod, even though he can’t see you.

‘That’s normal, baby,’ you whisper, ‘So normal.’

Your mind flashes back, back to how tender he was with you, with Frankie. His warmth towards Pope as the four of you cleaned up afterwards, as you dressed in the comfiest clothes you could find. The way his eyes lingered on your body, Santi’s body, Frankie’s, the curiosity you glimpsed as you snacked and rehydrated, the goodbyes as they slipped out the door.

It makes sense.

And it’s even better to know that all this time you’ve been imagining it, he has, too.

‘I’d like to try it,’ he says, blinking at you. ‘With them. With you. If that’s okay?’

You clutch his face tighter, tender, warmth blooming in your chest at his trust. You smile wide at him, and he visibly relaxes. Tears threaten in your eyes.

‘Yes,’ you breathe, ‘Yes. Of course it is. I… it’d be more than okay.’

He swallows.

‘You sure?’

You untangle yourself from him as much as possible, but he keeps an iron grip on your waist. You settle on your elbow.

‘Of course I’m sure, baby,’ you soothe, ‘Of course I am. I’m glad you told me. It’d be - it’d be an honour - it’s very brave of you to -’

Joel cuts you off with a snort, pulling you roughly back against him. He holds you tight within his grasp.

‘Very brave -’ he chuckles.

‘It is,’ you insist, muffled against his chest, ‘It is, and if there’s anything you want to try -’

He pulls you up so your face is level with his, and shuts you up with a firm kiss. And when you lick him a little while later, tongue pressed up, pressing in to his tight ring of muscle, you find that there is plenty he wants to try.

And plenty you want to help him with.

———

Will greets you first at the bar that evening, and you quickly lose yourself to the rhythm of the night.

The five of you are tucked back into your usual booth, bottles and glasses crowding the table, the noise of other patrons bringing you closer together, knees knocking, hands over forearms to claw yourself further into the conversation. You talk for hours, work tales being swapped, gossip about old friends, former lovers. Will and Benny seem particularly interested in your romance with Joel, and you happily fill them in, telling them about the barbeque you had round Tommy and Maria’s, how you’re meeting Sarah next time she’s home from college, and how Joel will be away on a contract next week. Frankie and Santi listen in with gleaming eyes, half-smiles of their own, sharing secrets across the table that only you are privy to. It makes your stomach tighten, your panties damp.

And the way Frankie watches you, it’s like he knows.

Seats are switched throughout the night after bathroom breaks and drinks collections, but Pope always finds a way to be close to you - a hand on your thigh, a squeeze of your palm, the press of his shoulder against yours. He stacks a small pile of peanuts on the table between the two of you, hidden behind a glass, and at any opportune moment you can, you take turns flicking them at Will or Benny. With every small, yellow projectile that smacks against their chests, arms, sometimes even faces, Frankie racks up a tally on a napkin. The game is all but lost when Benny looks at up the ceiling and asks in disbelief whether it’s raining fucking peanuts, and you and Santi collapse into fits of giggles. Benny stares at you in blank confusion, furthered by Will’s growing rumble of laughter - until he finally fixes stoic Frankie with a betrayed look, noticing the tally half-hidden by his palm, and cries out an accusatory -

‘Is that you?’ Which sends Frankie over the edge, too. 

When places switch again, Will makes sure to gather you in a headlock in his strong arms and grind his knuckles roughly into your scalp. You yelp with laughter, giggling against each other, sinking into the dirty leather as Will muses on how much of a bastard you are, wondering out loud how your skills as a former bartender allowed you to outsmart ex-Delta Force operators.

Frankie watches with his usual boyish charm, his eyes crinkling at the edges, warm and molten and wanting when they meet yours. Your tongue burns with the things you want to tell him, with what you and Joel had discussed, eventually in great detail, in bed at home. But you bite the words back, knowing what is and what isn't yours to share. Instead, you lean into Santi’s touch, scraping your nails along his jeans until he shifts uncomfortably in his seat, biting his lip in a wicked grin. He excuses himself soon after, and with his departure, Benny calls for a round of pool.

He’s already slipping out of the booth before you can protest, Will following closely behind. Frankie steps out, too, rounding your side and holding out a hand for you. You accept it, stepping out in front of him so you’re pressed chest to chest. He lifts his palm to your cheek, leaning in to press a kiss to your hairline. You press his bicep in thanks before turning back to the table, hinging at your hips to grab both his drink and yours, taking extra care to subtly grind your ass into his crotch. His palm comes to rest at the top of your thigh, holding you there for just a moment, before moving to your waist. You turn back to him.  He leans in close.

‘I don’t know what you’re trying to do to us tonight, hermosa,’ he breathes into the conch of your ear, ‘But it’s working.’

You grin at him as he moves his hand from your waist to the plush flesh of your ass, squeezing gently before letting go. You take a sip from your beer, reaching up to take the cap from his curls and nestling it backwards on your own head. 

‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’

His answering smile is dirty, thrilling, and he follows you as if on a leash to the pool table the brothers have secured.

Santi joins you soon afterwards, his cheeks a little flushed, a fresh drink in his hand. You’re split off into the most unfair teams possible; Will, Benny, and Frankie taking one cue, and you and Pope with the other. Frankie racks up the balls with swift, deft movements, taking the cue easily in his massive hands, the wood resting between his thick fingers. You feel your body warm as you watch him, still wearing his cap, trying to squeeze your thighs together inconspicuously. You bring your cool bottle to your neck as Pope winds an arm around you, letting his hand settle at your hip, stroking and pinching the flesh there. You don’t look at him, but you sigh deeply, and he lets his head knock against yours, pleased. With Frankie shooting first, there’s no great rush to grab your cue and be prepared. 

You watch as he pots ball after ball, mouth curving in a playful scowl as he shoots you a grin after each one, moving around the table with so much grace and ease that it starts to make you a little dizzy. Benny and Will cheer him on with loud hoots and shouts, and Pope makes sure the two of you boo him like a pantomime villain with every flick of his wrist. When he finally fails to sink a shot, Pope passes you the cue, and you take your time lowering yourself to press your chest to the green felt, inhaling deeply. You’re warm, relaxed, a little buzzed, more than a little horny. You wiggle your ass a little, and Will laughs, shouting something about how your distraction technique won’t work, and he’s right. It quickly backfires when Frankie sweeps around the table, pressing one half of his body over yours as he directs you on how to hold the cue, how to position it, how to cradle it in your fingers like he does. When he’s sure you’ve got it, he breathes into your ear for you to pull your elbow back with just the right amount of leverage, and you try to ignore the goosebumps that break out along your neck and shoulder.

‘You’re ready,’ he whispers, and just as you begin to snap your wrist forwards, he presses his firm cock into your thigh.

Your quick inhale stutters your movement, and you watch as the tip of the cue just catches the edge of the ball, sending it spinning off into a barren corner of the table. You stand and spin to Frankie.

‘You asshole!’ you cry, indignant and hot, pointing a finger at him as he snatches his cap back from your head and retreats. ‘You - jogged me!’ Frankie spreads his hands in front of him, pouting, his bulge only just covered by the front of his button up.

‘I tried my best.’ He grins.

‘Don’t worry about it, kid,’ Will calls from the other side of the table, ‘Fish is known for being good with his hands. Even when he uses them for evil.’ 

The men laugh as Frankie flushes, knocking his fist into Will’s belly. Despite yourself, you laugh with them, enjoying watching him flustered as Will gasps out his laughter. Pope leans in close to whisper in your ear.

‘Good with his mouth, too.’ And all the air is sucked from your lungs as you feel your own face heat. Santi laughs louder next to you, taking the cue from your hands so you can grasp your bottle instead. You watch as Benny misfires, then Pope, still giggling at his own joke, before Frankie takes over again, sinking each one until only the white remains. Not that you notice, finding yourself now caught up in the way he bites and wets his lips, how plush they look, how they’d feel pressed to your thighs, your tits, your clit -

Benny snaps his fingers in front of your eyes, waving you back to reality.

‘Ground control to Major Loser,’ he grins, ‘Frankie whooped your ass, in case you weren't paying attention. It’s your round.’ 

You scoff playfully at him, whirling on your heel back towards the bar, but not before catching Pope’s eye again as he smirks at you, leaning against the table next to Frankie.

You flip them off as you work your way through the crowd.

When Frankie parks his truck outside Joel’s, all the lights in the house are off. 

You unbuckle your seatbelt, and Frankie eyes the front door a little warily, eyes narrowing at the distance between. You giggle at him.

‘Frankie, baby, the boogeyman is not going to get me in the space between your truck and the door.’

He frowns at you all the same before unbuckling his own seatbelt and jumping out the driver’s side. You roll your eyes at him as he bounds round the front of the truck, swinging your door open and helping you out. He grins at you.

‘I know,’ he says, ‘I know, just - let me do it. Humour me.’

He swings your hands between you as you walk up the front yard, and you try to stifle your giggles as you slot the spare key into the lock. It’s unlike Joel to not wait up for you, but you’d made sure to tucker him out before you’d left. You’re glad he’s finally getting the rest he needed. 

The door swings open in front of you into yawning darkness, and Frankie gives your hip a squeeze. 

‘You’re sure Joel’s home?’ he asks. 

‘Yeah,’ you nod, flicking the hallway light on. ‘He’s probably just asleep. It’s late, and -’

‘You probably spent the first half of the day making him see God, I suppose.’ He finishes for you. You smack his chest when you see his shit-eating grin, but aren’t able to wipe your own from your lips. 

‘Obviously.’ You smirk.

Frankie laughs quietly as you shut the front door behind him, letting his hands wander from your hip to your waist, up and down the span of your back, pulling you towards him. You can still feel him, warm and half hard against you, and a soft moan slips from your mouth in response to his small grind. He smiles again, one hand coming up to cradle the back of your skull to his chest as he rocks you back and forth, letting you feel everything while having nothing. Your own hands clutch at his shirt, shifting it higher so you can splay your palms over his bare abdomen. He looks down at you with soft, lazy eyes, and for a moment, you’re sure you’re going to kiss him. And when he leans in to whisper in your ear, you’re sure you’re going to wake Joel up and beg for him to take the two of you now. But instead, Frankie asks in a whisper -

‘Do you think Joel’d mind if I used his bathroom?’

You snort a laugh, pushing yourself away from him, and he giggles back at you.

‘Of course not,’ you say, pointing off down the hallway. ‘Just up there. I’ll be in the kitchen if you need me.’

He salutes as he backs away, almost knocking into the bannister of the stairs, and you have to clap your hands over your mouth to keep from laughing too loud. You step quietly into the kitchen to pour two glasses of water, but only get as far as reaching up into the cupboard when there are soft footsteps behind you. You grin, about to tease Frankie for not being able to find the bathroom on his own before warm, calloused hands are on you. Shameless, needy, groping up your top, tugging your bra down, cupping your breasts, tweaking your nipples.

Your body goes quickly liquid at the familiar touch, all smart quips dying in your throat as Joel ruts against you from behind, the weight of his hard cock hot and firm against your ass, barely disguised by his grey sweatpants. Your hands come to grip at the countertop, and you try to get the words out to tell him not now, Frankie’s here, but all that escapes is a moan. 

‘’M glad you’re home, baby,’ he growls in your ear, fingers making quick work of your button and zipper. ‘Missed you. Dreamed of you. Did ya miss me, too?’ as he tugs your jeans down to the tops of your thighs.

‘Joel -’ you breathe, but you’re too slow, unable to process anything beyond the fingers he dips into your panties. Usually you love him like this, swaddled in sleep, desperate to bury himself inside you, and you’d let him take you anywhere, but not right here, not right now. Your body continues to betray you, pulsing out more of the slick that has kept your underwear damp all night - the touches beneath the table, the pressure of Frankie’s cock against your thigh during pool, him pressed up against you in the doorway. Everything you’d done with Joel earlier in the day, the way he’d come apart with your tongue and your fingers, the way he’d eaten you to the point of tears, all coming together to show him how you glisten in the low light of the kitchen. The two of you are insatiable, and he groans against you, offering you his fingers to suckle as he pulls the waistband of your panties down to join your jeans. You try to mumble out around him again - Joel, wait - but he’s too fast as he sinks himself inside of you, and every thought, every word, is wiped from your brain. 

He sets a punishing pace from the off, and you take it easily, cheek pressed into the marble, head turned away from the door as you drool and whimper around him. The thick, heavy slide of his cock, covered in your slick, the wet sounds, the soft moans and pants that ricochet around the kitchen, and when he swirls a finger around your clit, your own sharp gasp heaves you to life.

‘Joel, wait - Frankie - Frankie’s here -’

But it’s too late, far too late, you realise, when you turn your head to the other side to find Frankie already stood in the entryway, leant against the frame like he’s been silently engaging you in casual conversation. Except he looks ravenous.

Joel groans from above you, tip kissing your cervix as he pumps in and out, fingers twitching over your clit to feel you tighten around him.

‘I know, baby,’ he groans, ‘He’s watchin’. See how he’s watchin’ you?’

It’s almost impossible to look, to watch Frankie take you in. The throb of Joel’s cock inside you, his fingers, the tightening knot that threatens to burst already, it’s making it hard to keep your eyes open.

‘That what you want, hermosa?’ Frankie asks.

You nod furiously against the marble, biting back a sob as your knees begin to give way, as you tighten, tighten, tighten, as your core locks down, your pussy growing hotter and wetter. Fuck, all that thinking, all that teasing means the build up has happened so impossibly fast, and you stumble towards the edge of the cliff already, aching for the fall.

‘Just like we said, huh?’ Joel hums. ‘You wanna be watched, don’t ya, baby girl?’ 

‘Yes - daddy -’ you choke out, and he hums again, this time speaking to Frankie.

‘Hear that? Want you to watch. Be a good boy, and watch.’ 

Frankie nods quickly, every bit the soldier; his jaw set, eyes black, curls peeking out from under his cap. In this moment, he doesn’t look like your Frankie. He looks cool, almost detached if not for the burning of his eyes. And he watches every movement, every part of your skin Joel touches, everything that is revealed to him, like he’s trying to commit it to absolute memory. The sounds, the way Joel’s cock glistens as it stretches out of you, the breath that is punched from your lungs as he pushes back in. It’s like it’s the first time he’s seen this happen.

But then, you realise, it is. 

This is the quiet, obedient Frankie who kneeled behind the door. The Frankie who didn’t move an inch, the Frankie who could do nothing but listen as the three of you fucked each other. The Frankie who curled himself over your hand as he came, hot shocks of arousal and humiliation rocking his body. And now, he gets to watch. 

But oh, how you wish he could touch. How you wish he’d come closer, away from the doorframe, how you wish he’d run his hands over your body, undress you, hold you, lick and suck and kiss you, how he could fuck your mouth as Joel fucked your tight cunt until your throat was raw, how you’d take him so deep, as deep as you could, until there would be nothing left, nothing more for you to feel or think about than what went on beyond the two men and you. You watch as his eyes rake over Joel, over you. How they track every movement, the curl of Joel’s fingers against your clit, how you gasp and choke, how Joel grits his teeth as he pounds into you, getting close now, feeling you tighten and leak and flutter around him, bunching your shirt up your back so he can press a hot kiss to your spine.

‘Give it to me,’ he groans, ‘Give it to me, baby, come on. You’ve got it, you can do it. Come for me.’

You heave a broken, high pitched whine at his words, and Frankie’s eyes snap to yours. His lips part in a breath, his only visible reaction, but it’s enough. Like the command has slipped from his lips too, your vision whitens and your back arches, fingers scrabbling against the smooth surface beneath you as you constrict so tightly around Joel you can feel the way you have to stretch again to take him in.

‘Good girl,’ he groans, ‘Such a good girl. So pretty, baby, so good. Now, tell me - tell me where you want it -’

You moan again, eyes flicking back to Frankie when they roll from the back of your skull. The thought crosses your mind, but you can’t find the words, can’t feel your legs, only the grip of Joel's fingers as he changes tack - ‘Tell me, or I’ll decide.’

You gasp out a fuck, forehead pressed against the counter, trying to decide whether you’re brave enough to say it, brave enough to ask -

‘Please -’

But it doesn’t come from you. You roll your head on the marble to find Frankie stepping slowly into the kitchen, cheeks pink, chest rising and falling quickly. 

‘I can - let me help -’ Fuck. Fuck. You try to twist to gauge Joel's reaction, but his mind is made up so quickly you only get the chance to feel desperately empty before he tells Frankie to kneel.

The younger man drops to his knees beside you m, in front of Joel, chest heaving now, tongue darting out to lick his lips nervously - and you want to kiss him. You want to kiss him so bad, but the thought is quickly whisked away as Joel steps closer, fisting his thick cock in his hand.

‘You want this?’ He grits. Frankie nods eagerly, transfixed by the man above him, eyes flicking between Joel’s and the swollen head of his cock, soaked with your slick and cum, dribbling the precursor of Joel’s own release. ‘Show me.’

Frankie’s mouth falls open instantly, his tongue sliding past his lips to welcome the tip of Joel’s cock. You moan, knees finally giving out, landing next to Frankie. He doesn’t take his eyes off Joel.

The older man gasps out a curse at the sight, before ropes of thick, milky cum spurt from his tip onto Frankie’s tongue, filling his mouth, weaker pulses landing on his chin as Joel squeezes the last of his release out. You tear your eyes from Frankie to the man above you, the way he pants, eyes aflame, jaw slack.

‘Swallow.’

You whip back round to Frankie to see his throat bob as he follows the instruction, and he opens his mouth again to show Joel that he’s done exactly as he asked.

‘Good boy,’ he drawls, swiping a thumb against his chin to collect the remnants of his spend before offering it to you. You open your mouth just as eagerly, but Joel seems to think twice. He spreads it across one cheek, and then the other, painting you, before placing the digit firmly on your tongue, allowing your tongue to lathe the taste of him from the pad. Frankie leans towards you, and then you feel his tongue, warm and wet against your cheek, licking away at the cum that Joel spread there. Joel chuckles at him.

‘Desperate for more.’ 

Frankie hums against you, tongue now flicking at the corner of your lips. Joel raises an eyebrow at you.

‘What are you waiting for, sweetheart?’ he purrs, ‘Show Frankie how well he did.’

You twist your head to Frankie’s, one hand going to the back of his head, fisting his curls, the other tracing the waistband of his jeans, eager fingers feeling the warm skin there, trying to touch further, trying to reach him. You lick into his mouth, tongue grazing his teeth as you palm him over the denim, and he moans against you. You retract your hand from his curls and start at his fly before a sharp, trilling noise makes you flinch back. His phone rings in his back pocket.

‘Ignore it, don’t worry about it,’ he says, pulling you back towards him, his mouth soft and urgent against yours, your fingers clumsy at the front of his jeans, twisting in the material, against metal, and fuck -

‘Why do you have so many fucking buttons?’

He laughs, breathy, exasperated into your hair.

‘It’s the - it’s the fucking style - there’s no zipper, it’s just buttons -’

You giggle as well, the ringing of his phone chiming off as you hear Joel say ‘just buttons?’ from behind you.

You manage to get two undone before his phone begins to ring again, and this time he breaks the kiss to drag it out off his pocket and silence it. He glances at the screen, hisses a fuck, and bites his bottom lip. You stall your movements, frowning at him.

‘You okay?’

‘One sec -’

He declines the call, but you see he’s missed messages as well. His brow pulls tighter as he reads them, and he scrubs an irritated hand over his face before looking back at you, his eyes dark, apologetic, pissed off.

‘I gotta go,’ he says, forehead knocking against yours before he’s wobbling to his feet, breathless, ‘I gotta - it’s Benny, I don’t know - I don’t know what it is, but -’ His phone pings with another text, and he breathes out a fuck’s sake. ‘I’m sorry -’

‘Hey,’ Joel says softly, and you look back up at him. He still looks as wrecked as before, but he’s straightened himself out and his gaze is softened by concern. Without looking, he holds a hand out to pull you up off the floor, and you gratefully accept, pulling up your jeans. ‘It’s okay, really, it’s okay. Don’t be sorry - what’s happened?’

Frankie relaxes, exhales.

‘Bar fight. Benny and Will were still there when we left. Looks like Benny’s managed to piss the wrong people off.’ he pauses. ‘Again.’ 

Joel chuckles, lands a hand on his shoulder.

‘Got a little brother just like it. You want us to come with?’

Frankie looks from you to Joel, and shakes his head.

‘No,’ he smiles, ‘Thanks, that’s alright. Can’t be getting distracted on my way there. Won’t be much help in jail.’

You grin at him, straightening his shirt, his curls, and he lets you fuss. You swipe your thumb at the corner of his mouth, and he flushes. 

‘Are you sure?’ You ask.

He huffs a laugh, adjusting himself through his jeans, and you pout a little at his discomfort.

‘No,’ he admits, ‘But I’ll be alright. Honestly.’

‘Okay,’ you say, ‘Okay.’

He smiles again, dipping to kiss your cheek before shyly, hesitantly doing the same to Joel. You watch the smile that blooms across the older man’s lips before you find yourself mirroring it. 

‘I’ll walk you to your truck.’ Joel says. Frankie nods gratefully, and you hum as Joel squeezes your waist before heading towards the front door. 

‘See you next time, baby.’ You murmur to Frankie.

‘Next time.’ He whispers back, grinning and turning to follow Joel. He makes it to the open doorway before you remember.

‘Frankie -’ you call, and he turns, framed by the night behind him. You make a motion at your crotch, and he cocks his head at you. ‘Buttons.’ You stage-whisper, and he laughs as he adjusts himself, refastening the two you managed to get undone.

‘See you soon, hermosa,’ he says softly, and you smile as he follows Joel out to his truck.

You can’t sleep.

You’d bored quickly of tossing and turning, Joel dead to the world beside you, and had slunk downstairs for a glass of water. There’s a niggling feeling in your chest, something left unsatisfied. Guilty that, yet again, Frankie had not been given what he deserved, guilty that you hadn’t had time to see it through. And you just want to know if he’s okay, if he’s safe. You shoot him a text, leant against the marble he had watched you get fucked over less than two hours ago. Just a quick hey, are you okay?

You bite at your thumb, tap out another one - did you get home safe? He replies almost instantly.

Hey. I did. All good. I’m great. Had a great time

Then -

Thank you

You chew your lip a while, frowning, trying to work out if you believe him or not. God, texting sucks. Maybe you should call. You should call, just to check, even though he stayed, even though he watched, even though he said yes, even with the text -

But Frankie takes the decision from you with the next message, a voicenote minutes long. You wind yourself up for whatever it could possibly be, but nothing prepares you for the breathy moan that emanates loudly from your phone, so surprised that you almost drop the device. It’s followed by another, and the slick sound of what you can only assume to be Frankie’s fist fucking his cock, filtered through his quick, hot breaths. You close your eyes in rapt attention, dropping a hand to cup your sex as you listen to him whimper, as you listen to him whisper how good it feels, how he wants you, how he can still taste Joel in his mouth, how he’s about to come, how he’s coming - 

It takes you an embarrassingly short amount of time to follow him, chest heaving against the cool marble of the counter top, legs shaky as you stand up right.

There’s not a peep from upstairs. You decide to let Joel sleep this one out.

You’ll send him the audio in the morning.

———

Work is slow, and is only sped up by being, in Joel’s words, an insufferable tease.

You’d bounded around the bedroom this morning, still secretly thrilled with the voicenote from last night, not heeding Joel’s pleas to come back to bed as he watched you don his favourite matching set, stockings, a tight little pencil skirt and blouse, before pressing a deep, lingering kiss to his mouth and floating out the door to work. You made sure to send him a pretty little picture of your dripping cunt on your lunch break, quickly followed by Frankie’s voicenote, and to your delight, receive a video of him coming hard in return.

You bite your lip, squirming at your desk, sure you’ll soak through your skirt when he sends you a follow up message soon after.

You got plans tonight?

No? You shoot back.

Good. Stay free, baby

And oh, you don’t plan on being anything but before he leaves tomorrow.

———

When you get home from work, Joel is waiting. 

Waiting conspicuously in a pressed white dress shirt and slacks, a couple buttons undone so you’re greeted with the warm sight of his chest as he opens the door. He looks… divine. And he smells just as good, too. You press your lips to his quickly.

‘You look gorgeous,’ you smile, palm against his chest, one hand on his cheek to smooth the hair of his moustache. ‘What’s the occasion?’

‘Come upstairs,’ he says, smiling. ‘I wanna show you something.’

You raise an eyebrow, all manner of possibilities flashing through your mind before you drop your bag in the hallway and take his outstretched hand.

With one hand on your hip and another over your eyes, Joel guides you towards the bed. His fingers are warm and clammy over your eyelids, and you giggle as you both stumble forwards, the shadow of a bitten laugh trickling into your ear from behind you. 

‘What are you doing?’ 

‘One more second, ‘n you’ll find out.’

Joel brings you to a gentle stop before positioning you at just the angle he wants before taking his hand away from your face. He chuckles to find your eyes still squeezed shut. 

‘Open your eyes, baby.’

You blink them open, taking a long moment to realise what it is he’s showing you.

Laid out on the bed is a beautiful short and silken black dress. 

A short breath bursts from your lips as you step forwards to take the hem delicately in your fingers. 

‘Joel…’ you whisper, accusatory. It feels like water, so luxurious beneath your fingertips that you want to scold him for buying it. But when you turn and find his eyes bright, excited, soft, the guilt dies easily in your chest. ‘It’s beautiful.’

He shrugs, trying to disguise how pleased he is with your reaction. 

You step back towards him, taking his face in your hands, pressing kisses anywhere you can. 

‘Thank you,’ you murmur, ‘Thank you, baby, thank you. You really didn’t have to, but thank you.’

He scoffs lightly against your lips, hands gripping your hips again. 

‘’Course I did,’ he grins. A dirty, secret little thing. ‘You needed something to wear for tonight.’

A worry tugs in your chest. Tonight? Have you forgotten something? Fuck - should you have bought him something, too? It can’t be the anniversary of anything, you haven’t even -

As though he’s read your thoughts, Joel pulls you closer, one hand drifting lower to palm your ass. 

‘We’re going on a date.’

‘A date?’

Mhm, he hums against your mouth. 

‘Surprise date.’

‘You bought this for a date?’

You give him your most serious look, head tilted, movements stilled. Pink flushes up from beneath his shirt collar. 

‘Yeah, darlin’. Special dress for a special girl.’

You frown a little. 

‘Where are we going where I’ll need to dress like that?’

Joel bites his lip. 

‘Nice restaurant. We’re all getting dressed up.’

‘All?’

Joel extracts himself from your fingers, moving to fix his slicked back hair.

‘Joel. All?’

He shrugs again, looks at you over his shoulder in the mirror. 

‘I had some help choosing the dress.’

Fuck. Fuck. Heat flashes between your thighs so quickly that you sit down heavily on the edge of the mattress. Joel smirks at you through the glass as you try and regulate your breathing. Your heart thrums in your chest as the thoughts clash through your head - Frankie on his knees behind the door, his wide, hungry eyes, Frankie on his knees in front of Joel, the drip of your cunt onto the floor, the full, overwhelming feeling of Joel claiming you after Santi, Santi’s fingers on your jaw, you look at your daddy when you come for me -

Joel squats down in front of you, his knees popping, two fingers lifting your chin. 

‘Need to get ready, sugar,’ he drawls, ‘Rude to keep the boys waiting.’

You suck in a hot breath, eyes glazed, body warm and fluid already. 

‘Are - are they coming back here?’

‘Not tonight,’ he murmurs. ‘Want you to myself before I head out in the morning.’

He stands as you blink up at him, a smirk pulling at the corners of his mouth

‘Soon, baby,’ he reassures, ‘You’ll have us soon.’

———

Joel holds your hand as you descend the marble steps into the sunken restaurant. It’s gorgeous - classy - maybe a little too much, but you can’t find the wherewithal to care when he leads you to your table. Frankie and Santi are already seated and looking equally as handsome. They stand as you approach, Frankie flushing as he takes you in, kissing your cheek, Pope letting out a low whistle as he does the same.

You talk over glasses of wine, nibbles of bread, and your starter course; conversation often interrupted by anecdotes and jokes and observations of other patrons that definitely could have waited til later. Joel fills the boys in on the contract he’ll be away on up in Tulsa until late next week, and Pope says he will be flying back to Colombia for a few days to straighten out a couple loose ends with his last contract. You frown at him, having not been aware of this most recent development, but he’s quick to assure you that it is just that. Paperwork and documents he needs to ensure can be sealed away, picking up a couple of things from the Embassy, catching up with a couple of old colleagues, and then heading home. The boys never really talk about exactly what went down those years ago when they lost Tom, and frankly you’re not sure if you want to know. From what they have said, it was rash, greedy, and all but fucked from the start. Not something you’re particularly keen on imagining. But you’re glad that, this time, he’ll be safe and keeping away from it.

Joel and Santi share a glance over your head, and you realise you should have known. Should have known they’d be plotting and scheming.

It doesn’t take as long as it did the first time to set out the rules.

With the older men away, you and Frankie are free to spend your time as you see fit. Neither of you need to be looked after, neither of you need to be kept an eye on, but Santi and Joel phrase the opportunity to spend time together as more of a challenge. To see how you can work each other up, how well you can behave without either of them there to tell you what to do and how to do it. You’re grinning into your wine as you imagine it, all of the things you can do without actually fucking, until Joel halts your train of thought.

‘There’s one rule,’ he says. You pause mid-sip. He spears a piece of asparagus with his fork, bringing it to his mouth. ‘You can’t touch each other.’

You swallow, confused, looking across to Frankie, who is suddenly unable to meet your eye, and then to Pope, who watches the two of you with a cruelly delighted smirk.

‘We - what?’ You ask, confused.

‘Can’t touch,’ Joel says again, ‘’s your only rule. Dinner, drinks, movies, hell, sleepin’ in the same bed is fine. You just can’t touch.’ 

You stare at him. This is it. He’s lost his damn mind. 

‘Little challenge for you, baby girl,’ he says, ‘I know Frankie can do it. This one’s for you.’

You open your mouth, about to protest how that can’t possibly be fair before snapping your jaw closed again. Joel watches, amused. This is not an argument you will win.

‘Fine.’ You say, even as Santi snickers at the fact that it’s evidently not. You decide on a change of tact. ‘And myself?’ Frankie finally looks up at you, eyes wide. Your lips curl in a pleased smile as Santi takes a steadying sip of his drink.

‘You can touch yourself, darlin’’ Joel says, unfazed, ‘Never said you couldn’t do that.’

You nod, gears turning. An idea forming, one you tamp down by resting your hand on Joel’s thigh.

‘Was Benny okay last night?’ You ask Frankie, changing the subject. Your fingers begin their slow and steady stroke up and down Joel’s thigh as you watch the younger man flush.

‘Yeah,’ he nods, ‘He was only arrested for starting a bar fight -’

Your hand pauses only briefly on Joel’s thigh.

‘He was arrested?’

Frankie grins.

‘Yep. Not the first time. One day he might learn his lesson.’

You chuckle along with Joel and Santi.

‘Was he okay?’

‘Always is,’ Frankie says, ‘Lucky motherfucker. You should see the other guy.’

You smile, scraping your nails along Joel’s pants now, pleased when he shifts in his seat. He leans in close to your ear.

‘Knock it off, princess. I know exactly what you’re tryna do.’

You raise an eyebrow at him.

‘Never said I couldn’t touch you, daddy.’

You turn back to face Frankie, and he eyes you suspiciously. 

‘Don’t miss those days,’ Joel says, and Frankie’s eyes flick to him. ‘Tommy straightened out once he met Maria. Think the worst time I had to bail him out was the night’a my 36th birthday. He near caused a riot at some bar downtown. They still won't let him back in.’

‘Can imagine Tommy raining hell down on ‘em,’ Pope says, beside you. ‘He and Benny would make a hell of a team.’

Joel chuckles.

‘Sure would,’ he says, and you slide your palm over to cup him through his pants. He’s rock hard, cock twitching at your touch. But he doesn’t flinch, doesn’t falter. ‘She made him into a better man, my sister-in-law. Keeps him far outta trouble.’

His hand finds your own thigh beneath the table, squeezing as Santi begins to regale a story from his younger days with the boys. He starts the same ministrations as you, stroking, scraping, higher and higher, up to where you’re dripping, soaking yourself -

‘Joel.’ You whisper, something urgent in your voice. Why isn’t he stopping?

You’re suddenly nervous at the fact you’d decided to forego any underwear for the sake of the dress, before realising that is exactly what Joel had wanted. Like he knew you’d be running your hand up and down his thigh at the table, like he knew you’d be teasing him. Like he knew he could not only tease right back, but win the whole damn game. Smug bastard. He can read you like a book.

He leans in close to murmur into the conch of your ear.

‘Don’t start something you can’t finish, baby,’ as he pushes your dress higher to cup your sex. You clench your jaw as he chuckles underneath his breath, feeling how wet you are, how much more slick spills out at the pressure he applies. 

His fingers move up to circle your clit gently, and you let out a shaky breath. You watch him from the corner of your eye, his chin in his fist, eyes sparkling as he listens to and watches the two other men, as his movements against your cunt grow firmer, faster. You reach for your wine glass, eyes flicking to Frankie, only to find him looking at you, eyes bright with amusement. You narrow your eyes, and Joel leans in again.

‘Good girl, he says, ‘You’re gonna keep looking at Frankie, and I’m gonna make you come like this. And next time, you’re not gonna play any of your games in the middle of a restaurant.’

You grit your teeth against the whimper that fights to escape as quiet falls at the table, the conversation quickly forgotten as Frankie leans back in his chair, smirking, watching intensely. You don’t break eye contact as Santi’s hand drifts to the soft flesh of your thigh, drawing goosebumps as it nears Joel’s, as he traces the seam of your cunt, smearing the wetness around your skin. You don’t even look when Pope brings his fingers to his mouth, sucking the tips before releasing them with a lewd pop.

‘Good enough to eat.’

Your cunt throbs in response, breathing coming more laboured as Joel’s fingers work you tighter, tighter, slipping away to hook your thigh out wider, only to be replaced by Santi’s. Once he’s satisfied with your new position, he slips his hand beneath Pope’s, working the digits easily into your pussy, pumping in and out, curling to find that sweet spot within you. A small, desperate noise escapes you, and you set your glass down, your drink forgotten as you clutch at the napkin closest to you, body burning, buzzing, throbbing with pleasure. It’s too much, and it’s not enough.

You break eye contact with Frankie, holding your breath and biting your lip so hard you’re sure you’ll either pass out or draw blood.

‘No, baby,’ Joel rumbles into your hair, ‘Keep looking at Frankie. He’s gonna watch you come like this.’ You moan quietly again, meeting Frankie’s eyes, hot and close, so close.

Santi leans in so you can feel his hot breath against your cheek, goading, teasing -

‘Whenever you’re ready, sweetheart.’

Your orgasm clatters through you, the tightly bound knot bursting as you lean forward onto the table, trying to stop your body from twitching. You feel yourself tighten and clench around Joel’s fingers, feel your thighs grow wetter, your eyes rolling into the back of your head as Pope looses a quiet groan. The fire and heat of it make it almost impossible to keep quiet, a moan slipping past your lips as Joel retracts his fingers too quickly to pat you on the back in some kind of misleading gesture. Santi keeps his fingers pressed to your clit for as long as possible, letting you ride it out, before circling it again.

A gasped fuck passes your lips, and you slam your fist down onto the table, clattering the silverware and glasses. The action draws a chuckle from Santi and Joel, and sharp looks from the two tables closest to you.

You cough a little, trying to affect the pretence of choking, spluttering, anything that doesn’t look like you just came in the middle of a restaurant. 

When you haul your body back to sit upright, Joel moves his hand to your thigh, and Santi follows suit. Their fingers are wet against you, and you try not to look, try not to feel it, but it’s impossible. The slick feeling, the heat, the pressure. You could go again.

But, god, your throat is so dry.

As if on cue, the waitress appears at your shoulder to refill your water. You try to clear your throat to express your gratitude before noticing the deep red flush clawing up her neck, her gaze drawn to each hand still splayed on your thigh, dress rucked a little higher than it should be. You smile sheepishly at her, finally whisper a thank you.

When she leaves the table, you heave a deep breath, your head in your hands.

‘Almost.’ Joel whispers in your ear.

You resist the urge to flip him off, and instead decide the best way to get a hold of yourself is to head to the bathroom. Clean yourself up, splash a little cold water on your face. 

‘Excuse me,’ you murmur, voice hoarse and strained, and Frankie can’t help the smile that reaches his eyes. Looking to Joel and Santi, it appears they feel the same way. You grin despite yourself as you stand on unsteady legs, Joel’s hands shooting out to steady you as you giggle at the three of them, enjoying their favourite game.

‘Fuck you guys,’ you laugh as you turn on your heel, and they mirror your chuckles.

You’re almost to the door of the restroom when your waitress catches your eye. You try to smile at her and glide past without drawing any more attention to yourself, but fail.

‘Ma’am,’ she calls softly, stepping just in front of you. Your stomach twists. Fuck, she knows. She knows, and she’s gonna kick you all out, you’re gonna get arrested - ‘Are you alright?’

You blink at her, surprised. And then it clicks. One woman, surrounded by three men. The hands on your thighs, your dress. Three men who have been talking intently, possessively, obviously, even if they can’t be heard. You exhale.

‘Oh no, it’s - yes. Thank you for checking. That’s - really kind of you. I’m fine. We’re friends - I mean - it’s complicated - but it’s nothing to worry about.’

It’s complicated? Why the fuck did you say that? You twist your fingers as you try and work out how to extricate yourself from the hole you’ve dug, but your mind draws a blank. You pray she missed your phrasing, her eyes searching your face as you give her your warmest smile. It’s only a moment before she returns it, even brighter.

‘Oh, like a - what is it - a polyamorous thing? That’s neat. You get it, cowgirl,’ she grins, before clapping a hand over her mouth. ‘Oh my god,’ she gasps, ‘I’m so sorry, that was so unprofessional -’

You laugh, somewhat relieved, placing a gentle hand on her arm - it soothes her.

‘No, please,’ you giggle, ‘It’s fine, really.’

She peels her fingers back from her lips nervously and massages her temples.

‘I don’t know what came over me,’ she whispers, before meeting your eye again. ‘I’m sorry. But as long as you’re good. You know, taken care of.’ You watch as she cringes at herself. You reach out again to press her bicep.

‘Really, it’s fine,’ you say, glancing back to your table. You feel… warm as you look over at the three of them - relaxed, laughing. Warm at how easily you can all move back and forth in this dynamic. Warm at the feel of the slick around the tops of your legs. ‘I’m very well taken care of. And it’s really good of you to check.’

She smiles at you again as you step away towards the bathroom.

‘Oh, not at all,’ she says, bashful. ‘I’m glad. You guys have fun.’

The rest of the night passes easily, wrapped in conversation and good food. Jokes are whipped across the table so fast that the four of you cackle with laughter, the air sizzling with good humour and lightness. Joel has his hands on you whenever he can, and when you finally leave the restaurant just before closing time, Pope holds you tenderly, kisses both cheeks, and murmurs that he hopes you learned your lesson. You smack his arm and tell him to be safe in Colombia. Frankie does the same, but departs with a remark about how beautiful you looked instead - ‘especially when you come, hermosa’ he adds.

Joel makes sure you remember what he taught you at the table, taking the time to rock you through orgasm after orgasm in his bed until you’re in tears, until he’s sure the neighbours can hear you calling yes daddy, thank you daddy, I’m sorry daddy over the lawn.

He pulls you close afterwards, pressing kisses to any slither of skin he can, telling you how well you did, how proud you make him, how good you can be when you try. He only leaves to head through to the bathroom to turn on the shower, making you promise to join him when you can rouse yourself from the snuggly duvet. You don’t take much convincing.

Once you can hear him humming under the flow of water, you pad downstairs to the bag you’d left in the hallway yesterday. You root around in it before finding what you need, clutching it to your chest with a thrill before retreating back to Joel’s bedroom. You bury it in his suitcase, underneath at least a day’s worth of clothes, before stripping and joining him in the shower.

———

When you wake the next morning, Joel’s suitcase is already zipped shut, and the smell of coffee is drifting up the stairs.

You find him sat at the breakfast table, staring out into the weak morning sunshine, a steaming mug already set down for you across from him. You drift past him, a hand trailing from one shoulder, over his broad back, to the next, tracing the lines of your favourite plaid shirt, before pressing a kiss to his temple. 

You sit quietly in each other’s company, the silence slowly turning to low conversation. What route he’ll be taking, where he’ll be staying, what the job will involve, what the people are like. What your work week looks like, what the book you’re reading is about, what you’ll do with him gone. You settle your chin on your palm.

‘Any other rules I should know about?’

Joel looks back at you with amusement written all over his face.

‘No. Jus’ don’t try anything at dinner again. Or do. I’m always happy to remind you.’

You giggle, and he grins back, all white teeth and crinkly eyes.

‘You know, even the waitress asked if I was okay afterwards.’

He grunts, enough of a question in it for you to continue.

‘I mean, I don’t think she saw anything go down. But she saw me with you guys and asked if I was okay.’

Joel raises his eyebrows.

‘What do you mean?’ 

You falter.

‘I guess… you know. Me, with you guys. Just making sure nothing - weird was going on.’

‘Weird?’

‘Bad.’ You say. Joel’s eyes soften, but his brow furrows.

‘I said no, of course. That we’re all friends. I don’t know. I rambled. She asked - she asked whether it was a polyamorous thing,’ you shrug.

‘’N what did you say?’

Something about the way Joel asks the question catches you off guard. A little brusque, a little too quick off his tongue. Your eyes narrow slightly.

‘Nothing,’ you admit, ‘I didn’t want to get into the semantics of what we do with a stranger. And - I don’t know what to call it. I don’t know if that is what it is.’

‘It something you’re interested in?’

You blink at him. He’s not looking at you, his jaw set, body tense. You feel your own jaw clench.

‘Is it something you’re interested in?’

Joel chews the side of his cheek, brow knitted as he looks out to the garden into the morning sunlight.

‘I don’t know,’ he says, ‘Not really thought about it before.’

You soften at the way his body deflates. Remember this is just as fresh for him as it is for you. You nod, reach out to take his massive hand in yours. His eyes swing back to you, and you squeeze his fingers. 

‘You don’t have to think about it,’ you reassure him, ‘All of this is new. All of it. And if you want to talk about it, we’ll talk about it. But -’ you say, reaching to hold his other hand, too, ‘I want you to know none of it changes how I feel about you. You are enough for me. You will always be enough for me.’

Joel searches your face, quiet and serious. You lift his hands to your lips and press a tender kiss to his knuckles.

‘I love you.’ You say, softly.

There’s no sound through the quiet dawn of the world but a quiet intake of breath from Joel across the table. Your eyes flick up to him at the sound, to the brows slightly further up his tan forehead, his wide, surprised, brown eyes. And you realise that it’s slipped from you, aloud, for the first time. All that time spent thinking it, knowing it, feeling it, but those words in that order have been yet to pass either of your lips. In the conversations between sharing spaces, meeting families, spending time with friends, you’d forgotten to put into words what you’d assumed Joel already knew.

I love you.

You still, his hands unmoving before your lips, releasing a quiet exhale of your own.

‘I love you,’ you say again, even softer. And then, through heat rising in your chest - ‘You don’t have to say it back. If you’re not ready yet - you don’t have to ever say it back if you don’t want to -’

He grips your hands tight.

‘I love you.’ he says, gravelly and warm. And you believe him. See it in all its molten gold truth in his eyes. I love you.

You can’t help the delighted little laugh that falls from your lips. The same sound slips from Joel, and you sit, giggling and grinning at each other, in love, unaware of the minutes that tick by. You bite your lip.

‘Does that mean you’re my boyfriend now?’

Joel baulks at you, laughter frozen on his lips. Your heart squeezes, joy almost overtaken by nerves.

‘You mean - did I never ask you that?’

You shake your head slowly.

Joel sucks a breath in through his teeth. Something passes over his features; embarrassment, shame -

‘I’m sorry,’ he says lowly, a flush colouring his cheeks, ‘I’m sorry - I just - I assumed -’ he ducks his head away from you, ‘What an ass -’

You giggle at him, and he fixes you with his best puppy dog eyes.

‘Joel,’ you smile, ‘It’s okay, honestly -’

But he shakes his head.

‘No,’ he winces, ‘Sarah would be - so disappointed in me if she knew. She -’ he fixes you with an apologetic stare again, ‘She knew I loved you before you did. My God. And Tommy - Tommy would be wringing my neck, and my Momma - she raised me better than this -’

‘Joel,’ you laugh, standing from your chair to circle the table. Instinctively, he spreads his thighs for you to sit, and you settle down onto him, your legs perpendicular to his. You thread your arms around his neck, holding him close, and a warm palm comes to pet the small of your back. ‘Relax. Please don’t worry about it,’ you press a kiss to the patch in his beard, and he leans his head into you, eyes closed. ‘Besides. I kinda assumed it, too.’

His eyes open, so full of warmth, love.

‘Well,’ he says, ‘Do ya wanna be my girlfriend?’ 

You huff a laugh into his neck, resting on his shoulder.

‘Baby,’ you tease, ‘I thought you’d never ask.’

You spend a little while longer like that, curled up in his lap like a cat, sharing kisses and giggles, until Joel checks his watch and sighs. You clamber off him and follow him upstairs, leaning against the doorframe as he makes his final checks.

‘Joel,’ you call softly, hesitating. You cringe in the doorway. ‘Is it - seeing Frankie for dinner tonight, is that - is that still okay?’

He smiles and steps towards you, gathering you in his arms.

‘You know what the limits are,’ he says into your hair. ‘I trust you. ’F I didn’t want you to do something, you’d have known about it before dinner. ’Sides,’ he says, ‘You’ll look good together at that table. I’ll be thinkin’ bout it while I’m away.’

You snort and rest your forehead against his chest, breathing his scent in.

‘Just wanted to check.’ You mumble. Joel presses a kiss to your hair, rocking you side to side.

‘I love you.’ He says.

‘Love you too.’ You whisper.

Minutes later, you watch his truck peel away from the house, waving through the rays of sunlight now peeking out from the trees. He waves back, his arm out the driver’s side window, until the truck disappears from view. You swallow the lump in your throat, wash the coffee mugs, gather your clothes, and lock Joel’s front door behind you.

———

Joel calls you later in the afternoon to let you know he’s arrived safe. And Frankie texts to let you know he’s picking you up at seven.

When you get home from work, you busy yourself with a shower, with laundry you’ve held off, with tidying the house, and when you’re settled, ready, you call Joel again. Just to hear his voice, just to know he’s eaten. He chuckles a melody down the line at your fussing, but before he has to hang up, he lets slip that he misses you already, just as much. 

When seven rolls around, you feel warm, giddy, nerves fluttering in your stomach as you wait for the sound of tyres outside. 

Frankie greets you at your door, relaxed in a t-shirt that strains across his arms, his signature cap, and a beaming smile. You melt a little at the sight of him, so boyish, so bashful, so handsome, that you have to forcefully remind yourself of the rules. No touching, which must surely extend to no kissing. Still, as though he can’t help himself, he keeps a palm on the small of your back as he leads you into the small restaurant he’s chosen and plays with your fingers while you’re sat at your table.

You eat and talk, laughing and smiling like you always do. He asks about work, the projects you’re working on, and you fill him in on all the office gossip. How one of the line managers got fired last week, how Trisha from accounting is pregnant. He asks question after question until you laugh and remind him that you want to talk about him as well, and he flushes shyly. You ask about Lucia, about work, about flying again. He tells you about the places he’s been, the people he’s taken there, and one nightmare trip from last week where one woman refused to get in the helicopter, too scared to fly, until she had to be told that it was part of the proposal her boyfriend had planned. 

You order gelato for dessert and share it with two spoons, giggling as you feed it to each other. You both get a text from Santi, a selfie of him sipping a beer, looking warm and delicious. You get a text from Joel, too, a picture of him straight out of the shower which sets your cunt throbbing, hoping you’re having a good night.

Frankie insists on settling the check and walks you back to his truck with a warm palm still on your skin. He opens the door for you, waiting for you to settle in your seat before he shuts it and crosses to the driver’s side.

He drives you to a spot overlooking the city, and you stay in the cab, seatbelts unbuckled, turned towards each other, swapping stories like teenagers at a sleepover. You try not to think too hard as the night settles in around you. Try not to watch his hands, his thick fingers, the way his arms bunch and flex, how strong his thighs look, how good he smells. But it’s so hard, so hard when he’s right across from you, smiling, eyes trailing over your body, getting caught on your lips, watching the way your limbs are draped in his truck. The way he’s looking at you makes it hard to remember the rules, hard to resist leaning over the console and pressing your mouth to his, especially when he lowly confesses how badly he wants to kiss you.

You huff a breathless laugh, looking away from him out to the shimmering skyline outside the window screen. Try to distract yourself with how the distant lights of the city shimmer like moonlight on water, how the structures of the skyscrapers reach up to the night flights swooping over the horizon. Something as far away from your body as possible, so you don’t have to think about Frankie’s warm, broad chest, what he would sound like moaning against you. 

‘I wish you would,’ You whisper. When you turn back to look at Frankie, he is already watching you. Pressed against the driver’s side door, mouth slightly open, his eyes sparkling and dark. ‘You could kiss me.’

His mouth closes with a gentle snap of his teeth, and he shakes his head.

‘You know I can’t do that.’

You nod, eyes finding the skyline again.

‘I know. But I still wish you would.’

In the silence that follows, you can feel slick drooling and cooling from your cunt, soaking your panties. You shift in your seat, unsure whether you’re trying to ignore or resolve the discomfort. Frankie watches you still, and when you wriggle again, his own hips shift. You fix him with a stare, the air hot and thick between you. You curve your body towards him, one hand coming down gently to hold yourself over the console.

‘They wouldn’t know. If we kissed.’

Frankie continues to stare as you remain frozen, poised before him.

‘I know.’

‘Then let me kiss you.’

‘No, hermosa.’

You look back and forth between his eyes and his lips, watching his throat bob as he tries to keep his distance.

You slump backwards a little, trying not to feel any kind of acute rejection. You’re just hot, bothered, unbearably aroused in the cabin of his truck. His refusing to kiss you isn’t a mark on his desire, just his self control. Muscle memory of years of following instructions. Frankie turns his body, facing forward out the windscreen in his seat. He swipes his palms over the steering wheel, and your lips part, cunt burning when you imagine those hands on you again, huge palms sweeping down your curves, your thighs, up between your legs -

‘I’m not gonna kiss you, because then I’ll need to fuck you.’

Your gasp zips past your lips before you can stop it. Frankie keeps his eyes trained forwards as you stare at him. Your pussy clenches around nothing, needing something to sate it, a touch, a glance, anything -

‘Frankie -’

He shakes his head, grip tightening on the wheel.

‘Please, Frankie, I’ll be so good -’

‘Enough.’

You watch his nostrils flare, watch a muscle in his jaw tick. Watch a certain darkness sweep over his features, and you know, you know you’ve won.

He never stood a chance.

‘Tell me,’ you whisper, and he shakes his head, skull pressed into the headrest, hands white-knuckling the steering wheel. ‘I want you to tell me. Tell me how you’d fuck me.’

Frankie closes his eyes slowly, his shoulders tensing, breath faltering. 

‘No,’ he whispers, ‘No, baby, I can’t do that -’

You whine, hands scrubbing down your bare thighs, trying to find something to grip, to hold, something that’s not him -

‘God - it aches, Frankie,’ you whine, wriggling in the seat, and his eyes flick back and forth over you; your pathetic attempts to grind into something, the heaving of your chest, the wild, desperate look in your eyes.

‘What, baby? What aches?’ He breathes, and he’s tilting forwards towards the centre console like he could pounce on you, like he could hold your hands in a tight, binding grip behind your back, like he could eat you here, devour you here -

You whimper by way of an answer, hands finally resting on the hem of your skirt, pushing it up, up to rest at your hips. Frankie watches, eyes molten and black as you cup yourself, as you grind against your hand. He moans loudly at the sight.

‘There, hermosa?’

You shudder out a sigh, a hissed yes as you apply more pressure. His throat bobs as he considers, as he weighs his options.

‘Please, Frankie -’ you beg, though you’re not sure what for. Rules, rules, but none of them seem to make sense anymore, none of them seem to matter as you lick your own lips at his growing bulge in his jeans. He breathes in harshly, swiping a palm across his mouth before he fixes you with a look that makes you feel dizzy. He swallows thickly.

‘Show me.’

It's easy, so easy. You lift your hips from the seat and slide your thumbs under the waistband of your panties, pulling them down, down, watching him the whole time. He waits like he’s forgotten how to breathe, this starving, tortured look in his eyes like he’s dying of thirst and water is just out of reach. You spread your legs for him and dip your fingers to your slit, gathering the slickness there before trailing the digits further up, spreading yourself in a v shape so he can see everything, see how you throb, how your clit twitches, how you leak down into the cleft of your ass. 

‘Need you, Frankie,’ you whine, ‘Need you to -’

He lurches back like he’s been shocked.

‘Don’t,’ he grits, ‘Don’t, you know I can’t touch you -’

‘Then watch,’ you breathe, ‘He said don’t touch. But you can watch. I can watch.’

‘Watch?’ he repeats, breathless, body shifting, open, and you nod, rutting against your palm. 

‘Yeah,’ you murmur, ‘Frankie, baby, let me watch you. Need to see you.’

He stares at you, something working behind his eyes.

‘Watch,’ he says again, nodding, ‘Yeah, please baby, is that okay? Can I watch?’

You nod, relishing in the control that he shifts so easily to you. You trace the swollen lips of your pussy, spreading the glistening wetness so it catches every stream of moonlight bruising through the window. 

‘You, too. Wanna watch you, too.’

He nods quickly, mouth agape, unable to tear his eyes away from your core. He palms himself roughly over his jeans.

You trace your fingers back over your clit, swiping it in circles until your head falls back against the window, your brows pulling together as you loose a quiet cry. You bite your lip, looking down your nose at him.

‘Is it good?’ he gasps, ‘Please - tell me - how does it feel?’

‘Good,’ you moan, ‘So fucking good, Frankie.’

He groans, his hands finding his button and zipper, undoing them before shifting his hips to pull his jeans down. He reaches inside his boxers to pull himself free, swollen and leaking. 

He’s thick, and just as big as you knew he would be - but he’s so pretty as well. The same tan as his skin, pink flush at his tip, skin silken, blue veins just hidden beneath the surface.  You moan, wanton and crooning, sinking a finger into yourself as he grips his base, squeezing at the sight of your digit disappearing up to the knuckle. 

Your hips lift as he begins to fuck himself slowly with his fist, lips wet and eyes blown, his other hand coming away from scratching at the denim of his thigh to cup his balls. You go slow for him as he watches, working your bud in agonisingly steady circles, pumping your finger in and out gently until you remove it completely, Frankie’s eyes drawn to the strand of slick suspended from your finger. He moans, a sick, feral sound, his head falling back against the seat to expose the straining muscles in his neck, the sweat that glimmers in the hollows before his clavicles. He jerks himself faster, tighter - tip ruddy now, beading with precum that he swipes down the length of his shaft, slick enough for you to imagine that it’s your spit, your wetness. A surge of arousal floods your fingers again, and you whimper.

‘Look at you, Frankie. So pretty.’

Frankie answers with his own choked moan as he watches you sink your finger into your heat again, but this time he grits his teeth, inhaling sharply before endowing you with an instruction -

‘Give yourself more, hermosa. Another. Know you need it, baby.’

You comply, sinking in another finger easily, rocking your hips back and forth, the sound of it obscene, loud in the quiet around you, and Frankie squeezes himself, breathless.

‘Fuck, hermosa, you’re so wet - so wet. Does that feel good?’

You nod frantically, speeding up your movements until Frankie matches your rhythm, his body tense, his tip turning a beautiful shade of crimson. You whimper again. This soft, sweet man, reduced to this savage across from you, fisting himself, reeling himself back from the edge just to wait to come with you. 

You watch as his eyes drop to your cunt again, as a grunt wrenches itself from his chest, and he begs you - more, please, hermosa. You oblige, sliding another of your fingers into your dripping cunt just to catch a glimmer of what he’d feel like inside of you. Your orgasm flexes, tight and searing inside of you, and you whine.

‘Close, so close, Frankie -’ you pant, and his eyes widen, fist working so furiously you wonder whether it hurts, whether he likes it like that. He groans deep in his throat.

‘Make yourself come, baby, please make yourself come. I need to watch you come.’ And you obey, seizing, pussy gripping your fingers, body curling in on itself as you come, teeth clenched to bite back your scream. Frankie falls slack in his seat, eyes glazed as his cock jerks in his grip, and you meet his eyes, gasping out -

‘Frankie - want you to come, come for me, baby boy -’ and he erupts over his hands, over the tops of his thighs and his belly with a whine, his eyes rolling into the back of his head. You watch his spend trickle over his knuckles, saliva pooling in your mouth at the sight, and your fingers twitch as you pull them from inside you. You are so close to reaching out and taking it on your own fingertips to swipe against your lips, and it’s like Frankie reads your mind -

‘I want to taste you. So fucking bad.’ he gasps, gaze fixed on your shining fingers. You bring them to your mouth, tongue sweeping between the digits, beneath your nails, moaning at your own salty sweet taste. Frankie groans again, tugging his spent cock weakly if only to stop himself from reaching out to snatch your wrist to him.

‘I promise,’ you murmur between licks, ‘I promise - soon, baby - God, so soon -’

You suck your middle finger into your mouth, keeping your eyes locked with his, before releasing it with a lewd pop. Frankie looks physically pained.

‘Stop,’ he pants, ‘Just - stop. I need you to stop.’

You understand, whole body still at fever pitch despite your release. Your hands fall to your thighs. Frankie tucks himself back into his boxers and lifts his hips to fix his jeans before popping open the driver’s side door.

‘Just - give me a moment.’ He murmurs as he jumps out, leaving the door open behind him. You watch as he walks circles in the dirt beside the car, his hands on the back of his head, breathing like he’s run a marathon. It takes a minute for your own brain to catch up with you. You tug your panties back up and your skirt down, some kind of horrible anxiety, disappointment and desperation clawing up your throat. You swallow and pop your own door open, rounding the truck to find Frankie.

The air has done him good. His eyes are clearer, body more relaxed, and he watches you approach with an expression that softens at every step. He barely gets out a you oka- before you rush to him with open arms, crashing into his chest with a quiet mmph. Frankie wraps his arms around you just as quickly, rocking the two of you back and forth, swooping a palm down your back.

‘I’m sorry.’ You whisper. Frankie stops his swaying, gives your shoulder a little squeeze.

‘Why are you apologising, princesa?’ he asks, so sweet you have to swallow again before answering.

‘I don’t know,’ you murmur, ‘That was supposed to feel good, but I don’t - I don’t know how I feel -’

He holds you tighter as tears threaten in your eyes, and you will yourself not to blink, lest they fall.

‘S’okay,’ he whispers back, ‘Might be ‘cause you want it so bad,’ you feel the rumble of a chuckle ripple through his chest. ‘That was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen, and I still feel like I could rip my skin off.’

A sharp laugh bubbles out of your mouth, taking you by surprise. You blink and the tears begin to fall, and you laugh harder. The man might be right.

‘This is so weird,’ you chuckle against his chest, ‘I’ve never been so horny I’ve cried before.’

He laughs, pressing a sweet kiss to your head.

‘It’s okay,’ he says, ‘And it’s not weird. Feels like my brain will never work the same again.’

You laugh harder, sniffing as you pull away from him. He grins down at you, pinches your chin lightly between his thumb and forefinger.

‘Home?’ he asks.

‘Yeah, Frankie,’ you smile, ‘Take me home.’

Frankie holds your hand over the centre console the whole way home. You’re too tired to think about the semantics of rules, too overwhelmed to wonder what Joel or Santi would say. You grant yourself a small mercy in the passenger seat, reminding yourself that this is okay. This is aftercare. It’s necessary, Joel grumbles in your ear, it doesn’t come with rules.

When Frankie pulls up outside your place, he hops out to make sure he can the truck door for you and help you down. He walks you to your front door like he’d done so many moons ago, ever the gentleman, and waits until the door is unlocked and you’ve flicked the hallway light on. 

You turn to face him, wrapping yourself around him again. He returns the hug.

‘Will you call me if you need anything?’

‘Yeah,’ you breathe, ‘Will you?’

‘’course,’ he swipes the back of his hand over your cheek, and dips to press a soft, firm kiss to your forehead. ‘See you tomorrow, baby.’ He says. You pinch his cheek as he pulls away, chuckling as he bounds back down the path.

You watch his truck peel away like a teenager, standing in the doorway smiling to yourself until his tail lights disappear around the corner.

———

When Joel calls not fifteen minutes later, you’re wearing one of his shirts, grinding your bare pussy into your pillow, fingers working steadily against your clit.

You fumble with your phone, taking longer than usual to swipe to answer the call, and if that hadn’t have given you away, your pants and whimpers do. Joel chuckles warmly down the line at you.

At his ‘how you doing, baby girl?’, your mouth curves in a shy smile, and a heat blossoms in your chest. Your ‘good, daddy’ is true, a kind of peace settling over your frazzled body and mind. You let out a cooing moan before you can ask how his day’s been, and his breath catches down the line.

‘And what are you doing, baby girl?’ he asks softly, so soft, and you smile even wider.

‘Thinkin’ bout you, daddy.’ You breathe, and he hums at your words.

‘Just me?’

‘Mostly.’ You confess, and he chuckles, a honeyed sound.

‘Mostly,’ he echoes, ‘And what are you using while you’re thinking about me, baby?’

You give a strong roll of your hips, grinding down as you answer him.

‘A pillow, daddy.’

‘Mhm. Just a pillow?’

You whine.

‘Fingers, too.’

‘Greedy fuckin’ girl,’ he chuckles. You moan loudly, and are rewarded with a low grunt in return. He listens to you breathe for a moment before you hear the crackle of him shifting, moving.

‘Stop now,’ he says, gently. ‘Need to ask you somethin’.’

You pull your fingers out of your cunt, whining as you do. You can picture his smirk so clearly that you tell him to knock it off.

‘Sorry baby.’ He apologises, so disingenuous. 

‘What’s the question?’

‘I found something. In my case,’ he says. ‘Don’t suppose you’d know who put it there?’

You bite your lip.

‘Hmmm. Depends. What is it?’

You hear Joel fumble with something before he speaks again.

‘Let’s see. One of ‘em… pocket pussy things.’

‘Huh. No idea. Must have been your other girlfriend.’

He laughs.

‘Motherfucker. You damn well I can’t handle another one of you.’

You grin at your reflection. If you had a cord phone, you’d be twirling the plastic around your finger right now. Girlfriend.

‘My bad. Must have been me, then.’

‘Causing trouble even from all the way over there, huh, angel?’

You roll your eyes, knowing he’s drawing it out.

‘Sure, daddy,’ you coo. There’s a beat. ‘Have you… tried it?’

He huffs, and you can see the frown in your mind. How you’d smooth your fingers over it.

‘Ain’t need it when I’ve got you.’

‘Even when you’re far away?’

There’s a pause as Joel considers his reply.

‘You feelin’ sorry for me or somethin’?’

You sigh, letting your fingers dip to your clit. He won’t know, so long as you’re quiet.

‘Couldn’t just - leave you out, daddy,’ you huff against the phone. 

A low chuckle rumbles through from the other end, and you bite your lip.

‘So this is - what? My consolation prize?’ 

‘No,’ you frown, ‘It’s better than that. Better than your hand.’

‘Better ‘n my hand?’

‘Yeah, daddy.’

‘Is it better than you, babygirl?’

You roll your hips at his question, biting back a whine.

‘No, daddy.’

He hums down the line.

‘Sounds like a consolation prize to me, honey.’

You sigh again, louder this time.

‘’S not a consolation prize,’ you groan. ‘Frankie isn’t even allowed to touch me.’

Joel chuckles at you properly this time.

‘You sound disappointed, baby.’

‘I am.’

He waits. He waits, because he knows. Of course he knows.

‘We watched each other, daddy,’ you breathe. Confessional, dirty. A heat flushes up your cheeks as you tug at your t-shirt, suddenly nervous.

‘Watched?’ he asks, a smile curling the word.

Mmhm.

‘Well done, baby,’ he says, ‘I’m impressed. Though a little disappointed it didn’t take you longer to figure out.’

You giggle, and he puffs out a breath before continuing.

‘Santi told me it wouldn't be so fast. Thought it’d take you guys a little while to -’

‘He thought it’d take Frankie longer to work out,’ you interject. Joel falls silent. ‘He knows Frankie, but not me so well. You should’ve known better.’ 

Joel laughs again.

‘You’re goddamn right, angel.’ 

You smile, smug. Hum in agreement.

Joel sighs.

‘Too eager for your own goddamn good,’ he murmurs, ‘Bet you can’t wait to know what his cock feels like inside you, huh? Can’t wait to be droolin’ and comin’ over him like you do me, hm?’

God, his mouth. You moan openly, rocking your hips again, ready. Ready to hear him moaning, too, ready to hear the slick sound of the toy on his dick, ready to hear him groaning your name as he comes.

‘Yes, daddy.’

Joel hums, pleased. His breathing comes a little ragged this time, making your core hotter, tighter, wetter.

‘Use it,’ you moan, ‘Please, daddy. Wanna hear you use it.’

‘I’ll use it,’ he grunts, ‘But you ain’t gonna touch yourself. Just gonna have to listen, sweetheart.’

‘Please -’ you whine, but he cuts you off with a harsh tut.

‘No. You’re gonna be good, you’re gonna listen to me first.’

You begin to groan out again but he says your name in such a tone that you feel your body shift into submission, acquiescing to his demand.

‘You’re gonna stay still,’ he tells you, ‘And you’re gonna leave that pretty pussy alone until I’m done, y’hear?’ Your eyes half close, head dipping forward.

‘Yes, daddy.’ 

‘Good girl.’

You listen closely to the pop of the cap on the bottle of lube you’d packed for him, his heavy breathing as you imagine him soaking the toy, his sharp inhale as he spreads the cool gel over himself. The pop sounds again, and you wait with baited breath.

You’re rewarded almost immediately with a groan that resonates right through your body, vibrating straight down to your cunt as though he had voiced it against your lips.

‘Gonna start with my hand, baby,’ he says, voice low and breathy, ‘Start nice and slow, just like you would if you were here, huh?’

You hum low in your throat and lick your lips.

‘Wouldn’t start like that, daddy.’ Your voice is husky, drenched in lust at the thought of Joel spread on the hotel bed stroking his cock.

‘Oh?’

‘Start with my mouth,’ you breathe, ‘I’d lick you. Get you nice and wet so I can suck on it.’

‘Yeah?’ he whispers, ‘That what you’d do, you’d suck on it?’

You ache and throb between your legs, your free hand scratching at the skin of your thigh to distract yourself. Your mouth waters at the thought.

‘Mhm, daddy. Nice and deep, how you like it. You could fuck my throat if you wanted to.’

A low, guttural sound answers you, the slick sounds of his moving fist getting faster.

‘I’d want you to hold me still while I take you, daddy. I’d want to dribble and gag and cry.’

Joel huffs.

‘Would you, baby? You’d be such a good girl for me?’

You nod, lip between your teeth, even though he can’t see you.

‘Yeah, daddy.’

‘And what if daddy wants to fuck your tight little pussy, baby girl? What would you do then?’

You moan, eyes fluttering shut, hips shifting of their own accord. You grip the hem of your t-shirt.

‘I’d let you.’ you answer, helplessly.

Joel chuckles darkly. 

‘Want me to tell you what I’d do?’ He asks, and you loose a pained little sound, brows pulling together. You’re sure you’re soaking the pillow at this point, dripping through to the other side. Joel laughs again. ‘I think I’d tie you up, baby,’ he says, so low, so deep, that the world starts to drift away from you. You’re barely aware of the fact that the noise of his hand has stopped until he moans wantonly into the phone, and your eyes fly open. ‘Fuck,’ he grits, and then he huffs a cruel little laugh. ‘Was gonna tell you how I’d tie you up and fuck you, baby,’ he growls, ‘But this toy feels good ‘nough that I might just make you watch me instead.’

You whine, chin tipped up to the ceiling, hushed little cries of no, daddy, please - falling from your lips.

‘Oh, sweetheart. You don’t like the sound ‘a that?’ he asks. You shake your head, mewling, ‘No, ‘course not,’ he murmurs ‘Just wanna be stuffed full ‘a daddy’s cock, huh? Wanna be creamin’ around it way you love to, all stretched out and used, yeah?’

God, yes you do. You moan breathlessly, cunt twitching and throbbing, and you wonder whether this is enough to just come hands free. If you concentrate hard enough, if you bear down enough -

‘Maybe I’d film it,’ he muses, ‘Film it so Santiago and Francisco could watch. See how you really like to be used, how cock dumb I can make you. Would you like that, angel?’

‘Fuck, daddy, yes -’

‘Mmm. So they can see how good you look when you beg, when you’re dripping with my cum, huh, baby girl? See how good you look when you cry, when you just take it for me?’

You can tell he’s getting closer, his breathing heavier and more ragged, longer pauses between his thoughts. You wriggle on the pillow, feeling yourself flutter around nothing at the pathetic stimulation. He moans again, broken and loud, and you puff against the speaker, seeing your opportunity -

‘Come for me, daddy,’ you pant, ‘Please - come for me. Need to hear you daddy, please -’

Joel’s breath catches raggedly, once, twice, before it cuts off with a deep growl. With every resounding moan you hear, you can imagine the spurts of cum bursting from his tip. You wriggle even more, cunt burning. 

‘Atta girl,’ Joel gasps, ‘Atta girl, helping your daddy out.’

‘Please,’ you moan, breathless, ‘Please, daddy, my turn, is it -’

‘Your turn,’ he says, so warm, so sweet, ‘Go ahead, baby. Long as it’s only yourself you’re touchin’.’ 

Your fingers flutter to your clit, swiping it gently, so sensitive, and you grit your teeth.

‘Only me.’ You repeat, and you can picture Joel’s answering smile. All teeth.

‘Just you, baby girl. No touchin’ no one else. Not even Frankie.’

You stay silent, moving your hips now to drag your soaked folds against the pillow. Your head falls to your shoulder, and you moan long and loud, wondering whether you can convince Frankie, whether you’ve got enough time together to film the two of you - watching each other, then Frankie stretching you out, filling you with his cum. Something you could send to Joel and Santi, a little treat, a little teaser. 

You’ve been quiet for too long. And Joel knows. He always knows.

‘You gonna break the rules, baby girl?’ He coos. 

You smile, as though he’s read your mind.

‘How much trouble will I be in if I do?’ You ask through a moan, biting your lip.

He chuckles down the line at you. 

‘I don’t know, sugar,’ he drawls, ‘But you could always find out.’

The line clicks and beeps as he hangs up, and you stare down at your phone in disbelief. The signal must have dropped. 

Just as you fumble to press the call button again, a text flies through.

Night, babygirl x

And then another - 

Try to be good. I know it’s hard for you

You huff a laugh as you drop the phone into your lap, hips curling again over the pillow beneath you. Sonofabitch. 

You’ll behave as badly as you damn well please.

———

You and Frankie make quick work of dinner the next evening. Your hands are clammy at the dinner table, pulse fast in your neck, a flush passing high over Frankie’s collar the whole time.

He makes even faster work of the drive back to yours, scraping through red lights as you pull your skirt higher, as you skate your fingers over your thighs, over your panties, watching him the whole time. There’s a wonderful thrill when you catch him looking, when his eyes meet yours and then drift to your hands, how dark they are in the passing streetlights, the white-knuckle grip of his hands on the wheel.

You can feel the heat of him behind you as you unlock the front door, the hunger of wanting his hands on you, pushing you through the doorway, the press of his chest against your back. But you can wait. You can be good.

You move through to your kitchen with him trailing behind you, and you’re grabbing two beers from your fridge before the question of do you want a drink? is even out. When you turn to face him again, Frankie is dangerously, dangerously close. You can smell the musk of his skin, see every changing fleck of colour in his eyes, and it’s too much. You’re pressing the bottle into his chest at the same time as you’re tipping your head for a kiss, eyelids fluttering closed. He takes both bottles from your hands and places then somewhere behind you before caging you in with his thick arms, his mouth in a tight, serious line. You arch your back subconsciously, but he seems to anticipate every movement of your body; somehow still always millimetres away, like the ghost of a man pressed up against you, a layer of film between you.

He leans in so close that you can taste the hot breath he’s pouring into your mouth, so close you can feel the air moving when he tells you, so softly -

‘Take your clothes off. And sit on the couch.’

You strip yourself as you watch him do the same, eyes blown wide by every stretch of bare skin that’s revealed to you. And it is not fair. So unfair that Frankie is finally naked in front of you - so gorgeous - long-limbed and tan, beautiful cock hard and heavy between his thick thighs - and you are unable to touch him.

You clench your jaw, sat back and stretched out like a cat at one end of the sofa, petting yourself as you watch him come towards you and lower himself onto the cushion next to you. 

It doesn’t take long for the two of you to fall back into the rhythm you found last night. It’s hypnotic. The movements, the sounds, the words. Watching Frankie is heady, intoxicating. It feels like you’re watching something happen outside of your own body, and you find yourself surprised as you move to kneel beside him, as you swing a leg over his legs so you’re straddling him. You’re so wet, so warm that you’re sure the night could pass for a summer’s day. Your skin is glimmering with sweat, same as Frankie’s. You search his eyes to find him staring back at you, just as fucked out, just as woozy. You moan, hot little pants dripping past your lips. He echoes you.

You sit back on his thighs, your fingers diving in and out of you as you watch his fist work furiously around his cock. Something warm and hot, greedy and possessive swells inside of you. He looks delicious like this, spread out in front of you, wanting and needy. His cock thick, swollen, dribbling. It twitches as you watch him, and you moan somewhere beyond your consciousness. Need, your body whispers. Need. You inch forwards, lifting your hips higher, higher, Frankie watching you like he’s somewhere outside his body. You take his hand from his cock, fingers slippery with his precum, and place it at your hip. You grind into your hand at the slick feeling, pulling your fingers out with a wet sound and hovering above him, gripping his cock so you can brush the swollen head of it against your clit. Frankie shudders, his body going slack, and you almost come from the sensation alone. You lower your hips just a little, bracing the mushroom of his tip at the tight ring of your entrance. 

You gonna break the rules, babygirl?

‘Hermosa -’ he breathes, suddenly unsure.

You huff against him, everything too tight, too heady. Need.

‘Shhh, it’s okay,’ you whisper. ‘It’s okay, just a little bit. Just wanna feel you a little bit.’

‘But -’ he’s cut off by his own loud whine, unable to protest as you fit his head just inside your pussy. You throb around him, at the stimulation it brings. You clutch at his shoulder, head falling forwards at the stretch. Fuck, you could absolutely come like this. You need him deeper, need him to to fill you, but -

Oh, he is so good. 

His hands are like steel at your hips, keeping you in place. Frankie doesn’t want to disobey, doesn’t want to get in trouble. His grip speaks to that, his wide eyes, the sweat at his temple. But you can see on his face as you drip down him, the clutch of Joel’s control doesn’t hold nearly enough power when faced with what he truly wants.

You move back and forth a little, still with his tip just inside, moaning brokenly at the feel of it, and his eyelids flutter closed as something like a prayer brushes past his lips.

Frankie is good, but you are so, so bad. 

You drop your hips down further, and his fingers flex against your skin as he gasps, a high, keening noise reverberating from his chest.

‘Jesus Christ -’ he groans.

‘Fucking - hell, Frankie -’

He’s a lot. You can feel yourself adjusting as you slide down his length, your promise quickly forgotten. Greedy fuckin’ girl. But you can’t help yourself, brain short circuiting, body molten as you take him in inch by inch. It’s too much, all consuming. There’s no space for another thought, any more consideration as he fills you, as you take what you need. 

He whimpers as you bottom out, grinding against the curls at his base, breathing heavily.

‘So good,’ you whisper, ‘So good, you know that?’

Your head hangs forward against his shoulder as you gulp down air, as you feel yourself clench and leak around him, as he twitches inside you. After moments in almost silence, you lean back to look down at him.

His eyes are glassy, fucked out as he looks back at you.

You lift your hips, and the moan he lets out is pained. Your skin is on fire, and you want his hands everywhere.

‘Frankie, touch me.’

‘I can’t -’

‘You can,’ you grit, ‘You can, because I told you to.’

He moans again, and suddenly he’s everywhere. He knows where you need to be touched like you’ve done this before, his fingertips scorching and cooling as he strokes your thighs, your neck, as he grips your ass. Encouraged, you continue to move, slowly rocking up and down on his cock, breathing raggedly. Every noise that escapes the two of you seems to come without being registered, something primal, starved. Already, the coil is tightening, your body racing towards where it needs to be, and you know it will be intense, all-consuming to come around him, so thick inside of you. You lean further forwards, and he takes the opportunity to press his mouth to your sternum, licking the skin before turning his head to take a nipple in his mouth - hot and wet and sucking, lathing it with his tongue.

‘Fuck,’ you hiss, moving faster, chasing, chasing what is so close. You grip the hair at the back of his head, tugging and keeping him close to your breast, keening against him.

‘Like that,’ you gasp, ‘Yeah, like that baby, god, so good, you’re so good for me, feel so good baby boy, you have no idea -’

You can feel yourself tighten and tighten, and Frankie holds you harder, force that feels so delicious you don’t even care about the hurt, not until it turns to iron, not until he rips his mouth away from you -

‘I’m gonna come -’ he whimpers, gripping your hips so tight you couldn’t move if you wanted to. ‘Please, baby, please - stop - I can’t - I’ll come -’

Hot desperation claws up your chest. You are so close, so close, but he looks so wildly at you that you stop trying to move, try to force back tears of frustration as you lean forwards to kiss him as sweetly as you can. Spit-slick and swollen, you pull back and rest your forehead to his. Try to think straight, tell him what he needs to hear.

‘No you won’t,’ you coo, taking his face in your hands, thumbs stroking his cheekbones. You put everything into your gaze, all your warmth, all your care for him, try to make him see how good this is. He stares up at you, eyes wide, dark. Panicked. Panicked at the thought of disappointing you. ‘You won’t, Frankie. It’s okay, you’re not gonna come.’ You try to shift a little so you can settle on your thighs to soothe him, but he clenches his eyes shut at your movement and whimpers louder, his mouth screwing up. 

‘Please don’t move,’ he whispers, ‘Just wait, - just -’

You lean forward and press a kiss to his hairline, feeling his tip move slowly to a shallower part of you. Fuck.

‘Relax, baby boy,’ you murmur, and he sucks in a breath. ‘Concentrate. I’m gonna sit down, and you are not going to come, okay?’

You wait, but Frankie still has his eyes screwed shut, nostrils flaring, fingers bruising against your skin. The tense feeling in your chest swells again. 

‘Frankie.’ You say sharply, and he jumps out of himself, eyes flashing open to yours. ‘I’m gonna sit back down. Take a deep breath.’

Frankie watches you as he breathes in through his nose, and you move at the sound of his airflow. His hands slacken at your hips, and he moans, low and long. 

‘That’s it,’ you say, sinking all the way down, writhing helplessly at his base. You’re already both so close. ‘Good boy. How are you doing?’

Frankie breathes shallowly as you adjust around his cock. His cheeks are red, hair sweaty. His lips are bitten, bleeding through one crack of skin, eyes almost entirely black. You scratch at the curls at the nape of his neck, massaging the tendons there.

‘Okay,’ he croaks. You try not to think of how he feels inside you. How full you feel, how stretched out. He’s thick and nestled in deep - not as far as Joel - but the ache you feel around his girth is delicious. Fuck, this was a bad idea. You should have just hopped off him, let him slide out so you could both catch your breath. And now, instead, you’re managing to edge the two of you even further. 

You know you can’t last long, and you know, from the desperate look on Frankie’s face, that he won’t either, no matter what you do. It feels crueller to stop now than it does to keep going, to watch him deny himself like this, to feel you deny yourself, too. You can feel your pussy tightening and leaking around him at the thought, the ache, the need that’s just there -

‘I have to move, baby -’

‘No -’ he chokes, ‘Please, hermosa, just a minute -’

‘I have to, Frankie, I - you feel too good, baby, I need to move. Wanna come, wanna see you come, too -’

Frankie’s iron grip returns to your hips as they lift of their own accord, and he hisses, head bowed, at the movement. You moan hoarsely.

‘It’s okay,’ you pant, gripping his chin in one hand, lifting his face to yours. ‘Listen to me, it’s okay. Focus now.’ You begin to move up and down him again, the slow drag of his cock tightening your grip on his face but loosening the hold you have on your body. You whimper, pussy fluttering around him. Frankie groans, breathlessly whispers your name, a pleasepleaseplease -

‘I know you can last as long as I need you to, baby,’ you whisper. ‘You’ve done it before, haven’t you?’ Frankie whines, his eyes rolling back, mouth falling slightly open. You can’t stop the moan that bubbles up your throat - him edging himself as he watched you the night before, eyes stuck on your fingers, your pulses, your wetness. You feel him throb inside you as he nods drunkenly. ‘That’s it, good boy. I know it feels good, but you can last a little longer. I know you can, Frankie. You’re doing so well.’

His fingers clutch at the swell of your hips, weak, sweaty, and you clench so hard around him that it’s a challenge to drag his cock through your walls. You breathe shallowly, slowing the pace again, and Frankie watches you through heavy lidded eyes. He licks his bottom lip.

‘Come,’ he breathes, a hand leaving your hip so he can thumb your clit. You hiss, hips stuttering so hard you sink all the way down onto him, grinding his tip into your womb. Frankie grits his teeth. ‘Come, hermosa,’ he tells you again, and you can feel the savage heat, pussy winding tighter and tighter, your body about to burst. Quietly, with a command he’s not had in his voice until now, Frankie says your name. Come. Now.

Your orgasm is blinding. You cease to exist in the corporeal world for an indeterminate time, coming to only when Frankie pulls you to his chest, his hips pressing up into you as you milk him. You’re achingly aware of the way his cock jumps inside of you as he pumps you full of cum, of the way his fingers grip and bruise your body, of the way you sink your teeth into his shoulder as you continue to throb around him.

‘Fuck.’ you bite out, resting your forehead against his as you pant into each other’s mouths. Minutes tick by, Frankie’s harsh grip turning to soft caresses, and you press chaste kisses to his nose, his forehead, his lips, before you rest your head against his collar bone. He takes a deep breath.

‘Baby,’ he starts. You watch his throat bob as he swallows, searching for what he’s about to say. You squeeze his middle gently. ‘Joel -’

‘Is my problem,’ you breathe, ‘I did this. It’s on me. He knew I’d break the rules.’

He swallows, nods.

‘Okay.’

You press a kiss to his neck, and he visibly relaxes.

‘It’s okay,’ you murmur. ‘No one’s gonna be mad at you. No one’s gonna be mad, full stop.’ He makes a noise of appreciation somewhere in his throat. 

You bite your lip and lean back, fixing him with a wicked grin.

‘Besides, this is all part of the foreplay.’

‘The foreplay?’ He whispers, brow furrowing.

You nod, humming at the feeling of his cum slipping from the warmth of your cunt.

‘You really thought he’d just come in your mouth?’

His eyes darken, a huff slipping from his kiss-bitten lips. He brings your hand from his neck to his mouth and bites down on the flesh of your palm. You giggle again.

‘Mm, you like that, baby boy? Like the idea of daddy playing with you, too?’

‘Stop.’ He groans, ‘You keep talking like that, and -’

‘There’ll be a round two?’ you tease. ‘Doesn’t sound like a bad thing to me,’ you smile, feeling him twitch inside you. ‘In fact,’ you continue, ‘That sounds like something a very good boy would do.’

‘Stop talking,’ he growls, ‘And take me upstairs. I remember something about you promising to let me taste you.’

The smile that grows across your lips is impossible to hide.

———

Pope wasn’t fucking around when he told you Frankie was good with his mouth.

He wakes you the next morning with more of what he gave you last night, his tongue warm and wet against your cunt, lapping and kissing and sucking until you’re sweating and writhing above him, hands fisted in his hair.

He likes that.

Likes biting marks into your thighs, making you moan and cry and come again and again. Likes when you’re a little mean, when you tell him what to do, when you hold him afterwards, when you let him fill you and fuck you until you’re both whimpering and covered in cum and slick.

The three days that follow pass in a blur of not touching and definitely touching. Frankie quickly becomes accustomed to waking wrapped up in your bed, your arm thrown over his side, and you quickly become accustomed to the sweet praises that drip from his lips as he slots himself inside you - how tight and sweet you are, how he can’t believe he fits in so well. How he can’t wait to share you, properly this time.

He bends you over the kitchen table after you’ve finished eating dinner, licking into you before splitting you open, and you take him in your mouth on your knees in the shower, making sure to remind him of how pretty he is, how good he feels in your mouth. You work him open with your fingers, your tongue, curling them inside him just to watch him struggle not to come so fast. It’s gorgeous. And when you’re too sore and swollen to have each other again, you find yourself cradled between his thighs, your back to his chest as he circles your clit gently with two fingers, kissing your neck and grinding himself against you as you moan, as you remind him how you need to get to work.

‘I know, baby,’ he murmurs, ‘Just wanna watch you come again.’

It’s feverish, it’s risky. You try to be a good liar, but you’re sure Joel knows. Knows you well enough, anyway, to guess that it would happen at some point. Which just means he must have been planning what he’d do to you after finding out for some time, too. You try to be careful as the week goes on - planning to wash your sheets, to not have Frankie in the house when Pope or Joel return. To just try and make it look like you succeeded, that you listened. That you were good.

You’re on your elbows and knees, body weak, pussy swollen and dripping as Frankie spears you from behind when the text comes. It’s Santi.

I’ll be home 2morrow. Look forward to seeing u 2.

One more time, Frankie gasps. Once more like this, and then you can wait. 

The two of you can wait until tomorrow.

———

You wait all day for Santi.

And you try to be good, you really do. But Frankie’s mouth is just so convincing.

He’s not allowed to bite, not allowed to leave any marks. He has permission to make you come, and then he has to clean you up again like nothing ever happened. You’re not going to touch him, and he’s not going to touch himself. He’ll have to save it for when Pope gets here. Which, as it’s turned out, is much later than he said. But not late enough to miss the show.

‘Am I interrupting?’

Frankie lurches away from between your thighs like he’s been scorched, backing up towards the end of the bed. He looks so surprised, so worried, that you snort at him, still so caught up in the throes of pleasure to not be too worried about Pope’s reappearance.

He looks good. A healthy glow to his skin, tight black top, his curls perfectly framing his face. His mouth is twisted into its most alluring smirk, and you watch it deepen at the flush of Frankie’s cheeks and the way you snake a hand between your legs.

‘Not at all, baby,’ you coo, and his eyes darken, following the path of your hand. It’s ingrained into you now, how Pope touched you last. The memory rushes through you, and you moan softly, the noises your hand is making against your wet folds so obscene. Still watching, he peels his belt from its loops, curling it in his fist.

He jerks his chin at Frankie.

‘You at least make her beg for it?’

You huff a small laugh, thinking back on how not thirty minutes ago Frankie had been on his knees in front of you, begging for a taste, begging to lick your cunt. 

Santi’s eyes shoot to you and the amusement on your face, and he steps forward with a smile.

‘Should have known,’ he says gently, through a smile. His palm cups your cheek, and you nestle into his touch, forgetting that whatever punishment Joel might have thought up, Santi might share. He traces your skin down your jaw, your neck, across your clavicles and down the arm closest to him. He holds your wrist, and pulls it up to his mouth where he can kiss your knuckles in greeting. ‘Hello, querida.’

You look back at him with wide, lust-blown eyes. ‘Hey, Santiago.’ 

He takes you in greedily, eyes scouring over your bare body, scrutinising so intensely that you almost feel self-conscious. 

‘What do we have here?’ he purrs, his spare hand reaching over you, thumbing your nipple. You whine and arch against his touch, fingers moving faster, and he tuts, shaking his head. ‘This will never do, cielo.’ He squeezes your breast firmly before running his fingers down the length of your arm, gripping your other wrist to bring your wet fingers to his mouth. He parts his lips and presses them in gently, and you mewl, hips bucking, as he works his tongue over the digits. His eyes are dark, boring into you, only distracted by the heavy breath Frankie takes from the other end of the mattress. He releases your fingers quickly.

‘No.’ he barks at the other man, and you swing your head to look at Frankie, a hand frozen mid-pull on his cock, face flushing an even deeper shade of red. ‘Did I tell you you could touch yourself?’

Frankie shakes his head frantically, hands moving to his sides.

‘Did I?’

‘No.’ he whispers, breathless, apologetic. Pope jerks his head again, over his shoulder. 

‘Off the bed.’

Frankie unfurls his limbs to stand at the bedside, cock heavy and bobbing against his stomach as Santi easily joins your wrists with one hand. It takes you too long to work out what he’s doing - his belt already curled around your hands before you make a noise of protest, silenced by a hard look from him. He twists the leather around your hands twice before tying them to the bedframe above you, giving a sharp pull to test the give. Your chest heaves, something sparking inside you as he cups your cheek gently.

‘Good?’

‘Yes, Santi.’ You murmur, taking your cue from how he admonished Frankie.

He steps back, admiring his handiwork, looking pleased.

‘Maybe that’ll help you keep your hands to yourself.’ He says, half-turning to Frankie.

‘Down.’

Frankie drops to his knees at the command, and you moan, thighs clenching, arms straining above your head, tight to your eyes. Santi says something to you, muffled, and you try to relax again to hear him, a quiet hm? the only sound you can make.

He cocks his head at you, lips curled.

‘Lube, querida,’ he says, ‘Where do you keep it?’

You inhale sharply, mind buzzing. 

‘U-under the bed.’

Pope drops to his knees beside you, rifling around until he finds and pulls out a green box, ripping off the lid. His face splits in a dangerous, thrilled grin.

‘Now, what have we got in here?’

You watch with bated breath as Pope rummages through the box, your chest heaving, arms straining against the belt again. He throws the bottle of lube onto the bed before turning his attention back to your toys. He brings your wand into your line of sight, and you squeeze your eyes closed as he presses the button, the room filling with its buzzing sound. 

You flinch when he brings the vibrator into contact with your skin, tracing your nipples. Your eyes fly open to find him and Frankie watching you intently. 

‘Had a lot of time to think about this while I was away,’ Santi says, almost to himself, ‘But I’ve got much better ideas now.’

Pope licks his lips as he dips the wand lower, teasing it around the soft flesh of your thighs before resting it against your clit.

You yelp at the contact, body juddering.

‘Please, Santi,’ you cry, ‘Please -’ but he shushes you gently, stroking your hair as he lays the wand between your thighs, nestled in to where the feeling is most intense, most overwhelming. 

‘It’s okay, baby,’ he coos, ‘Just need you to hold that there, be a good girl.’ 

You whimper brokenly up at him, and he pouts at you, teasingly.

‘Listen to me,’ he says, and you hold your breath, ‘That’s gonna stay right there, against your pretty little pussy, and you’re not gonna come, are you, querida?’

Your brain buffers, jaw clenching against the heat rising through you, and Santi frowns at you.

‘Are you?’

The air bursts from your lungs as you moan out a no, rewarded with a smile.

‘Good girl.’ he says, dipping to pick something up from the floor. Your panties from where Frankie had stripped you of them earlier.

He taps your chin.

‘Open,’ your mouth falls open of its own accord, and Santi stuffs the lace in. ‘Something for you to bite down on.’

You huff, brow furrowing in concentration, desire, as Pope steps away again and moves towards Frankie.

Frankie, still on his knees, watching open mouthed, cock jumping as he takes you in - stretched out, bound and desperate. His eyes leave yours to watch Santi begin to strip himself of his clothes, and you join him, groaning at the slow show he gives you both. His smooth, tan skin, the muscles that ripple beneath. He unbuttons his jeans before stilling, eyes falling on Frankie.

‘Come here,’ Santi says, and Frankie shuffles forward instantly. ‘Good boy. Now take me out, and show our girl what else you can do with that mouth.’

Your eyes roll back into your skull, and your wrists tug at Santi’s belt. From behind the fabric in your mouth, Pope can hear your muffled fuck. He smirks down at Frankie.

‘Before she comes, hermano.’

‘Pope,’ Frankie breathes, shocked through his haze of arousal, confused, warning.

‘What?’ Santi says, cupping his cheek gently. ‘You don’t think I checked with Joel? Didn’t ask what you got up to before he left? Don’t worry, baby, I did. He just wants to know she’s being taken care of. The sooner you put me in your mouth, the sooner we can do just that.’

Frankie swallows visibly, flustered, eyes flicking to you before he reaches out to tug Santi’s jeans and boxers down, taking the other man’s hard cock in his hand, squeezing and pumping gently. He takes care to thumb over the precum that gathers at his tip, using it to ease the movement. Pope breathes out slowly before touching Frankie’s bottom lip with his thumb, parting his mouth. He joins Frankie’s hand at his base and taps the head of his cock where his thumb had just been, and Frankie opens wider, allowing space for Pope to slide in. He takes lazy thrusts as you watch with wide eyes, hips canting against the toy, cunt pulsing, body on fire - acutely aware that Frankie has a gag reflex to rival your own. The thought makes you giggle, a kind of pride blooming in your chest. So easy. Frankie stares up at his best friend with glassy eyes, cock leaking and untouched between his legs, palms resting, unflexed, atop his thighs. 

‘He’s a good toy, isn’t he, cielo?’ Pope hums, slowing the rhythm of his thrusts. ‘So good at just - taking it. Barely any fight in you, is there, baby boy?’

With his mouth full of Santi’s cock, Frankie can barely shake his head. The corners of Pope’s lips curl.

‘No. I’ll bet she hardly even had to ask you. Just a little while longer watching her and you’d have begged to feel her milk you yourself. Isn’t that right, Fish?’

Frankie moans beneath him, his cock dribbling and straining. You want so badly to have it on your tongue, in your hand, inside your pussy, that you whine again, louder. Santi’s eyes slide to you, mouth wide in a smirk. 

‘Quit whining, querida. We’ll be with you in a moment.’

You groan again as Pope twists his fingers in Frankie’s hair, cooing at him. 

‘Yeah, seems that you both thought to tell us how’d you’d watched, hm? It’s a pity you couldn’t wait to touch, though. Could have made this so much easier for yourselves.’ You wriggle your hips a little more, finding just the right angle, the right pressure. Oh, it’s so good. Too good. Your noises come louder, faster, and though Frankie’s eyes don’t leave Santi, his body twitches, finely attuned now, to how you sound before you come. As though he’s read Frankie’s mind, Pope’s eyes snap back to you.

‘Not yet.’ He bites. 

You breathe jagged, harsh breaths through your nose, eyes scrunching shut against the coil that’s tightening in your core. You’re so wet you can feel it dripping through your folds, straight onto the sheets, and you try to think of anything but the sound of Santi’s cock moving in Frankie’s throat. What groceries you need to buy, the post you need to hand to your neighbour, what you’ll wear to meet Sarah. Joel. Joel. Fuck, no. That makes it even worse.

You moan again, dangerously close to the edge, cracking open your eyes to see Frankie bobbing up and down Santi’s length, drool escaping the corners of his mouth. How his cheeks hollow, how he sinks down to the wiry hairs at the bottom, eyes fixed on Santi’s face, unwavering, swallowing; moving back up to kiss the tip, the spit that trails from his lips to Pope’s head, how Pope rocks his hips forward, chasing the sensation. How Santi groans for him, tomalo, mírame, tu boca, tan bonito -

Your hips stutter, now trying to move away from the vibrator as Pope’s hand finally grips Frankie’s curls, pulling him in closer, holding him still as he fucks his throat, and you try to get out a please, please, trying to back yourself down, trying so hard even though it would be so easy -

Santi’s gaze finds you, lost to the feeling of the other man’s mouth, and he smiles kindly.

‘Casi ahí, bebita.’

You shake your head, eyes pleading, desperate, teary, and he seems to take pity on you. He uses his grip on Frankie’s curls to ease him off slowly, marvelling at the way his cock emerges, glistening; at the way Frankies mouth still hangs open for him to fill. 

‘Should we help her out, baby?’ He asks softy.

Frankie looks to you, eyes glassy, cheeks flushed. Please, you try to moan again.

‘Yes.’ He says, voice hoarse.

Pope holds a hand out to him to help him off the floor, and Frankie stands on shaky legs. You try to will them to move faster, teetering on the edge, breath leaving you in great puffs, your body straining away from the toy, arms aching with the effort of trying to pull yourself away.

‘You ready to come, princesa?’ Santi murmurs.

You gurgle an mhm, sniffling as his hand moves low, hovering over the vibrator. Frankie bends, his cock angry and red still, to press a kiss to your temple.

‘Did so well,’ he whispers, ‘It’s okay, hermosa.’

Pope takes that as his cue to take hold of the wand.

Your back arches as he presses it down, harder against you, roving it back and forth for extra friction. You start to beg through your panties, knowing you can’t hold back anymore as your pussy turns traitor, beginning to flutter. Tears spill from the corners of your eyes, and Santi smiles.

‘Now.’ he whispers.

Your body pulls impossibly tight, giving in to the rush of fire that has been simmering, your muscles clenching painfully as sound and sight evade you. You can feel your lungs working, feel the choked gasps leaving you, feel your arms pulling at Santi’s belt, but you are somewhere outside your body. A rush courses through your body, and you feel yourself gushing between your thighs.

When you come to, blinking, body slick with sweat and your cum seeping down your legs, Pope is untying your hands. You drop them above your head, and Frankie takes your wrists, massaging them soothingly with his thumbs. Santi presses a tender kiss to your stomach, moving the vibrator away as you shiver and jerk with overstimulation.

‘So good, bebita,’ he says, ‘Atta girl. Look how well you behaved there.’

He presses his fingers into your mouth to remove the lace, and your tongue works around your gums to alleviate the dryness the fabric left.

‘Can you move?’ He asks gently, and you nod weakly, cinching at the waist to haul yourself up. He brings his palms to your shoulder, rubbing your skin as Frankie sits behind you, pressing kisses to the nape of your neck. ‘Well done, princesa.’

He brings you further forward, cradling you to his chest as he tells Frankie to lay back behind you, then angles your shoulder to turn and face him. Frankie looks fucked. His bare skin untouched, his cock dribbling precum, pooling at his stomach as you watch. His jaw is clenched like he’s trying to stop himself from begging, and you reach out to touch his thigh, trying to offer comfort in any way you can. He whimpers at the warmth of your skin.

‘Should we help him, querida?’ Pope whispers in your ear, your back still to his chest.

‘Yes.’ You answer, throat dry. He kisses your cheek, and you feel his smile.

‘Use your mouth, bonita.’

You move from Pope to settle yourself between Frankie’s legs on all fours, breathing kisses into his inner thighs before touching him, trailing a finger down his soft shaft. He hisses at the sensation, and you pause, meeting his eye. He swallows, nods.

‘Keep going.’ He rasps.

You pull yourself further up, mouthing at his underside, pressing kisses to his leaking tip before laving your tongue up and down his length. When his hips buck at the sensation, you move a palm to cup his balls and take him fully into your mouth, sucking and hollowing your cheeks, humming with the salty taste of him. His hands quickly find the side of your head, and you move back up towards his tip, licking into his slit to drink down more, playing with his frenulum in a way you know drives him insane. He moans, deep and needy, puffing out a soft fuck as you take him down to the base again, nuzzling the hair there, breathing him in. His cock jumps in your throat, and he looses a needy whine, pulling on your hair, but you don’t budge.

‘Hermosa -’ he breathes, voice tight, and Santi speaks again from behind you.

‘Are you gonna last, hermano?’

Frankie looks up from watching you, unfocused, swaying his head. Pope makes an amused sound, and you feel his hands on you, positioning you, then the press of his tip against your slick hole.

‘Just a little longer, Fish. So much to do with you two.’

Santi glides inside of you easily, but it’s still enough to knock the breath from your lungs. You moan around Frankie’s sensitive dick, and he gasps, hands tightening in your hair.

‘Please -’ he warns, ‘Please -’ as Pope pulls out and thrusts back in again. You cry out, moving back up to Frankie’s tip, moving up and down the best you can as Pope dives in and out of your pussy, knocking you forward to take Frankie deeper with each thrust. ‘Santi -’ Frankie grits, and the other man chuckles behind you. 

‘Alright,’ he says, ‘Don’t want to spoil the fun.’ 

You whine and pout at the loss as he withdraws from you completely, turning your head to find that he’s stripped himself of his jeans and underwear. He winks at you before giving you a little push.

‘Ride it, querida.’

You push yourself up eagerly, coming to straddle Frankie’s hips before positioning him at your entrance. He looks up at you with blown, lust filled eyes, absolutely ruined. 

Despite the stretch, you sink down onto him without stopping. 

He feels so good. Just like the first time.

You writhe down at his base as his hands shoot out to grip your hips, his beautiful neck straining as his grits his teeth, his abs flexing as he attempts to hold you still. But it didn’t work the first time, and it won’t work now.

You take yourself slowly up, smiling at the wet sound of the movement before sinking down again, feeling him stretch you out, feeling him in your stomach. It’s a delicious ache. You wonder what Joel would say right now, watching you take him so easily, watching how he fills you. Bet you can’t wait to know what his cock feels like inside you, huh? Can’t wait to be droolin’ and comin’ over him like you do me, hm? You clench tight around Frankie at the thought, at the same time as a little ache settles in your chest. You miss him. You miss him, and you wonder what he’d be doing with his hands, his mouth, his cock -

‘Que cosita mas linda.'

Santi’s voice brings you back as you bounce on Frankie’s lap, and you lift your head to look at the younger man, his eyes heavy-lidded, lip nipped between his teeth.

‘She gonna make you come like this, Francisco?’

At the use of his full name, all of the sounds Frankie has been trying to hold back break free from him. All of his pretty little gasps and moans, his whimpers, the way he pants your name as he clings to you, eyes never leaving where you’re joined as he pleads -

‘Can I? Can I come?’ 

You clench around him again, the knot in your belly snapping at his words, your orgasm blinding as it comes at you sideways. Frankie moans loudly, repeating your name. You gasp, high little pants of uh- uh- as you jolt on him, pain mixing with pleasure as you call his name, Santi’s name, Joel’s name -

‘Up. Off.’

Santi presses a palm to your backside to move you off of Frankie’s length, even as you still clench around him. 

‘Fuck,’ Frankie heaves, ‘Fuck, please, no -’ 

‘Quiet.’ Santi bites at him, and Frankie whines, his cock jumping between your folds at his tone. You close your eyes. 

‘Let him,’ you plead, ‘Please, let him, Pope.’

You wanted him to come, he deserved to come. You move your lips up and down his length, and Frankie chokes a moan, his body moving higher up the bed as Santi moves behind you, but you can’t work out why behind the darkness of your eyelids. Your eyes are still closed, body still quaking as Santi leans forward to press a kiss to the centre of your spine. You arch your back against his mouth and he chases you, pressing another slightly higher, scraping his teeth against your skin.

‘Querida,’ he says. You can only moan in response. You know it’s not what he wants, but your brain is so fuzzy it can’t comprehend anything beyond it.

‘Turn around,’ he says, and you whimper, eyelids fluttering as you scratch gently at Frankie’s chest. The man beneath you writhes at the feeling, head rolling, eyes closing, fingers flexing bruisingly on your hips. ‘Turn. Around.’ Santi grits, this time taking Frankie’s hands so he can prise them off you, gripping your waist in an effort to turn your body. 

There’s no graceful way to do it, but Frankie handles your limbs with gentle hands as you swing your legs around him. 

When you face Pope, the sight that greets you is even better than you could have imagined. 

He eyes you hungrily, carnally, his brow dark and hair curled more than you've ever seen. But your eyes are taken to where his fingers are sunk knuckle-deep into Frankie, pumping them slowly. You moan as he digs them in deeper before curling them, repeating the beckoning motion until Frankie’s belly twitches. At the tells of his orgasm, Pope removes the digits slowly, deaf to Frankie’s desperate begging. You watch, mute, as Pope then takes the bottle of lube from beside him, pouring it onto his cock with a quiet moan, jacking himself before pressing his tip to Frankie’s hole. You feel the man below you tense slightly, and you stroke his thighs, fallen open on either side of Santi, with soothing fingers. When he relaxes, one of Pope’s hands meets yours on his flesh, the other helping to guide himself in. You watch as his length is swallowed, breathing shallow, listening to any noise the pair make. Frankie’s ragged groan, the way he chants Pope, Jesus, fuck, his bruising grip back on your hips, Pope’s answering growl as his eyes roll to the ceiling before fluttering shut. When he bottoms out, you watch as his stomach flexes, eyes then drifting lower, where you can only see the coarse hair at the base of his cock, the rest of it buried inside Frankie. You feel your face crease as your stomach turns molten.

Your hips drop to the swell of Frankie’s stomach, searching for any kind of friction. It should be impossible to be this constantly turned on. You move your hips as Pope drags his cock in and out of Frankie once, twice, murmuring how tight he is, how pretty, how good, before his eyes find yours.

‘You want her to sit on your face, pretty boy?’ Santiago purrs at the man over your shoulder.

‘Oh, fuck, please.’ Frankie moans.

Pope jerks his chin at you, sending you shuffling clumsily backwards, blinded by how badly you need to feel something, eyes fixed again to where he thrusts in and out of the younger man, angling your hips above Frankie’s face. You only see his mouth open, tongue already out to lick a fat stripe through your folds, before he pulls you roughly down, moaning against you.

‘Jesus - fuck -’ you hiss, trying to jerk away. It’s too much, too soon, but Frankie is too strong, too desperate to taste you. Your hand flies out Santi’s chest, scratching his skin before trying to find purchase higher up. You take his neck between your thumb and fingers as Frankie eats at you, his mouth harsh and hungry as it sucks and licks. Santi stutters out a groan as you tilt his head at you and squeeze.

‘Make him come,’ you murmur, ‘Make him come, baby, and then you can show me what else you wanna do with us.’

Santi grins and pants against you, his hips faltering for a moment as he leans his neck further into the cradle of your hand. He nods quickly, eyes glazing and soft. You smile back at him, squeezing again, pleased.

‘Frankie always said you were a good soldier, Santiago,’ you coo. ‘Should have known what you really needed was to be told what to do.’

‘Fuck you.’ He grins against your lips.

You answer it with a pathetic, needy little whine.

‘Mm, yes please, baby.’

Frankie takes the moment to suck particularly hard at your clit, and you feel your face crumple - one hand scrabbling at the younger man’s belly, the one at Santi’s neck now gripping the shoulder of the man fucking him. Frankie works diligently at your cunt, anchoring your hips to him as he devours you ravenously, letting the tip of his nose rest just inside your entrance as he flicks your bud with his tongue, swirling it in circles as you grind against him. 

This orgasm comes slow, like wading through treacle. It drips down your spine as you curve over Frankie, gasping and shuddering, so breathless that even Pope slows down. Frankie must feel you jolt and twitch above him, lapping up the last of your cum before he releases you from his grip. You lift your hips quickly, needing reprieve, aftershocks still knocking through you as you pant against Santi’s chest.

‘So good,’ you breathe, loud enough for Frankie to hear, ‘So good to me, baby boy, aren’t you?’

Pope presses a kiss to your hair as you work a fist around Frankie’s cock, squeezing his base. He jumps beneath you, a heady, keening noise wailing from his now unoccupied mouth, and you squeeze him tighter, pumping him once, twice, his shaft slick with your juices and his precum.

‘You’ll make him come.’ Pope warns, and you hum against him, forehead just above his sternum. You’re too lost in the way his cock looks as it disappears into Frankie.

The door opens so quietly you don’t hear it, but Santi does. How he keeps his wits about him despite what’s happening is beyond you. He stills his movements inside Frankie, and you feel his damp breath against your forehead, head dipping as he nudges your cheek with his jaw, turning your face towards it. 

‘Look who’s home.’ He murmurs into your ear. 

Your stomach swoops.

Joel stands in the doorway. His nose and brow rosy from working in the sun, your favourite flannel draped over his broad shoulders, a grin twisting his lips as he takes the scene in. His eyes dip from yours to your tits, to the way your body curls over Frankie’s. He takes in the man laying beneath you - his face shining with your cum, blissed and fucked out. The rise and fall of his tummy, the way his thighs are splayed to make room for Pope. The way Santi can’t help but flex inside him, earning a ragged groan from both of them, up the other man’s torso, his neck, to the dark eyes watching him back. It’s breathtaking. 

Joel cocks his head.

‘Don’t stop on my account,’ he drawls, ‘Y’all make such a pretty picture.’

You swallow loudly, letting your head fall back to Santi’s warm shoulder, panting before looking back at him. Something swirls in your gut, and you speak before even realising.

‘Come here,’ you whisper, voice cracking. ‘Come here and make it even prettier, daddy.’

The three of you watch as Joel steps towards you, letting the door fall shut behind him.

help with spanish translations from @/urmomsgnocchi's invaluable post here. if there are inaccuracies, please drop me a message <3

[alessiasfreckles]

not good, not bad, just different (leah williamson x ADHD!reader)

disclaimer: this is based off of my personal experience of ADHD. this is in no way saying that this is what adhd looks like for everyone!!

a/n: based on this request! i hope you like it, i'm sorry it's so all over the place but that also felt pretty thematic so... hopefully it's okay. i'm planning on doing 1-2 more parts to this! the next part will be about the reader getting diagnosed and coming to terms with their diagnosis + telling the other lionesses about it. also if you're interested in more WLW football based fiction involving ADHD, read Cleat Cute by Meryl Wilsner!

------------

You had always felt… different. Not in a ‘not like other girls’ kind of way, more like an ‘I don’t understand what’s wrong with me’ kind of way. Things just seemed to be so much harder for you than for everybody else. 

As a teenager, you were constantly getting told off by your parents for your messy room and bad grades. You were a smart kid, they said, so why couldn’t you just do your homework and study for tests like everyone else?

You would ask yourself the same thing. Forcing yourself to sit at your desk, staring at your maths textbook, desperately begging your brain to just cooperate, just this once, not understanding why it was so hard to just do the work. 

When your parents would come into your room you would instantly feel a flash of white-hot shame at the state of it. Clothes everywhere, rubbish you’d forgotten about in corners, plates, cups, half empty water bottles. You couldn’t help it, it was like once something was out of your line of sight, you just forgot it existed, like the plate of half-eaten food that you’d put next to the bed at some point and then had absent-mindedly pushed under the bed to get it out of your way. When you found it weeks - okay, months - later, you were so embarrassed by the mould that you secretly threw it away rather than take it downstairs to the kitchen, where anyone could see it. 

You would forget things you knew you should remember, things that anyone else would have remembered, like weekly tutoring sessions that your parents paid for (something they reminded you of when you forgot, yet again). You felt so stupid. It was at the same time, every Wednesday after school, so why couldn’t you remember? 

Or doctor’s appointments, dentist appointments, any kind of appointment really. You would write it into your calendar, set yourself a reminder on the day, set yourself another reminder 30 minutes before, and all that would happen is that you would swipe away the reminder thinking ‘oh, yeah’, and then you’d continue doing whatever you were doing before. It was only when you’d hear the phone ring that you’d instantly know it was about you, about the appointment you’d missed, or maybe it was from school, or maybe something else you’d just completely forgotten about.

And all of that wasn’t even taking your issues with human interaction into account. You’d always struggled to make friends, especially as a girl who liked football. When you hit 9 or 10, the other girls in your class started to grow more interested in talking about boys, or music, or tv. You couldn’t understand what they found so interesting, that they’d rather spend breaks just sitting around chatting to each other when they could be running around playing football, or some other game, or anything more exciting. 

As you got a little older, though, you realised that it was clearly a ‘you’ problem. People at your secondary school were nice, for the most part, but you still struggled to make friends. When you’d accidentally interrupt someone, or start talking too much and too loudly in excitement, or fidget a little too noisily, people would give you looks and whisper to each other about how weird you were. You learned to sit on your hands to stop yourself from clicking a pen or tapping your fingers, to keep quiet to avoid saying the wrong thing or saying it the wrong way. 

Football was a good escape. It was fast-paced enough that you didn’t have time to think about other things, and there was enough going on that your brain wasn’t looking for external stimulation. You’d always been observant, noticing things most people wouldn’t notice, and you used it to your advantage. You were quick with the ball and you seemed to always know where everyone was around you. You were so good, in fact, that you made the England U17 squad - something you’d hoped would make you seem a little cooler at school, but just added to your ‘weirdness’. 

That time was far behind you now, though. Now you were in your twenties and not only played football professionally, having joined Arsenal when you were 19, but also played for the England senior squad, one of the Lionesses. 

That’s not to say that you didn’t still struggle with things. Your apartment was a mess, you lost things constantly, you would still interrupt people and fidget. You had friends though, at least. If anything, people knew what you were like and they loved you for it. It became a running joke on match days that you would inevitably lose your shoes, or your shin pads, or your phone, or that you’d need to borrow a hair bobble from someone. Everything would always show up right as you started to panic, though. Your shoes would be in the bathroom, because you’d been holding them when you went in to go to the toilet before the game like you always did. Your shin pads would be in the pockets of your jacket, one on each side, so you wouldn’t lose them. 

“Looking for this?” Leah would ask, pulling your phone out of her pocket and smiling at the look of relief on your face.

“Yes! Where was it?” 

“On the bus. You left it on your seat,” she explained.

“Huh. That doesn’t sound like me,” you joked.

“Nah, that definitely doesn’t sound like you,” she would say with a wink.

So, yeah. Maybe you had a reputation as the forgetful one, and the messy one, and the chaotic one, and the distracted one. But that was just who you were, right?

---------

Okay, you knew you were here for a reason. There must have been something you were going to get from the prep room, that’s literally the only reason you were there. You mentally went through everything you needed; shoes, on your feet, jacket, wearing it, headphones, in your pocket, water bottle - fuck, that was it! Your bottle!

You grabbed it from the bench where you’d left it and headed back out. On the way you needed to pee, so you quickly went to the bathroom, washed your hands, and went back to the training pitch.

“Did you get your water bottle?” Leah asked, a quizzical look on her face as she looked at your empty hands.

“Fuck,” you sighed. “I had it. Where the fuckety fuck did I put it?”

“Y/n, come on! Training started 5 minutes ago!” one of the trainers called over. You felt a white hot flash of shame in your belly, heat rising to your face.

“Do you want me to help you look for it?” Leah asked.

You shook your head, looking down. “No, it’s fine,” you muttered. “Let’s just start training.”

After training, Kyra came over to you in the changing room. 

“Here,” she said, holding out your bottle. “I found it in the toilets, on the sink.” 

---------

After that you made a list. You stuck it to the inside of your cubby, and every day you would look through it, double checking everything before you left the room. It helped for a while, until you started seeing the list as part of the background and your brain started ignoring it.

When you went to international camp, it got worse. You were away from your routine, in an unfamiliar environment. At least the people you were with was pretty much the same as always. As nice as it was to see everyone though, it was draining, too.

“Y/n? What do you want?” Leah asked. You were on a rare night out, the whole team at a restaurant by the beach together.

“Huh?” you asked, frowning. At a table nearby, people were singing ‘Happy Birthday’, cheering, clapping. On the other side of you, someone was having a conversation - it sounded like they were on a first date, but that didn’t make sense, you were in Spain, they sounded English, why would they be on a first date here? 

“What do you want to order?” Leah asked again, prompting you. The waitress stood there, looking at you expectantly, notepad in her hand. A light flickered somewhere in the corner of your eye.

“Oh, um, I,” you stuttered, looking at the huge menu in front of you. The people on the date were talking about what kind of things they liked to do on holiday, she liked to go sightseeing, he just wanted to relax, at another table a baby started crying, the ice in people’s glasses was clinking, knives and forks were scraping against plates, that song you’d had stuck in your head for days now was still playing on a loop in the back of your head, your leg was bouncing uncontrollably under the table, someone’s nails were tapping against their phone, the man was telling the woman that the whole point of holidays is to relax-

Leah’s hand on your knee made you look up from where you’d zoned out looking at the menu. The waitress was gone. Leah was looking at you with a concerned expression, her hand steady on your knee. 

“Do you want to go outside, get some fresh air?” she asked calmly. 

You nodded wordlessly. 

With a hand on your arm she guided you outside the restaurant, taking you to a nearby bench to sit down. The breeze cooled the sweat on the back of your neck, making you shiver. 

“Are you cold?” Leah asked, reaching for her jacket. 

“No, no, I’m okay,” you said, breathing in deeply. You knew you should just go back inside, suck it up, smile at Leah and say everything was okay, but you just couldn’t yet. You just needed a few more minutes.

You sat there in silence for a minute. It wasn’t a bad silence, but you could tell Leah was giving you space to talk whenever you felt ready. You didn’t want to talk about what had just happened though, you felt too embarrassed about getting overwhelmed like that. Everyone else was fine, it was just you who couldn’t handle it.

“The people at the table next to us, I think they were on a first date,” you said instead, looking at your hands. 

“Yeah?” Leah laughed. 

“Yeah. But, like, why would they be on a first date here? They sounded English, why are they on a first date at a restaurant in Spain?” you asked.

“Huh, I dunno,” Leah mused. “Maybe they’re both on holiday and happened to meet and decided to go on a date?”

“Maybe,” you nodded. After a few seconds of quiet, you sighed. “I’m sorry about all that. I just got… there was just a lot going on.”

Leah squeezed your knee. “It’s okay. It was busy in there, wasn’t it?”

You nodded again. “Yeah. My brain just couldn’t handle it all. All the noises, and the menu- oh, fuck, I didn’t order anything!”

“It’s okay,” Leah chuckled. “I ordered for you.”

“You did?”

“Yeah. A sandwich and chips. If you don’t want it I’m sure someone else will eat it,” she shrugged. 

“I didn’t even notice you ordering for me,” you frowned. “I feel like something’s wrong with me.”

“Wrong with you? What do you mean?”

“I don’t know, I- I feel like something is wrong with my brain,” you tried to explain, not knowing how to put it into words.

Leah frowned. 

“It doesn’t matter, I’m making a big deal out of nothing,” you said, suddenly feeling awkward and embarrassed. “Let’s go back inside. Everyone is probably wondering where we are.”

“Wait, y/n, we can stay outside for a little bit longer,” Leah said.

“No, no,” you stood up quickly, not meeting her eyes. “Let’s go. I’m okay, I promise.”

———

It didn’t take long for Leah to corner you the next day, determined to talk to you..

“You seem distracted,” Leah said, sitting down next to you on the bench. “More distracted than usual, I mean.”

“Ha, yeah,” you said. “It’s kind of ironic, actually. I’m distracted because I’m distracted.”

“Right…” she said, frowning. “You’re distracted because you’re thinking about why you’re distracted?”

“Yeah,” you sighed, trying to think of how to word it. “We all know I get distracted easily, right?”

The blonde nodded. “Yeah, you’re like a magpie or something. You see something shiny, you gotta pick it up. Except the shiny thing is literally anything that catches your attention,” she laughed. 

“Exactly! Well, I was looking some stuff up online, or, no, I saw some stuff online, wait, let me start again,” you said. “My thoughts are moving faster than my mouth. Okay, so, when I was a teenager, I was on tumblr a lot. It was the only social media I really had. And on tumblr I’d see a lot about people with ADHD and autism and about hyperfixating on things. And I’ve always kind of hyperfixated on stuff - I mean, football, obviously, but other stuff too, like how on my days off I’ll binge watch an entire season of a TV show and then not shut up about it for like, a month straight, and then I’ll lose interest and basically never mention it again.”

“Or like when you decided to start playing guitar and bought a guitar and had 2 lessons and then stopped, or like when you got really into gardening for a few weeks and bought all those plants and seeds and books about gardening and then realised it was the wrong time of year for half the things you wanted to plant?” Leah asked, an amused look in her eyes.

“Huh. Yeah, I guess those count too,” you said, frowning. “So, yeah, I hyperfixate on things. And I’ve only ever seen it mentioned together with ADHD and autism. But I always thought wow, that’s so crazy that I do that but I don’t have either of those!”

“I feel like I know where this is going,” Leah smiled. 

“Leah, what if I do have ADHD? I don’t think I have autism, I mean, I might, but I haven’t really looked into it yet, maybe I should-”

“One thing at a time, okay?” she laughed, putting a hand on your arm. “Y/n, we both know I am in no way qualified to tell you if you have ADHD or not. But I know you very well. We’ve known each other for what, 5, 6 years now? And it would not surprise me in the slightest if you have ADHD.”

“Really?” you asked, incredulous. “What makes you say that?”

“You mean, aside from what I just mentioned?”

“Well, yeah.”

“Last night? At the restaurant?” she gently reminded you.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, I may have also read up on the topic a bit. I kind of suspected you might have ADHD, but I didn’t want to bring it up until you did,” she explained, not meeting your eyes. You felt something flutter in your stomach at her confession. “Anyway, one of the things I read was that people with ADHD also struggle with overstimulation and sensory issues. Do you think that could be what happened last night?”

“Oh,” you said, suddenly quiet. “Maybe?”

“I’m sorry if I overstepped, I just-”

“No, no, it’s okay! It’s just a lot to take in.” you told her. Your mind was racing, thoughts splitting off into dozens of other thoughts, some fully formed and some nothing more than singular words or phrases. 

You sat together in silence for a few minutes.

“What do I do now?” you asked Leah, your voice small. “I, um, I didn’t think I’d get this far. You’re the first person I’ve told, and I kind of expected you to tell me I’m being silly.”

“I would never say that,” she said, turning to look at you, her eyes fixed on yours. “I wouldn’t say that about something important to you, I promise. And as for what to do now, well, I guess you have a few options. You can keep going as you have been, and do some more research, if you want, and try to figure it out alone. Well, not alone. You’ve got me. Or you could speak to someone, a professional. See if your hunch is right.”

“And then?”

“I dunno, I guess that’s up to you. I suppose they’d be able to help you with coping mechanisms, or put you on medication, if that’s what you wanted,” she shrugs. 

“Medication?” you asked. Your mind was full of pictures of hyperactive kids, bouncing off the walls. You propped your feet up on the bench, pulling your knees in close to your chest. “What if I’m wrong? What if there’s nothing wrong with me and I’m just being dramatic?”

“Then that’s okay, too,” Leah said firmly. “Then you’re just dramatic, but that’s okay, too. I promise.”

You nodded, resting your chin on your knees.

"Would you be able to help me find someone to talk to? I don't know how, or where, or, anything, really," you asked.

"Of course," she said, putting her arm around your shoulders and pulling you in close. "I'll help in any way I can."

[lowkeyrobin]

MCYT ; they have a very obvious crush on you

includes ; tommyinnit, ranboo, badlinu, & quackity

warnings ; language

y/s/n = your ship name

masterlist

TOMMYINNIT

constantly donates / talks through tts when you're streaming alone

TommyInnit donated $10!

"Tommy, stop giving me money, just use TTS"

only uses tts when you tell him to each and every time, it's routine

if he's streaming when you compliment him, chat always points out his red face to both of you

"shut up chat! I'm not blushing. you guys suck"

after a while he gets invested in the shipping

"if I open wattpad and don't see three new y/s/n fics I'm gonna lose my shit, guys"

"Tommy, Tommy, check ao3"

"I found one and it actually looks good!"

reading fanfics on stream (with permission of course and being light on the jokes and whatnot)

you and Tommy make your own fanfic too

he gets your friends to read it on their streams too 💀💀💀

literally every bit he writes is something he wants to do with you

such a hopeless romantic

RANBOO

always doing you favors

never saying no to you

"yes sir/maam!"

always donos on your streams while speed running or playing horror games to tell you good luck

it rlly isn't a stream wo one of their donos istg

chat always asking where he is during one of said streams

editors go CRAZY with the misfits vlogs & tom simons vlogs with you two in them

the chemistry???

you react to / watch each sorry boys episode on stream when they come out

editors go crazy with your compliments to ranboo

they do too 😭😭

giggling and kicking their feet cause they're so funny to you

he's literally head over heels bruh

gives u free merch and stuff

FREDDIE BADLINU

he's usually nice/full of compliments but he's so extra with you

claims it's for the bit

lets you dye his hair

ylyl streams with him constantly LMAO

he wrote your name on his bi flag for some reason??? when you ask about it he just says "why not?" and you shrug it off

always helping you pick out clothes and shit when thrifting/shopping

always has to find a pair of sunglasses for you I swear

constantly asks his viewers to edit you guys

it's become a part of your relationship where he clearly has a crush on you but you can't tell if it's for the bit or if he's serious so you never say anything

the tom simons vlogs w you guys go hard

especially the ylyl irl with ran, tommy, charlie, james, and billzo

same with the ylyl american version w jack, tommy, james, harry, etc

editors and fanfic writers have field days with those

just straight up making out as "friends" for the bit????

even Tommy is confused and he's been supporting Freddie through the dumb shit he's been doing

supports the fanfics

he honestly reads them

if you catch him doing so he says he's just interested and he might read it on stream for funnies

QUACKITY

"accidently" sends you free merch nearly every drop

qsmp streams are never complete without you guys flirting or going on a date

basically old karlnapity but you guys on the qsmp

qsmp y/s/n streams go so hard, they're literally the best

cellbit, roier, and jaiden officiating your fake wedding

qsmp y/s/n edits and fanart went crazy

youre like "guys no fanfics or edits of y/s/n, only if hes comfortable with it, I don't want you guys to weird him out"

and hes begging people to make the fanfics, the fanart, the everything

daily tweets of "guys send me more y/s/n fanart" or "any good y/s/n fanfic recommendations??"

cellbit always replies to those tweets with some long ass dictionary ass response to fuck with you two

fitmc of all people makes you guys a little tumblr oneshot.

[luveline]

omg if u ever get the chance would you write a follow up for the eddie and shy!reader where they confess? 🥺🩵

first part (u don't have to read if u don't want to) fem!shy!reader and best friend eddie confess, 1.6k

You flick a piece of popcorn off of your knee and smack Eddie square in the cheek. His neck snaps to the side to stare at you, tongue in his cheek in indignation. 

"That how it is?" he asks. 

You smile mock-demurely. "I have no idea what you're talking about." 

It's too close to flirting to deny at this point, but Eddie doesn't ever seem to notice. You've been friends for so long that this slow decline into playfulness feels normal. 

Eddie digs for the rogue piece of popcorn on the couch cushion behind his shoulders and prepares to flick it back. You cover your face. 

"Hey! Cheating, put your hands down." 

"No, you'll flick popcorn at me." 

The popcorn hits you in the hand. You drop your hands, but quickly retreat into yourself on the bean bag in apprehension as he approaches, a devilish smile playing on his pretty mouth. "Eddie, please don't–" You groan as he drops his weight on top of you, kneeing the back of your thigh hard. "You fucking–" 

"Remember when we first met? You never would've cussed at me," he interrupts, boldly putting his hands on you, one at your neck and the other against your cheek. 

You wiggle under him. "Get off." 

He takes a handful of popcorn from the bucket by your side. It smells sweet like taffy, and a kernel falls from his palm onto your shirt as he eats it. You flick it at him. 

"You're aggressively aggressive," he says through chews.

"You're heavier than you look." 

"When we first met," he says, poking your cheek with his pinky, you assume so as not to get popcorn crumbs on you, "you could barely look me in the eye." 

"That's just 'cos you're scruffy." 

"Funny." 

Eddie wipes his hand in his shirt and grabs your face again. You go still at his touch, trying to maintain a facade of calm you don't feel. 

"This is nicer. I love when you get all shy," —his voice softens slowly, like a meandering river calmed— "your smile… you smile when you're nervous, you know that?" 

You tamp your expression into neutrality. "Do not." 

"But it's nicer now that you're not nervous all the time. You're not telling me things, but I can handle it." 

"I tell you things," you mumble.

Eddie locks eyes with you. He rubs your jaw with his knuckles teasingly, before climbing off of you with an apologetic pat to your knee. His positioning had been less than comfortable. You sit up with a sigh, leg and chest aching. 

"You tell me some things," he says. 

"I tell you pretty much everything." 

"Liar." He crosses his legs, sitting applesauce by the mantle. Sunlight coming in from the kitchen behind him has his hair like silver at the edges where it falls around his face, his arms tense where he holds his own elbows. 

"I'm not lying, you know anything worth knowing about me." 

It's hard to make out, but you can tell you've upset him. You aren't sure how, but he goes rigid, looking away from you and toward the TV. His side profile knocks the breath out of you, lashes long where they kiss the skin beneath his brows, his nose a strong line you'd like to reach out and trace. 

"Eddie–" 

"It's alright, I didn't mean anything by it." 

The bean bag groans as you kneel on the rug by Eddie's legs. You look around helplessly for aid, and when none comes you drag the popcorn toward you, eating a mouthful morosely. 

"I'm sorry for being weird, I just…" Eddie leans back on one arm and whines. "I think I'm getting my meriod." 

"That's not funny." 

He puts a hand on his stomach. "Do I look bloated to you?" 

"I don't know where to start with that one." 

Eddie falls onto his back. His act doesn't last very long, and after a few moments he's frowning at the TV again. You look down into the popcorn kernels, white and yellow and brown and fragrant when you give the tub a little shake. You push it away.

"Don't be sad, Eds. If there's something you want me to tell you, I'll tell you." 

You're aflame as you say it, because why the fuck would you say that? There's no way he'll want to know what you're afraid to tell him, he'll never ask, but still. It's like offering to jump into turbulent waters. 

"I just don't want you holding onto stuff, that's all. Kinda breaks my heart thinking you're a bag of secrets." 

"What if it's stuff you don't wanna hear?" you ask with a dry mouth.

"I always wanna hear it if it's coming from you. Can't promise I'll like it, but what, you think I'm gonna care?" 

"It's hard to say." 

He gestures for you to lay down with him. 

You set your shoulder by his and lay down cautiously. Your thigh bumps into his. A line of rings catches the light where his hand covers his ribs. 

"I don't want to tell you something about me and have you see me differently," you say slowly, each word strung to the other clumsily as you piece your sentence together. "I like how you treat me now." 

"What if I swear things won't change?" 

"I don't…" He sounds like he knows you like him. Impossible to describe, only that you know the truth, so he must know the truth too. "You can't, really. Promise me that." 

He turns his head to yours, his hair dragging gentle across your shoulder as he moves. You feel his gaze like a flame on your cheek. 

"I swear," he murmurs. "Nothing will change. Nothing you don't want to change." 

You turn toward him, heart in your mouth, meeting his baby brown eyes head on. You shift your head against the floor to take the weight of it off of your ear, your chin lifting subtly. 

This is going to rip your chest open. "I think I'm," —Eddie leans forward, he closes the gap, "in love–" 

You can't finish your sentence. Like a magnetic pull, Eddie fits his lips against the seam of your own and you close it, alarmed, not sure how to respond. He cuts your face softly and pushes up, encouraging you to kiss back. 

"Wait," you say, eyes painfully open. 

Eddie immediately moves away from you. "Sorry," he says, his eyes just as open, twice as wide, "was I not supposed– you're not talking about me?" 

"I'm in love with you," you say. 

"Yeah, I guessed?"

"I don't know why you're being cranky with me, we both know I won't be able to say it again." 

Your throat totally closes as he rubs your cheek, like there's dirt under his thumb. "I've been thinking about kissing you for months, sweetheart," he says. He looks like he might say more, but he leans in again. 

You sigh at his touching, his gentle kiss. He smiles into you, sitting up to kiss down with slightly more force. Eddie takes the lead, cradling your face in hands you've never felt so adoringly tender before. His hair starts to tip onto your cheek like strands of silk. 

"I think you'll be okay," he says, breaking the kiss to pant in breath. He rubs the tip of his nose into yours. 

"There's popcorn in my teeth, please don't kiss me again," you say quietly. 

"I love you. I don't care if we swap kernels for the next hour."

"Hour?" you ask, though you're thrumming with a strange anticipation. The reality hasn't dropped, but it's falling fast. 

"I've been waiting months," he reminds you, lips at your cheek as he needles his arms under your shoulders. He hugs you. "Aw, sweetheart. I've been seeing you try to tell me now for months, the whole time thinking I couldn't get any more obsessed with you." 

"You're obsessed with me? You knew?" you ask. 

"Don't freak out." 

"I'm gonna." 

"Okay, fine, freak out." 

You hug him, burying your nose in his hair. He's soft, and warm, and he's heavy where he leans on your chest, but it's perfect. You wonder if this is the precipice of forever now, if you get to have him in your arms like this all the time. You freak out. 

"You're in love with me?" you ask. 

"Sickeningly." 

"I think my face is on fire." 

Eddie peels back to look you over. "You're melting," he says agreeably. "But lucky you, your best friend gives the coolest kisses ever." 

"You're gonna make it worse." 

"Can I?" he asks. 

"I have popcorn in my teeth," you whine again. 

Eddie knows you better than anyone in the whole wide world. He demands you open your mouth for kernel extraction and you burst into squeamish giggles, squirming out from his arms and whacking your head on the seat of the couch. Eddie chases after you to start a wrestling match you can't win. He doesn't break his promise —the things you don't want to change stay the same. And the things you do want to change? They're perfect, even if it all tastes overwhelmingly of butter and toffee. 

-

i hope you enjoyed reading!!

[smileysuh]

ice cold, cabin fever - part 1

🌙 staring. Seungcheol & Mingyu x afab!Reader

🔮 preview. "come on, let’s just go back to snakes and ladders and you can pretend we’re not snowed in with no firewood and a dude you hate locked in the bathroom."

cw/ tw. threesome, daddy issues, mean/tsundere cheol, wet dreams, spanking, marking, dirty talk, choking, unprotected sex, pain kink, dacryphilia, breast play, praise, degradation, fingering, oral, hand job, blow job, multiple orgasms, overstim, edging, orgasm denial, manhandling, size kink, cumplay, finger sucking, spit roasting, hair pulling, voyeurism, I petnames. (hers) princess, bitch, whore, baby (s.coups) cheol, douche, dick, daddy (mingyu) gyu.

👹 rating. 18+ explicit I wc. 25.9k

🍭 aus. e2l, s2l, step brothers Jihan, non idol, ski resort, roomies, etc...

☀️ mlist + an. so when I tell you I know practically nothing about skiing... also, the recent soop episodes have been giving gyucheol and jihan and I'm dying. I other inspo: 🙂 🙂 🙂 I pls note. this fic has so much dialogue, it exceeds the number of paragraphs allowed in a tumblr post, so it will be split into 2 parts posted at the same time I read the whole thing in one post + the bonus by subscribing to my patreon and clicking here

Prologue: 

“You guys aren’t going to believe this,” Jeonghan says as he enters the main area of the flat he shares with his brother and two best friends.

Three sets of eyes turn to him, and it’s Joshua who takes a shot in the dark and asks, “Did you get chlamydia again?”

“Aish, fuck off,” Jeonghan picks up a pillow to launch at his brother, “I just got off the phone with mom you idiot.”

“Ouch, since when are you telling mommy about your STI results?” Seungcheol teases, earning himself a pillow as well, that he easily bats out of the air.

“Tell us,” Mingyu urges seriously, “what did your mom say?”

“Only that our new step-sister decided to join us for the destination wedding, super last minute,” Jeonghan explains, taking a seat next to the youngest and sweetest of his friends.

“Did your mom tell her that they already gave up the cabin?” Seungcheol’s heart drops to his stomach, thoughts of powdered snow and skiing swirling on the periphery of his mind.

“Fuck if I know,” Jeonghan shrugs. “She sounds like a bit of a bitch if I’m being honest- sorry Gyu, but it looks like you’ll be giving up your bed.”

“We’re sharing a cabin with her?” The maknae’s jaw drops.

“Well she’s definitely not staying with us,” Joshua stiffens in his seat, “I don’t know what weird step-sibling porn you’re into Gyu, but we’re not that kind of family.”

“Listen,” Seungcheol leans forward, eager to keep the peace, “none of us have met her before- but your mom really likes her dad- let’s just hope she’s as nice as he is… I really doubt she’s a bitch. If it comes down to it, I can give up my bed, there’s a pullout in the cabin too, right? We’ll make it work.”

The glances all four men exchange betray how unsure they all are, and Seungcheol only wishes he was as positive as he makes himself out to be. 

1: Thursday - Arrival

“Y/n! You made it!” your dad’s excitement should be contagious, but as you haul your suitcase into the lobby of the ski resort, you’re much too exhausted to mirror his attitude.

In fact, you’d bet you look exactly how you feel; done with this vacation before it’s even started.

Despite this, you accept the hug from your dad, trying to relax a little before he lets you go again. “Was your flight very long?”

“Too long,” you sigh, taking a deep breath before returning his question with “and you?”

“Too long,” your dad laughs. “But you can rest easy now, the hard part is over.”

Is it? 

“I’m so excited for you to meet Suelki,” he continues, “and her two sons.” 

“I’m excited too,” you really force a smile this time, trying your best to look sincere.

“Good,” your dad nods, beginning to lead you through the resort. “So listen, this trip is kind of like my honeymoon- so we really don’t expect to be seeing that much of you- Suelki and I have a suite in the actual hotel itself, but I think I mentioned to you over the phone that we booked two of the rustic cabins-”

“Yeah, you mentioned that,” your grip on your suitcase handle tightens.

“Because you originally said you wouldn’t be coming, we gave the second cabin up to Suelki’s boys’ roommates- and unfortunately, the entire resort is booked up this week, so we couldn’t get you your own room.”

“Right-” He’d mentioned something along these lines during your quick phonecall when you’d changed your mind about coming on the trip, and you’re eager to see what fix he has for this.

“Each cabin had a pullout though, so you’ll be staying in one of them, and whether it’s with Suelki’s boys’ or their friends, I really hope you use this trip to get to know your new step brothers.”

Your mouth feels dry, heart jittering in your chest at the concept of sharing a cabin for a week with two boys- 

“The wedding is on Saturday,” your dad and you have reached a door leading outside; icy air hits your face when he opens it. “And the cabins you’re looking for are the last two down this road here- cabin 6 and cabin 7. Just follow the string lights-”

“Are you-” you swallow. “You’re not going to take me out to where I’m staying?” You tighten your grip on your heavy luggage, eying the snowy path.

“Sorry darling, but your plane was late, and you’ve arrived at a bad time- Suelki and I have massages scheduled in-” he checks his watch, “ten minutes? I really have to go- but you’re a strong, capable girl, you’ll find the cabins no problem.”

This is exactly the type of behaviour from your father that you’re used to. 

Part of you had expected something to be different- you’d been hoping that the wedding jitters would make him more inclined to be compassionate to you- but it looks like he’s as intent on letting you go about it yourself as he’s ever been.

After your long flight, and now this- you’re really questioning if you should have come on this trip at all.

2: Thursday - Arrival

“Joshie, come look at this,” Jeonghan urges, holding his tea tighter while gazing out the small cabin window.

“What is it?” his brother sighs, putting down his book but remaining seated on the couch.

“Some girl is dragging her suitcase up the path.” 

He can’t help but snicker. With the road covered in snow for the winter season, accessing the cabins isn’t the easiest task in the world. 

Having been here before, the brothers had packed accordingly, and carrying their duffles had been substantially easier than the struggle Jeonghan is currently witnessing. 

“Oh shit.”

“What?” Now Joshua stands up.

“She’s coming to the door- shit-” Jeonghan pulls away from the window roughly, and hot liquid spills over the edge of his mug, making contact with his fingers. “Shit!” he shakes his hand out-

“Must be the step sister?” Joshua suggests, ignoring the elder man tending to his reddening skin. 

“Must be,” Jeonghan hisses, putting his tea down just as there’s a knock on the door.

The elder of the two takes a seat on the couch, pulling his hoodie sleeve down to cover his hand while Joshua answers the door. 

“Hi-” your voice carries into the small space, and Jeonghan silently urges Joshua to move to the side so he can get a better look at you. “Are you Jeonghan?”

“No, Joshua,” he shifts, allowing you to see into the cabin, “that’s Jeonghan.”

Jeonghan lifts his unharmed hand, wiggling his fingers at you and offering a smile. 

His eyes quickly take you in, assessing your cute outfit- and its lack of weather appropriateness. He finds himself stifling a laugh again, shaking his head to snap himself out of it before saying loudly, “Aren’t you going to let our new step-sister in?”

You look like a bunny entering a wolf’s den, and you stop just past the threshold, allowing the door to be closed behind you.

“I guess you guys know about the cabin situation?” Your first words aren’t something Jeonghan had particularly expected from you-

You’re much more forward than your appearance gives you credit for, and he begins to wonder if his little bunny has teeth. 

“Cabin situation?” Joshua comes to join Jeonghan on the couch, reaching for his book.

“Yeah-” you swallow, “I heard my cabin got given up to two of your friends?”

“Right, that cabin situation,” Jeonghan and Joshua exchange glances, and they leave space for you to continue.

“I was thinking,” you shift awkwardly on your feet, a chunk of snow shifts off your boot and onto the wood floor, “uh- you guys aren’t really going to make me share a cabin with two of your friends, right?” 

“What do you mean?” Joshua cocks his head, and Jeonghan leans back in his seat, enjoying the scene playing out in front of him.

“Just that-” you release a deep sigh. “Guys- I’m going to be honest, I’m really tired- is there no possible way one or even both of your friends could- I don’t know… crash in this cabin with you guys?”-  there’s a beat of silence, Jeonghan and Joshua exchange glances - “like, that’s a pullout couch, right? So- at least one could stay here-”

Joshua opens his mouth to respond, but Jeonghan places a hand on his knee to silence him, taking the lead in these new family negotiations; “You might be able to convince one of them to stay here,” he tells you, “but I doubt you’d be more comfortable alone with a strange man you’ve never met, than you would be having two.”

“I mean…” you look between your new step-siblings, “these guys are your friends, right? It’s not like they’re going to- erm… try anything?”

“You’re right,” Jeonghan nods sympathetically, “let’s go over there and you can see which one you prefer to spend a week alone with.”

You shift again, releasing a groan. “I know we just met- but I’ve gotta say, you’re a bit of an asshole, you know that?”

Jeonghan laughs.

“He’s right though,” Joshua sighs. “As unfortunate as it is that your cabin got given up, there’s no chance both of our friends are going to give up their beds to sleep on a pullout in here with us.” He stands up. “I saw you were struggling with your bag earlier- I’ll carry it for you, we can go to the next cabin over and discuss the situation with Cheol and Mingyu-”

“Thanks, but no thanks,” you open the door, holding your suitcase tightly, “I’m a big girl, I’ll handle this myself.”

The new brothers watch you leave the cabin, and then Joshua heads to the window, eyes following you as you trudge down the path back to the main road again. 

“Is she still struggling?” Jeonghan asks.

Joshua lets out something between a laugh and a sigh, then he nods. “She’s really struggling.”

3: Thursday - Arrival

“Is that your stomach growling?” Cheol groans, distracted from the Christmas film he’s watching for what must be the third time-

“I’m sorry-” Mingyu whines, hand rubbing his tummy in slow circles, “you know how I get when we go skiing-”

“Then eat more at dinner next time,” the elder man snaps, grabbing the remote to turn the sound up in the hopes it will drown out his friend’s stomach, “and make some ramen or something.”

“I’m too lazy, I can’t get up,” the large man sprawled on the couch groans, his voice switching to something more on the girly side when he says “oppa, make me ramen? We can have Netflix and ramen?”

“Aish-” Seungcheol reaches out to bat his friend’s foot.

Mingyu is the baby of their apartment back home, and all three of the men born in 95 try not to make a habit of indulging him in maknae privileges. In fact, Mingyu often ends up being the one who cooks and cleans, but Seungcheol will never admit that to anyone.

“Stop complaining and watch your movie,” Seungcheol urges, eyes returning to the screen, where Jim Carrey’s Grinch is having a similar meltdown to Mingyu’s.

A knock at the door stuns both men, their heads whipping towards the sound- then Mingyu is jumping off the couch, as if he wasn’t just claiming to be a lazy bum less than a minute ago. 

“Who is it?” Cheol groans, leaning back against the pillows, stretching his tired arms out in front of him. 

He’s never going to get through this movie if there keeps being distractions-

“Shh- it’s a girl-” Mingyu’s whispered response is another shock to Cheol’s system, and he suddenly finds himself sitting up in his seat.

“Well, answer the door!” he whispers back.

Mingyu follows through with the command, and a moment later he’s greeting you with a “Hello?”

“Uh, hi? Are you… Cheol?” 

“No,” Mingyu steps to the side, “he is.”

Seungcheol blinks at you, taking you in.

He’s definitely never met you before, so how is it you know his name- 

How is it you know the name that only his friends use?

“Then that makes you… Mingyu?” 

You’re not even looking at Seungcheol anymore, your eyes have slipped over him and returned to the large man in front of you faster than Cheol can even clock-

“That’s right,” Mingyu nods, then, “wait! You must be the step-sister!”

“That’s me,” you sigh. “The step-sister.”

“Come in,” Mingyu urges you, “and let me take your bag, I bet you’re tired from your flight-”

Seungcheol rolls his eyes, setting the remote down. It’s unlikely he’ll be returning to the movie anytime soon, and he supposes he should be friendly with you- despite his exhaustion from a long day on the slopes.

“Did you drag your suitcase all the way through the snow?” Mingyu asks, blatantly bewildered at your behavior. 

“Uh huh,” you nod, closing the door behind you and reaching down to take off your boots.

“No one helped you?” Mingyu’s tone makes the whole thing seem like blasphemy, and Cheol watches the way he fusses over you, setting your bag at the foot of his bed before rushing to help you take off your jacket-

“No one,” you confirm. “Joshua offered, but- I managed by myself, like always.”

“So you stopped at the other cabin first?” Seungcheol confirms, “Met Hannie and Josh-”

Your eyes meet, and then Seungcheol finds himself looking at your lips-

“Yeah,” you tear your gaze away, turning to Mingyu when you explain, “wanted to talk with them about bed arrangements first-”

“You can have mine,” Mingyu offers, flashing you an earnest smile.

“Really?” your eyes widen, and you look between the two men again. “You’re not uh… too big for it?”

Seungcheol feels like he’s been hit in the chest. 

If you’d had asked your question without looking directly at him, he might have been able to convince himself you weren’t insinuating anything- but it’s clear what you’re saying. It’s clear you’re clocking him as being smaller than his younger friend, clear you’re inadvertantly suggesting that as the shorter man - Cheol - should sleep on the couch.

A month ago, Cheol had suggested the very same thing, thinking you’d be some nice girl he could give his bed to.

But now? 

He wouldn’t give you his bed if your life depended on it. 

“It’s okay,” Mingyu is quick to assure you, “you can have my bed. Here, have a seat, we’re watching a Christmas movie-  did your flight serve you dinner? Are you hungry?”

“Starved,” you sigh, collapsing onto the couch, taking the corner Mingyu had inhabited earlier. 

“I’ll make us some ramen,” Mingyu tells you. “Ramen always goes well with Christmas movies.”

Seungcheol notes the way you smile at Mingyu’s words. 

He feels invisible, and most of all, bitter. He’s not happy about any of this, not the way you’d taken a hit at his pride, nor Mingyu’s new burst of energy and overly friendly demeanor.

Picking up the remote again, Seungcheol hits play, and he hopes nothing else sets him off tonight, or he just might explode.

4: Friday - morning

Waking up is slow at first, and then it hits you all at once. You sit up, clutching the quilt to cover your body while blinking away the last of your drowsiness, eyes acclimatizing to the soft glow of the room.

Sunlight is coming through the cabin shades, and you realize two things very quickly. First, that you’re alone, and second, that you’re not where you’d fallen asleep last night.

After settling in and eating your ramen, you’d gotten comfortable on the couch. The movie hadn’t truly captured your interest, and you’d begun to doze off with the intention of waking up when the film was complete to move to the bed- 

But you have no recollection of being woken up.

You hadn’t even had any dreams. You’d been so exhausted from a day of traveling that you’d blacked out, and now, you’re left with confusion and body aches.

Someone must have carried you to bed- 

You hope it was Mingyu.

When you look down, you see you’re still dressed in your travel outfit, so the first thing you decide to do is explore the small cabin and find the shower.

Part of you is grateful the men you’re rooming with allowed you to sleep. It makes finding a routine easier. You take your time in the shower, allowing yourself to relax a little, and you consider what your day might look like.

You guess the men are on the slopes, as the skis that had been propped next to the door when you’d arrived are gone, and you decide exercise might be exactly what you need.

Besides, you’re at a ski resort, skiing seems like an obvious choice- although you’re not quite sure how it will work, seeing as you haven’t brought your own equipment-

You begin looking around the cabin for a resort map- and you’re so busy looking in all the hard places you almost miss the glaringly obvious piece of paper resting on the coffee table under a set of keys. 

Your heart lurches in your chest. You pocket the keys and open the paper to find it’s the resort pamphlet you’ve been searching for. 

Along with a map of the mountain, someone has taken the time to circle cabin 7, draw a line to the main hotel, and circled another section, which has been labeled ‘ski rentals’ in handwriting that’s just barely legible. 

There’s no other writing to indicate which man has left this for you, so you decide to assume it’s Mingyu.

Cheol had barely talked to you last night. He’d given off cold vibes; a man with walls built up around him. 

You truly can’t imagine that the quiet, brooding man had stopped to write on a map and leave you keys.

And honestly? You don’t want to imagine it.

It’s much safer to identify one of your roommates as a tall, white knight, and the other as a dark entity you’ll have to suffer through for a week. 

It makes it easier to plan on ignoring Cheol. 

5: Friday - afternoon

Today is a good day for Seungcheol. 

He’d been worried that your arrival would mean babysitting duty, so when you’d slept in and he’d convinced Gyu to leave you be, he’d been nearly ecstatic. 

He’d clocked you as a non-skier the moment you’d arrived without the correct equipment, and despite his day job as a physical trainer, Cheol is not in the mood to be teaching anyone how to do anything.

No, he’s much happier taking the slopes with his best friend. 

Mingyu isn’t as adept with skis as Cheol is, but he’s good enough for the elder not to worry too much about him. 

After tackling a few of the harder slopes, the two men find themselves on a green run. 

It’s enjoyable to take the hill in an easy manner, crisscrossing down the incline, watching the powder fluff up and take air with each harsh turn-

The day is gorgeous-

And then Cheol spots you, and his mood drops instantly.

You’re a couple hundred feet down the mountain from he and Mingyu, and they both stop for a moment, battling the glare from the sun-

“Is that-”

“Y/n,” Seungcheol confirms with a sigh. “First the thing with her bags, now this- it’s like she’s never been to a ski resort before.”

“Maybe she hasn’t,” Mingyu cocks his head to the side, looking thoughtful for a moment. “We should go help her.”

Seungcheol scoffs. “You really think she wants our help?”

“It never hurts to offer,” the younger, more considerate man points out. “Besides, this is Jeonghan and Joshua’s new step-sister, we’re trying to be nice to her, right?”

With a sigh, Seungcheol agrees, and the two continue down the mountain, catching up to you easily. 

“Hello!” Mingyu calls out to you, in classic extroverted Mingyu fashion. This earns him a smile from you, and you stop your slow slope descent to chat.

“Hi Mingyu,” you say, pushing your hair out of your face and adjusting your hat.

You don’t say hello to Seungcheol, and he doesn’t greet you either.

“How’s your day going so far?” Mingyu asks. “Are you enjoying the fresh air?”

“Yeah- found some skis at the rental and I think I’m getting the hang of it,” you tell them, “wasn’t sure I’d be skiing much this trip but, well, here I am.”

“You slept in,” Seungcheol finds himself stating. “We weren’t sure we’d bump into you today.”

“Right…” you trail off, giving Seungcheol a quick once over before your eyes return to Mingyu, and an easy smile works its way across your face again, “Have you been skiing long? I mean, I get the feeling that I’m the only person on the trip who doesn’t have much experience with all of this- you guys all brought your own skis.”

“Yeah, we’re all big snow sports people,” Mingyu tells you. “Seungcheol was actually almost an olympic level snowboarder-”

“Really?” Now you’re looking at Seungcheol. Truly looking at him. “But… you brought skis?”

“He’d be much too fast on his board,” Mingyu grins. “Skis slow him down, make him level with the rest of us. But, he’s still pretty good at skiing too.”

“Could give you a few pointers if you want,” Seungcheol says, earnestly. 

He’d gotten a good look at what you were doing wrong before they approached you, and a few minor tweaks would have you skiing with the best of them-

“Erm, thanks, but no thanks, I think I’m good learning at my own pace for now.” 

He notes the way you avert your eyes, upper lip curling slightly with disdain. 

He should have never bothered to offer you help. 

Seungcheol takes a deep breath. “You two are probably more compatible for your level, and I want to do some harder runs. I’ll see you around.”

And with that, he leaves you and Mingyu, taking off down the mountain at a speed his friends can only dream of.

6: Friday - evening

It’s been a good day for Mingyu, and settling in for dinner with his friends is the perfect ending for it. They order half the menu, covering the table in all sorts of foods to try together, and it reminds him of their time in university. 

While Mingyu is younger than his friends, he’d entered their frat before they’d graduated, and the bond he has with his older hyungs is truly one born out of a shared love for food. 

“Try this,” Jeonghan insists, and Mingyu opens his mouth before he even gets a good look at what’s about to be fed to him. “It’s good right?”

Mingyu can only nod happily while munching, hand reaching for his beer.

“Where were you guys today?” Joshua asks, “we missed you on the slopes.”

“Did a couple of the harder ones,” Seungcheol responds while the maknae has his mouth full, “then bumped into your step-sister on the easier hill-”

“Oh?” This grabs both Jeonghan and Joshua’s attention. “She was skiing?”

“Badly,” Cheol leans back in his chair, sipping his beer.

“She wasn’t that bad,” Mingyu insists, swallowing his food so he can defend you. “I did a couple runs with her and she wasn’t that bad, really.”

The brothers exchange a glance that Mingyu can’t read. 

He’s always been jealous of how in tune Jeonghan and Joshua are. As ‘irish twins’ - siblings born within the same year - it’s like they can read each other’s minds, and Mingyu always feels like he’s missing some crucial part of the conversation.

“Did you guys sort out the bed situation?” Joshua asks, looking down at the steak he’s cutting. He gives off an air of nonchalance, but Mingyu can tell that this is a topic both brothers are interested in. 

“I think you mentioned giving up your bed when we talked about it a few months ago,” Jeonghan adds, “isn’t that right, Cheol?”

“That was before I met her.”

The brothers exchange a glance, and a smirk works its way onto Jeonghan’s face. “Looks like Gyu got the short end of the straw, huh?”

“I offered her my bed,” Mingyu insists. 

“But she fell asleep on the couch during our Christmas movie,” Seungcheol says smoothly. “I moved her to his bed, wasn’t going to let him off the hook that easy.”

“My neck is aching,” Mingyu groans, rubbing at it, “but it was worth it. I told her she could have my bed, so she had my bed.”

“He’s so eager to help her out,” Cheol teases, pushing at Mingyu’s shoulder. “When we saw her on the mountain earlier, she refused my help, but was more than happy to ski with him.”

Joshua and Jeonghan exchange a glance that has Mingyu rushing to assure them, “she’s your new step sister- I’m not trying anything, I just want to be friendly-”

“What was that?” Cheol leans closer, “I don’t think I heard you?”

“I said,” Mingyu raises his voice, “she’s their stepsister, and I’m not trying anything!” 

“Perfect, that’s exactly what I thought I heard,” Seungcheol grins, and then he’s looking at something over Mingyu’s shoulder. “Hey Y/N, you should join these three for dinner.”

“Uh…” 

Mingyu turns to find you standing there, and his skin heats with embarrassment. 

He’s pretty sure you’d just heard what he’d loudly said to his friends, and his skin tingles with regret, ears heating-

“Really,” Seungcheol stands, “take my seat, I was just leaving.”

“Where are you headed?” Jeonghan asks, more curious about his friend than his own step-sister.

“The pool.” Cheol grabs the jacket on the back of his chair. “Have some knots in my back, but nothing the hot tub jets can’t fix.”

For the second time today, Mingyu finds himself watching Cheol make a hasty retreat in order to avoid spending time with you. And for the second time today, Mingyu finds himself eagerly attempting to help you fit in, despite his oldest friend’s rejection of you.

“Come eat,” Mingyu urges, patting the newly empty seat next to him. 

“Are you guys sure? I can always eat alone-”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Joshua laughs. “You’re one of us now, come sit.”

Mingyu is glad that your step brothers immediately start asking you questions, and for a little while, everything runs smoothly. 

Every minute he spends with you, he warms up more and more to your presence.

It’s obvious to him that yesterday, when you’d arrived, you’d been out of sorts after hours of traveling. Your temperament has improved drastically, and Mingyu finds himself laughing along with his friends at small jokes you make here and there.

The four of you spend a much longer time in the resort restaurant than Mingyu had expected, and it’s only when Jeonghan begins to yawn that you all decide it’s time to head back to your cabins.

The night is cold, but it’s not snowing, and your small group follows the poles of string lights diligently.

Jeonghan and Joshua pull off one stop earlier than your own, wishing you goodnight before heading into their cabin.

As you and Mingyu continue up the path, Mingyu finds you walking closer to him, and he’s surprised when you say “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“Carrying me to bed last night,” you respond, “and the map you left on the coffee table, the one with the ski rental circled.”

“Oh, uh…” Mingyu swallows thickly, “that actually wasn’t me. I think it’s Cheol who you have to be thanking.”

“Oh…” 

‘Oh’ is right.

7: Saturday - morning

When you wake up, you’re struck by two things. First, that you’re alone, as you were when you woke up yesterday. And second, that your father is getting married.

Your body aches when you sit up, muscles screaming at you for having the audacity to ski as long as you had with Mingyu, and you decide pretty quick that another attempt at the slopes is off the table.

You remember what Seungcheol had said yesterday, about the pool and the hott ub, and decide maybe he had the right idea about jets and sore muscles.

He can be an ass, but you suppose he uses his brain sometimes.

You change into your swimsuit, and make sure to layer yourself with comfy sweats and your parka, pool bag in hand before you set out to take on the weather. 

For the billionth time since arriving at this God forsaken cabin, you wish you’d gotten a room in the resort itself. It’s snowed over the night, but the path is somewhat cleared. Even so, the trek to the main hotel is difficult, and your muscles are even more tired when you arrive.

The resort is a ski destination, and you cross your fingers that most of its patrons are on the hills and not utilizing the various pools and saunas. 

Your wish comes true, and you’re pleased to see hardly anyone as you pass through the indoor pool to check out the outdoor areas, intent on having a hot tub to yourself-

As you’re walking along the pool deck, clutching your parka tight around your body, you notice someone swimming. 

He’s underwater, slicing through the pool like a professional swimmer. The glare from the overcast sky makes it impossible to get a great look at the athlete and you settle next to the hot tub, hoping to see more when he comes up for air. 

You’ve just taken off your parka and are wading into the hot tub when the swimmer stops at the edge of the pool. He’s in the shallows now, and he’s able to stand up, his back to you.

Droplets of water glisten down his back in the light, steam immediately beginning to lift off of his skin-

His shoulders and back look like they were crafted by the Gods, and the man runs a hand through his hair, shaking it out of his face.

You just wish he would turn to look at you, so you can see who you’re drooling over-

In no time at all, this wish is coming true, only, you wish it hadn’t, because the moment the gorgeous, well-muscled athlete turns to look at you, you’re locking eyes with your least favourite person on the mountain.

Seungcheol is as taken aback as you are for a moment.

He’d been reaching for the rail to pull himself out of the pool, but now, he’s simply frozen.

You’re practically gawking at each other, and you’re the first to break eye contact, clearing your throat and looking away.

You can feel your skin heating, and it’s not just from the hot tub, which you wish you could simply submerge yourself in and never come back up-

In the periphery of your vision, you see Seungcheol getting out of the pool, and it takes every ounce of self-restraint in your entire body not to turn and watch him.

Then, to your surprise, he gives you an excuse to look at him, calling out, “The wedding starts at four, don’t be late.”

Your jaw hits the hottub floor, and you watch Seungcheol practically run away from you.

It’s becoming an all too familiar sight. 

8: Saturday - afternoon

Sitting in his mother’s hotel room, watching her do the final touches on her wedding look, Joshua is struck with memories of the past.

There’d been many mornings growing up where he’d sat on the closed-lid toilet, watching her brush through her hair, sometimes braiding it, before taking him and Jeonghan to school.

In the quiet of their small apartment bathroom, nothing could come between them, not Jeonghan whining for whatever reason, nor the angry father who’d disappeared from the picture when the boys had turned ten.

To Joshua, the moment feels like peace, or at least, as close to it as he’s ever come.

He can tell, by the way his mom smiles when she looks at herself in the mirror, that she’s truly happy, and it’s all he’s ever wanted for her. 

The moment is fleeting, as Jeonghan enters the room and brings with him a certain level of chaos, the kind of windswept mayhem that follows him everywhere, like a moving storm.

“Booze?” The first word to come out of his mouth.

“In the fridge,” Joshua motions to the small cooler before asking his elder brother, “drinking already?”

“Just spent half an hour running all over and making sure everyone’s doing what they’re supposed to be doing,” Jeonghan sighs, bending down to retrieve a can of beer, cracking it open with nimble fingers.

“You wanted to be the best man,” Joshua points out.

For such a small wedding, consisting of only close family and a few friends, roles hadn’t been a necessity, but Joshua wasn’t aware that scrambling around to make sure people are in place would be necessary either.

“Y/N forgot her shoes at the cabin, so Mingyu ran to get them, but by the time he got there, Seungcheol had apparently realized the heels were needed, so he’d grabbed them- and somehow they’d missed each other in the lobby-” Jeonghan cuts off his own ramblings with a large sip of his drink. 

“Sounds like quite the goose chase,” their mother’s calm voice visibly settles the best man, who takes a seat next to his brother.

“You look amazing,” Jeonghan tells her, as sincere as Joshua’s ever seen him. “Our new step-sister’s dad is a lucky man.”

“Since when did you stop calling him by his name?” Seulki laughs, returning her gaze to the mirror, fixing her veil. “Looks like you’re both getting used to Y/N though, Joshua mentioned that you all had dinner last night. Is she settling in okay?”

“I think so,” Joshua says thoughtfully.

“Mingyu really likes her,” Jeonghan adds.

Joshua nods. “And we do too.”

Their mom gives them a knowing look. “How’s Seungcheol finding his cabinmate? Haven’t you both always said he’s a good judge of character?”

“He’s also a stubborn ass,” Jeonghan grins over the rim of his drink, “so we can’t really trust his opinions on her- besides, any time she’s around, he runs the other way. I doubt they’ve talked much.”

“That’s a shame,” Seulki frowns. “I bumped into her with Mingyu on the slopes yesterday, she seemed really lovely.”

“She is,” Joshua admits. He’d also enjoyed getting to know you last night over food and drinks.

“Well,” Seulki turns to her boys, “let’s just hope Seungcheol warms up to her, but we’ll put that to the side for now, we have a wedding to get to.”

9: Saturday - evening

The ceremony had gone exactly as planned. 

After the initial goose chase looking for your shoes, there’d only been one or two small details Jeonghan had been forced to attend to. But after it all, his mom had walked down the aisle, vows had been said, and Jeonghan had gained a father figure.

Standing at the alter next to his brother, Jeonghan had watched everything take place with a keen eye.

He’d been pleased to see the three couples invited - his aunt and uncle, and two of your father’s friends with their wives - sitting in the small venue with his roommates. And he’d been even more interested in watching his friends react throughout the service.

Mingyu had gotten teary-eyed the moment Seulki had begun her walk down the aisle, and even Seungcheol had torn his gaze from you for long enough to admire the dress.

When everything was said and done, the small party had moved to a secluded room off the main restaurant to have food, drinks and further celebration. Here, Jeonghan had again noticed Seungcheol’s affinity for having you in his line of sight.

“You know,” Jeonghan says, as he settles into the seat next to his brother, eyes fixed on his muscular friend by the small bar, “for a guy who runs away whenever y/n is around, he spends an awful lot of his time watching our step sister.”

Joshua chuckles, sipping his champagne. “You noticed that too, huh?”

“Hard not to,” Jeonghan grins, following Seungcheol’s gaze to where you’re clinging to Mingyu on the makeshift dance floor. “What do you think about those two?”

“I think Cheol better cut his losses now,” Joshua says, setting his drink down. 

“Really?” Jeonghan cocks his head, considering it all. “We’re only two days into this trip… a lot could happen before the week is done, don’t you think?”

“A lot could happen,” Joshua admits, “especially if someone like you decided to meddle.”

“I never meddle, only… help push things along.”

“In the direction you want it to go.”

“Touche,” Jeonghan lifts his champagne, gently clinking it against his brother’s discarded glass. 

“I think I’m going to go ask y/n to dance,” Joshua says, pushing his chair back and standing.

“Now who’s meddling?” Jeonghan laughs.

“Still only you.”

10: Sunday - morning

The couch had been uncomfortable on a normal night, so Mingyu supposes it’s his own fault that he wakes up aching after a night of drinking and dancing at the wedding.

Stretching his arms over his head, he tries to ease the tight muscles in his shoulders, but he’s unable to get comfortable again.

He lays there for a few minutes, watching you dance in your cute bridesmaid dress on the back of his eyelids. He’s not sure if it’s you, the dress, or the visual combined, but he knows he’s going to remember last night for many years to come.

When he finally sits up, Mingyu looks towards your bed, and he’s not shocked to find you still sleeping. This is the third day waking up in the same room as you, and Mingyu’s becoming accustomed to the fact that you sleep in longer than he does.

He’s becoming accustomed to your cute, unsuspecting, resting face.

It makes sleeping on the couch worth it, and his sore muscles are almost forgotten- until he has to stand up, and they scream at him again.

Cheol is sitting up in his bed, scrolling through his phone, and he looks up when Mingyu stretches his arms above his head to release his shoulder tension.

‘Did you sleep well?’ Cheol mouths at him.

The two have been scared to even whisper in the mornings - scared to wake you up - and have adopted this silent way of communicating. Mingyu nods quickly, pointing back at his hyung as if to say ‘and you?’

Another quick nod, plus a thumbs up, then Cheol makes the motion of a man shoveling food into his mouth and points to the door.

Mingyu holds up his hand, ‘give me five minutes’ and slowly begins to tiptoe to the bathroom, where he can have some water, fix his hair, and change into better clothes. 

It’s a routine they’ve gotten used to, and for the third day in a row, Mingyu prays that when he exits the bathroom, by some miracle, you’ll be awake and eager to join them in the resort restaurant for breakfast.

Mingyu and Seungcheol - quite predictably - end up weathering the early morning elements without you, and it’s on the snowy path that Mingyu tells Cheol “I think I’m going to skip skiing today.”

“Really?” Seungcheol’s shock is written all over his face.

Mingyu nods. “I feel bad that we’re always ditching y/n- and we mostly go on the slopes she can’t ski on, so… I figured, after breakfast, I'd stay behind at the cabin and wait till she wakes up, then see what she wants to do today.”

There’s a long pause, and then Seungcheol sighs. “I see how it is.”

“Hmm?”

“You also walked her home last night after the dinner. Hannie, Joshie and I stayed up drinking, you usually join, but instead, you walked y/n home.”

“We were both tired,” Mingyu defends himself. “Watched a bit of a movie, then fell asleep.”

“Is that all that happened?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean… part of me wondered if I should have stayed on Jeonghan and Joshua’s couch last night, to give you privacy.”

Mingyu’s heart skips a beat in his chest, and he fumbles with the hood of his parka. “We didn’t- we aren’t-”

“You guys danced a lot last night, then you walked her home… if it’s not like that then… well, people might get the wrong idea.”

“Who’s people?” Mingyu nearly laughs. “It’s just us here- you think anyone really cared last night?”

“I guess not.” There’s a pause, then Seungcheol changes the topic, asking, “What do you think you’ll have for breakfast today?”

It’s then that Mingyu realizes, someone did care last night, and that someone, is Cheol. 

11: Sunday - afternoon

You’d been a little shocked to find Mingyu reading on the couch when you’d woken up from your long sleep, but when he’d explained to you that he’d stayed behind from skiing with friends to make sure you had a proper buddy for the day, your heart had melted.

After a slow start, the two of you had decided to rent some snow shoes and use the back slope trails, which is how you end up climbing one of the smaller mountains together.

“We’re almost at the top,” Mingyu tells you, pulling out the trail map provided by the resort. You try to catch your breath while he points to a spot on the paper. “I think we’re about here, so just-” he drags his finger up the green line, “this far to the top.”

“Are you sure?” you laugh, grasping onto his arm to pull yourself closer so you can get a good look at the map.

There’s a pause, then he shakes his head, “No. We could also be sort of lost.” 

“Don’t say that-” you grin, pushing at him, “you’ve been mostly using this map alright- I trust you, and your trail-following capabilities.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t though,” Mingyu insists. “Honestly, following maps is definitely Cheol’s thing. One time, we were on a road trip, and we were going down this road for half an hour before we had to pull over and he got to look at the map- we’d missed a turn and it set us back like two hours-”

“It’s easier to miss a highway turn than a trailhead,” you assure him. “Come on, we said we’d climb this small mountain, and then we can take the lift back down and finish our movie from last night at the cabin- just think about our nice, warm cabin-”

“Nice, warm cabin,” Mingyu nods, folding the map back up to put in the pocket of his parka. “Let’s go, we can do this.”

You watch the large, beautiful man pull away from you and continue your trajectory up, and you can’t help but smile, echoing the sentiment, “we can do this.” 

12: Sunday - evening

Seungcheol had been surprised to find the cabin empty after skiing, and he’d been even more surprised when he went to the restaurant to find you and Mingyu not there either. 

However, he does find Jeonghan, who informs him that he’d seen you and Mingyu getting snow shoes a few hours ago, and Seungcheol’s heart sinks.

There’s a storm coming, and darkness has already begun to settle in across the resort- 

He hopes, for both your sakes, that you’re not on the top of the mountain, lost in the trails, when the worst of the winter weather hits.

After waiting diligently for his meal order to come through, Seungcheol ends up trekking back to your cabin with food and firewood in hand just as the snow begins to get heavier.

The last thing he expects when he enters your lodging, is to find you sitting there with a minty green facemask on, and for a second, he stands in the doorway just staring at you.

You break eye contact first, calling out “Cheol’s back!” and a moment later, Mingyu comes out of the bathroom, mid-facemask application.

“Cheol!” Mingyu beams, rubbing the green goo against his cheek, “you’re back from skiing!”

“I was back earlier-” Seungcheol closes the door behind him, “stopped here for a bit but you guys weren’t around.”

“We just got back from a snowshoe hike like, twenty minutes ago?” Mingyu tells him, looking at you for confirmation. Seungcheol watches the way you nod at Mingyu, and his friend lights up. This time, when he says “twenty minutes ago,” he says it with confidence.

“Well, I brought food and firewood,” Seungcheol sighs, kicking off his snow boots and entering the small space.

“Firewood?” You’re looking at him again, and Seungcheol can’t find it within himself to meet your eyes while you’re green in the face like this, so instead, he sets the food down and moves to the small cast iron fireplace in the corner.

“Did you think this cabin heats itself?” The question comes out much snarkier than he’d intended, and he regrets it as he begins to build the fire.

“No- I mean, I noticed it was cold when we got in twenty minutes ago- but I don’t know, I sort of assumed that maybe hotel staff would bring the wood and keep the embers going-”

Seungcheol scoffs. Of course another good deed of his would go unappreciated. 

“It’s plausible!” you try to insist.

“I never said anything.”

“You scoffed, you went like-” you mimic the throaty annoyed sound he’d made, “you went like that, a scoff- you scoffed at me!”

“Here’s your dinner,” Seungcheol pushes the bag of takeout towards you across the floor, eyes fixed on the fire he’s still building.

“What if I don’t want your food? What if I want to finish with this mask and go grab food for myself?” 

Seungcheol sighs again. “There’s literally a storm coming in- if you go out, you’re going to get windswept away- just eat the food I brought.”

“What if I don’t like the food you brought?” you insist again, and Seungcheol’s getting real tired of your bratty stubbornness. 

“You will, it’s what you’ve been eating for two nights in a row.”

This finally gets you to open the bag he’d brought, and you remove the three takeout items, eying them. “How did you know I like this?”

“Like I said- you’ve eaten it two nights in a row.”

“Why were you watching?”

“Oh my god,” Seungcheol groans, running a hand through his hair. “Just say thank you and eat your fucking food while I make this fire so you don’t freeze to death- why does everything have to be so hard with you?”

There’s a long pause, and he hears the sound of a food container opening. 

He’s thankful you’ve finally shut up and are going to eat.

“Even without the fire- this cabin is well insulated enough that we wouldn’t die,” you say after a moment. “The hotel wouldn’t be able to have a cabin where its renters could just die.”

If he hadn’t just lit the fire, Seungcheol might have considered allowing you to test your theory out of spite.

“You always need to have the last word, don’t you, brat?” He stands up, dusting his hands off on his pants before turning to look at you.

You open your mouth to respond- but quickly shrink under his hard gaze.

A moment later, you pick up the remote, and a movie begins to play.

At least in this, Cheol’s gotten the last laugh. 

13: Monday - morning

“Fuck-” Jeonghan’s cursing does more to wake Joshua up than the knock at their cabin door had, and the younger irish twin goes to cover his ears while Jeonghan stumbles out of bed.

“Who is it?” Joshua groans, giving in and sitting up, squinting at the door that his brother throws open to reveal their eldest friend.

“Are you two really still sleeping?” Seungcheol pushes into the cabin, throwing his gloves down before gruffly kicking off his boots.

“What time is it?” Jeonghan asks, rubbing at his eyes and groaning before running back to nosedive into his bed.

“Late enough that you should both be awake.”

“Y/n’s not awake,” Jeonghan insists, tucking himself back under the covers, “and I don’t see Mingyu anywhere- why do they get a free pass from your bitching but we don’t?”

“Because they’re not my ski buddies today,” Seungcheol says smoothly. “Seriously, what’s up with you two- and why is it so cold in here?”

They all look towards the castiron fire place, and the emptiness of it gives Joshua a chill that he feels tingling through his entire body.

“We thought we had enough firewood to carry us over from the evening and into the night, so neither of us picked up any dry wood from the hotel yesterday-” Joshua begins to explain.

“Evidently you both ran out,” Cheol concludes, scanning the rest of the small space with his precise, all-knowing, eyes. His gaze lingers on the bottle of fireball on the coffee table. “Instead of running to get more wood, you guys took to drinking, huh?”

“It’s not like we were going to cuddle,” Jeonghan groans.

“So you’re both hung over.”

“Just a little,” Joshua sighs, swinging his legs out of his bed. “Give us half an hour and I can be up.”

“It’s funny,” Cheol says, moving to sit on the couch, “I just had a fight with your step-sister last night about whether we’d freeze to death if we forgot firewood- and at the same time, you guys were over here, resorting to fireball instead of an actual fire-”

“It’s not like we could go out and grab wood once we realized we didn’t have enough,” Jeonghan defends himself. “The storm was really bad.”

“And it’s going to be bad for the next few days,” Seungcheol tells them, “so you better get used to grabbing firewood every evening after dinner.”

Both of his friends groan. “Sure, dad,” Jeonghan buries his head in his pillows. “You know what? If you’re going to be like this, maybe I’ll sleep in and not be your ski buddy today.”  

“Mingyu ditched me yesterday, and now you’re ditching me today-” Seungcheol clicks his tongue, “am I really being that much of a dick this vacation?”

It’s Joshua who responds, pointing out, as thoughtfully as he can; “you have been more of a dick than usual.” 

To which Seungcheol replies, “Yeah, well, you guys have been pissing me off more than usual.” 

Except, Joshua knows it’s not necessarily he and Jeonghan who have been pushing Seungcheol’s buttons this trip- but he keeps that to himself. 

14: Monday - afternoon

After skipping out on skiing with his friend and brother, Jeonghan had gotten some much-needed rest. Then, around lunchtime, he’d left his cabin in search of food only to bump into you and Mingyu doing the same thing.

As if that wasn’t coincidence enough, when your odd trio had entered the resort restaurant, you’d found Joshua and Seungcheol midway through their own meals.

Jeonghan had insisted you all join together, fully intending to meddle with you and your cabin mates. After all, he’d just gotten some sleep, and his mischievous mind was eager to stir the pot.

To his disappointment, the seating arrangements make poking people’s buttons difficult- with Cheol all but ignoring you from his vantage point as far from you as possible.

Despite the less-than-ideal format of your table, Jeonghan still finds a way to draw everyone into the conversation when he states, “so I heard there was a fight over cabin temperature last night.”

This earns Jeonghan a rough kick under the table from Cheol, as well as a harsh look from you. 

“Who said that?” you ask.

“Cheol did,” Jeonghan smiles through the pain in his shin, and this time, when Cheol goes to kick him, a quick movement of his leg has him narrowly avoiding his friend’s boot. “This morning, when he came to pick of Joshie for skiing.”

“It wasn’t a fight,” you go to insist, but the harsh glare you send Seungcheol’s way has Jeonghan nearly laughing.

“Definitely not a fight,” Mingyu confirms, and Jeonghan almost feels bad for the way he’s sat between you and Seungcheol. A man caught between two stormy personalities ready for a clash.

“If it makes you feel any better,” Jeonghan says, “we ran out of wood last night, and we didn’t die.”

You sigh, leaning back in your chair. “Well, that’s good to know.” 

“Y/n was saying last night,” Mingyu adds, “that she doubted we’d die without wood- hotel regulations and everything-”

“Was Cheol insisting you’d die without a fire?” Joshua’s eyes have widened, and he leans in, elbows on the table next to Jeonghan’s food. “Cheol? Really?” 

“He was just being dramatic,” you say, and Jeonghan watches the way his friend’s ears turn red at your statement.

“Says the girl who was going to go out in the storm instead of eating the food I brought for her.” Seungcheol crosses his arms over his chest, and a muscle feathers in his jaw. He’s glaring at his plate, and a thick tension blankets the table.

Jeonghan loves it.

But then something happens that he couldn’t possibly predict: your parents enter the restaurant, and before he knows it, you’re hopping up to go say hello to Seulki and your father, leaving the men to deal with the unresolved tension.

“Are you trying to start something?” Seungcheol whispers angrily as soon as you’re out of earshot, his angry gaze fixed on Jeonghan.

“Who, me?” Jeonghan touches his chest, pretending to be the most innocent person in the room. “I was just looking for conversation. Besides, we’re the one’s who forgot firewood last night, it’s quite embarrassing for us.”

“You don’t look embarrassed,” Seungcheol notes, sitting back in his chair.

“He has no shame,” Mingyu adds, nodding sympathetically.

“You’re right, I don’t,” Jeonghan’s grin widens, and he looks over Seungcheol’s shoulder to see you leaving the restaurant. “Now that it’s just us, I suppose I should be a good big brother and figure out which one of you intends to fuck my new step-sister.”

Mingyu had been taking a sip of his drink, and now he’s choking, which only adds to Jeonghan’s delight. 

“Jeonghan,” Joshua’s harsh warning bounces off the elder brother, whose smile is becoming something akin to the Cheshire Cat’s.

“Neither of us are going for your stupid step-sister,” Seungcheol growls, thumping Mingyu on the back to aid with the water caught in his lungs.

“Oh, so you’re both in denial?” Jeonghan’s eyes widen. “I’d thought at least Mingyu would fess  up.”

“Fess up to what?” Mingyu says between coughs. “I’m just being nice to her!”

Jeonghan nods. “Sure you are.”

“Why do you all think I want to fuck your stepsister?!” Mingyu whisper screams at his friends, doing a quick look around the restaurant before adding, “you guys are all horrible.”

“Cheol’s been bugging you about this too, huh?” It’s one of the first things Joshua’s really said, and Jeonghan realizes his brother is right. 

“Bet he had a lot to say about the way you danced with our sister at the wedding.”

“Were you all watching that?!” Mingyu’s eyes have widened. 

“It was quite the spectacle,” Jeonghan plays with his glass of water. “Cheol was jealous.”

“What!?” This time, when Seungcheol misses Jeonghan’s shin with his foot, the whole table shakes from impact along the underside of it. “Was not! I didn’t even dance with her- how could I be jealous when I never even danced with your stupid sister-”

“Stop calling her stupid,” Joshua’s harsh tone is a surprise to everyone, and the table goes quiet. “Just because you’re in denial about everything doesn’t mean you get to call our new sister stupid.”

“Someone’s taking their older brother role a little seriously-” Seungcheol lets out a whistle.

“Deflect all you want,” Joshua sighs, “Change the topic and make fun of me, but at the end of the day, you’re only making things harder on yourself… both of you.”

For a moment, both Seungcheol and Mingyu are put on the spot, then Seungcheol insists, “We’re not doing anything.”

“And denial is a river in Egypt,” Joshua sighs, shocking the whole table with a pop culture quote- something that’s very unlike him. “Cheol, you’re done eating, let’s leave these two and get a few more runs in before the storm makes skiing impossible.” 

15: Monday - evening

Sitting on the floor with your roommates, roasting marshmallows on the fire while the storm rages outside, you find yourself noticing all the small details about them both.

It’s the first night that you’ve actually allowed yourself to take a breath and relax, accepting that, with the extreme weather, there is really nothing else that can be done except to work on enjoying your company.

Mingyu is easy, as you’ve grown accustomed to having him around. You’ve gotten used to his large form, the clumsiness and easy smiles.

Seungcheol, on the other hand, is something you’re newly exploring, sneaking glances at his side profile whenever you think he’s fully distracted in his marshmallow making.

Unlike Mingyu, who thrusts his treat into the fire and watches it burn, Seungcheol is meticulous about his food, preferring a spot where his marshmallow can slowly turn golden near the embers.

He’s got a pretty side profile, and there’s a stubborn set to his jaw when he focuses, eyes fixed on flames that light his face in pretty hues. 

His nose is also quite striking, and along with his strong brow, his face is altogether quite attractive, something you’ve been fighting yourself on since the moment you entered the cabin and he’d been cold to you.

There’s something about the duality of him that has your heart racing whenever he’s around. 

You’re never sure which Cheol you’re going to get.

You’ve had glimpses of his softer side, especially on your first day when he’d carried you to bed and then left you a map- then there’d been the way he brought you your dress shoes after you’d forgotten to pack them and trekked to the hotel in snow boots on the day of the wedding-

It seems as if Seungcheol is the kind of man who likes to do nice things for you when you’re not watching, but after your small altercation last night, wherein you’d realized he’s also been doing fire duty, you’ve made more of an attempt to notice small things.

 Small things like the way he takes the perfect golden marshmallow out of the fire, places it between two chocolate graham crackers, and hands it to you without a word, giving you the best s’more of the night.

He balances his kindness to you by offering Mingyu the s’more after, and you think he must be doing it as if to say ‘you’re not special, I’ll share with everyone’ but you can’t help but think there might be more to it. 

To your surprise, Mingyu is the first of the three of you to get sleepy, and after a quick washup in the bathroom, he’s collapsing onto the couch and falling asleep. 

For the first time since arriving at the cabin, you find yourself truly alone with Seungcheol, no big, human buffer to keep you both in line.

The silence is thick. Even so, in the quiet, Seungcheol gives you wide birth to go wash your face and brush your teeth while he cleans up the few items from your s’mores.

There’s hardly anything to be said, and the two of you find yourselves getting into your own beds in no time at all.

“Turning off the light,” Seungcheol tells you, hand reaching for the lamp chord. 

He pauses, waiting for your curt “okay” before following through with his statement of intent, and the room is captured in darkness.

The wind howls outside, drowning out any sounds of your roommates breathing, and for a little while, you can almost pretend you’re alone. 

Almost. 

In the dark, your mind begins to have all sorts of thoughts, and you surprise yourself when words slip out of you; “I’m sorry for calling you dramatic today.”

The air feels thick and heavy, a few beats of silence passing that almost convince you Seungcheol’s asleep, but then, he responds. “I’m sorry for referring to our disagreement last night as ‘a fight’ when I talked to Jeonghan this morning.” 

“It’s okay,” you say quietly. 

For a short while, you think nothing else is going to be said, but then; “Goodnight y/n.”

You take a breath, wrapping yourself tighter in your blankets. “Goodnight, Cheol.” 

CONTINUE READING PART 2 HERE I note. the fic was too long to be posted in one tumblr post 🤪

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[ravisinghs-wife]

The seven + Nico and Reyna and their red flags ✼

warnings: not proofread, swearwords, lmk if I missed anything!

a/n: okay I'm sorry I didn't post for like two months, ngl I simply forgot that this blog existed😭

notes to the fic: reader is written as gn (one mention off y/n), but pls don't read Nico's part if u identify as female! :)

masterlist

Percy

he's always barefoot during spring and summer

you'll never catch him with shoes on because he things that they are "blocking the fresh air his toes need"

at least they never get that dirty because he can't survive five minutes without jumping in the sea

when he was younger sally had to force him wear shoes to school, to the parkt et cetera and he was always so angry at her after that because he hated it with all his passion

that anger quickly faded after she baked some blue cookies

after growing up he learned that he should wear shoes to school et cetera but the second he is at camp he gets rid of them

after you dressed it he delegated that he always washed them and kept them clean so there was no wrong doing it and that it's actually healthy for your feet

Annabeth

listen, I love annabeth

but she's always mansplaining

Like u could be talking about ur close family that she only met once and she‘d say something like „actually, i had the impression that…“

It’s so annoying

she doesn't even mean it mean or something

but it also could be just a conversasiation that she isn't even involved in and she'll just randomly pop up and mansplain the topic

jason

That boy doesn’t have any basic knowledge

Like he is at camp jupiter since he’s three or something

I‘m not sure if they even knew what they where teaching him

Like that boy doesn’t know algebra

You could be talking about something in history and how deeply that event infected the way society lives now and he‘d be like „what do you mean?“

And he’s serious

Everytime Percy and Leo make fun of him for not knowing something he‘ll run to you and beg you to explain it to him

Most of the time you make a bit fun of him too because a 17 year old boy who doesn’t know what the french Revolution was is kinda funny

He knows that you‘re just joking though

hazel

I love her but she's like one of the extra careful mom's whose world break when their child hears a swear word

every time you are someone near both of ou swears she has this weird shocked and impressed look and looks around the room

you had to stop swearing around her bc she always starts blushing and looks at you in awe

they don't even have to be the "bad" swear words, it could be something like shit and she'd still be shocked

you had to learn to find alternatives like fudge or fox

she made you browse for the alternatives to swear words for around two hours at midnight and made you subscribe to the mommy blogs incase they had "more cool little alternatives"

piper

she's a die hard romance book hater

she always gives you the weird look when you read one or even only look at one at the bookstore

like she doesn't even have a plausible reason besides that they "always have the same ending and are very predictable"

I mean she's right but still

when she was 14 she had an instagram where she just talked shit about romance books because she was bored

it's not even that she doesn't like reading or books that much, she just doesn't like them because they (as already said) have the same ending and because she gor sick of the perfect romantic ending after drew talked night in and out about it

you once convinced her to read your favorite romance book and she tried her best to be nice

she actually didn't find it that bad and liked the ending but she would never admit that to you

leo

that boy either doesn't shower for one week or takes two hour showers

it's a bit better in the summer but especially in winter he never shower because he "would just get dirty later again"

you have to force him too properly shower because he would just forget it again

and when he actually showers for once he takes two hour showers

but especially in summer he's just gonna swim in the lake and call it a day because he basically "got clean already"

frank

I love frank sm but he would 7 in 1 shampoo

he doesn't get why it's bad and insists that it makes his hair shinier

you try to explain it to him once but he just doesn't understand 😪

he also tries to convince you all the time that it's so much better than owning body wach, shampoo and conditioner

nico

is a pop music hater

he always has this annoyed look on his face when you play pop music

he always makes this disappointed dad sigh and says "again?"

nico sounds so disappointed

he secretly loves it about you tho

reyna

she's like a confused mom and never gets jokes

"what do you mean by that, y/n? I never do that"

you try to explain the joke to her but give up after 10 minutes

she's grumpy for the rest of the day because you wouldn't finish explaining it to her

eventually she gives her pride up and asks you again

and after another ten stressful minutes she finally gets it

she kept arguing that what you said doesn't make sense