#stim toys masterlist

[pha55ed]

Diet Pepsi || F2

type :: smut! tw/cw :: size kink (ollie), corruption (paul), fem!reader (all) contains :: ollie, paul, pepe, zane summary :: certain kinks that the drivers have, - "break all the rules 'til we get caught" diet pepsi - addison rae (my first smut on this acc!)

request :: i desperately need a paul fic based on diet pepsi by addison rae i dont know why i js think its such a perfect combination 🤧 also maybe bed chem by sabrina carpenter is also perfect for him - 🧸 (thank u for the request! i love ovulation songs LOL)

f1 masterlist || f2 masterlist || more here!

Ollie Bearman | 87 size kink

He's aware that he's bigger than most people, but he loves comparing how much smaller you are to him. Hand sizes, height, weight, anything. It makes him so happy to know that he's stronger than you, it makes him feel so masculine and protective.

It's a bit rude, but honestly he doesn't care - he loves treating you like a rag doll. Using one hand to pin both of your hands down above your head so he can use you without you clawing at his back. Easily separating your thighs from each other with his strength even if you try to close them. Or his favorite, simply lifting you up into the air and fucking you while standing up - gripping your waist with two hands and lifting you up and down on him with such ease.

But don't worry, after being so mean to you he's gentle at the end. Cuddling you in his arms, he's always going to be the big spoon. Brushing your hair to the side and cupping your face, telling you that you did amazing even though you were a pillow princess.

Paul Aron | 17 corruption

There's just something about ruining your innocent image. It doesn't matter if you're a virgin or not, but the way that you're perceived by the public being so different from how he sees you. The media sees you as a sweet and quiet person, more reserved than others.

Yet he sees you in ways no one else is allowed to. And he loves that, he loves knowing that he's ruining your image, he's the one making you act so out of character.

Wearing things like a cute sweater, innocent skirts, and bows in your hair make him go crazy. He doesn't want you to take them off, he'd rather fuck you while wearing those so he can see this sweet girl get her brains fucked out.

Pepe Marti | 21 cock warming (lwk edging but it depends)

He's a busy guy with a lot of training to do. So the best way to stay close together is to simply just cock warm, it makes perfect sense. You sit on his lap, his dick in you, while he stim races for hours on ends. His bare chest is so warm and comfortable, you can't help but try to fall asleep.

But you're never able to, because the second he crashes or finishes his race - he relieves his feelings onto you. Thrusting into you by surprise, going at a rapid and fast pace. He'll only stop once he's over his anger or the next race loads in.

And once it does, he stops instantly and locks into his race. So you're left there, edged and overstimulated from the past times you've came all over him. It's confusing in your guts, but it's better to feel full than empty.

Zane Maloney | 05 overstimulation

Being a racer requires being an adrenaline junkie and good health. Perfect for you, since you get the honors of having your brains get fucked out by Zane every time he's free. He loves using all his energy and pent up anger on you. He'll spend hours fucking you without him even cumming once, to make sure that you get the best experience.

But it's never boring, as if could be with him. He loves trying new positions and adding different stimulations for you. Reverse cowgirl, doggy style, 69, every position ever made has been tried by Zane and you. Every single sex toy has also been tried by Zane and you, no matter how odd or weird.

Not only is it a good way for him to get his energy out, but he's also just a curious person. Seeing you react to certain touches, hearing you moan just a bit louder, all of it is worth it to him. It makes him so happy to know that he's making you feel good. He doesn't even care how long he has to wait till he finally cums, because any time with you is good time.

(Zane is deadass so cute like omg, why have I never looked at him??? he has tattoos? listens to podcasts for fun?? loves the US and the diverse culture??? the cutest fucking gummy smile I've ever seen????? I love him now)

f1 masterlist || f2 masterlist || more here!

[lemonberry-syrup]

hey everyone, i did some heavy maintenance on this post and made the individual lists into their own posts to make it easier to navigate.

If you have any suggestions, please feel free to comment, repost, message me, somehow let me know the suggestion and I'll add 'em to the list :] no criteria other than it's a small business and is not -phobic

A lot of these I found off TikTok as well so with the ban potentially imminent, it would be great if we could keep traffic up for these companies and more so they don't lose their jobs/income

Small Business masterlist for myself and a streaming community I'm in

I will be adding to this list as I go. If you have any suggestions, please let me know!

Not a small business but this is essentially Craigslist or Ebay but free and local https://freecycle.org/

Note: to my knowledge, most of these are American sellers

Edit: Going back and trying to alphebetize it all as well as adding more shops, it's easier for me to break it up into links to multiple posts so I'm going to be doing that. Each of the following categories links to a tumblr post with an evergrowing list of small companies and links to their shops

Artists

Clothing

Jewelry

Shower + skincare

Scents

Household stuff + decor

Cosmetics

Other

If some of the shop links aren't working, it's probably an etsy link taking its time. For most of these you can look up the shop and it's the first link that pops up.

[dontbesoweirdkira]

What if... Batsis with a oral fixation ⁉️

Not in a kinky way but like a stimming way, I have autism irl and I chew and bite on stuff to help get some feelings I'm not a fan of :P

Also I bite people I trust cuz Ik they won't mind or rlly judge me for it so what if batsis bites Grayson cuz she trusts him or somethin 🤯⁉️

A/N: So babes...i'm sorry this took a while. I was out of it for a while...I cannot stop biting my loved ones either...it's rough out here, really.

Characters: Dick, Tim, and Jason

Masterlist

Requests: always open

Dick wouldn't really mind it, I don't think?

Maybe at first he's like..."what ya got there..?" and it's just a whole chunk of his arm in your mouth.

He has a look of both concern and amusement on his face because well...this is a first.. But if he's aware of your usual oral stims and how you are constantly chewing or biting at something, I think he wouldn't question it further. It's easy to put two and two together, y'know.

But the fact that you only do it to him and maybe to the other siblings is enough for him to be okay with it. It makes Dick feel extremely special and dare I say honored to be a human chew toy. Dick adores anything that you do, especially if that thing is specifically because you trust him.

I think it'd be super cute having you hold onto his arm while ya'll are chilling on the couch. Maybe watching a scary movie, and because you're getting stressed so the entire time you are just gnawing on his bicep...poor guy. Lol but he actually doesn't even notice it after a while of you constantly doing it.

Like he's chatting with Babs and here comes your evil little teeth all ready to sink into his skin.

The only time I think he's be against it if he's super sweaty and gross or is trying to concentrate on something important....otherwise,,go ham.

But would I be crazy if I say his hair when it's long is perfectly chew-able.... like pleassseeeeee rachellll give it to meeee

I can imagine him giving you some of his bracelets to chew on. I imagine he wears these string bracelets and they are perfect chewing material.

*you have almost bit his entire finger off...*

Jason would be a bit turned off from it.

He's not particularly keen on you biting him. It doesn't feel good, it maybe even a bit irritating or stressful for him. This is not to say he thinks that your fixation needs to go but he'd rather you do it to anyone else instead.

Maybe he'll give you one of his old jackets for you to chew on. it's perfect, he got it cleaned and it has tons of tabs and buckles for you to chew. That way you can still have something of his to fixate on without necessarily bothering him. It does kind of warms his heart when you choose his items to stim with tho. It's assuring that he's still able to help ground you even if it's in a different way....

Tim..does not care. Like the most he does is just give you a strange look, then goes back to whatever he was doing prior.

You aren't hurting him, nor is he irritated so who is he to force you to stop. It's clear that you are overwhelmed and needs something that'll help you make it through soo have fun, sis.

He never directly addresses it either. It's just a thing that he accepts.

Maybe if you are chewing on the him of his shirt and your saliva is causing it to get rather wet and slightly uncomfortable, he'll just go change the shirt and give it to continue doing your stimming with.

I feel like Tim just had random chew-able trinkets around his room too, maybe even keeps tough gummies or lollipops around as an alternative for you.

[byuntrash101]

3k celebration - are u a (p☆rn)bot? (discontinued)

no need to check the little certification box. you are a bot! i am a bot! this a simulation. and im celebrating 3k by writing more filthy fanfics inspired by twt p☆rnlinks ♡

🍆THIS POST IS ALSO THE MASTERLIST🍆

ALL SLOTS TAKEN (CLOSED)

RULES :

PICK ONE (1) IDOL (i write for ateez, stray kids, the boyz, nct +wayv)

PICK ONE (1) NUMBER aka spicy link (list below)

WAIT for me to run the matrix calculations and voila

EACH LINK WILL BE USED ONCE. check this post regularly to see what links are still vacant. i'll add the idol + link to the fic one by one

★★★ MINORS DNI | REQUESTS BY ASK ONLY ★★★

disclaimer: this is all for fun. please be kind. i reserve the right to choose the requests i go through with. that being said lets have fun ♡

divider by @cafekitsune

clit stim + mirror [RESERVED]

floor sex + spanking [RESERVED]

face slapping + fingers sucking [RESERVED]

oral (f) + sub!idol [RESERVED]

huge dick + size kink | bangchan - big bad wolf [PUBLISHED]

cnc + rough [RESERVED]

public + oral (m) [RESERVED]

mutual masturbation | yeosang - pretty in pink [PUBLISHED]

fingering + size training [RESERVED]

riding + rough + switch!idol and reader [RESERVED]

oral (f) + semi public (+optional sub!idol) [RESERVED]

daddy kink + panty fuck [RESERVED]

fingering + squirting + quiet [RESERVED]

thigh fucking [RESERVED]

edging + orgasm denial [RESERVED]

cosplay (maid outfit) [RESERVED]

mask kink + outdoor (+optional primal play) | yunho - behind the mask [PUBLISHED]

blowgang + bukkake | yunho, mingi, san, seonghwa - cheerleader [PUBLISHED]

face riding (oral f) [RESERVED]

riding + nipple play (optional sub!idol + mommy kink) [RESERVED]

gamer!bf + oral (m) [RESERVED]

fingering v&a (f) + squirting + kitty slaps [RESERVED]

deepthroating (oral m) [RESERVED]

daddy kink + rough [RESERVED]

gamer!bf + backshots [RESERVED]

handcuffs + backshots [RESERVED]

breath play + free use [RESERVED]

pet play + leash [PUBLISHED] - leeknow - more of a cat person

brat taming + fingering (f) [RESERVED]

sex worker!reader + hotel room sex + rough [RESERVED]

creampie + overstimulation (m) + sub!idol [RESERVED]

double penetration v&a + toys [RESERVED]

sloppy oral (m) + spit kink [RESERVED]

huge dick + bulge kink [RESERVED]

boobjob [RESERVED]

[nothoughtsjustfic]

Finding Yourself - C.SC [Part 2]

🐢Who: Choi Seungcheol (Seventeen) x female reader 🐢What: 18+. Dark themes. Mafia au. Angst. Fluff. Suggestive. Slow burn. Mafia Boss Seungcheol. Single parent Seungcheol. Strangers to friends to lovers. Chan is reader’s little brother. Hansol is Seungcheol’s son. 🐢Word count: 21k 🐢Warnings: Characters with autism/ADHD. Selective mutism. Mentions and depictions of being overwhelmed/sensory overload and meltdowns. Degrading language, including mental disability slur. Gang typical content: threats, violence, torture, weapons, injury, blood, morally fucked up characters, mentions of past forced sex work. Mentions of being branded. Suggestive content & sexual conversations. Brief misunderstanding. 🐢Summary: “In an attempt to protect your little brother, you run away from home and the gang your father forced you into as a teenager.

You truly thought you were done with that life. But months later, when members of the Centaurs gang find you and your brother squatting in their property mid gang-fight, they take you back to their headquarters and force you right back into it.

Suddenly, you find yourself living in the home of the leader of the oldest, most famous gang in the entire country, and you very quickly realise that he isn’t the ruthless monster everyone thinks he is.”

Minors do NOT interact, which means reblogging and/or commenting on this story. I WILL block any account that interacts without an age indicator in their bio.

Masterlist Finding Yourself Part 1 – Finding Yourself Part 3

Disclaimer: Okay, so I feel like I need to point out that I do have both autism and ADHD, and I have done a lot of research around both during my own discovery/diagnosis periods; even now I’m constantly learning that more aspects of myself are very common in people with autism/ADHD so there is truth behind how the characters are portrayed in this fic. Yet, with that being said, both autism and ADHD are very vast in that you can have a room full of people with both disabilities and yet every single one of those people are incredibly different, which means that the characters in this story who have autism or ADHD are not accurate portrayals of every single person with either. There are 4 clearly stated autistic people in this fic throughout and they are each different personalities and how their disability affects them. So please don’t leave comments or send rude asks accusing me of misrepresentation or anything like that just because a character you’ve watched in a movie isn’t written the same as these characters, thanks.

Although most of your time over the following weeks is spent with Seungkwan as the two of you watch over the boys while they learn and play together, you feel like your time with Seungcheol feels like more somehow.

Maybe it’s because it’s always just the two of you in his office, side by side on the loveseat together, to discuss everything you know about the Vultures and how Seungcheol can take them apart so severely that they’ll never put themselves back together again. Maybe it’s because you both quickly lose track of time as you talk bent over his notebook together for hours. Maybe it’s because even when he closes the notebook and declares his brain is too fried to talk work any longer, you remain side by side on the couch to talk about everything and anything that comes to mind. Maybe it’s because the first time that you don’t stop yourself from flexing your hands when you start to get overloaded, Seungcheol notices and doesn’t stop you, just silently closes the notebook before shutting the study door and opening the window to let the cool night air in with the subtle sounds of nature to help you relax.

Ever since the first time Seungcheol saw your stimming, he’s paid closer attention to the signs and often reaches out to stop you from sitting on your hands or pressing your legs down so that you don’t bounce them. He silently encourages you and even keeps fidget toys on the coffee table now for you to play with as the two of you work and doesn’t tell you to sit down when you get up to walk around or pace sometimes. He just carries on talking and always manages to land his eyes on you when he looks up as if he’s keeping track of you in his periphery.

It’s the first time anyone has ever taken the time to see you; to understand and let you just exist as you’re supposed to. You don’t think you’ve even given yourself such care before. But thanks to Seungcheol’s gentle encouragement and silent support, you think you’re starting to find yourself little by little.

“Hey- oh,” Seungcheol greets as he walks into his study one evening and finds that you’ve rearranged the furniture. “Uh, what happened in here?”

“It was wrong,” you declare, as you frown at the study while looking around it in dissatisfaction. “It still is.” You huff and go back to moving the heavy desk for the third time.

“Alright, there’s clearly something here,” Seungcheol walks over and tugs you away from the desk to hold your hands, even as you tug slightly in a weak attempt to free yourself. You’re not sure what you want right now: if you’re okay with the touch or would rather he be across the room. “What’s going on, is something wrong, sweetheart?”

“I told you; it’s wrong. Everything is wrong, Seungcheol.”

“The room? We can move the furniture as much as you want if that’s what you need right now, but I don’t think it is.” You pull your hands from his hold with a huff and return to the desk.

For a few minutes, Seungcheol silently stands and watches you adjust the desk in such tiny increments that he really wouldn’t even know you’ve moved it if he hasn’t got his attention glued to you. When he sees you lift and lower one end a few times without changing the desk to a different position, he suddenly thinks he understands and hums.

“Come on,” he says, walking over to take your hand into his. You look at him with a frown. “I think I know what will help, come on.” Although you’re confused, you trust the man, so you obediently follow him with your hand in his.

It’s now that you suddenly realise the truth of that; that even though you’ve only known him less than two months, you trust Choi Seungcheol; the big, bad boss of the most feared gang in the country.

Of course, you know that he’s no saint by any means, he’s come home with bloodied knuckles and other people’s blood speckled on his neck where he hasn’t noticed it when clearing up before coming into the manor. You know he can be ruthless and vicious, but he’s also the most understanding and accepting person you’ve ever met, and he’s raising the sweetest little boy. Seungcheol really can’t be a truly bad person to have such a caring son as Hansol.

The realisation that you would blindly follow this man without question makes you stop in your tracks in pure shock, despite being on the stairs.

Seungcheol immediately comes to a still a few steps in front of you and turns to look up at you worriedly. “You okay, sweetheart?”

“I trust you,” you mutter.

Seungcheol blinks a few times, dumbstruck by the sudden admittance before he walks up the steps until he’s on the one below you and looking at you with something strange on his features and in his shining eyes that you really don’t understand. “Yeah?” You nod in confirmation without an ounce of hesitation. Seungcheol smiles and lifts his hand off the banister to gently brush your overgrown hair out of your eyes. “That makes me really happy to hear, sweetheart. I trust you too.”

“I didn’t realise I trust you until now. I don’t think I’ve ever trusted someone like this before. It’s weird.”

“Like what?”

“So quickly and completely.”

“You trust me completely?” You nod. “With everything? With Squirt?”

“His name is Chan,” you inform simply; information that none of them know despite the pair of you having lived in the manor for almost two months now.

Seungcheol’s eyes grow wide in genuine astonishment. “I didn’t think we’d ever know.”

“They don’t. You do.”

“Just me?” You nod. “Oh, sweetheart.” He lets out a breath and cups your cheek for a moment before he lowers his hand again. “Come on.” Seungcheol turns and leads you down the stairs to grab your shoes and coats to put on at the back door before going outside.

When you’re standing side by side at the playground barely lit by the moon overhead, he lets go of your hand and walks over to the huge metal framework to start climbing.

You remain in place and watch him bewilderedly until he looks at you from a couple of metres off the ground with a grin. “Come on, climb with me.”

“Why?”

“Why not?” It’s not normally a convincing argument, but when Seungcheol says it, it seems like enough, and you find yourself walking over to start climbing.

Your movements are timid at first, you don’t think you even climbed much as a child, and you’re still recovering from months of little food and lack of real exercise, so it’s harder than it should be for you to pull and push yourself along the bars and ropes.

But after a while, you look up to find Seungcheol and when you notice his soft smile on you, you realise that you’re smiling too. “Come on, you can almost see over the wall from the top!” He enthuses and turns to keep climbing to the sheltered platform at the very top, leaving him mostly in the shadows once inside.

When you clamber into the shelter a few minutes later, he’s laid on a blanket with a pillow under his head and another at his side. He pats the blanket on his right, so you crawl over and lay down curled up on your side facing him. From his left, he grabs another blanket and lays it out over the both of you before settling on his side to face you.  

“Feel better?” He asks softly when you’re both comfortable.

“I needed to climb?” You ask.

“I think you just needed to put your body to use. That’s why you were moving stuff and kept lifting the desk up and down; to use your muscles. I don’t suppose you do much of that other than carrying Chan. Maybe that’s part of the reason you like carrying him so much, actually.”

“Oh, maybe,” you agree. “That would make sense. I used to train and stuff before leaving so I’m not used to doing so little.”

“We have a home gym, state of the art and everything, you can use it whenever you want, Pearl.” You stare at him for a moment before stating your name, earning a confused look. “Who’s that?”

“Me.”

“You?” You nod. “Oh…oh, that’s your real name.” You hum in confirmation. “Thank you for trusting me enough to tell me.” He shuffles a little closer and takes your hand from where it lays on the blanket between you. “It means a lot to me that you do, more than I can put into words. I’m really fucking happy you trust me so much.”

“I think I’m happy too,” you admit. “It’s like I have a friend.”

“What? Sweetheart,” he frowns and let’s go of your hand to slide his hand up your arm and then to your back to pull you closer, right to his chest.

You’ve never done this before, cuddled, not with anyone other than Chan. You quickly decide that you like it and shuffle closer to tuck your face into his neck while putting your right arm around his waist.

Seungcheol curls his arm around you and turns his head down to kiss the top of your head. “I am your friend, we all are. There’s no like a friend at all, we are.”

“Oh, that’s nice. I’ve always wanted friends.”

“And you have us, for as long as you want us.”

“A long time would be nice.”

“It really fucking would.”

The very next night after had Seungcheol taken you out to the climbing frame, when you enter his office expecting to be empty as he usually arrives after you, he’s already there.

For the first time in two months, you see him wearing sweatpants and a matching, unzipped hoodie, showing the black compression shirt clinging to his firm torso underneath. You’re too thrown off to do anything but stare from the doorway at the sight of the man in such casual clothing when he’s usually always ready to leave the house for work purposes or just back from work; sometimes in suits, sometimes in neat jeans and dark t-shirts, and sometimes in his expensive motorbike leathers.

“What?” He asks where he’s leaning back against his desk in wait with his palms on the edge either side of his hips.

“Never seen you casual,” you answer, coming back to reality, and start to edge towards the seating. Though he chooses now to push off the desk and pick up the material that had been hiding behind him to toss to you, so you’re forced to stop in your path to catch it. “What’s this?”

“Figure you don’t have any workout clothes, so I got some today. Kinda guessed your size, so if it’s wrong, it’s your own fault for wearing baggy trousers and crewnecks all the time.”

“They’re comfy,” you mumble in defence while adjusting the cool material in your hands to take in the matching leggings and sports bra in black, other than the coloured stripes around the top of the thighs. You blink at it dumbly for a moment, then look at him incredulously.

“What?”

“Are you a pervert, Seungcheol?”

In an instant, his eyes turn even wider than normal, and his face visibly warms. “What?! No!”

“I assume you expect me to wear this and work out with you, based on your own outfit.”

“Why does that make me a pervert?! I asked the woman what typical woman’s workout gear is and she told me that’s the most popular set! Blame her!” He gestures pointlessly, flicking his arms out as if to motion to a woman who isn’t even present.

“And you didn’t once look at this and consider that I will essentially be topless and wearing a second set of skin on my legs? I don’t even know if I can wear underwear under this kind of material.”

Seungcheol chokes on his sudden inhale, earning a questioning look from you. “I-I’m fine.”

“You’re red again.”

“Shut up!” He stalks past you out of the room suddenly, only to backtrack and offer his hand while keeping his pink face directed away from you. He looks so childlike and cute that it makes you giggle before accepting his hand and holding the clothes to your chest while he leads you out of his office and down the stairs.

Although you’ve been all over the manor at this point, just to learn where all the hallways lead in case of emergency, you’ve never been down into the basement after learning that it’s just storage and the gym with no sensible exits, only tiny windows along the tops of the outer rooms, meaning you’ve had no reason to go down there until now.

Despite being curious about the layout and what the rooms and halls you pass contain, you focus on Seungcheol and his quick steps as he leads you through the barely lit basement. You can’t tell if the path is so engrained into him that he doesn’t need more lighting to find his way, or if his eyesight is just much more reliable than yours in the dull light.

You’re mostly relying on your hearing to tell you when you enter different spaces, with your eyes glued to Seungcheol’s hand in your own and your feet in your peripheral so that you don’t trip. When the echoes of your steps give away that this room you’ve just entered is much larger and far more open than the halls and smaller rooms you’ve walked through to get here, you correctly guess that you’ve entered the gym.

Though Seungcheol doesn’t pause or turn on a light, he continues forward, slippers slapping across the linoleum, until he stops to open a door and urge you inside.

Finally, he turns on a light and you have to blink and squint for a few seconds to grow accustomed to the sudden white light. Only then are you able to peer around and understand that you’re now standing just inside of a changing room, with lockers along one wall and exposed showers at the back behind you.

“Okay, get changed and come back out. It’s just us here and I promise I’m not going to come in unless you call me, okay?”

“Why would I call you?” You give him a bewildered look before turning to walk to the benches in the centre of the room and put the clothes down.

“If you get hurt or something.”

“I think I’m perfectly capable of getting changed without hurting myself.”

“Right, right, okay, whatever, just get changed and come out,” he decides while waving one hand dismissively before backing up, letting the door swing shut behind him.

Not wanting to make Seungcheol wait around, you quickly change into the leggings and sports bra while wondering how Seungcheol managed to accurately guess your clothes size. At least, based on the tag he correctly guessed your size, because even though the sports bra fits fine, the leggings are practically trying to absorb themselves into your skin and you have to remove your underwear to gain the extra little space to fit them more comfortably over your ass.

“This is ridiculous,” you mutter while looking at your reflection and taking in how tight the material is on you. You’ve never been a fan of such tight clothing simply because you don’t like feeling so constricted, but at least the material is soft enough that you think you’ll be able to handle this long enough to work out and then never force yourself into again.

Part of you wants to change back into your own clothes and tell Seungcheol that there’s no way you can wear this, but the other part of you doesn’t want to disappoint him by not wearing the clothes he went out of his way to buy for you. You figure after all the man has done for you over the past two months, the least you can do is wear the outfit.

You’ve never been self-conscious about your body; it’s not something you’ve ever much cared about, others perception of your physical body, yet today you hesitate before opening the door as a strange little concern of what Seungcheol will think of your body flashes through your mind. Thankfully, it truly is only a rapid worry and goes as soon as it arrives, so you don’t hover any longer than a second before leaving the changing room.

“People really wear this stuff regularly?” You wonder, drawing Seungcheol’s attention from where he’s arranging equipment on the open matted area, the only area he’s turned the lights on for.

“Yeah, that’s-” he cuts off abruptly when his eyes land on you while you approach him.

You see his lips move and can’t tell if he’s saying something to himself too quietly for you to hear or just imitating a fish. Either way, he looks ridiculous with once again wide eyes and his arms slowly dropping downwards as his hands grow lax.

It seems as if he’s somehow forgotten that he’s got a 1kg dumbbell in each hand and only remembers when one of them lands on his sock clad foot. “Fuck!” He exclaims, doubling over until he’s lowered to the mats with his hands clutching the impact site on the top of his right foot.

“Least it was only light,” you comment as you stop beside him, your slippers left next to his own at the side of the mats.

“The fucking corner landed on bone,” he grunts. You eye the bright green, hexagonal weight, and reason that yeah, that would hurt, even if it is made of neoprene as opposed to metal.

After a few moments of just standing in wait while watching him, Seungcheol straightens up with his hands on the tops of his thighs to look at you. Though he quickly looks away and removes his hoodie to toss at you.

“Please put that on for my sanity,” he pleads awkwardly.

“You’re red again,” you comment while you do as he asked and pull on his hoodie to zip up. It stops at your mid-thigh and past your hands. “This is a safety hazard, surely.”

Seungcheol looks at you as you flap the sleeves. His pinched expression smooths out and a gentle smile turns up the corners of his mouth. “A cute one at least.”

“I don’t think the cuteness of a hazard makes it any better, Seungcheol,” you point out, looking at him flatly.

He laughs softly and gets up to step closer to you and picks up one of your arms. “No, but it’s what we’re dealing with,” he reasons as he folds up the sleeve to the middle of your forearm to free your hand, then swaps to repeat on your other arm. You quietly watch him work, unaware that his gaze isn’t even on the material he’s handling but instead glued to your curious expression while his own is nothing but fond.

After an hour of Seungcheol refusing to let you do anything too arduous, he declares the work out over and guides you through a cool down that doesn’t do much to deter the rabbiting of your heart when the attractive man is still insisting on physically guiding you.

For the past hour, Seungcheol has been right by your side; manually adjusting you with his hands on your body and intense eyes tracking your form to make sure that you’re not about to hurt yourself by positioning yourself wrong. You’ve tried to tell him that you know how to do it all properly, you did more taxing exercises than this daily back when you were a Vulture, yet the stubborn ass doesn’t accept your words and reminds you that you’re months out of practice, before moving you into the next exercise.

To your relief, he deems you sufficiently cooled down, despite your pink cheeks, and lets you get up and grab a bottle of water from the drinks fridge to start swallowing the contents down.

“Aren’t you going to work out?” You ask a few seconds later as you watch him tidy up from a safe distance out of his reach.

You’re not an idiot, you know that Seungcheol is a beautiful man; you’ve known that from before you even met and simply had the knowledge confirmed the first time you laid eyes him in person. But you’ve met plenty of attractive men in your life and you’ve never felt your heart race just because their hands gently correct your posture, or their eyes remain focused on you intensely with nothing inappropriate in the dark shine.

That probably makes it even worse; that Seungcheol wasn’t even checking you out or trying to cop a feel. He was genuinely just trying to help and get you healthy again, like he always does.

Maybe his touch might’ve lingered a few times, but you refuse to assume that it was him wanting to touch you and not just that your perceptions of what a reasonable time frame is, differs from his own. You don’t want to think anything inappropriate of the man who has been nothing but kind and understanding to you, you don’t want to cross any boundaries even in your mind.

So even though this is the first time you’ve genuinely felt yourself gain even a little attraction to anyone, you push it down and do your best to ignore the way it’s impossible to miss his bulging arms in the short sleeves of his compression shirt and the way it makes heat tingle in your lower stomach.

“Hm?” Seungcheol replies, looking over at you briefly, then back to stacking the colourful dumbbells on a little rack that doesn’t match the rest of the black and silver equipment.

Suddenly, you wonder if he had bought more than just the clothes for you today while you thought he was out working. It doesn’t help your newfound attraction in the man to think about it; that he really did go out of his way purely for you, so you push that thought aside too.

“Aren’t you going to work out?” You repeat your question.

“I work out in the mornings.”

“Then you wore that just to show off,” you deduce and bite back a laugh as Seungcheol almost trips on the resistance band he’s picking up. “You’re very clumsy for a legendary Choi Centaur.”

“I’m not!” He argues, turning away in a manner you can only describe as sulky, to stalk over to the unit and shove the bands in the containers.

“You dropped a dumbbell on your foot and just almost tripped on a resistance band.”

“Not my fault,” he mumbles poutily and picks up the last item to put away. “Grab your stuff so we can go get a snack. Then you can change, and we can go back to my office and work on the plan.”

“Yes, sir.”

Seungcheol trips over his own slippers.

For the past few weeks, Seungcheol has allowed you to leave the manor grounds to go out into the middle wall where the Centaurs mostly work from and keep supplies, protected by the two walls around the ring of warehouses and buildings.

At first, he had shown you around with the intention of letting you know how he runs things and what he has at his fingertips so that you can accurately make suggestions of how he can take apart your father’s gang. 

But then once you entered the garage where the head mechanic was swearing at his team for messing up a basic task again, and the short man had rhetorically asked a question about which tool to use for a task, you had answered. More to yourself, but Seungcheol heard and called the head mechanic over.

When Seungcheol queried the mechanic about what the correct tool was, Jihoon had responded with a quip about his team not even knowing basic mechanical skills despite knowing much more complex stuff, and then the tool name. Seungcheol had pretty much handed you over to the mechanic then and there, wished you luck with Jihoon’s temper, then left the pair of you to figure out where to go from there.

Judging by the way Seungcheol grumbles when you turn up late to your workouts and meetings after being introduced to Jihoon, you don’t think Seungcheol intended for you and Jihoon to become friends.

After that first meeting, Jihoon often calls you out to the garage to assist him; he says he prefers your straightforward approach and focus than his team’s puttering, and you enjoy the time with the mechanic too much to care about Seungcheol’s grumping.

Your father never really allowed you to do stereotypically masculine things such as getting your hands dirty or even learning theoretical knowledge on how cars work; though you still did your own research and hungrily consumed every drop of information you could. So being able to finally scratch that curious itch about mechanics makes something within you brighten and lighten, which means as far as you’re aware, Seungcheol can sulk all he wants; you’re never going to turn down Jihoon when he asks for your assistance or offers to let you watch and learn.

“What the fuck are you doing with that?!” Jihoon yells when he notices one of his mechanics touching Seungcheol’s favourite motorbike from across the garage to where the two of you are sitting on the ground. There’s an engine sitting on a mat in front of you so that he can more accurately explain how it all works while pointing out the different parts, for today’s lesson.

The two men abruptly back away from the motorbike but Jihoon is already getting up to stalk over and grab a rag to whip it at them harshly. Only when they apologise and repeatedly bow rapidly does he tell them to get lost and then turn to buff out their greasy fingerprints from the sleek, cherry red paint job, grumbling under his breath as he goes.

Now that Jihoon is across the garage and you’re not listening to him talking, you can hear a couple of the mechanics talking between themselves a little behind you at the car they’re working on. You don’t really pay any attention though until you hear “the kid” and tilt your head ever so slightly to focus on their low voices and spy on them from your peripheral.

“Seriously, should just get rid of him, I ain’t gonna bow to a retard when the boss dies,” one grunts. Your jaw immediately clenches, and anger starts to simmer in your veins.

“Shut up, man, you can’t say shit like that,” the other warns and to your relief, he actually sounds like he’s truly scolding the man and not just trying to prevent him getting in trouble.

“Why not?” The first man asks with a scoff. “Who’s gonna stop me? Boss ain’t here, Woozi’s across the garage and I doubt that dumb bitch is even listening.”

“Fuck off, she’s smarter than you. She caught your mistake yesterday; that’s the only reason you’re calling her names. Well, that and she’s not interested in you, got your back up, huh?”

“Reckon she’s fucking the boss; that’s the only reason she’s here.” He grunts as he adjusts something under the bonnet.

“None of our business.”

“Whatever, just as long as she don’t pop out another retard like that annoying fucking kid.”

That’s as much as you can handle.

You get up and turn to approach. Both men are entirely unaware of your presence until you grab the back of the second man’s overalls to yank him out of the way. He stumbles back with a yelp and the first man looks over curiously, eyebrows furrowing in confusion. His eyes fly wide in panicked shock when you knock down the prop holding the bonnet up and then pull it down harshly onto him with a resounding thud while he screams in pain.

“What the fuck?!” Jihoon exclaims and runs over to pull you back and lift the bonnet up to free the man, who immediately slinks to the floor while writhing in pain with his hands on his back. “Why the fuck did you do that, Pearl?!” Jihoon yells, turning burning eyes on you.

“He was shit talking Solie,” you answer, glaring at the man.

Immediately, Jihoon’s anger at you is directed to the man. “What?” He hisses.

“She-she’s lying!” The man wails. “C-crazy bitch!”

Jihoon steps closer and shoves the man over onto his front with his foot before pressing it down on the impact spot from the edge of the bonnet, where the man is gripping, making him scream in pain. “Don’t you fucking dare call her that,” Jihoon warns lowly and takes his phone from his pocket. “Coups will want to deal with this personally.”

“No, no, p-please, Woozi,” the man pleads through sobs while trying to remove Jihoon’s foot from his back. Jihoon just pushes down harder until there’s an audible crack, making the man wail louder, as he lifts his ringing phone to his ear.

It only takes a few rings for the call to be picked up, then Jihoon speaks. “Hey, Coups, you’re gonna wanna come here, got something for you to handle.” That’s all he says before waiting a second for a response then he hangs up and tucks his phone back into his overalls pocket. “Clear the garage,” Jihoon orders, looking over at the second man, who simply nods before rushing off to tell all of the other mechanics to make themselves scarce.

“Won’t he try to run?” You comment when Jihoon moves away from the man to inspect the slightly dented bonnet.

“Not if he knows what’s good for him,” Jihoon replies with a shrug then looks at you with a little smirk. “But also judging by the fact this is bent; I think you slammed it on him hard enough that moving that much is going to be too fucking painful. Didn’t know you had it in you, Pearl.”

“Say what you want about me, I don’t care, but talk about an innocent kid like that, especially Solie, I’m not going to let that go.”

“Good, proves you’re one of us, unlike that piece of shit.” Jihoon glares at the sobbing man on the floor. He’s still laid crying on his stomach as if he’s either given up trying to move or simply can’t. 

It’s almost ten minutes before Seungcheol arrives from around the other side of the middle wall where he had been meeting new recruits with Mingyu, Soonyoung and Wonwoo.

Wonwoo is the man in charge of organising all of Seungcheol’s men while Soonyoung is in charge of training them; something that still surprises you based on how innocent and upbeat Soonyoung always seems in the manor. You’ve never seen him outside of the inner wall, but you can only imagine he’s a completely different man.

In fact, you think the only man who is pretty much the same in the manor and out here is Jihoon. Sure, he plays with Hansol and Chan, and he laughs with everyone in the house a lot more than out here, but he is still to the point and no nonsense in both places. You like that about him; his consistency and that there’s no pointless guessing with him. You always know what he wants and expects because he’s straightforward about it.

Seungcheol enters the garage alone with a dark, intimidating scowl already on his face knowing that something has to have gone wrong for Jihoon of all people to call him away from work. “What happened?”

“This fuckwit decided to shit talk your son,” Jihoon informs bluntly, arms crossed over his chest casually where he’s leaning against the car beside the bonnet, which no longer closes properly.

“I-I didn’t,” the man on the floor sobs. “P-please.”

“Woozi doesn’t fuck around when it comes to family,” Seungcheol growls while turning the man over onto his back before yanking him up from the ground by the front of his overalls, making him scream in pain. “What the fuck have you done to him already to make him like this?” Seungcheol wonders, looking over at Jihoon, then shaking the man pointedly to make him cry out again without moving his lower body at all, only his arms that scramble to grip Seungcheol and try to fruitlessly pry his strong grip away.

“Pearl slammed the bonnet on him,” Jihoon smirks, motioning to the dent at his side.

Seungcheol looks over at you. “You paralysed him?”

“That was likely a joint effort, Woozi stood on his back,” you reply rationally. “He was moving before then.”

“Good point,” Jihoon agrees. “We both had a part in it.”

“Only been out here for two weeks and you’re already teaming up to fuck up people’s lives,” Seungcheol mutters, giving the pair of you a look as if he’s not sure he quite approves of this new teamwork, yet he doesn’t say anything more and instead looks back at the man in his hold. “Alright, they started it but I’m going to finish it.”

“Please don’t kill me,” the man begs, practically choking out the words.

“Oh, that would be too kind, I want you to live and suffer,” Seungcheol replies sweetly and drops the man to the floor abruptly, earning echoed screams of pain. “Sweetheart, you should go wait outside.”

“Why?” You question as you watch Seungcheol drag the man over to the drain before lowering to his knees and pulling a butterfly knife from his pocket while the man whimpers and continuously begs for mercy.

“Because this isn’t going to be pretty.”

“As if I’m innocent,” you remind with a scoff while folding your arms over your chest.

Seungcheol lets out a sigh then motions to the man as Jihoon stops behind him with a blow torch, a small piece of flat metal and a pair of heat safe gloves. Jihoon nods and kneels down to make sure the man stays in place while Seungcheol gets up and walks over to you.

Silently, he takes your hand and leads you further away from the pair to the midpoint between them and the exit. There, he turns you to face him while all but whispering your name. “Please, go outside; I don’t want you to see me like this,” he requests softly, giving you such an earnest, pleading look that you nod in agreement before you fully register your own decision. He lets out a relieved breath and cups your cheek with a grateful little smile before letting you go and stalking back over to Jihoon and the sobbing man, stern expression returning.

Confusedly, you exit the garage and close the door firmly before moving to sit on the bonnet of Seungcheol’s car in wait.

Although there is plenty of noise around you from the nearby buildings and people milling around, you can still hear the agonised screams coming from within the garage a minute later.

It doesn’t last long before you hear nothing more from within the garage.

You’re only outside for a few minutes before Seungcheol exits while wiping his bloodied hands on a rag. Thanks to the fact he had removed his jacket once you left the garage to not get it dirty, his arms are exposed in his short-sleeved t-shirt, and you can see more blood splashed up his forearms.

“That was quick,” you comment as he approaches you and shrugs his jacket from where it’s slung over his shoulder, onto the bonnet at your side while still wiping at his hands.

“He passed out part way,” he explains simply.  

“What did you do to him?”

“I already told you that I don’t want you to see me like that.”

“I’m not seeing, you’re telling.”

“Sweetheart,” he sighs and looks up at you instead of his hands. You can see specks of blood on his jaw and throat that you know he’ll miss with the rag; he might not even know more than his hands and arms are dirty.

“If you don’t tell me, I’ll ask Jihoon.”

“Why are you so fucking interested?”

“I just want to know what you did; he deserves to suffer after what he said.”

Seungcheol stares at you for a moment before responding. “What did he say exactly, sweetheart?”

“Tell me what you were doing, and I’ll tell you what he said.”

He makes a frustrated sound yet relents. “I was cutting out his fucking tongue, happy?”

“Did you finish?”

“What?”

“You said he passed out; did you stop then or finish the job?”

“Of course, I fucking finished the job,” he grunts and looks down to start scrubbing at his arm harshly. “Now tell me what the fuck that piece of shit said about my son.”

“He called him a retard. Twice,” you inform, taking the rag from Seungcheol’s hand as he freezes, so that you can wipe at his skin with the too dry material much more gently than he had been.

“I should kill him,” he growls.

“No,” you argue levelly and gently tilt his head up so that he’s looking at you instead of burning holes into his own arm with his dangerous glare.

“He fucking-”

“Death would be too easy, right?” You remind and cup his cheek to tug him closer, until he’s standing between your knees, and you can gently start wiping away the speckles on his jaw. “I don’t know if he will recover from the back injury, but if so, it will take a long time. And I know from experience that a person with their tongue missing, even only a small part of it, will suffer, often with phantom pains. Death would be too easy.”

Seungcheol stares at you for a few minutes as your tender touch soothes him, even if your only intention is to clean him and not calm his anger, but it does. When he tilts into your palm, you look up into his eyes and find him looking at you in a way that makes your heart flutter.

“Death would be too easy,” he agrees quietly. “Thank you.”

“You can’t see yourself, you always miss your neck,” you point out, focusing back on wiping down his skin as best as you can with the stained rag.

“I didn’t mean that, though yes, thank you for always cleaning up where I miss.”

“Mm, don’t want the boys seeing that.”

“No, we don’t,” he agrees and straightens up when you remove your hand so that you can clean that side of his face too. “I meant for standing up for Hansol, thank you; for having my family’s back.”

“Of course, you took me and my brother in, your family has accepted mine and that…well it’s more than I’ve ever had. I’m endlessly grateful to you, Seungcheol, and to Hansol for taking Chan under his wing and being so wonderful to him. I’d do anything for you both, as long as it doesn’t negatively impact Chan, of course.”

“I’d never want you to do anything that does,” he promises. “I won’t ever put you in a dangerous position willingly and I’d tear the city apart to hurt anyone that tries to hurt you.”

You look at him with brows furrowed questioningly. “Why? I’m not your family or inner circle.”

“You really think that?” He huffs a disbelieving laugh. “Sweetheart, you’re not just in the house because I want to keep your brother safe and with Hansol. You’ve proven yourself over and over again the past almost three months. You’ve given me all the information you have on the Vulture and his fucked-up cronies and helped me plan every move we’ve made so far. I’ve been trying to chip away at that gang for years but never had the chance because no-one we’ve caught fucking talks. I’ll give ‘em that, they know how to keep their mouths shut fucking tight.”

“That’s the torture resistance training,” you state matter-of-factly.

“What?” Seungcheol mutters. “Torture resistance training? Like they’ve been tortured so they know how to keep quiet?” You nod in confirmation. “Did…did you go through that too?”

“Yeah, we all do before getting our brands.”

“Fuck, I can’t believe he forced his daughter to go through torture like that.”

“You don’t know the half of what that man is capable of, Seungcheol,” you reason, before looking down at his arms and frowning. “I think you need water to clean up properly; this rag is too covered in blood now.”

“There’s wipes in the glovebox,” he motions to the car, so you nudge him back to give you space to slide off the bonnet and walk around, open the car, and reach inside with your hand not smeared in blood to grab the packet of wet wipes. They’re the same brand as the ones placed all over the manor for when Hansol, and now Chan, need to be cleaned without sending them to the bathroom to wash their hands and face.

Something about cleaning the blood from the man’s neck with the wipes from the packet with cartoon dinosaurs on it, makes you start to giggle.

Seungcheol watches you amusedly, and very bewildered, for a few seconds before questioning you. “What’s funny?”

“Just cleaning up the big bad Choi Centaur boss with wipes embossed with cute dinosaurs.”

“Oh,” he mutters, then chuckles. “I’ve never thought about it before, but I guess that is pretty funny. Hansol really likes these ones; they’re not too wet without drying like right away, and they don’t smell of anything.”

“Mm, they’re good ones, Chan likes them too. He never usually likes wet wipes but he’s fine with these; he says they’re soft.”

“They are, but you’re also just really gentle. Hard to imagine the woman who just slammed a man in a car and broke his back is this…tender.”

“Only to those who deserve it.”

“I don’t deserve it.”

You land a stern look on him. “Don’t bullshit me, Choi Seungcheol, you deserve to be cared for and treated tenderly. You’re not a truly bad man. You have done a lot of fucked up shit and will continue to, so your soul isn’t ever going to be pure, but your heart is.”

You watch as a barrage of emotions flicker over Seungcheol’s face, eyes darting between your own as he searches for any hint of uncertainty, yet when he finds none, he presses his lips together and inhales slowly and deeply.

When he lets the breath out, it’s a little shaky. “I think- I think if anyone else tried to say that to me, I wouldn’t believe them,” he admits quietly, voice tinged with emotion and a little weak in places as if your honesty has sucked the strength from his very core. “But I trust you, with everything in me and that- that’s kind of fucking terrifying, if I’m honest with you.”

“I can imagine you don’t trust easily, being who you are.”

“No, I really fucking don’t,” he lets out a broken little laugh before stepping closer to remove the packet from your left hand and wipe from your right hand to toss them onto the car behind you so that he can pull you into his arms in an embrace so warm despite the man only wearing a t-shirt on his torso in the early spring weather. “You are one of the most important people to me, sweetheart, so please don’t ever do anything to break my trust. I don’t think I could come back from a betrayal by you of all people.”

“Ditto,” is your simple response against his shoulder, making him laugh slightly.

He holds you a moment longer then lets you go. “Come on, I’m done with work for the day.”

“It’s not even lunch time.”

“I don’t give a fuck,” he replies, grabbing everything from the bonnet to toss onto the backseat of the car carelessly. “Come on, I want to spend the rest of the day with you and the boys.”

“Oh!” You light up and rush to get into the passenger seat, excited to spend time with your favourite three people in the world.

Even though you’ve barely entered the house, you can hear Chan’s distressed wailing easily. A huge part of you wants to sprint straight to him so that you can soothe him and fix whatever the issue is, but you know the difference between his cries, and this isn’t a pained one.

Knowing that your brother isn’t hurt, you manage to keep your cool long enough to remove your boots at Seungcheol’s side and step out of your dirty overalls to toss into the laundry room. It leaves you in the exercise leggings Seungcheol had brought you, which you have actually gained quite fond of even if you only wear them under your overalls, and an oversized t-shirt you think might be Mingyu’s. Then you rush towards the playroom upstairs with Seungcheol right on your heels.

You don’t realise that his eyes are glued to your ass dumbly as he follows a few steps behind you up the stairs, until he tries to stand on a step that doesn’t exist at the top having not been paying attention, and he falls forward right into you, taking you both down to the floor with a loud thump.

“What the fuck, Seungcheol?” You grunt, shoving him off of you to turn over and look at him incredulously. 

“Sorry, sorry.” He’s blushing embarrassedly and not looking at you as he scrambles to his feet and helps you up.

“What was that?” Junhui calls from the bottom of the stairs.

“Just fell, it’s fine!” Seungcheol returns.

“You fell? You never fall.” The cook mumbles away as he wanders back to his domain to work on lunch.

“How have you hidden how clumsy you are from them all?” You wonder.

“I’m not clumsy,” Seungcheol defends, doing his best not to pout as he turns you around and walks you to the playroom with his hands on your shoulders.

As soon as you step into the large room, you understand the issue.

Over in the crafts corner, Seungkwan is trying to soothe your brother where he’s laid on the floor kicking and screaming with paint on his raised hand, while Hansol watches with a concerned frown.

Silently, you grab the wipes from the shelf and walk over to begin cleaning at Chan’s skin. He calms as he feels the paint being washed from his hands.

“Oh, it’s the paint,” Seungkwan realises with a soft exhale.

“Mm, he doesn’t like slimy textures,” you inform.

“I know he doesn’t like actual slime, but we’ve never tried paints, so I didn’t realise it counts.”

“He likes painting but it’s better with those paint sticks so there’s less chance of getting on his skin.”

“Ah, I’ll order some,” Seungkwan says and finally notices Seungcheol standing a little behind you. “Oh, Coups, you’re back early for lunch today.”

“Mm, decided to give myself the rest of the day off, which means you get it off too and we’ll take over, once we’ve both showered, that is.” He motions between himself and you.

“Both showered?” Seungkwan smirks at his boss, who scowls in return, making the younger snigger. “Alright, alright, you two can take over after you’ve showered.”

“Separately,” Seungcheol adds, making you look at him curiously and notice how he’s almost glaring at Seungkwan, who you find grinning when you look at him. You don’t quite understand what’s going on between the pair right now, though quickly decide to ignore it and instead turn back to finish cleaning up your brother.

“Yeah? Then why are you still standing there as if you’re waiting to go together? Your rooms are on opposite ends of the floor.”

“Shut up. I’ll be back quickly.”

“You’re going to come paint with me, daddy?” Hansol asks, then begins to bounce excitedly when his father nods in confirmation; it makes Seungcheol’s ire melt away and a smile lifts his features seeing how happy his son is to spend time together.

“I’ll be right back, ‘kay, bud?”

“Kay!” Hansol agrees and turns to hop back to his easel and splat his hand into the paint tray to smear colours over his paper, turning it an even murkier brown than his efforts already have.

Seungcheol pulls a slight face at the mess his son is making, knowing he’s going to have to try and get him to paint a legible picture, or get equally as messy himself, before turning and leaving while mentally reminding himself to not wear clothes he wants to keep paint free.

Once you’ve got Chan cleaned up and back on his feet, he glares distrustfully at Seungkwan when the man tries to encourage him back to his own easel.

“We can be extra careful now that I know you don’t like how paint feels, Squirt,” Seungkwan promises, yet Chan steps closer to you as if you’re going to protect him from the mean man and his slimy paints.

“Why don’t you sit and watch Solie paint for now and when I’m back, we’ll try it together, hm?” You say to Chan softly while patting his hips gently in encouragement. He looks at you. “We can paint the sea, how about that? With some nice blues and greens and when it’s dry, we can display it in our room, yeah?” Chan looks much more enthusiastic now that you’ve mentioned the sea and nods. “Okay, good, you sit down and watch, I’ll be back soon, okay?” Another nod before he toddles over to sit on the floor near his own easel yet watches Hansol.

“One day I’ll remember the sea is his weakness,” Seungkwan muses. You laugh softly and get up. “Enjoy your shower, Pearl!” He sing-songs as you leave the room, earning a puzzled look from you that he just giggles at before turning and jolting forward to stop Hansol squirting red paint directly from the bottle onto his picture.

By the time you’re back in the playroom, Seungcheol is already present and to your surprise, he’s not kneeling with his son, who is on brown mess number four, but behind Chan. Your brother is standing with his back to Seungcheol’s chest and his tiny hand in the man’s while Seungcheol carefully helps Chan brush blue over his paper, only a little paint on his brush at a time to minimise the risk of paint splattering onto Chan’s skin.

Seungkwan is nowhere to be seen, and you think it’s the first time you’ve seen Seungcheol alone with both boys, but you really don’t mind that the nanny left. Although Seungcheol hasn’t spent anywhere near as much time with Chan, you trust him entirely with your brother.

Seungcheol looks at you when you near them. “Hope you don’t mind I started Squirt off without you, Kwan said you plan to paint the sea with him.”

“Not at all, you’re doing a great job together,” you enthuse and brush back Chan’s hair from his eyes. He looks at you with a proud grin that makes you smile back. “How about you keep painting, and I’ll see if Solie wants to expand his palette past brown?”

“Is that okay, Squirt?” Seungcheol asks Chan softly. “That I stay with you?” Chan thinks about it for a second while glancing at the man behind him yet nods as soon as he looks at their progress in front of them. It makes Seungcheol beam at the quiet boy accepting his assistance despite you being right by his side and available to help. “Great, I’m really enjoying painting with you, Squirt, it’s really nice.” Seungcheol continues to talk softly to Chan while you walk over and kneel down beside where Hansol stands.

“So, what are we doing here, Sol?” You wonder.

“I want to make a rainbow, but it keeps going brown,” Hansol admits with a disappointed sigh. “Uncle Kwan doesn’t understand and keeps drawing a rainbow for me to paint over but it’s not what I want.”

“You want it all swirled together?”

“Yeah!” Hansol nods. “But it goes brown every time.” The sigh he lets out is world weary verging on frustrated. “I don’t understand, Aunt Pearl.”

It’s the first time Hansol has called you aunt, and it throws you off for a moment. You can’t help but glance over your shoulder to see if Seungcheol heard, but he’s focused on what he’s doing, and you don’t want to distract him from Chan, so you turn back to Hansol. “If you over blend, it’ll go brown; it’s what happens when you mix all the colours together, basically.”

“Oh. So, I can’t make a swirly rainbow?” Hansol pouts at you sadly. “I wanted to make it for Uncle Gyu for his gift.”

“Gift?”

“Mm, it’s his birthday today.”

“Oh, I didn’t know that” you admit.

“He doesn’t like presents other than things I make.”

“Ah, I see.”

“And Squirt. I asked Uncle Gyu in secret, and he said he would love a picture from Squirt too if he wants to make him one, so we been trying. But” he sighs heavily and looks back at his brown, almost dripping paper. “It’s all crap.”

“Hansol!” Seungcheol scolds, proving that he has been listening, even if not consciously, so he must’ve heard his son call you aunt and just not cared. It makes you feel like they really have accepted you into the family the group has here, and your heart warms in your chest.

“What?!” Hansol replies, looking at his dad with big, genuinely innocent eyes. “At least I didn’t say shit!” You can’t help it, you start to laugh, making Hansol giggle proudly while Seungcheol sighs exasperatedly behind you.

“Please don’t laugh, Pearl, now he’s going to think it’s funny to swear and I don’t want him picking up that bad habit. Especially so young,” Seungcheol reasons.

“You’re right, you’re right,” you concede, trying to stop your laughter, though a few giggles still slip through while Hansol continues to grin at you with sparkling eyes. “Swearing is bad, Solie, you’re far too young to have the habit. At least wait until you’re ten.”

“Pearl!” Seungcheol exclaims, making you and Hansol burst into giggles while the man dramatically lets out a breath then turns his attention solely to Chan. “You’re the only one I can rely on to be good mannered, Squirt. Don’t take after your sister and Hansol.” Chan blinks at Seungcheol a few times then turns back to his painting with a little urging sound while moving their connected hands back to the paper. “Okay,” Seungcheol chuckles softly. “We’ll focus on our masterpiece and those delinquents can do their own thing.”

“Alright,” you start when you’ve stopped laughing and moved closer to Hansol. “Let’s clean all this up so we can start fresh and make Uncle Gyu the best swirly rainbow he’s ever seen.”

“Hell yeah!” Hansol cheers. Seungcheol sighs.

“Hey,” Jisoo greets softly as he sits at your side on the bench at the side of the playground, where you’re watching Seungcheol and the two boys play after lunch.

They’re probably burning off all the calories they consumed not even twenty minutes ago, but you don’t mind. The three look so happy that you know Junhui won’t even mind having to make them snacks so soon after lunch.

“Hi,” you respond, smiling at the man a little before looking forward again.

He doesn’t say anything more, just watches the three with something a little longing in his eyes. You don’t know Jisoo that well; he’s probably around the manor the least as one of the leading paediatric doctors at the busiest public hospital in the area, while also being at Seungcheol’s beck and call as Centaur’s secret private doctor. Jisoo is always busy, but when you get the chance to see him, you often find him quietly watching Hansol with this same look in his eyes.

Although it’s not really your place, you can’t help but let your curiosity win out. “Do you want your own?” You wonder, glancing between the man on your left and the three darting around the apparatus with their feet slapping over the rubber tarmac rapidly and laughter in the air.

“Hm?” Jisoo hums questioning while looking at you, so you motion over to the three.

“Kids, I’ve noticed you look at Hansol that way a lot.”

“Oh, I didn’t realise I’m that obvious.” He chuckles and lets his gaze find the seven-year-old again, so you copy. “I don’t necessarily want my own, no.”

“Oh.”

“Do you know about Hansol’s mother?”

That makes you look back at him intrigued. “No, nobody has ever mentioned her.”

“She was my best friend. We came here together from LA almost ten years ago. She wanted to study Korean cuisine; she loved to cook and wanted to open her own restaurant and I…I was so in love with her that I didn’t want to be without her, so I applied to study medicine here and as soon as I got accepted, we came over.”

“Oh…I assume you didn’t get together.”

“No,” he smiles at you a little then turns back to watch the three play and you turn too, figuring you’ve probably been staring at him for too long, especially for such a personal topic. “I wasn’t brave enough to ever tell her how I felt and at the time, I always assumed she didn’t know. But I learned with time that she always knew, just never cared.”

“That doesn’t sound like you were her best friend, even if she was yours.”

Jisoo lets out a short, soft laugh. “You’re right; I was just so infatuated that I didn’t realise that it was always me making the effort and caring more.”

“What a bitch.”

“Mm, she was, but you know what they say about hindsight.”

“No?” You look at him confusedly and seeing you turn to him in his periphery, he looks at you.

“Hindsight is 20/20.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means that everything is clearer after the fact. Like 20/20 vision.”

“Oh, that makes sense,” you murmur and turn back around. He does the same. “How did she become, well, Hansol’s mother?”

“She worked at a restaurant Coups frequented, and they hit it off. I tried to keep her away from him; I knew he was bad news just from the like, aura or whatever but she was into it. Which shouldn’t have surprised me; she had terrible taste in guys in high school; always went for assholes.”

“Seungcheol isn’t an asshole.”

“No, he’s not, but I didn’t know that. I never gave him the chance and treated him harshly and dismissively. He just mirrored it back to me and often teased me by silently rubbing it in my face that he had her; putting his hands all over her, kissing her way too inappropriately for public settings.” He chuckles. “And again, I completely missed that she clearly knew what he was doing and why and always went along with a pleased giggle. I just thought she was giggling because she liked it, not that she liked flaunting that she was fucking someone that wasn’t me.”

“She just wanted your attention,” you understand, and he hums in confirmation. “And then I assume she got pregnant along there.”

“Yeah. Coups put her up in a safe house to protect her and keep the baby secret and she played along; fooled us both that she wanted it and wanted to marry him when he asked. But then two months after Hansol was born, she left. Confessed she never wanted to have the baby but doesn’t believe in abortion, so she played along; let Coups think she loved him while planning to leave the entire time.”

“She played you both?” You gawp at him, and he just nods in confirmation. “I think I hate her.”

Jisoo laughs and looks at you. “I know you say that for Coup’s benefit, but I’m taking it as you’re on my side too.”

“I am,” you assure without hesitation, making his eyebrows lift slightly in surprise. “I don’t really know you, but you seem like a nice guy, sweet; you don’t deserve to be treated so poorly. I hope that’s where you realised what a bitch she is and kicked her aside.”

“I wish I had been that smart,” he gives you a sad little smile. “I asked her to stay with me because I loved her and couldn’t live without her. I was in the middle of my studying and couldn’t leave. My family put all they had into my education, and I couldn’t disappoint them by wasting their money to follow her back to LA. I even said I’d return with her the second I could get a transfer, but she refused no matter how much I cried and begged. She didn’t even look upset to see me so broken and it still took me weeks of barely functioning in a country with no-one by my side before I accepted the truth.”

“That she’s a giant bitch.”

Jisoo nods. “That she’s a giant bitch,” he confirms, making you smile, which he returns before you both look back at the three. “I didn’t see Hansol for a few years until he was rushed into the ER while I was on rotation, and he was suffering his first allergic reaction. That was when I finally realised that Coups is not a bad guy; when I saw him stay beside Hansol’s bedside all through the night without rest and refused to take his son away until he had been triple checked over. I’ve stuck around since, but sometimes when I look at Hansol, I see her and it hurts, even now.”

“That fucking sucks.”

Jisoo chokes out a laugh at your response, though makes a noise of agreement. “Yeah, it does fucking suck. But I love that boy and I’m so grateful that Coups lets me be his godfather and uncle and live under the same roof despite it all.”

“He’s a good man.”

“He really is. You’re good for him, you know?”

“What?” You give him a bewildered look. “How?”

“He’s always been a great dad; I truly couldn’t deny it even if I wanted to. I’ve never seen a parent love their child so fiercely, but up until the past few months, he hasn’t been in the house as much. He gets home a lot earlier now, puts Hansol to bed pretty much every night and it’s done them both the world of good. Hansol’s a generally happy kid, but he used to have a lot of days where he was quiet and withdrawn because he missed his dad; cried for hours, but now he doesn’t get the chance to miss him.”

“Oh, that’s good then, I’m glad I can apparently do that.”

“Me too. He’s happier too, Coups, I mean. I don’t know what you’ve been doing but keep it up. A happy boss means we’re all happier,” he jokes and pats your hand on your thigh before he gets up. “I’ll see you tomorrow, I’ve got a late surgery tonight.”

“Oh, I hope it goes well.”

“Thank you, Pearl, I hope it does too.” He smiles at you gratefully before walking off inside.

A few minutes later, Chan rushes over to you with his hands clasped in front of his crotch. “Wee,” he declares, so you get up and take him to the closest bathroom so that he can use the toilet. “Per,” he calls as he sits on the toilet, swinging his legs while you wait just outside of the cracked open door to give him privacy to do his business.

“Yeah, baby?” You ask, peering over at him.

“I like Sunny,” he informs simply, making you smile knowing exactly who he means for the fact he calls one person Sunny due to struggling to say his name.

“You like Seungcheol?” He nods in confirmation. “Me too, Squirt.”

“Sunny like us too?”

“Yeah, he likes us too.”

“And Solie?”

“Solie likes us, yeah.”

“I like Solie lots.”

“Good, I’m glad.”

He wiggles off of the toilet when he’s done, so you turn back around and wait for him to finish the routine, smiling as he sings to himself while washing his hands to make sure he washes them for a sufficient amount of time.

When you hear him nearing, you push off of the doorframe to give him space to exit the bathroom without opening the door wider. Silently, he takes your hand and the two of you walk to the backdoor to put your boots back on.

“Per?” Chan asks when you’re tying your own boots while he waits with his own already zipped up securely. You hum questioningly. “I sleepover Solie?”

You look at your brother in surprise. “You want to have a sleepover with Solie?”

“Solie said we sleep in his bed and watch Nemo.”

“Oh,” you smile in understanding, knowing that mentioning Chan’s favourite movie is a very persuasive way to get the six-year-old to agree to almost anything. “I think it would be nice for you to have your first sleepover with someone other than me.”

“Oh, no Per?”

“No, baby, just you and Solie.” He frowns uncertainly. “I can see if there is a room I can stay in near to Solie’s bedroom, so I’ll be close by.”

“Per stay close to Squirt.”

“You’ll be safe even if I’m not there, we’re safe here, aren’t we?”

“Safe with Sunny.”

“Yeah, baby, we’re safe with Sunny.”

“I like Sunny.” You can’t help but laugh softly before taking his hand and going outside.

Seungcheol is sprawled over the bench catching his breath while his son bounces away on the trampoline, higher than he ever does with Chan knowing that the younger doesn’t like anything but essentially bobbing on the trampoline.

“Tired out?” You tease as you lean on the back of the bench and peer down at Seungcheol while Chan happily rushes over to stand in wait at the side of the trampoline for Hansol, before they both run to the slides; Chan’s favourite playground activity and one Hansol is always more than willing to indulge his best friend with, no matter how many times they go up and down.

“I think I’m officially getting old, sweetheart,” Seungcheol declares, making you laugh before you circle around the bench. “Just sit on me, I’m too tired to move.”

With a shrug, you sit on his thighs sideways with your feet just touching the ground, and he gawps at you. “You told me to,” you reason.

“I didn’t expect you actually would.”

“Oh, is this one of those things where people say things they don’t actually mean for some bizarre fucking reason?” You mutter and start to get up, but Seungcheol abruptly sits up and winds his arm around your waist to keep you on his lap.

“My lap is always available for you,” he declares.

“It’s a sturdy lap,” you comment and pat the side of his thigh between the gap in your own, making him chuckle. He swings his legs around to plant his feet on the floor while turning you until your back is against his chest and his chin is on your shoulder.

You’ve not been held like this in a long time, and even then, it hadn’t made your stomach flutter with butterflies, just twist with disgust at the touch of the men you had to lure. There wasn’t a choice but to let those men touch you back then, but you know that Seungcheol would let you go without complaint if you said you didn’t want him to touch you.

That security is probably why you lean back against his chest and let your arms lay over his, other than your rapidly growing feelings for the man, of course. Those definitely influence your decision to get comfortable in his hold and hope that he can’t feel the way your heart skips a beat or two when he tightens his grasp on you to hold you even closer.

For a little while, you sit in a peaceful quiet, contently watching the two boys make laps with the slides and smiling hearing them giggling away together happily.

Then, you remember what Chan had said and figure this is a good time to bring it up. “Chan said Solie asked him to have a sleepover,” you inform.

“Oh, yeah, he’s been bugging me to let it happen as if I would ever say no. I just kept saying it’s not my decision but Squirt’s and somehow Sol took that as I haven’t said yes and kept asking until I agreed this morning.”

“You hadn’t. If you just said that he needs to ask Chan, then you hadn’t actually given him explicit permission so asking Chan wouldn’t make logical sense until he knows for certain that you’re okay with it.”

“Oh. I didn’t think of it like that. Alright, I see the point and will try to remember to be more explicit in the future.”

“And here I thought you don’t want him swearing,” you joke, then start to giggle when he thunks his head against yours in playful scolding.

“Does Chan want to have a sleepover?”

“He wants to try, I think, especially as Solie said they can watch Nemo.”

“Ah, the way to the little turtle’s heart,” Seungcheol replies with an understanding hum.

“Yep, but he didn’t realise I wouldn’t be there. I said I can see if there’s an empty room near Solie’s I can stay in, so I’ll be close.”

“Ah, I’m afraid there isn’t. We’re at the end of the hall opposite each other and Kwan is on one side to him and it’s a storage room next to mine, then the other guys follow those rooms.”

“Oh.”

“Well, you could stay in my room though.” You look at him as if he’s crazy. “I didn’t mean with me!” He defends while straightening up. “I can sleep in another room for the night, and you can have mine.”

“I’m not taking over your room, Seungcheol.”

“It’s just for a night and if it makes Chan more comfortable so they can have their first sleepover, I really don’t mind.”

“No, that would mean you’re away from Hansol too, I refuse to do that.”

“Ah, right. I mean, I’m pretty sure he’d be okay, I’ve spent nights away before so it’s not like he’s never had a night without me. I don’t know how I’d sleep though; I never sleep well in beds that aren’t mine, or at least if I’m alone in them.”

“Well then, you definitely have to keep your own bed.”

“Mm…what if…and I’m not being a pervert before you say as much, but my bed is fucking huge, seriously, it’s ridiculously big I hate changing the fucking sheets so it’s the only reason I let the staff in to my room-”

“Does that mean you clean your own room and don’t have a woman do it, Seungcheol?” Your teasing jibe earns an unimpressed look from the man, which you giggle at.

“One day you’ll let that go.”

“Never.” You grin as he sighs. “So, what were you saying, anyway?”

“We could have our own sleepover,” he suggests timidly and bites on his bottom lip before continuing to talk while you stare at him blankly. “J-just like, because then we’re both right opposite the boys’ room and so they know where we are and we know where they are and they can enjoy their first sleepover with another kid, and my bed is big enough that we will have plenty of space without even touching, like another two grown adults could fit between us and we’d still not fall off the edges.”

“That sounds like an unnecessarily big bed, Seungcheol.”

He lets out a breath you hadn’t noticed he was holding. “Yeah, it kinda is. Comfortable as fuck though so I’m keeping it until it’s ruined.”

“That should take some time, in theory, unless you piss the bed.”

Seungcheol sputters. “I don’t…Hansol has a few times though, but it’s been thoroughly cleaned since then and I’ve invested in really good mattress protectors, it should last.”

“Good to know,” you murmur and turn back around to watch the boys, still going up and down the slides.

Honestly, just watching the repetitive play bores you so you have no idea how Hansol happily goes along with it when he’s usually so easily bored. Even you would’ve asked Chan to play something else by now, but Hansol just cheers when Chan jumps off the bottom of the slide then races him around to the steps.

“Jisoo told me about Hansol’s mother,” you announce gently, aware that it’s likely a touchy subject.

“Oh, I wondered what you two were talking about,” he admits with a sigh while his arms tighten ever so slightly around you. “It’s kinda a sore subject, that betrayal, and I wish Hansol had grown up knowing a loving mother but I’m glad she left before he could form memories of her.”

“Does he know she won’t come back?”

“Oh, yeah, definitely. I didn’t want him asking over someone who isn’t worthy of the title of mother, so I told him as soon as he was old enough to understand that she isn’t a nice person and we’re far better off without her.”

“And he accepts that?”

“Mm, yeah, why? Has he said something about her to you?”

“No,” you assure and pat his hand on your waist gently. “Today was the first time anyone has ever mentioned her. I was just wondering about what you said of him asking to have a little brother.” You motion to the pair loosely. “I wondered if he was hoping she’d be back so you can give him a sibling.”

“Oh, nah, he really doesn’t care about her at all. I asked where he expects me to get him a little brother and he said the same place I got him.”

“His mother?”

“I said that, and he pulled a face and said find another mother.” Seungcheol chuckles. “As if it’s that simple.”

“Are you still in love with her?”

He scoffs harshly. “No fucking way, that bitch can rot for all I care.”

“But you haven’t found someone else since?”

“Never been interested. I already have my son; I don’t need another child and he’s my whole life. Outside of him, I work, and that’s it. I really don’t want to have a relationship with any of the women I meet through work, well…those women aren’t of interest to me. Most of them try to get my attention thinking it’ll give them status.”

“And the other women? Who don’t want to use you?”

“Gay.” The way he says it makes you laugh. “Lesbians seem to love me, just not in that way,” he jokes with what essentially sounds like a giggle. It’s very cute.

“That does limit your options then,” you muse, giggling along with him.

“Mm, how about you?”

“Oh, I have no idea what lesbians think of me.”

Seungcheol laughs and lowers his head to put his face against your shoulder, even if the material must be cold against his skin. “I imagine lesbians are very interested in you as much as straight men are.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever met a lesbian, so I can’t comment on that.”

“I’d say I’d introduce you to one, but I don’t want to.”

“That’s a bit possessive of you,” you mutter, giving him a look when his head jerks up to look at you with wide, innocent eyes. “Keeping all the lesbians to yourself like that.”

He relaxes and snorts a laugh while rolling his eyes. “What do you care whether I do or don’t, huh?” Though suddenly, his eyes are wide again and looking at you a little alarmed. “Wait, are…are you a lesbian?”

“Would it matter if I were?”

“Uh…I’m not homophobic or anything.”

“That didn’t answer my question. Would it bother you if I am a lesbian, Seungcheol?”

“Uh…”

“It would?” Your eyebrows lift in surprise. “How can you claim to not be homophobic yet be bothered by that?”

“Are you?” He whispers, expression starting to pinch a little.

“No.”

He lets out a breath and nods before turning you back around properly to face the boys where they’re still playing on the slides. “I think Chan could do this all day,” he comments before you can say anything more about the previous subject. Although you don’t really understand what just happened in that conversation, he’s being so evasive that you don’t push it. The last thing you want is to piss the man off by pushing him when he clearly doesn’t want to talk.

So instead, you just hum vaguely and remain quiet, stewing in your own thoughts and mild frustration at not understanding, while watching over the boys.

Although there is technically plenty of time after dinner for the boys to play more, they’re both beyond excited about their sleepover, so while Seungcheol takes Hansol to give him his bath and get ready for bed, you take Chan to your room to do the same.

“Per sleepover Sunny?” Chan checks, repeating the question for the nth time as he prods the toy floating in the water in front of him.

“Yes, Channie, I’m going to have a sleepover with Seungcheol while you have yours with Hansol. We will be across the hall all night,” you remind him patiently, knowing that he needs a lot of reassurance for such a big change in routine.

“We watch Nemo. What Per and Sunny watch?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” you respond honestly to the new question; it’s a good sign that your reassurances are settling in Chan’s mind and becoming less of a need. “I don’t know if Seungcheol has a TV in his room.”

“Watch Nemo with us.”

“It’s okay, you and Solie can watch Nemo and Seungcheol and I will talk or something.”

“And bedtime cuddles?” He wonders, looking at you. “I have cuddles?”

“I’m sure Solie will give you cuddles, should I ask him for you?”

“But want cuddle you.” He frowns. “Want Per cuddles.”

“Well, how about I watch some of the movie with you and we can have cuddles, but I’ll go after the sharks?”

“Mm, then Solie cuddles?”

“Sure, baby, I’ll ask Solie to give you cuddles when I leave.”

“Okay,” he agrees and turns back to his toys.

Once Chan is out of the bath and contently playing on the bed wrapped up in his towel to let him dry off naturally and not irritate his sensitive skin, you tie your hair up out of the way and quickly hop in the shower to scrub paint flecks from your forearms and wash over the rest of your body before getting dressed.

To your surprise, Chan isn’t on the bed anymore when you exit the bathroom but standing on the floor pulling his pyjama bottoms up his legs, the shirt already on his body and partially buttoned from how you left it when you took it off him last time.

It’s the first time Chan has tried to dress himself so calmly. Usually, he’s already frustrated by now after getting his limbs in the wrong holes, but he looks determined as his tiny hands work on snapping the elastic of his trousers against his hips just like you do to make him giggle. You smile to yourself seeing him copying your little quirks, even if he doesn’t find his own actions giggle-worthy.

When Chan’s hands move to the front of his shirt, you honestly almost cry. Buttons, zips, and any fastenings other than Velcro have always been so difficult for him, too fiddly for him to navigate and the reason you never bought him anything that used any while you were homeless, so that he still had some independence despite having had to be glued to your side all of the time.

But Seungkwan has gained the habit of buying the boys matching clothes and the pair always look so happy and cute when they’re wearing identical clothing that you never try to argue and are always happy to help Chan get himself dressed and undressed for the sake of his and Hansol’s joy.

Yet today, today your precious little brother devotes his entire focus on painstakingly threading the little plastic circles through the slits. It takes some time, a handful of minutes per button, but he gets three out of four buttons through the openings before realising there isn’t another one for the topmost button. He’s confused for a second and doesn’t realise he’s threaded them in the wrong holes but then he lights up and bounces on his toes while his hands flap at his side.

“Did it! I did it!” He exclaims to himself then looks up intending to run to the bathroom to show you yet finds you already in the bedroom, so he stays in his place and his movements grow bigger, seeing you smiling and looking so fucking proud of him. “Look, Per! I did it!”

“You did,” you reply almost breathlessly then walk over to kneel in front of him and gently cup his beaming features. “I’m so proud of you, Chan.”

“I proud too!”

“Good, you should be,” you approve and lean forward to kiss his forehead. “I love you so much, my clever little brother.”

“I love you, my clever big sister.” He darts forward to hug you, squeezing you tighter than necessary due to all the joy running through his limbs, but you don’t mind and just squeeze him back with another kiss on his slightly damp hair.

“We need to get haircuts soon,” you comment as he backs up to bounce over to the bed and grab his turtle to squeeze and wriggle happily.

“No,” he complains, pouting at you and falling still. “No touch my hair!”

“I know you don’t like it, baby, neither do I, but both of us need a haircut before we get annoyed with our hair.”

“Per cut it?”

“I mean, I can, but it’ll not be very pretty.”

“Don’t care. Per only touch my hair.”

“Okay, okay, I’ll ask someone to get some hairdressing scissors for me and we’ll do it soon.”

“And Per hair too?”

“Uh, yeah sure, why not?” You shrug. “I’ll cut my own hair too; there must be video tutorials for cutting your own hair.” Chan just nods in approval and returns to smiling happily as he gallops over to you and tugs on your hand to signal you to get up.

As soon as you’re on your feet, he’s dragging you out of the bedroom and you let him, even if you know he’s left his damp towel on the bed so it’s going to ruin the bedding, but that’s a problem for the morning. Right now, it’s all about Chan.

Neither you nor Chan have actually been near Hansol’s and Seungcheol’s rooms before, you haven’t had a reason to until now, so you’re both a little hesitant as you near the end of the hall and can hear Hansol and Seungcheol talking in the left-hand room.

“Hurry, daddy! I want it to be a surprise ready!” Hansol encourages.

“Bud, I’m going as fast as I can,” Seungcheol reasons. You stop and lower to a crouch to keep Chan still and signal him to be quiet while he pouts confusedly at you.

“Well go faster!”

“Hansol,” Seungcheol warns. “I know you’re excited for your first sleepover, but you still need to be respectful, okay?”

“Sorry, daddy.”

“Good boy. How about you set the movie up while I finish this, yeah?”

“Okay!”

You wait patiently, even with Chan still sulking at you in your arms for making him wait, until you hear Seungcheol declare it’s finished and Hansol claps and cheers excitedly.

“It’s perfect, daddy! Thank you!” There’s a little ‘oof’ from Seungcheol as you assume Hansol has thrown himself at his father in an enthusiastic hug, before the man chuckles softly.

“You’re welcome, baby. Do you want me to stay for a bit or leave you alone?”

“Can you stay? I’m a little nervous, what if Squirt doesn’t like my room?”

“I’m sure he will, you’ve even got your sea light out for him.”

Chan wiggles in your hold at the mention of a sea light and you know you can’t make him wait anymore so you get up while releasing him, giggling as he scrambles forward and pops into the room.

“Squirt!” Hansol shrieks and runs over to hug Chan just as you cross the threshold into the bedroom. You smile seeing the two boys embracing with matching grins, and pyjamas, and look over at Seungcheol to see that he’s looking at them just as fondly from where he’s sprawled over his son’s large bed comfortably. Now, you notice what Seungcheol must’ve been doing.

Dangling from the ceiling to half cover the bed are a few sheets, attached to the ceiling with grey duct tape, making you wince a little at the thought of the strong tape pulling the paint from the ceiling when it’s removed, but Seungcheol clearly doesn’t care and can easily afford to have the ceilings redone for the sake of his son’s happiness.

In amongst the sheets, you can just about make out the sight of some fish stickers stuck onto the fabric and your heart only grows bigger and warmer with love for Hansol and his clear adoration for your brother.

It’s not technically true, but you think Hansol is the best big brother Chan could ever have.

“Look, Squirt!” Hansol encourages, taking Chan’s tiny hand in his slightly bigger one to lead him to the bed and help him up onto it before climbing up too.

Chan looks at Seungcheol before crawling over to lay at his side, making Seungcheol’s whole expression melt as he stares at the quiet little boy, who is already looking at the stickers he’s spotted. He makes an excited noise and points up to them.

“Yeah! Fishies!” Hansol cheers and starts to tug on the hanging sheets, but his dad makes a noise, stopping the boy and gets up himself to pull the sheets around the bed most of the way so that Hansol doesn’t accidentally pull them down.

“Come on, sweetheart,” Seungcheol encourages, motioning to the space on Hansol’s right, so you wander over and climb up onto the bed and finish pulling the sheet around the bed carefully.

The sheets are too thin to entirely block out the light from the copious lamps Hansol has in his room instead of using the main overhead lights, but it does dull it a little and makes the space oddly cosy.

“Look, there’s turtles and jellies and sharks and starfish and…” Hansol goes on pointing out all the different types of fish stickers over the sheets looking down on you all while Chan follows along with wide eyes glued to wherever the older boy points and his mouth parted in wonder.

A tap on your head makes you look up at Seungcheol where he’s propped up on his elbow on the pillow and his arm across it above the boys’ heads so that his hand is above your own head. “Is he okay with the dark?” He whispers to not disturb the boys. You nod. “Are you?” Another nod so Seungcheol smiles and grabs his phone and another little device from the bed behind him. He taps around on his phone and the lamps outside of the sheets all go off.

Chan gasps and starts to panic not having expected it, wriggling around ready to crawl over to you, but Hansol puts his hand on Chan’s chest to pat his fingers against the younger’s torso while making soothing sounds. “It’s okay, Squirt, it’s okay, daddy turned them off from his phone. It’s okay, he’s going to turn on something really cool, just lay with Solie, okay?” Hansol shuffles closer to Chan to put his arm around him and hold him, much like you imagine his father has done to him many times to soothe him. It works and Chan settles back down, tiny hands gripping onto Hansol’s sleeve and feet rubbing together restlessly but otherwise he’s perfectly still in wait.

A few seconds of Seungcheol fumbling with the device later, gentle blue light comes out of one end, and when you look at the sheets, you see a sea effect projected onto the material. The light moves in time with the gentle rolling sound of the waves coming from the device, simulating being underwater. Although you know it’s entirely for Chan’s benefit, you find yourself instantly soothed and curl up a little as your eyes track the shadows of the waves above you.

“Do you like it, Squirt?” Hansol whispers after a few seconds. You don’t need to look at your brother to know he’s nodding in awed agreement. “Good. Daddy bought me the light when I used to cry a lot, to help me calm down, but I don’t cry all the time anymore so you can have it if you want. I know you like the sea and fishes. We can get a tent and cover it in fishie stickers and put comfy pillows and blankies and the light and it will be nice, right, to lay in and watch and be like swimming with the fishies, right?”

Then, the one thing you were positive wouldn’t happen, at least not for a long time does, your little brother speaks. “Fishies,” he says softly. Hansol gasps, but he doesn’t say anything more and just holds Chan tighter with a bright smile on his face.

You can only handle it for a few seconds longer before you kiss each boy on the head, earning another beam from Hansol as you’ve never kissed him before, and he clearly loves the affection, before you quietly slip out from the sheets and leave the room.

In the hallway, you slide your back down the wall until you’re crouching with your face in your hands as you cry silently.

You’re only alone for a few seconds before familiar hands touch your arms gently, then you’re pulled in against Seungcheol’s firm chest as he holds you tight on his crossed legs in the middle of the corridor to let you grip onto his t-shirt and cry against his shoulder.

To your relief, Seungcheol doesn’t say a word at all, he just holds you and makes the occasional soft, soothing sound as his hands gently pat and stroke your arm and back. It’s easy to see where Hansol has picked up his calming habits, and it makes you choke out a small giggle, spotting the clear connection between father and son.

“Are you laughing?” The man questions in a puzzled mumble. You nod against his shoulder while giggling harder at his confusion. “So just to clarify, this isn’t sad crying?”

“N-no.”

“Oh, thank fuck,” he relaxes. “I mean, you can cry if you’re sad; you’re allowed to be sad and feel your emotions and all that, but seriously, I don’t think I would know what to do if you’re sad.”

“This is nice,” you answer with a few sniffles as you motion to how he’s holding you protectively in his strong arms in the circle of his thighs, making you feel nothing but safe.

“So, if you get sad, I can just hold you and let you cry and that’s enough?” You nod in confirmation. “Okay, I can do that,” he declares with determination in his voice, making you giggle again. “As much as I think your giggles are fucking adorable, I’m really confused right now, sweetheart. Why the tears?”

“I just got overwhelmed, but in a good way. I think it’s the first time I’ve been overwhelmed and it’s not a negative thing.”

“Oh, because of the boys?”

You hum and nod, watching your hand as you smooth out the creases you made in his t-shirt at the centre of his chest. “I never thought he’d trust anyone enough to talk to them, but Hansol has given him a safe space and…” you take a shaky breath in as tears prickle at your eyes again. “It just makes me so happy that Chan has him, he loves him so much.”

“It’s mutual, Sol adores his little Squirt,” Seungcheol adds, tilting his head to rest against the top of yours. “I’m really happy you came to us, sweetheart, both of you. You…you make us both so fucking happy, I don’t think we’ve been this happy before.”

“Us either.”

“You’ll stay, won’t you? Even after the Vultures are dealt with and it’s safe for you to be out there, have your name out there without being hunted down, you’ll stay?”

“There’s nowhere I’d rather be.”

He lets out a relieved breath before turning his head to press a kiss atop your head. “Me either.”

“Your ass probably wishes we were somewhere different right now though,” you muse, making him snort out a laugh as he straightens up.

“You just ruined a really heartfelt moment,” he points out, though he doesn’t sound at all upset about it and unwinds his arms from you, allowing you both to get to your feet. “Come on, they’re alright without us for a bit, let’s freshen you up a little,” he suggests, though the way he takes your hand into his and leads you into his room as he talks gives away that he isn’t really giving you an option.

You peer around the huge bedroom as you cross through, but you don’t really get to take it in, not that it looks like there’s that much to take in anyway, as he guides you into his ensuite and flicks the light on.

A surprised squeak leaves your lips when he abruptly turns and picks you up to plop onto the counter beside the sink. He smirks at you amusedly for a second then walks over to the unit to grab a face cloth.

“You don’t need to manhandle me, you could’ve just asked,” you scold as you shuffle to get comfortable and lean back against the mirror behind you while your feet swing from side to side contently.

“You would’ve questioned why I’m asking you to sit on the counter.”

You don’t respond for a second as you stubbornly refuse to acknowledge that he’s right. As he approaches you with the little cloth in hands, he’s got that smug smirk back on his lips, making you sigh. “Okay, yeah, I would’ve but that’s because there’s no logical reason for me to need to be sitting on the counter right now.”

“Then why didn’t you get down?”

“You put me here, you want me here for a reason, even if you haven’t said what that reason is.”

“To look after you.”

Your eyebrows furrow slightly as you watch him wet the cloth under the running cold water. “I’m capable of looking after myself; I’ve been doing it for twenty years at least.”

“I know you’re capable, I’m not refuting that, sweetheart, but everyone deserves to be looked after too.”

“Then who looks after you?”

“The guys all do in different ways; by helping me stay sane at work, making sure I don’t overwork myself, looking after my son so that I know he’s safe and I’m not constantly worrying about him.”

“And who holds you when you cry?”

Seungcheol pauses as he squeezes out most of the water from the washcloth. Then he shrugs and moves over in front of you to tuck one curled finger under your chin and tilt your head back a little to allow him to begin delicately dabbing the cool cloth over your tear sticky cheeks. “I don’t remember the last time I cried.”

“Oh, I cry a lot,” you confess shamelessly.

“You do?” He raises his eyebrow in surprise. “This is the first time I’ve ever seen you cry.”

“I can usually hold it off until Chan’s asleep and I can shut myself in the bathroom, so he doesn’t see. I know it’s natural and everything, I’m not ashamed of how I cry when I’m overwhelmed by things or emotions, but I still don’t want him to see and get worried.”

“I understand, I wouldn’t want Hansol to see me cry either.”

“Chan has seen me cry before, multiple times, I haven’t always had the chance to hide it, but he gets so worried and overwhelmed and tends to have a meltdown so then we’re both a mess.”

“Well, now you have me, and the other guys too, they’d all help. You can tell Chan that if you ever need help, he should come get one of us.”

“I don’t know if he would leave me without explicitly being told to get someone, and I often can’t talk when I’m overloaded.”

“You go nonverbal?”

“If it’s really bad, yeah. But I just meant the whole crying thing makes it hard to talk.”

“Ah.” He makes a noise of understanding and tosses the cloth into the sink to replace it with the hand towel on the rack to pat your skin dry. “Do you know sign language?”

“A little, and I’ve taught Chan what I know, but our dad always lost his shit when he saw us doing it, or me learning, so it just…seemed like it wasn’t worth the beatings when I knew only I would use it with him in private and he verbally talks to me anyway.”

“Your dad beat you for learning sign language when Chan doesn’t even talk?”

“At first, he was okay with it, when Chan was really little, and everyone assumed he was just delayed a little so at least a few signs would help understand what he wants until he talks. But then he blamed it on why Chan didn’t try to talk and banned anyone from giving him any of his aids or signing so that he’d be forced to talk.”

“What a piece of shit.”

“Mm, only got worse when he got diagnosed with autism and dad just…stopped loving him.” 

“I’m sorry you had to deal with a pathetic excuse of a father like that, both of you. And I’m really glad you left and you’re here now where you can both be cared for like you deserve.”

“Thanks, Seungcheol, me too.”

“You know, you don’t have to call me Seungcheol all the time.”

“Well, I’m not calling you that stupid alias,” you retort, features scrunching in distaste while he puts the towel neatly back.

He laughs, which only grows when he sees your disgusted expression. “I didn’t mean that.”

“Then what? That’s all anyone calls you, some variation of that or Mr Choi. Is that what you want me to call you?”

“Fuck no.” Now it’s Seungcheol’s features that twist in revulsion, making you giggle amusedly. “Never call me Mr Choi, I don’t even like it when people say it, but I have to leave it be with them, the whole head of the Centaurs status shit. But you, don’t you dare call me Mr Choi.”

“Well, that’s all I’ve ever heard you be addressed with. Or daddy, but if you try to get me to call you that you’ll just confirm that you’re a giant fucking pervert.”

Seungcheol lets out your name in a gasped exclamation with eyes wide and cheeks pink. “Don’t say shit like that!” You start to cackle at his extremely flustered expression. “I-I wasn’t even thinking that!”

“Now you are.”

“Please shut up.”

“Sure, daddy.” He scrambles to put his palm over your mouth as his cheeks darken. You only laugh and let him, eyes sparkling with mirth above his palm.

“Stop. I don’t…I’m not into that.” You give him the best disbelieving look you can over his hand. “I’m not!”

You move his hand away from your mouth so that you can speak. “You’re red.”

“Oh, fucking hell,” he groans and slumps down until he’s squatting in front of you and hiding in your knees. “I regret suggesting sharing my bed with you.”

“I’ll ask Kwan if he wants a sleepover then,” you decide with a shrug.

The words are barely out of your mouth before Seungcheol is up on his feet at his full height and staring at you darkly. “No.”

“You said you regret-”

“I didn’t mean that,” he puts his palms on the counter either side of your thighs, making him lean down closer to you to reach, as his intense gaze burns into your innocently blinking eyes. “You are never to have a sleepover with anyone but me, understand?”

“Why?”

“Because I said so.”

“That’s not a good reason.”

“Because I don’t want you in their beds.”

“But you want me in yours?” You reason, raising your eyebrow a little in question.

Seungcheol’s jaw clenches a little as he mulls over his answer before he responds so simply that you think it’s ridiculous both how long he takes to reply and how your stomach flips from the single, lowly spoken syllable. “Yes.”

“Oh.”

He raises an eyebrow and opens his mouth to say something more, but his son calling him stops the man in his tracks. Seungcheol lets out a soft breath before he drags his gaze over your face, eyes lingering on your parted lips, then he pushes away from the counter and leaves you sitting there with a racing heart and warmth blooming on your cheeks.

You’re not stupid, no matter what your father said about you, you are perfectly capable of understanding social cues when your mind isn’t so messy and stressed. You’ve been sent off to seduce too many men to not know what someone looking at your lips like Seungcheol just had means.

The information that Seungcheol wanted to kiss you, even if only for a moment, sends a strange feeling through your body that you’ve never felt before. It’s like anxiety and excitement rolled into one fizzling sensation throughout your veins and settling heavy in your sternum. You think that this might be what it feels like to have reasonable hope that someone likes you back.

By the time the boys fall asleep after Seungcheol has read them three books, and they’ve watched both Finding Nemo and Finding Dory tucked up in between you and the man on Hansol’s bed, that sensation in your chest has long fizzled out.

Though when you’re laid in Seungcheol’s ridiculously big bed, rubbing your feet together nervously as he showers and gets into his pyjamas in the ensuite, the bubbling in your chest returns with a vengeance.

You can’t stop thinking about what happened in the bathroom; the possessive way he had demanded you only climb into his bed, the way his intense gaze had lingered on your lips. Once you start thinking about that, it makes you consider other things he’s said and done over the past few months; how tenderly he treats you, how his cheeks frequently turn a shy pink in front of your eyes, how his touch always hovers longer than explicitly necessary when it’s on you.

For so long you’ve convinced yourself that it’s just how the man is; that he’s attentive and affectionate to all of his friends. Which isn’t even a lie because you’ve seen him lean into Jisoo when the doctor tends to his wounds, and you’ve seen him sling his arm around most of them, even plant a noisy kisses to cheeks when he’s feeling playful. But he never lingers. Not with them.

The more you think about it, the difference between how he treats you to any others, you realise the little things; how he seems to edge closer to you whenever you’re within arm’s reach until he can brush his hand against you, how he pays such close attention to you that he can sense what you need before you do sometimes, how even if he’s in the middle of yelling at his men for their mistakes, the second he sees you, the anger in his eyes melts away and the light returns to them, even just for a second before he focuses back on his job.

You don’t want to let yourself get carried away with the possibility that Seungcheol has liked you for even longer than you’ve liked him, but you’re already halfway up in the clouds by the time he returns and slips into the bed at your side despite the fact there really is no need to be so close when the mattress is so wide.

“You’re red,” he comments in a soft, teasing voice as he settles on his right side facing you, his right hand up underneath the pillow below his head and his left reaching for you under the covers to rest on your stomach.

When you turn onto your left side to face him, his hand slides over your waist to settle on your back, holding you close. You stare at him for a moment, nervously chewing your bottom lip while he watches you in wonder of what you’re thinking yet remains patiently quiet for when you’re ready to talk.

He’s always so patient, so good to you. He does so much, goes out of his way and you think that perhaps it’s time you try to return the effort.

Your hands tremble ever so slightly as you lift them between you to touch his jaw feather light. He breathes out your name in a whispered question, but he doesn’t do anything else when you crane your neck up to softly press your lips to his. You hear him inhale deeply through his nose at the delicate kiss, but before he can react otherwise, you pull away and remove your touch from his skin.

“That-that’s what you wanted earlier, r-right? In the bathroom?”

He stares at you for a moment with such a serious expression before he sighs. To your utter confusion and slight horror, his features turn down and he pulls away from you, severing all contact as he rolls onto his back and stares up at the ceiling. “Don’t do that again,” he warns quietly.

Your heart starts to crack as the rejection seeps inside and drags it down out of place towards your stomach. You really thought he wanted to kiss you, wanted you.

“I-I’m sorry,” you stammer and although you want to get up and leave before you start to cry, you’re frozen in place, body running hot and cold as the realisation that you misunderstood and fucked up runs rampant through your mind, spinning and whirling every thought up into one colossal fucking mess you can’t even try to figure out how to fix.

“Just don’t do it again, okay?”

“I’m sorry,” you repeat in a whisper that makes him sigh towards the ceiling. “I-I thought you want-”

“No, Pearl, don’t say that. You should never do shit because you think I want you to, that’s not what I want at all. I don’t want you to kiss me because it’s what you think I want. You should only kiss someone because you want to.”

“Oh.” That growing fear in your chest suddenly stops before it can spill up your throat. It doesn’t retreat, only halts in its path as you try to work your way through his words with your mind still flashing with the previous thoughts. “Can you clarify that?” You request.

“Clarify it?” He looks at you. “What do you mean?”

“It kind of sounds like you’re not against me kissing you, just that you want it to be because I want it, not that I think you do.”

“Uh.” He pauses and turns his head to face the ceiling again as he swallows thickly before he nods. “Yeah, that’s exactly what I mean. Don’t kiss me for my sake.”

“I won’t,” you promise.

“Good,” the word is barely out of his mouth in a barely audible whisper before you’re leaning up over him on your left elbow to cup his cheek, tilt his head to you and press your lips to his. A soft, alarmed noise vibrates in his throat, and he reels back to stare at you with wide eyes. “Pearl, I just said-”

“Yeah, and I said I won’t,” you remind him. “Do you really think that now I’m free of all that shit, I’d kiss someone if I don’t want to?”

“You want to kiss me?” You nod. “Oh.” Then he’s reaching up to curve his left hand around your jaw and neck as he surges in to kiss you, not a drop of hesitation left in him.

It’s not even a few seconds of kissing before he’s wrapping his arm around you to pull your body up onto his until you’re straddling him and letting his tongue into your mouth when you gasp at the sudden manhandling.

You find you don’t mind it at all when it’s Seungcheol.

“You,” Seungcheol breathes out when he drops his head back into the pillows instead of keeping it lifted to meet you easier, even if you could’ve easily lowered down to him, but it seems he forgot that to be an option.

“Me,” you reply, even more breathless than the man as you let your weight settle more firmly on his hips and lower your torso until your chests are touching.

“You’ve been driving me fucking crazy for months,” he declares and smooths his hands down from your waist to grip handfuls of your ass with a low groan. “Especially in those fucking leggings.”

“You bought them.”

“Best and worst purchase I’ve ever made. Fuck, your ass looks so good in them, baby, but all I can remember when I see how fucking tight they are, is you wondering if you can even wear underwear under them.”

“I can’t,” you inform bluntly and watch amusedly as his head tips back a little with a soft groan while his fingers curve firmer into the flesh of your ass cheeks over your clothing. “I tried, but even that tiny amount of material makes it impossible to pull the leggings up to my hips so they just bunch and make my ass bulge over the band and-” Seungcheol cuts off your explanation with a heated kiss, one hand cupping the back of your head to pull you in and the other still groping at your ass as if he’s trying to imbed his hands into your flesh so that he never has to let go.

“Well,” the sudden voice from the doorway makes you both sit up and look over in alarm not having heard anyone approach, but Mingyu is standing in the doorway looking partially amused and partially shocked. “Just came to say that we’re all going out now for drinks, so it’s just the four of you in the house.”

“Uh, right, yeah, right. Have uh-” Seungcheol starts, then has to clear his throat, so that his voice isn’t so thick and rough with arousal, so obvious that Mingyu is smirking now. “Have a good time. Happy birthday, Gyu.”

“Happy birthday,” you repeat softly.

Mingyu’s expression softens as he looks directly at you instead of his boss and smiles at you. “Thank you, Pearl.”

“Hey!” Seungcheol complains. “Don’t I get thanks?”

“You refused to let us use the card,” Mingyu defends poutily.

“Of course I’m not letting you use the fucking business card to get drunk!”

“It’s his birthday,” you reason, turning your head to look at Seungcheol. “It’d be your gift to him.”

“He doesn’t like gifts.”

“Your gift to your men for working so hard,” you correct yourself without missing a beat and hear Mingyu snort out a badly concealed laugh as Seungcheol sighs heavily.

“I can’t believe you’re fucking manipulating me like this,” Seungcheol grunts and motions vaguely to the dresser, so Mingyu scuttles over to grab Seungcheol’s wallet to grab and bring over, with an excited grin on his face as he does so.

“You’re the best,” Mingyu breathes out gratefully as Seungcheol finds out the correct card to hand over to the tall man.

“I should think so,” Seungcheol grumbles.

“I was talking to Pearl,” Mingyu points out, then giggles and jumps away as Seungcheol darts his arm out, but with you still on his lap and quickly reaching up to put your hand on his arm and stop him, the man doesn’t have the chance to hit the birthday boy. “Thanks, daddy!”

“Fuck off!” Seungcheol exclaims as Mingyu leaves the bedroom while dramatically kissing the card in his hands. “If they bankrupt me, it’s on your shoulders, sweetheart.”

“Is there not a limit on that card?”

“No, I don’t think I can set it up either, it’s one of two cards, company cards let’s say, but Seungkwan has the other explicitly to use for Hansol’s benefit and he knows he’ll be punished if I see anything suspicious on the statements.”

“Get the app up, let’s look; I know how to do all that,” you reason as you climb off his lap and sit expectantly against the pillows that you prop up at the headboard. When you’re settled and can see Seungcheol again, you find that he’s just sitting there and pouting at you. “What?”

“We were in the middle of something,” he reminds and places one hand on your thigh to squeeze a little, suggestively.

“Yes, and now I’m very aware that the door is open, and the boys can walk in any at second, so I’d rather they don’t see me naked and bouncing on your cock.”

Seungcheol gawps at you in stunned disbelief for a moment then dazedly nods and turns away to grab his phone from the side table. His movements are slow and a little stilted all the way until he’s at your side with his right arm around you and his phone in his left hand as he unlocks it.

“What?” You ask and he hums questioningly. “You went really weird there.”

“Just really fucking threw me off hearing you saying that. Didn’t expect it at all and now I’m just wondering what kinda dirty shit you’re capable of saying.”

“Oh, I’m sure you’ll find out soon enough, daddy.” He makes an unimpressed noise and lightly taps your arm with his right hand in scold while you giggle amusedly.

“You’re a brat, aren’t you?”

“I can be whatever you want me to be.”

“No,” he refutes with a sigh. “You’re not doing that, sweetheart, if we’re going to do this then I want you, not some version of you that you think I want. Don’t play into any of the shit you were taught to bait men, I just want you and what you like, okay?”

“I’m not sure I know what I like, I’ve never had the chance to really explore that. Sometimes I had some leeway with the targets but generally I was given a character to play and stuck to that to get the job done,” you admit and take his phone once he’s got the banking app unlocked and the correct card open.

“Have you ever had sex because you want to?”

“No, never had someone I wanted before.” Seungcheol doesn’t respond, letting you think the topic is over. “Okay, I can add a limit, what should I put?” You ask, then type in the number he mumbles, before you press confirm. “You should probably text them to let them know there’s a limit.”

“If they hit that limit tonight, I think money is the last of my problems, they’ll all have alcohol poisoning, sweetheart.”

“Ah, right, suppose. I don’t know how much all that costs.” You shrug and lean your head on his shoulder as he locks his phone and tosses it aside on the bed carelessly so that he can hold you with both arms.

“Sweetheart?” He starts after a few moments of calm silence while his fingers draw mindless, innocent patterns against your thigh. You hum to show you’re listening. “I need to ask what it is you want from me.”

“I thought we already discussed this months ago,” you murmur puzzled.

“I don’t mean that, I mean this, us.”

“Oh. I want you.”

“How?”

“You’ve got a kid, Seungcheol, you know how that works.”

“No,” he chuckles softly. “I’m not asking how sex works. I’m asking if that’s all you want from me, sex.”

“I don’t want your money.”

“Baby,” he lets out a soft breath and adjusts you both so that you’re sitting up and looking at each other. “I mean what relationship do you want from me? Is it just sex, or do you want more?”

“Oh,” you understand, nodding slowly as your eyes widen ever so slightly for a few seconds. “You’re asking if I expect you to be loyal to me and stuff. You’re a gang boss; I know loyalty to a woman isn’t part of that and-”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, hold the fuck up. Being a gang boss doesn’t mean that at all! My dad was always loyal to my mother, and he raised me to be the same. I don’t sleep around, sweetheart. If we do this, I’m only going to fuck you until you tell me you don’t want me anymore.”

“Does that mean you’d keep fucking me even if you don’t want me?” You frown. “I don’t like that, Seungcheol.”

“No, not at all. Of course, I’m not going to fuck someone I don’t want but I’m…I’m pretty fucking sure I wouldn’t be the one to end this.”

“What makes you say that? Neither of us know what will happen, you could meet someone else or get bored of me or something else.”

“Because this isn’t just sex for me. I get if you just want it to be about sex and I can do that, I’ll keep my feelings to myself and not try to blur lines, but I want to be with you.”

“W-with me?” You whisper and shuffle a little. “And feelings like…romantic?”

“Yeah, baby, feelings like romantic, as in I want to be in a committed relationship with you; I want to be yours and call you mine, but I’m not going to bitch and whine about it if you don’t want that. I’m a grown man, I can accept rejection so just…what do you want from me, baby? Do you want me like that or just sex?”

“I’ve never liked someone before,” you rush out and watch as his expression falls, making you realise that your words sound like a rejection. “No! Wait! Don’t-don’t look sad, I didn’t mean as if I still don’t. I like you, Seungcheol and I’ve never liked someone before, never done relationship type stuff so I don’t know how to do it right, is what I mean.”

“Oh,” he lifts his left arm so that he can cup your jaw and brush his thumb over your cheek tenderly. “You like me? Like really and not just attracted to me?”

“Yeah, I like you and I don’t know how to be a good girlfriend or even a mediocre one, but I’d really like the chance to try with you.”

“I haven’t been with someone in a long time either, not since Sol’s mother. I’m out of practice, so we can learn how to do it together, yeah?”

“Yeah,” you agree as a smile lifts your cheeks and his own features naturally mirror your joy as it grows. “Let’s learn together, Cheolie.”

“Fuck,” he breathes out and surges in to kiss you in a way he hasn’t yet. Before, the kisses were all heavy and intense and although there is plenty of passion in this one too, it doesn’t feel as if lust plays a part in it at all, only pure adoration. “That sounds so fucking cute, baby, always call me Cheolie.”

“Okay, Cheolie,” you agree simply and can’t help but giggle at the dopey smile he gives you from so close that his nose almost brushes yours. “Can we not make a big deal out of this?”

“As in not tell anyone?”

“I just don’t want to get ahead of ourselves in case it doesn’t work out.”

“Oh, right, well that makes sense, it’d be awkward to announce we’re together today then realise in a couple weeks we’re better as friends and have to say we’re over.”

“Exactly.”

“Okay, that’s fine, we can wait. I’d really like to be entirely certain before the boys know too.” You nod emphatically in agreement. “Though there’s a slight problem.”

“What?”

“Mingyu has definitely already told the guys he walked in on us.”

“Oh. How do you know that?”

“He’s one of my best friends, I know him. Know all of those nosey assholes and they definitely all know that we’re at least…physical.” You snort a laugh at his choice of phrasing. “Hey, don’t laugh at me, I didn’t want to say fucking when we haven’t done that.”

“Yet.”

He makes a strange hum of agreement in response. “Y-yep. Yet. Haven’t fucked yet.”

“Soon.”

“You want me to die, don’t you?”

“No. Whose cock am I going to bounce on then?”

“Alright, enough,” he grunts and abruptly tackles you to the bed, making you yelp and then giggle madly when he manhandles you to lay down facing away with his arms around you. “Stop talking like that or you’re going to wake up with something pressing against your ass.”

“I don’t think I’m into that,” you comment thoughtfully. “We can try it though, if you want.”

He groans and buries his face in your neck. “Please shut up and go to sleep, for the sake of my sanity.”

“But I’m not tired,” you complain.

“Want to watch TV?”

“You have a TV in here?” You crane your neck up to look around as best as you can, but you can’t see a TV on any of the bare walls. “There’s no TV.”

“It’s in the bed.”

“What?” You roll onto your back as Seungcheol lets you go to reach above you to the top of the headboard where there’s a little shelf behind it and he retrieves the remote. You watch as he presses a button at the top of the device and then the footrest of the bed opens up and a TV slowly rises from the end. “Whoa.”

“Cool huh?”

“That seems like a bad idea,” you comment and sit up to crawl over and poke at the TV once it’s still, so that you can test the stability. It’s surprisingly solid.

“It’s safe, these TVs are made extra sturdy to account for being in a bed.”

“Are they sex proof?”

“What?” He sputters and looks at you as if you’re crazy, but you’re still focused on testing the stability of the huge screen on the rack, which has been cleverly designed to match the bed and not be an eyesore. “You’re not supposed to fuck against it, babe!”

“That’s not what I mean. I mean movement of the bed itself, is the frame stable enough to protect the TV from those movements?”

“I would assume so; I’ve never had the chance to test it.”

“We’ll have to do that,” you decide and turn to crawl back over to where he’s partially propped up so that he can look at the TV without having his neck at an awkward angle.

“Oh, will we?” He muses as you fit yourself against his side with your arm across his waist and head on his shoulder.

“Mm, you’re going to have to fuck me really hard to really test the durability. And many times, so-” His right hand lifts from your waist as his arm is around you, and covers your mouth, making you peer up at him and find his dark gaze on you.

“Stop it before I lose my cool and risk mentally scarring the boys by testing that right now.” For a second, you almost goad him on, but you really don’t want the boys to see that, or hear it, so you nod in agreement. “Good girl.” He removes his hand from your mouth and cranes forward to peck your slightly pouty lips. “What shall we watch?”

“Does it have to be an adult movie?” You ask as you turn to settle back down and watch the screen where the streaming app are showing as he waits for your answer.

“No.”

“Good, because I really want to watch Cars.”

“Cars?” He laughs, already going into Disney+. “That’s not what I expected.”

“I wasn’t allowed to play with cars or learn anything about them, but I could watch this,” you explain.

“You really like cars, huh?”

“I don’t know,” you admit with a shrug, eyes glued to the screen to watch Seungcheol navigate the app to search for the movie. “I was just never allowed to find out, so it’s stuck with me.”

“Well, Jihoon says you’ll be a good mechanic and he’s more than happy to keep training you.”

“Even though I dented that car today?”

“I think he likes you even more now.” He chuckles and kisses your head. “Do you want to keep working with him?”

“Yeah, I like it there with him, we just…click, I think. It’s nice.”

“I’m glad you’ve gotten closer with him; he used to spend most of his time complaining about his team but now he talks about you and your lessons, how quickly you’re learning. I think it’s kind of cathartic for him, almost, having someone there who he doesn’t want to choke with a wrench.”

“That would be impractical.”

“Oh, but he’s a determined, demonic entity when he’s pissed off, he’d make it work.” He chuckles. “Anyway, let’s watch this and then if you’re still awake after, we’ll get a snack before starting the next one, yeah?”

“Sounds good to me, Cheolie.” Seungcheol presses a kiss to your head then plays the movie and gets comfortable with his right arm securely around you and his left hand holding yours on his chest where you can feel the content beating of his heart against your fingers.

Don’t forget to reblog if you liked to help spread the story and let others read it too! And don't be shy to leave comments or send an ask so I can see your thoughts 🥺 💖

Permanent taglist: @okiedokrie, @tusswrites, @svtiddiess, @codeinebelle

Finding Yourself taglist: @syluslittlecrows, @gaslysainz, @whoisbaek15, @cherry-zip, @minhui896, @choco-scoups, @coupsvi, @reiofsuns2001

[0-n-1-x]

I don’t know if you’re comfortable writing this, but I adore your work, and was wondering if you have any ideas for ADHD!reader X Damian? Thank you and take care of yourself! Drink water

Damian Wayne x ADHD!reader

link to my masterlist <33

Damian, despite his often serious and focused demeanor, shows an immense amount of patience when it comes to your ADHD. He doesn’t always understand why you do things a certain way, but he makes a genuine effort to learn and accommodate your needs.

You both bond over periods of hyperfocus, though yours are often spontaneous and unpredictable. Damian admires your ability to dive deep into subjects you're passionate about, even if it means you sometimes lose track of time or forget other tasks. (i also like to headcanon he has undiagnosed adhd too)

Damian’s disciplined nature often helps ground you when your thoughts are scattered. He’s good at gently reminding you of tasks without being overbearing, finding ways to make it fun or engaging so you can stay on track.

While Damian thrives on routine, he’s learned to be flexible with you. He understands that rigid schedules might not always work, so he’s open to adjusting plans or going with the flow when needed.

If you take medication, best believe he has timers and reminders on both of your phones, if you express to him that you want a break or to stop taking it, he supports your decisions.

Damian never judges you for stimming or fidgeting. He’s even gone as far as to research different fidget toys or objects that might help you feel more comfortable and focused. He might have a collection of small items stashed away just for you. He also always has a few on him in case you forget or want another.

Damian is there for you during emotional highs and lows. He recognizes when your ADHD leads to feelings of frustration or overwhelm and offers a quiet presence or comforting words, depending on what you need at the moment. (if you run out of spoons, he definitely takes over what you were doing so that it gets done and you don't have to worry about it, ex; finishing laundry)

In social situations, Damian is your biggest advocate. If someone doesn’t understand your ADHD or makes an insensitive comment, he’s quick to step in and set the record straight, all while being respectful but firm. He’s aware that social situations can be draining for you, especially if they require extended focus. Damian is always ready with an exit strategy if you need a break, and he’s fine with leaving early if you’re feeling overwhelmed.

[httpscameron]

spencer reid + neurodivergent reader

one of your man stims was jumping especially when you were excited. at first it took him off guard but when he realised he jumped with you. he loves when your jumping because it means something good is happening.

always always has stim toys on him, he even loves them his favourite is a rubix cube but doesnt mind a small squishy. he has a range of them for any of your needs.

if you forget stuff he always sets up reminders, he just knows so in the morning when he leaves before you do he writes a list for you on the fridge ‘keys on the coffee table, your work boots are on the porch, you left your phone in the bathroom.’ like he just knows you.

spencer when he realised you were neurodivergent or showing signs took it upon himself to read up on it, he already had extensive knowledge on it of course because its him and his mothers schizophrenia but he takes great care in making sure he’s knowledgeable for you.

he loves taking intrest in your special interests, if youre currently hyper fixated on paintings your next date is to the old musem with oil paintings in.

keeps headphones on him at all times, small ear plugs, headphones, ear defenders, everything. he wants to make sure youre comfortable in every situation especially if sound can be overwhelming for you.

spencer is a cutie so of course if youre feeling overwhelmed or overstimulated that man is taking you straight out of there.

masterlist

[kiestrokes]

Day 4: Stardust | NSFW

▸ Idol: Xu Minghao of SVT ▸ Rating: NSFW. Mature (18+) Minors DNI. ▸ Genre: active WIP, smut, monster fucking, dubcon. ▸ Vibe: Hao is the sleep paralysis demon that has been sexually edging you for months. Until one night you decided to edge him back. ▸ Warnings: language, demons, sleep paralysis.

Sexually Explicit Content: MONSTER FUCKING, DUBCON, DNI IF THESE THEMES ICK YOU OUT - IT IS FICTION - KINKSHAMING WILL BE BLOCKED/DELETED - intercourse (penis in vagina), raw sex, demon semen that has special effects, multiple orgasms for both, cum eating mentioned, mostly missionary, some cowgirl, kissing, marking, biting, clit stim, nipple stim.

🗝️ Note: Has not beta-ed by me or anyone else. Ok so listen…I toyed with the idea ever even posting this WIP. But then Hao goes and drops this single. I am bumping Jeonghan and Chanyeol to days 5 & 6 (you will get both at the same time). Minghao is taking day 4. I wrote this over the summer after being plagued with thoughts, that stemmed from an ask about SVT as Sex Workers. Good luck? Be nice.

Disclaimers: This is a work of fiction; I do not own any of the idols depicted below.

「 25 Hours: Hard, Soft and WIP-mas Masterlist 」

Xu Minghao is the sleep paralysis demon that has been edging you for months. He enchants your hands so you cannot get yourself off. Having to seek out men to do the job. As Minghao watches from the shadows.

None of them satisfy you.

He gives you just a little bit more during each of his visits. So close, left with frustratingly damp panties each time.

Until one night you say fuck the panties and go to bed nude.

Catching the demon off guard, his restraint shredding like nylon tights without your usual physical barriers to stop him.

He noses at your slit, a full glide, bumping of his nose against your clit. You moan groggily in your sleep, and he hisses in response.

Pinning your legs to the bed and licking you open. Your hips rock into his steady lapping until you start to come. You try to close your legs, but he won’t let you. His muffled groans as he eats away, pushing you into something far beyond overstimulation. You’re crying his name, body shaking.

Minghao finally relents and sits up to remove his pants. Stroking through your folds until he’s well lubricated.

“Wait-ah” you moan at the feeling of him bursting in.

You don’t see stars, you see swirls of dark purple and pink, a whole galaxy.

“Sorry little human my precum is a little…seductive.”

You come back into yourself to him hovering over you, hips plush against yours as he waits. Suddenly the patient demon you're used to haunting the corner of your bedroom.

“If you cum inside me, will I die?”

He laughs, “no you'll just have a really deep sleep.”

“Ok, that sounds nice.”

You nod and he smirks, “as if you had an option in this.”

Minghao flexes out and you gasp, “so tight.”

He snaps his hips, and you bow against the bed slightly in response. His long fingers grip your hips setting to work. Stroking your insides until you’re trembling on his cock, arousal coating his length with a creamy ring.

“Been that long huh?”

He chuckles at your intimate display, tugging your hips down a little harder enticing you become more vocal.

“Come on little human, come on my cock, milk me a little, let me fuck you sleepy.”

Your body tightens and so do your legs around his hips, “ahhh but wait-wait.”

You want a kiss but you’re coming around him and he’s moaning and picking up the pace as he releases just a little into you. His hips slowing as your body limps and falls into a light sleep.

“That’s it,” he fucks into you lightly as you doze.

Painted hands stroking your breasts and nipples before he lifts you up to sit in his lap. Cock buried deep inside so that he can have access to nuzzle your chest. Lips and teeth and tongue, kissing and sucking each breast and nipple.

Your skin silky under his turning him on so much so that he releases the love bite he had been sucking on your neck to choke out a surprised moan, leaking another release into you accidentally.

He pulls out to lay his dick against your clit, nestled in the valley of your netherlips. Hips rubbing listlessly as he explores your body. Until his palms clench handfuls of your ass to rut against you.

You cry out softly in your sleep at the clit stimulation and he ruts back inside. Fucking into you roughly as he lays you back down

“Mmm kiss” you whine.

Minghao rasps a laugh, clutching your jaw and to kiss your pouting lips before licking inside with a growl. You groan groggily and wrap your limbs around him.

He huffs, hips falling back into a steady rhythm with yours. Deeper this time in your embraced state. Gasping into your mouth between your needy kisses as he thrusts. Eating your moans.

“Could stay here all night, just fucking you like this.”

“Please,” you sigh.

The demon swirls his toned hips and your head presses back into the pillow climax building again. He watches you pumping you through it as you gush around him. Sweat slicking your bodies. His tongue flicks out to lap at your clavicle. Panting into your neck. Other hand tucked behind you on the small of your back.

“Another?”

“Yes,” he groans and sits back on his calves' lips parted fingers biting into your hips “so messy.”

- at one point he finishes but wants to eat you out and accidentally causes himself to fall asleep -

You wake up to him still in your bed and climb on top. He’s surprised that you’re not freaked out and lets you ride him.

“I’m not going to cum, you can fuck me as much as you want.”

You whine, “I want you to cum again.”

Minghao lets out a wispy laugh and cups your face.

“I’ll pull out?”

You nod eagerly. His head kicks back and he lets go as you ride him. Eyebrows furrowing as he watches you through slit eyes. Squeezing your thighs and ass appreciatively as you bounce on his cock. Your climax reaches you frustratingly quick, body falling out of rhythm. Minghao fucks up into you when you can’t continue on top, your muscles tightening on themselves, trying to fold you up. He flips you over, thrusting hard from above.

You’re mesmerized. His hair shimmers a rainbow colors in the morning light leaking through your curtains. You let out a choked moan as you orgasm hits you at the sight of him.

“Fuck, look at you," the demon gasps.

His hips stuttering and stills himself; muscles flexing before continuing.

“Not yet,” he hisses to himself.

Minghao slows his stroke, focusing on burying himself inside you. Stretching your sensitive core in a way that has you clutching the sheets to ground yourself.

“I want to consume you.”

You cry out, “you are, all I see is you, all I feel.”

© COPYRIGHT 2021 - 2024 by kiestrokes  All rights reserved. No portion of this work may be reproduced without written permission from the author. This includes translations.

[fanaticsnail]

we love unhinged dirty thoughts >w> they're funnnnn!!!! and aslkdjlkgf if you want my unhinged, tired flavour thought of the day- it is thusly... luffy could ostensibly get off from getting any part of his body being used as a stim chew toy. which is a v v fascinating thought, at least to us >w> - @remisloves

Oh, Remi. I love you. I see your Luffy wanting to be a chew toy and raise you a Kid wanting to be topped and dominated...

Told You You'd Like It

Masterlist Here

Word Count: 1,700+

Synopsis: You suggested something new in the bedroom, and your boyfriend immediately shot it down. You thought that's where the conversation ended, it had now flung from your thoughts never to be thought of by you again. Unbeknownst to you, Eustass Kid was consumed by the thought so much he almost thought on nothing else.

Warnings: Eustass Kid x gn!reader, penetration (reader and Kid receiving), rough smut, anal (Kid receiving), MDNI, 18+, smut, little to no plot, Kid is a switch, dumbification (Kid), Kid is into it.

Notes: I am a little loopy today and thought I'd try something new. Please read the warnings, do not read if it makes you uncomfortable!

Tag list: @sordidmusings @feral-artistry @since-im-already-here @writingmysanity @indydonuts @gingernut1314 @i-am-vita @carrotsunshine @mfreedomstuff @daydreamer-in-training

The first time you suggested the idea to him, Eustass Kid scoffed, berated you, and tied you to the bed and showed you exactly who was the dominant one in this relationship. The amount of times he coaxed orgasm after orgasm out of you, putting you in your place as your mind was spared of all thoughts other than how good his hand, lips and cock felt on your skin, had you regret ever suggesting such a notion. 

You had assumed the conversation died there: no more offerings of railing Eustass Kid and attempting something new in the bedroom he was yet to experience. Taking that into consideration, you refused to ask him again out of fear of the fact he'd make you cum on his metal hand again. 

But then he thought about it more. 

The thought alone of being topped, pleasure being pressed into him as he had done so many times before to you, was intriguing. He was wondering how it would feel, having you enter him and stretch his puckered and unexplored hole with your hands or anything else you wanted to try him with. 

And then he thought about it even more. Thinking about how it would feel to reach his depths, picturing how hard he would cum, or if he would even cum at all. The curiosity never ceased, and he needed to know exactly how it felt.

As he fucked you with his cock, his hips smacking with your body and watching your ass ripple with every thrust, he could picture nothing else than what it would feel like if you did the same to him. 

Would you grip his hips as hard as he gripped yours now? Would you bully his ass the same way that he was bullying you? Would he cry out with his eyes rolling back, contracting around you as you were around his cock now? Would he be loud, biting down on the mattress the same way you were, empty of all other thoughts than the way you'd feel caressing his depths?

“K-Kid I'm gonna-... I'm gonna c-cum-... Please can I cum? Please?” you whimpered, your body twitching and overstimulated as you pulsed over his throbbing shaft. He growled your name, forcing your back into a low arch as he pummeled himself into you harder and deeper. 

“Cum, fucking cum now. Cum on my cock,” he barked his order, feeling you ring and contract as you screamed his name through your bliss. He was not far after, painting your insides with ribbons of his cum while whining and panting into your shoulder. He bit down on the back of your neck as he felt his release spurt and splash back within your body. 

After spending time tidying, cleaning up your joint release and bringing back you both your favorite drink, he slung his arm loosely around your shoulders and drew you in close to him. 

Shifting up to look at him, you study his scarred face and noticed something behind his eyes. His gaze was fixed on the wooden wall in front of him, his lips falling into a line and staring vacantly ahead. 

“Are you okay, honey?” your soft question drew him out of his prior hypnosis, his eyes softening with a soothing smile drawing up his lips. 

“Yeah, m’alright Sunshine. Don't you worry, alrigh’?” he responded while muffling his voice against your temple, placing a soft kiss atop your skin. Humming against his touch, you lean into his embrace and nuzzle against his bare chest. 

“So long as you're sure,” you murmur to your lover, pressing your lips to his clavicle and nestling against him to begin to fall asleep. As your breathing evened, you fell into a soft and blissful slumber, your body spent and finally ushering you into the arms of rest. 

Eustass Kid would only dream of being so lucky. No sleep found him as he was consumed by the thoughts of you violating his body, entering his ass and bucking into him with reckless abandon. As the fifth hour of unrest drove him into the wee hours of the dawn, he could no longer stand the thought.

You felt your shoulders shake, waking you from your peace and forcing you to immediately draw up arms and ready yourself for a fight.

“What is it? Pirates, marines, bounty hunters?” you hushed your tone, reaching down and tugging your jacket up to place your arms into, “They above deck? Let's move-.” Kid’s arm clapped around yours, halting you as he gazed intensely into your eyes. 

“-I want you to fuck me in the ass,” he said humorlessly and in the absence of all mismeaning. His eyes holding nothing but all sincerity, almost sheepish in asking you such a request as soon as you woke.

After taking a moment, you held your eyes with his and slowly shrugged the jacket from your shoulders and placed it to the side. Deeply inhaling through your nose, you release a lengthy exhale and attempt to collect your thoughts and lower your heartbeat from the earlier adrenaline spike. 

“And you couldn't wait until the morning?” you slowly drawled at him, glaring up at him through your eyelashes. He shook his head, offering you a soft pout and widening his eyes innocently. You groan and roll your head on your shoulders in disdain for the lack of a full night's rest. 

“Okay,” you nod, gently coaxing him to lie on his back and crawl through his legs, “We'll start small and work our way up to-.”

“-No,” he uttered quietly. You lulled your head to the side, scanning over his face for any inhibitions. Upon finding only a sheepish grimace, his eyes lowered to the ground, and a warm blush rising up his cheeks, you slowly smirk and look down your nose at him with your brow arched high. 

When Kid met your eyes once more, the look you had was foreign to him. Looking possessed, consumed with desire and feral with lust, Kid gulped back his nerves and rounded his caramel eyes up at you. 

“Alright, pretty boy,” you smirk down at him, giving his chin a gentle tap with your index and middle fingers, “Lay on your stomach and arch your back.” You inched your way off him, aiding him to unceremoniously flip onto his belly. Gifting him an ‘L-shaped’ pillow from your side of the bed, you place his chin in the corner and rest it beneath his arms cradling his chest. 

“You're gonna regret not letting me work up to it,” you run your fingers down his spine, halting just above his ass cheeks before you grab at the taut muscles, “But if you're that adamant about it, I'll just go straight in.”

As tears began to sting the corner of his eyes, he bit down on the mattress while feeling your pelvis meet with his in a repetitive buck. You had warmed and stretched him with your fingers as best as you could without his impatience getting the better of him, but as soon as you drew down to the hilt, it was like a switch had been flipped inside Eustass Kid. 

He couldn't think, breathe or move without feeling how far his body stretched to accommodate your actions. Each cruel piston felt all too foreign, but oh so good. He was drunk on the feeling, his body completely dominated and relaxing beneath each thrust and grind. 

Kid whined your name, groaning into the pillow while biting down hard on the plush material. Reaching further depths than he could ever dream, his eyes began to roll as the blunt tip hit his prostate and had his cock twitch in the approach of ecstasy. 

“You're doing so well, honey,” you praised him, gripping his hips and bucking in harder to perpetually hit that sweet spot deep in his abdomen. You rake your blunt nails over his hip and down to circle around his painfully hard cock, choking the tip before pistoning the shaft in the same motion you fucked his ass with. 

Kid couldn't grace you with an answer, his mind finding itself vacant and jaw falling slack, as he drooled onto the flush material. His body began to contract, his balls lifting flush against his abdomen as his cock twitched in your palm. 

He couldn't warn you, his body immediately betraying him by snapping that coil deep within the pit of his stomach and spurting his seed in hot ropes of translucent release. His whined and strangled cry had you smile down at him. The tension on his shoulders fell slack as his body gave into the feeling of being completely spent.

Eustass Kid had never cum so hard and long in his life. Each time he thought his orgasm was close to concluding, another twitching wave shifted through him and pulsed through his cock in a spurt of viscous cum. He felt so full, so complete and stuffed to the brim and he couldn't get enough.  

The duvet beneath him was coated in the sheen of his cum, just as your palm was painted by his dribbling knob. His asshole twitched around you, still sheathed all the way to your abdomen and taking all you had given him. 

“You okay down there, honey?” you cooed down at him, feeling his cock still twitching in your hand as his shaft rapidly deflated. He couldn't nod, couldn't breath or speak without it coming out in incoherent babbling and mumbles. 

All you offered him while inching out of him was a simple phrase whispered into his ear with a gentle kiss on his cheek, “I fucking told you you'd like it.”

He offered a soft grunt in response, burying his blushing face into the pillow to hide his bashfulness. You hummed down in glee, crawling off him and beginning to ready several items to clean both of you up with, just as he did for you hours earlier. 

As you returned back to the room, all you could see was your hulking boyfriend laying flat on his back and haphazardly tucked into the duvet: face flushed, eyes peacefully shut, and a soft smile drawn up onto his lips. 

You would look forward to topping him again, and again, and again: never ceasing to tire from the overstimulated little whines and mewls from him each time you made him cum by fucking his ass. 

There was no denying it now. Eustass Kid enjoyed himself too much to let the situation never occur again. His sheepish grin, innocent rounded eyes, and biting his lips to stifle a blush was all you needed to see to know he wanted it. And you were more than happy to oblige him each time he was consumed with the need.

[were-all-idjits-here]

TFW Realizing You're Not Doing Well/Falling into Burnout Headcanons

Gender neutral reader Warnings: reader is struggling with mental health/burnout, but nothing is described other than that. A/N: Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated. My masterlist can be found here. Enjoy!

*

Sam

Even though Sam isn’t as outspoken as his brother, he’s silently very attentive and protective of you. When you start acting off and have more low energy than you usually do at some times and are more explosive at others, he immediately takes notice.

He doesn’t want to intrude on your space if that’s what you need, but he won’t let you avoid everyone and try to muscle through it yourself out of fear of being a burden.

If you’re the type to throw yourself into hunting in an attempt to just have a one-track mind and numb everything else out, Sam does his best to intercept before you get to your boiling point.  

He approaches you very gently, making sure you feel validated, understood, and appreciated and lets you know that, in his eyes, you’ve more than earned a break from everything. The hunting life is a lot and couple that with anything else you’ve got going on, it makes sense that it’s all overwhelming.

He suggests a trip, just you and him—or he’ll even help you plan and book and solo trip if you’d prefer—so you can decompress without worrying about anything.

Normally, the Winchesters don’t go for nicer hotels, but Sam insists you deserve to be pampered: free continental breakfast, a cleaning lady coming in daily, a laundry service—he’s even signed you up for this place’s special program that gets you discounts and extra perks (all under a fake name, of course).  

At first, you’re worried about how the others will handle everything without you (or the two of you, if Sam goes with you), but Sam and the others assure you that they’re well-prepared, have plenty of other hunters on standby, and will call you if there’s a true emergency where they need your help.

Sam reassures you constantly that yes, this feeling will get better and to take as long of a break as you need. When you joke that you feel like you need a whole year at least, he says, “how about we start with a month?”

He’s of course also around to take care of anything that you don’t have the mental energy for right now—helping you make phone calls, talking to people, helping you make lists and plotting things out in order of importance when you’re overwhelmed, and is so ready to pamper you, it almost makes you happy cry.

When you come back from your trip, if you feel you need more decompression time, Sam is more than happy to let you just hang around Bobby’s house, the bunker, even hold the fort down in the motel room as you travel around with them and become the designated research person they call if you’re up for it.

He of course loves his research, so he’s searching up everything he can on burnout, mental health, what helps, hobbies that can relax you while also keeping your mind from drifting into dark thoughts, coping strategies, ways to best regulate with your mental illness or neurodivergence, etc. He doesn’t want to overwhelm you, so gently introduces these things one by one and will never shame you if his suggestion is something you’ve previously tried that didn’t work or just immediately puts a bad taste in your mouth.

Overall, he’s very vocal about being committed to doing whatever it takes to help you feel better and will always be there to remind you of things that have proven to help you, hand you medications or stim toys as needed, and help make sure you’re taken care of.

Dean

Although he’s a bit louder than his brother, Dean isn’t as in tune with or good at talking about emotions. But he can immediately clock that you’re not your usual self.

He hates when someone else tries to push him to talk before he’s ready, so takes a while to quietly observe from the background, doing little things here and there to make your life easier without saying anything.

You mentioned your side of the motel room is a mess and you’re dreading putting it back all nice and neat in your bag? Already done next time you step into the motel room—and your bag is even put back together the exact way you like it.

Need your comfort food? Oh, what a coincidence, Dean just happened to be heading towards a restaurant/shop/store that he knows has it and he’ll get a bunch for you.

Need a minute to just breathe mid-hunt? Well, he doesn’t know about you, but he’s really craving some caffeine and there was a nice, quiet coffee shop just down the street where you two can sit and look over the case details (of course, you don’t really look over anything once you’re there and he doesn’t push you to).

Eventually, the signs of you being constantly dysregulated and burned out are too much for even him to ignore. He’s a bit more blunt in his delivery than Sam, but echoes the same sentiments that you’ve had a lot to deal with recently and it’s understandable that you just need a break—from everyone and everything, and he has the perfect solution: a camping trip.

If you’ve never been camping, he’s happy to show you the ropes and insists that being surrounded by nature with no one around for miles will help reset anyone’s brain. Whether you go full-blown camper and stay in a tent or pick one of John or Bobby’s old hunting cabins for more amenities and plumbing is up to you. But you’re not gonna worry about a single thing the entire time: he’s got all planned out with Sam, Cas, and the other hunters in their inner circle where they’ll be okay without the two of you for a few weeks.

Although he’s not as verbally lovey and blurting as many verbal reassurances as his brother, you still find him doing things for you before you can even vocalize they need to be done, making you realize just how much he’s been paying attention to you, how you like things, what you have to do to feel comfortable, etc.

Whether it’s over an open campfire or a cabin cooktop, he’s also making you some of the best meals you’ve ever had, letting you suggest whatever you want. The menu is completely up to you.

He tries to stay upbeat for you and seems like he’s also excited to take a break too. Things like walking into the room, slapping and rubbing his hands together and saying, “so, what are we thinking for today?”

He also gets a little more touchy than usual during this time. I’m a big believe that Dean is a huge physical touch person and that’s his main form of communicating his love for you anyway: but now there are so many more massages, rubbing your arm, squeezing your hand, random kisses, and just doing whatever he can physically to make sure you’re good to go.

Similar to Sam, if you return from your trip and feel you still need some time, he’s happy to accommodate you in any way—no matter where you need to stay, how little you need to do, he’s got all of it handled.

He’s not the researcher his brother is, but we’ve seen him struggle before and I strongly feel he’s neurodivergent, so I feel he’d be really good at helping you navigate that and showing you things to calm you down based on his own experiences—especially if you’re the type that needs to just blow off some steam sometimes, like him. He’s more than happy to take you ax/knife throwing, spar with you, take you to the shooting range, etc.

He does throw in an occasional verbal “you’ve got this/you’re doing great,” but shows you much more with his actions—but makes sure his actions are still loud enough to translate loud and clear that you’re very, very loved.

Castiel

Depending on where Cas is in his journey, he’s still getting the hang of understanding humans, but he can clearly see you’re not acting like your usual self.

Being the blunt angel he is, he immediately starts asking you questions about it, trying to understand what’s going on and why. His delivery will be gentler the longer he’s a part of Team Free Will, but either way, you can tell he’s genuinely curious versus asking to try and shame you.

If explaining everything going on is too much for you to handle, Sam and Dean will gladly take over and explain human burnout/mental health issues to him.

Cas is at first very sad you’re having this experience and again, the brothers have to explain to him this isn’t something he can heal with his powers—which makes him even sadder and even more determined to help you.

He requests Sam’s help researching exactly how what you’re going through feels, what could help, and how to show someone you care. Sam gets him started, but he then continues researching on his own until he’s fairly certain he can at least empathize.

He may get it wrong a few times in the beginning, but always tries his best, bringing you little flowers and trinkets to brighten up your day at first before teaching himself some breathing techniques and coping strategies so he can then teach them to you.

If you need to go off somewhere, he of course offers to teleport you anywhere in the world you want to go. His suggestion is a remote Airbnb up in the mountains (he’s fascinated by how willing some of the bears are to get close to humans and even tries to have a conversation with one—then is scandalized when it tries to break into someone’s car to find food). Sometimes he disappears and reappears later with delicious takeout if you’re not up for cooking and is always ready and willing to help you with any chores that need to be done.

If you still need more time after your mountain trip, he’s constantly teleporting to visit you and always brings gifts with him. If stim toys help you, you suddenly have multiple boxes full of so many and have no idea where he got them all.

He eventually tries to clumsily confess to you that he just cares about you deeply and wants you to feel better and be happy again, and feels bad that he can’t just angel-power your pain away. He tells you how he thinks you’re an amazing, brilliant person that he feels so grateful to know and that you won’t always feel this way and deserve to feel better.

He’s a bit shy with physical touch, but will always reciprocate if you initiate.

He reiterates multiple times that he’s here for whatever you need. All you have to do is ask and he’ll be so happy to do/get it for you because to him, you’re his family.

[green-tea-in-absinthe-bottle]

KEEP AN EYE ON THE ROAD

How does he behave as your driver? (for the sake of headcannon you are Stellaron Hunter in this one)

General masterlist

Being Blade's passenger princess includes:

🛑 Blade driving in complete silence, you weren't sure if radio in his car was even working cause he never turned it on. Blade was not the man for small talk, he seemed to ignore you, despite you sitting right next to him. So once he actually spoke up to check up on you, you almost jumped out of your sit. His voice was rough contrasting with his elegant manner of speech.

🛑 He might not seem to be the kindest person, but if he notices any signs of discomfort from you he will try to accommodate you. If you are thirsty or hungry he will buy you something on the way, you don't even have to ask. Don't try to pay him back, he won't take the money.

🛑 He feels responsible for you when you are in his car, so he drives slower than he would on his own. Very good driver, he rides smoothly and respects all the laws. Well, unless something unexpected happens and you guys have to run away from people trying to get the money for his head.

🛑 In case of such danger expect him to keep you safe at all costs but he might sacrifice his car in the process. At best it's just gonna be abandoned somewhere along the way so enemies can't get you by following the car, at worst it will probably burn to ashes. In such case Kafka will pick you guys up sooner or later.

🛑 If there are any animals you will get excited by a long the way like horses or cows he will slow down so you can take a better look at them. Don't point at them and try to make him take a look, he will get grumpy and scowl at you for distracting him.

🛑 Expect many breaks on the road, that man is a senior citizen and he needs to rest his eyes from time to time. On the other hand he will let you take as many bathroom breaks as you need without muttering a single word.

🛑 Always keeps a blanket for you in his car, if you use such things he will also have stimming toys so you can survive long trips with minimal discomfort. He tinkered a bit with his car in the free time, as much as his stiff hands allowed him to, and has warmed up sits in this old machine. How did he do that? No idea, he was great at making mechanisms once so maybe this won't blow up.

[7ndipity]

Them With An Autistic S/o

Ot7 x Reader

Summary: How the members would handle/react to their S/o being on the spectrum.

Warnings: Mentions of sensory issues, feeling over/under stimulated, depression, meltdowns, stimming.

A/N: Thanks to the lovely anon who requested this! This is a list I’ve actually wanted to write for a while, but I’d been slightly nervous/unsure about it. But as someone who’s also on the spectrum, I know how much comfort similar posts from other blogs have brought me! I also tried to keep this one a bit lighter, since someone asked for a separate list about meltdowns/shutdowns, but if there’s any specific reactions/hcs like this that you guys want, let me know! (Please note that these are based off my own knowledge/experience, so I’m sorry if they don’t fit for everyone)

Masterlist

°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

Jin:

I feel like he’d be slightly confused and worried at first because he’s not sure what to do/how to help you, but once you explain a bit more, he gets a lot more comfortable, and really is such a good caregiver when he needs to be.

Catches onto your different stims pretty quickly and what each one means.

Like, y’all have whole conversations solely through funny little hums and stim noises.

Really good at reading and matching your mood/energy. You wanna talk about the Mayans nonstop for two hours? Cool! You want to just sit silently and do nothing? Also cool!

He’s really good at normalizing your symptoms and making them seem like nbd(because to him, they aren’t) Food sensitivities? He’s got them too! You hate loud noises and crowds? Same Honey, let’s get the fuck outta here! He knows they’re not quite the same thing, of course, but if it makes you feel more comfortable and safe being your true, unmasked self with him, then that’s all that matters to him.

Really good at calming you down when you feel overwhelmed or on the verge of meltdown.

Does his absolute best to bring your mood up whenever you’re struggling or feeling really down, pulling out his best dad jokes(even if they don’t make sense to you), bringing your favorite snacks, etc.

Yoongi:

I think he would handle it really well. Does his research after you tell him, and asks you about it casually during dates/hangouts.

So fucking respectful of your boundries. If you prefer to have your own space, he’s totally fine letting you do your own thing. If you need more closeness and cuddles, he’s all over that too, letting you sit right next to him while he works.

Not only lets you rant about your special interests, but makes the effort to take interest in them and asks questions. Randomly buys you little things related to them.

He’s so calming and soothing when you’re feeling stressed or overstimulated, understanding whenever you randomly need rest or quiet time(stress nap buddies)

Keeps things like extra sunglasses and headphones in his bag for you, just in case you forget yours.

Would have a lot of fun if you have audio stims, letting you listen to his new songs because your reactions and enthusiasm are so cute to him. Makes you panning audios as gifts.

Always there to look out for you whenever executive dysfunction decides to kick your ass. Washes the dishes, doing the laundry, restocking your safe foods, etc. He would also be really good at body doubling.

Hobi:

I honestly think he would be really good with an S/O on the spectrum. Like, he literally designed Mang, who is soo ND coded like omg😭, so I think he would be able to understand you really well.

(if you haven’t seen the videos of him talking about Mang’s personality and character traits during the re-design process last year, pls go watch them, I almost cried)

Loves buying you new fidgets and stim toys whenever he finds new ones to try(he even has a collection of chewlery that he wears bc he thinks they’re neat).

Is really good reading you and distracting you when you start to get overstimulated or anxious, sometimes noticing before you do.

Lowkey protective over you in spaces and situations he knows are stressful for you, positioning himself next to you whenever he spots things he knows bother you.

You know how Yoongi described him as a vitamin? That’s how it is for you now too.💛

He’s so stimmy himself, so he would find a lot of your stims really relatable and endearing. Like, if you start happy stimming, he can’t help but join right in, bouncing or squealing with you. It makes him so happy that you feel comfortable enough with him to share those parts of yourself with him.

Namjoon:

Instantly super supportive when you told him, making an effort to research on his own, as well as listening to your personal experiences to understand as much as possible.

Happily sits and lets you info-dump about your special interests. He honestly loves seeing you so passionate and animated about whatever you’re talking about and loves getting a glimpse into how your mind works(it was probably during one of these moments that he realized he was in love with you)

Surprisingly good pebbler, he’s always finding cool rocks or shells for your collections.

Doesn’t mind speaking for you on days when you’re nonverbal.

The sweetest when you’re feeling overstimulated. He closes all the curtains to make it dark and cozy and sits with you, talking as softly as needed or not talking at all, tapping your hand gently now and then to let you know he’s still there.

Soo protective over you, almost to a fault at times. Like, you might have to scold him once or twice about babying you, but he really doesn’t mean to, he just wants to make sure you’re safe and happy.

The world feels a lot less scary tho with him next you. You know if you need anything, he’s got your back.

Jimin:

The softest boi🥺 He was honestly a little scared when you first told him, because he didn’t want to do anything wrong and was worried he wouldn’t be ‘good’ at looking after you, but he quickly relaxed and grew more confident as he learned more from you.

The best comforter when you’re feeling overwhelmed or depressed, full of quiet reassurances and long hugs(if you’re okay with those). He’ll gladly cuddle with you under your weighted blanket for however long you need to feel better.

Literally set up a little “nest” for you at his place with a like beanbag chair and your favorite types of blankets/pillows, so you have your own place to just ‘be’ and recoup when you need it.

Carries fidget toys and sensory aids like sunglasses and headphones with him at all times, just in case you need them.

Really good at communicating with you on days when you’re nonverbal, whether through texts or little notes(which he always adds little doodles on to make your smile😊)

Makes sure you never feel guilty or like a burden to him for letting him in on those tougher days. If anything, they make him love you even more because of the trust you have in him.

It really makes him feel so proud and happy inside that you find so much comfort in his presence and that he gets to take care of you.💜

Taehyung:

Another that I think would be particularly good with a neurodivergent S/O. Like, everyone jokes about how he’s weird, so I think he’d love that you’re both your kind of own unique kinds of ‘weird’.

Happily rewatches your favorite comfort shows/films with you, and speaks in fluent film quotes with you.

Loves when you fidget and stim with his hands or fingers.

If you like pressure stims, he’s a dream come true. Like, the man’s a living weighted blanket, so when you basically give him a doctor's note for cuddles? He’s never gonna let you go.

As relaxed as he might come across sometimes tho, he’s super observant of your stims and triggers and takes it so seriously whenever you start feeling overwhelmed or stressed.

It doesn’t matter where you are or what you’re doing, if you need a break, he’s getting you to a quiet place where you can sit and just recalibrate.

Rivals Jin and Yoongi for top spot in the acts of service department on your bad days, making sure you eat properly, doing any household chores that need done. He even learned how to wash your weighted blanket so you don’t have to.

Jungkook:

Was definitely a little lost and overwhelmed when you first explained everything to him, but he really takes it in stride and tries to learn as much as possible to help make things easier for you where he can.

The King of comfort squeezes. Like you’ve seen his arms, he gives the best hugs, I just know it(especially on those “the weighted blanket isn't enough, I need a hydraulic press” days)

Loves learning about your special interests. Like, It’s no longer just your special interest, it’s our special interest. He’s even studying and finding things for it on his own to surprise you with.

Honestly plays with some of your fidget toys more than you do, lol! You might even end up giving him a few of his favorites😊

Gets super happy and smiley whenever you get echolalia of his songs.

Another member of the protective squad, ain’t no bad stimuli getting to his baby if he can help it!

The gentlest with you when you're overstimulated or having a tough day. Anything you need, he’ll do without question. All he cares about is making sure that you feel safe and comfortable🥺

Taglist: @sopebubbles-replies @btsw1fe @this-must-be-my-tardis @whitefoxgirl @bethanysnow @coffeedepressionsoup @main-bangtansmauyeondan @feminympho @a-gayish-unicorn @dfqcsqueen @mother2monsters @captainorangegoose @k4ngelz

[darksturnz]

#INTRODUCING. . . STAR.ᐟREADER

(dividers by @bernardsbendystraws)

best paired with: artist!chris masterlist: here

all things witty ✧ smudged eyeliner. glitter. silver jewelry. chipped black nail polish. scuffed boots. thrifted band tees. bedazzled lighter. the smell of rain and cigarette smoke. late-night drives. cheap coffee. The neighborhood.

✩ STAR.ᐟREADER who has been obsessed with space since she was a little kid, spending hours memorizing constellations and reading about black holes, planets, and the Big Bang.

✩ STAR.ᐟREADER who does all her own piercings at home with a $15 amazon kit, claiming that paying for someone else to do it is just unnecessary.

✩ STAR.ᐟREADER who struggles with sensory overload but finds comfort in the quiet consistency of stargazing, where the world feels calm and predictable.

✩ STAR.ᐟREADER who info-dumps about space to anyone who’ll listen (and even those who won’t), her voice getting louder and more animated as she dives deeper into her favorite topic.

✩ STAR.ᐟREADER whose parents placed little glowing stars around the ceiling of her room in accurate constellations when she was younger to keep her from sneaking outside at night to view the real ones.

✩ STAR.ᐟREADER who HATES driving and refuses to get her license, in fact she rarely gets into an actual car, she prefers to walk where she needs to go.

✩ STAR.ᐟREADER who is constantly changing her appearance, never really settling on just one aesthetic and her room is a product of that.

✩ STAR.ᐟREADER who wears her headphones almost everywhere, using music or white noise to help filter out overwhelming sounds, and is very big on making playlists full of songs for the people she loves.

✩ STAR.ᐟREADER who always has a comforting fidget toy or rock in her pocket, her favorite being a small, smooth stone she found outside the trailer.

✩ STAR.ᐟREADER who struggles with self-doubt but lights up when people show interest in her passions, like the time her dad stayed sober and spent all night up with her on the trailer roof just to watch a meteor shower on her 16th birthday.

✩ STAR.ᐟREADER who zones out completely when she’s focused on something, often to the point of forgetting to eat or sleep, especially when she’s nose deep in a new hobby.

✩ STAR.ᐟREADER who talks really fast when she’s excited, and her body moments are very animated along side it. and her occasional usage of marijuana only fuels it.

✩ STAR.ᐟREADER who has a hard time with change and gets anxious when routines are disrupted, but she’s learning to go with the flow

✩ STAR.ᐟREADER who stims by pacing around the room while explaining the concept of wormholes, creation of galaxies and the moon landing undoubtedly being fake.

✩ STAR.ᐟREADER who always has her nails painted, using the polish as a sensory tool to pick at whenever she feels anxious, hence it always being chipped.

authors note: major creds to the people who have already wrote story lines with these au’s. i did some searching and quite frankly there’s just too many of you writing them for me to list out everyone :,) i hope you guys are just as excited for this series as i am. also, these are so long i know but i promise they just make it a storyline without me actually writing one, saves us both time LOL.

TAG LIST: @jetaimevous @sturnsblunt @riasturns @ifwdominicfike @chrissturns-wife @mattsmunch @pip4444chris @ribread03 @ariestrxsh @angelic-sturniolos111 @pvssychicken @mattslolita @stvrnzcherries @dottieboo @lovergirl4gracieabrams

[edenspoem]

saturated sanctity

tonguefucking raw in the barn, away from dina's eyes ౨ৎ

. part two 𝜗𝜚

❛you had cunt on your mind, 'n cum on your breath❜

PREVIOUS CHAPTER . NEXT CHAPTER > .ᐟ ♡. summary; a chore so innocent and prosaic, far from featherbedding and near to plucking grain from your scalp– turns for the worst, or the best? i soundly connote, fornication ventured on two bends of eager knees, drinking you from beneath the hood 𐙚 .ᐟ ♡. cw; depictions of infidelity, homewrecking, semi-risky sex, jealousy, bit angsty, tension, guilt, pining, tears are shed, playing around, lusting, clit stim (r, fingers and oral), fingering (r), pussy eating (r), scant nipple stim (r), ass groping, ass slapping, breast groping, swallowing slick, pussy slapping, steamy make-out buildup, dirty talk, needy ellie, smug ellie as usual, dom!ellie, sub!reader (i swear sub!ellie is coming next chapter) domestic acts, bold text is flashback dialogue, petnames; babe, baby, good girl (lmk if i missed anything) .ᐟ ♡. pairing; farm!ellie x farmhand!reader .ᐟ ♡. a/n; ending feels a little lazy but it is what it is. hey i'll pull through on ss3 that's like the smut crux, if u get my jizzst..

✵ masterlist ✵ series masterlist ✵ got too lazy 2 proofread right away ✵ WC; 9.8k+

VOLUME TWO - The skin that flakes/ Under the hood

𝄞

Indulgences have the gall to peck at you. 

Pecky and prickly as the oncoming hens do, handwriting–on–the–wall misgivings that throttle you off a steady minute by minute track. Small nuances under light of sun kept doing so this week, numerous things apropos of bawdy suggestions wisped by that reckless pink snake of hers– always mere footsteps from running into Dina, ‘I think it would be, really, reaaally hot if you didn’t wear your p-panties at the table, tonight..’ always brain–caked in a bit of alcohol, hiccuping. Or, even when a cold cuff cocoons the hind of your upper–thigh, an inch below the crease of your butt and done as she passes like a ghost behind you in the kitchen. 

A plum bruise should have formed from how often you flicked that forehead of hers. But no, of course no. The only thing that formed each time was a cocky curl into her lips, corkscrewing those fine hazel freckles connate to a whirlpool in water.

Owing to the fact that she lacked sufficient care from you, has her pouting when you deny her. Denied her of that fiendish wish to lie beside each other– even if it be upon that packed sofa, or– of her vehement dreams, reposing within sniffing distance of an ambery lit fireplace, running her work–worn fingertips along your hill of chest, letting the beat beneath your breast verse in her hands a tale to beckon her own in accordance, toasting aflutter with love. She would push a kind pressure to said breast, emboss prints to squishy skin, mold it to her liking, and smirk when your nipple erects and bends under her hardy palm. 

On the other hand, woe of denial, she sought Dina in your figment. When she wasn't courting twisted fingers up your billowing skirt, she instead smelt her heart in twisting her from the inside out, which– even more woefully, gave Dina the impression that Ellie had come crawling back on starved knees. Woe is her, to misreckon and take what she thought was hers to safekeep.

Arteries, wrenched and awreck, you felt a toy in contrast to what really stood. Worry. 

Worries are the hens, pecking at you.

Will Dina catch you two here? Over there? This night, or the inbound day? Tines of time aren't obligated to tell, ringing of peril whenever they yen a sign to sow.

Thoughts would only continue to foment come light of day.

A lemony sun has risen beyond the hill laden skyline, plucking rays for your wake. Muted orange tones mingle and caper into flaming reds on the crest of your sealed eyelids, caught just as you bid adieu to your cotton sogged dream. For dreams die, at every crossroad.

“Mhh..” the gentlest brush of breath hinders sun washed quietude split, and a set of toes curving down to a stretch. Achy aches ache, as there’s enough ache to go around for farm hands such as you, ugh right? 

Disturbing be the sunlight drawing blinding rays on your bleary pupils, attempting to shade out familiar nooks of your room. Ah, there we go, hues of sable dark in unvisited corners and shyly crowding the light, fluid out of the clear glass pane. As the couch is situated opposite of this blaring window, it greets you quite rudely. 

The moment colors begin to mature and petrify within your vision, you're already hiking up a foot and rocking your bottom off the quaint sofa, veering a peek to the indent left. Slept like a log, huh? Feet plant weight on plods carrying you towards the wardrobe, grantingly aside the wide pearl–border window, flitting a forearm up to block incoming light. 

A huff bloats your cheeks and pouts ducky lips, then grumbling a burden off your shoulders, “Hhhmmmm..” no truer words were spoken.

You lodge fingers in oaken crevices and pull a sundry of drawers from their frame, rubbing cotton on wool as you dig without aim on what you may don, this or that, with which and what, where and when. Blah, yawn, bored, you avert your gaze on lucent glass and scrutinize a pine bough panorama– only for your eyes to spring and espy a sparkle.

A gleam of skin.

And a tuft of copper.

Ellie.

Her torso fit in a white ribbed tank, soaked in hues of gray at the dip cut collar, and handsomely clung to her perky breasts. An arm raises, a graceful length likeness of a canopy above her head, stretching freckled flesh over toned muscles, the grooves– shadowed in a whisper of brown, highlighted celestially, and exposing a small auburn bush beneath her pit. A seen groan escapes her slit gob, brows hefty– she crumples them dear into her eye sockets, ruching the thin skin. Exertion tapered her body akin to clay, and it was undeniably hot, scrunching her face up like that. Ellie then juts her hips forward and casts her head rearward as she stretches, releasing all tension in a swing of her arms down. 

Seems like she's tending to the fore yards.

Dew gleams honey, sweat paints skin, and portrays your girls as a ruddy rose in dashing spring. Ruddy, yeah, that solar ball in the sky sure made her skin popping arid of paleness. Naturally, her freckles betone like pepper, bulging on her red face– which scrunches in her gripe of stress.

Her lips part, mouthing an obvious, ‘Fucking hell.’ and baring teeth after, slightly. Lashes interwoven, her eyes stayed squinted, only to widen and dart when a muffled shout rattles the walls.

Right, fuck, Dina needs me.

Just as the drizzly auburn–head jogs from a peeking view and presumably into the house, you reverse and capsize through stacks of cloth until you land your choice– a sundress. Hey, it's hot today, let your butt breathe for a change. You dangle it by the thin straps prior to pleating up the skirt and slinking it over your crown, yanking every seam in place. Ruffles hit a stonecast above your knee, a sensible length.

But one question stands unturned.

Bra, or no bra?

Hmm.

No bra.

A proper chest of cotton cradles your breasts come rain or shine, not like Dina would mind with brine, nor judge off the heart– just freeing the girls. No biggie. The woven material lollops to a fare–thee–well, cozy on the curve, ribbing as it falls in place. Now, you just need something on your feet. Striding forth, waxing a gale, bare steps soften on each oak board's scant gap, sylvan grain texture grazing your toes. Just a few feet ayond the couch is your shoe cubby, small box frames home to varied work boots and scuffed sneakers, and based on today, you choose boots, clasping the hardy backstays in a pinch. You crouch and gripe at the sore sting your knees gave, manning it through and sliding foot by foot plumb to the squishy sole of your boots, tying up the cordy laces.

Guh, these boots are near rugged.

Ignoring the plain–in–sight fray to your boots’ hemp laces, you grasp and wrench the icy knob ‘round till the door grinds a cry open. Stepping under the arch, you brisk thump by thump and cut where the hallway bends, advancing the dining table.

A dyad of ears harks your growing din of solid steps, calling, “There you are, did'ja sleep like a log?” mellifluous notes of Dina's cadence carries, veering your sight on the kitchen– where she be, perching an oaken honeycomb rack to forearm.

That I did.

“Yuup–” you pirouette, spanning the table's border and hiking that very ridge plane into your butt, sighing, “sun was there to greet me, obnoxiously.” leaning into the table, you grouse lightheardedly.

“Oh shit– sorry ‘bout that, swear I'll put up a–”

“Don't worry, it's the one thing that actually wakes me up these days,” you crack a quip, chuckling with an open mouth.

Dina caters a kind tug on her mauve lips prior to whisking her eyes returned, a glossy honey to be. Syrupy knuckles press and crinkle in the hilt of a honey fork, pruning waxy slices and welling gold bubbles, crafting a drippy stream that canals into a glass bowl. Through laden light it gains a gilded life, casting a tiny star on the moist blob– and there you witness, nectar of the gods.

Capricious minds might have swiped a dollop of that sweet, sweet delicacy by now.

Weighing the silence, you tempt thoughts racing around your skull. What chore am I assigned today? Where is the cacophony of babbles and gurgles that follow Dina like a haunting spirit? Where did Ellie go? Ellie, Ellie, Els.

God did she look breathtaking in that tight–

A rush of thuds divert your curious eyes to the creaking stairs, preluding the swell of said babbles and a husky voice, Ellie's voice. 

“Dina?” hailed she, echoing halfway down the steps, “I changed his diaper!”

Dina cocks her head in heed, crowing back, “Okay! Just– give ‘im to her!” tone knocking against the hollowed walls, then, she sheers attention to you, “mind feeding him?” 

You hum a keen, “Mhm.” void of second qualms and wait on that certain honey–head to appear, hearing the increments of footsteps draw lower and nearer.

The honeylike cowl, stria of fawn auburn drapes soft strands to laze with a purpose on her neck, fashioning that scruffy mullet eyes prize after. Honeykin defines the head that tags after gray, deadbeat converse hop the last few steps and plant still on the oaken floor. For a honey so sinful sought you, and buys a bite of time, to stare.

Her liven pasture eyes catch on you, just a moment, and skip away, reminded of what she intends, “Uh, here.” her forearms unfurl and slink to you, offering JJ up in thankful arms.

You rub in bare flesh to hers, scooping the gurgly baby in a shyer than thankful human cradle, foreheads feckly bumping into each other as you swap, a ghosting of heads. A whaff of her work–spent scent digs into your brain, and you had to admit, it was a tinge sort of lovely. She had the farmyard tang about her, blessed with sweat, a firming physique, a stare that caught you a corpus melting in her esse.

Fairer than the weeks before her touching of you, the bounty it procured was tame, fair is the present. Fairest days, faring a harvest more splendid than dreams carping yonder ebony skies and heavy heads. An unruffled weightlessness many souls find hopes fed in, you found aplenty of in the waking world. With Ellie, you drank laughs, fiddled about the haystacks, snuck apples in your fist– nicking dewey chunks down her gullet in shared kisses, or let her shamelessly tug some of your ass meat in horny hands. Oh, isn't infidelity just the niftiest drug.

Smitten as a kitten, you are.

Carpe diem.

“You’ sleep well?” asked Els in monotone, pitching a paw up to weave through her jumbled locks, splitting strands.

Heaving a breeze, you sigh, “Decent enough, you?” and counter the question, bobbing your stance on bending knees– pray that baby doesn't scream, as always. 

“Like a baby,” she asserts, lush of a brag, dropping her hand and poking at the chubby–cheeked fella, who just got a free mention, “not so much this one, yeahh? Did you scream my ear off all night?” cooing.

“Mhm, heard that.” you add.

“Betcha did.”

“Hmm.”

Her eyes peek up, and goddess, it's that look again. Oh yes, the very gaze spilt upon the oaken table that hale spring day, a twinning star. These eyes, ladies and gentle–non–mens’, fondled a plight of husky play sat on the edge of her mucky mind, and it showed vividly in those flourishing pupils that thin her pine–lined eyes. Tilted smirk dotting dimples in her big appley cheeks, cuspid teeth goring a dint in chapped lips crying with dire need of moisture. Sexy– minus the lips maybe.

She knows what effect that look has.

What exactly sits vanward of that hormone tipsy mind, is an excerpt best served in the formula of two tongues tied– for even Ellie herself may strive to compose hunger incarnate at this fledgling hour of daybreak. And yet she cannot. The mere thought of your pussy clots her brain cells. So, how do we fix that?

Play pretend!

“Hey babe,” that auburnette already had her head whipped south towards Dina before you could flit a blink, feet sparking her a brisk carry yon the shabby oak floor. Creak, creak, clonk, foot by foot she departs a sliver of bitterness in your chest. 

A demure bitter, a sense you can simply shake off. For now.

“There you are..” spoken so softly from Dina, who still had a rack of flaxen honeycomb in her hold, slanting to an angle, “what took ya so long?” voice curling.

“Wasn't that long,” she emphasized her vowels, “m'here now..” 

“Good..” 

She was far from there.

“Mhh,” hummed Ellie, pressing her lips into a thin stroke, puckering about to intone a curly, “ohhh, honey– can I have a lick?”

“Mh–mm, that's for the apples.”

“Aww.”

A meshing of lovers. Real love, virgin love, dying love, feigned love, it all wreathes together on the outside– for the sake of earthly vein, tender were those emotions long ago. Hasty do the doves encircle a budding entanglement, and bells chime where dust remains uncollected on wanton hearts. Uncanny, do the crows crawl in their grandeur of an affection died– sprawling sooty wings through tough gravel and mushy mud, rendering them unable to fly again. Unearth that shit, and you're seated for a whole fuckfest, indeed. 

So consume what you see with a grain of shit–face nothingness.

Ellie slinks a glide upon Dina, pushing her harsher on the counter's nook and slumping arms to swaddle her torso. She cradled her in the natural bow of her body, projection of her bony hips plated dual plumb dimples in her ass, grinding with a purpose. Denim chafes on denim, bringing a light noise of fabricy licks. The cottony hem of her soiled tank begins to bunch with each rolled hump, proving the friction to be– lustful. Her hands wander her body, not yours, pausing and choking the fat plush of her thighs, losing sunny–ruddy pigment to wanting pressure, then releases, and traces back up.

Pupils of yours aimed so pinpoint on each sweep of her hand, yet, you bore an idle set of gestures. Cupping a waxy rubber bottle in your grasp, brimmed with milk opaque of lily–white and feinting a crisp chill to your fingertips, you park the nozzle to the baby's lips. Giving a squeeze with care, you feed him– idly, idly turned from the scene afore, except for your eyes.

Strain sets a pull on them as you stare.

A bitsy wince of, “Ellie..” dries moistness on her lips, shuddering to an ajar gasp.

“Mhm, like that?” husked with a bass that ripples, so, so deep in her diaphragm, you swore it nearly rattled your ears from where you poise.

A gasp died into, “We can't–” 

“But we can..” a frugal answer, meant for one pair of ears only. Only, what a joke. An ill timed joke on Dina.

Had it truly been for one person only, Ellie would not be striking risk right in the butt. Nifty as she is, juggling those risks aimlessly, she stares at you. The crown of her head ruffles up messily on her scruff as it pivots, flushed nose pointed to you, pale lids of supple creases kin to a beach cove as they open, batting reeds of chestnut everlasting. They flap, waiting for you, in the delay of that week–past chance snuffed. 

Intimidating, austere demeanor flowering in those buttony pupils– and she eyefucks you with them, even tugging a wink your way. A fucking wink. Her ploy of fondling Dina, so obscenely, clearly dirty, read in gold typeface as ‘Wish this was you.’ loud and proud. Much more so when her digits curl and dig dents in her waist, and her teeth carve marks as she bites her coral lip down, showing you. 

She's showing you how she wants to play with you.

Being an unwelcome voyeur, you felt the tail–tug to glance away. And in that fleeting veer, a loud smack resounded and left you surprised on the tips of your boots.

“Uh!” a yelp ejects air from its jailed position in Dina's gullet, forwarding her body with a jounce.

A foul, “Hehe–” trebles a giggle from Ellie, shit–eating grin withal, “so sensitive.. again?” her hand rubbing circles to where she struck ass.

Fuck.

Fuck, because she has uttered those exact words to you before, wetly on the shell of your ear, yesterday. At dead noon eve, stark flat on your bedroom door, a makeout you'd rather not divulge. Though, did Dina hear that thumping racket?

You feel a throb, a throb that drops. It beats from your maddened heart to your aching hole, literally. A web of hot arousal dribbles over the ribbing of your walls, leaking into a sticky splotch on the plateau of your panties. Fern eyes of something unholier–than–the–moan–of–a–devil felt denser working than self–pleasure, it tickled just right.

But it doesn't belong to you, so don't pluck that apple. Ignore that tickle.

“Okay, baby–” Dina gruffs and shoots her shoulders up, nudging Els’ clingy head off, “seriously, I got shit to do.”

“Hmm, suit yourself.” Ellie gave up and wacked her hands up in defense, feigning offense. 

You slither that milk–glossy tap gently from purling lips, cooing, “There you go.” as you set the bottle down with a placid thud, spurring a lone finger up to bat slowly upon the baby's nubby nose, how maternalistic of you.

A gait of striking steps softly approaches you. With your head huddled and stance shielded the opposing direction of the two, you couldn't see who that person was. Although, you deemed it safe to assume it may be Ellie, coming to poke at you again.

“Hey, could you help Ellie sweep the barn?” a honeyed voice entrances your focus instead, Dina, of course, “sheep dragged in a whole buncha’ shit, shouldn't take long though.” she notes, casually.

A long droning intervenes “Uhhh, I never volunteered to–”

“You did when you chose to live on this farm with me,” her voice strains, flowing into a breezy chuckle whilst gesturing for you to hand her JJ, “Right, babe?”

“Pshh–” 

Bearing aloft, you slink that baby's bum right into her curviform arms, feeling the cottony onesie drag on your forearm as his weight lifts off, bending at the knees scantily.

“Fiiine, I'll muck the– smelly sheep shit for ya’,” her voice bores deeper in exaggeration, becoming a blurry blob moving behind Dina's poise as she slinks forth, “gunna’ need a mask, I think.” and quips, wrapping her lithe arms to a cinch on her waist.

Dina grunts, butting her arms loose before it gets tighter and coasting a few feet yonder, “Barn, please.” reiterated she, flatly.

Tapered as her jaw is, she clenches it further, taking that blow of a refusal to her touch peevingly, teeth to a grind. Jeez, she's quite handsy today.

“Hmmph,” a grunt deadlocks at the fore of her compressed lips, rolling at the neck and cocking aside a signal for you–”c'mon.” she mumbled, clicking her waggish tongue.”

A scoff jumps from you, “M'not a horse.” you squint and trot your feet along, heavy timber steps pittering towards the ajar backdoor, dash of light spilling through.

“What? Didn't say you were.” she headstarts and jerks the door chasmally open, banging against the oaken trim.

“Door!” shouted Dina, now muffled as you enter beneath true light of day.

“Sorry!”

You wince both muck–free feet into a macula of moist earth, feeling your weight sink and squeeze a taint of muddy blob as you hoick off and traipse forth. A kittenly, “I think the only horse here is you– smelling of sheep shit,” comeback lightens the air, giggling, “Peee–yuuu, somebody get me a mask.” and shooing an invisible stench from your nostrils.

“Puuh–lease, as if you don't smell like a hot pile of garbage after your chores,” thrummed out of her gob easily, just so she could smooth in, “Emphasis on the hot.”

“God, you amuse me.” you shake your head low and smile, bloating the inwards of your cheeks ‘till they hugged your nose, two blooming mushrooms.

Her body spirals in a swing of her leg, now walking completely backwards, “Wasn't trying to amuse, m'being serious. U're hot.” she brownnosed, even giving you the fucking eye–up–and–down. 

This baser, coy weirdo. Can't go nary a breath without summoning a smile unto you.

Your wandering eyes travel up a stream of fading cumulus clouds, sheer stranding like a veil pierced with astral rays– and you mull mind over answers across those clouds, for how could you reply, origin of wit?

Then, so cross the dumbest, possibly weakest retort, transferring from sky–gaze to mouth.

“Andddddd u're not.” you skip ahead of her with a feign of sass, causing her to whip back around.

“Not what you said last night.”

Okay that's true, but..

You egg her on, splayed palm melding to cold, rusted iron grip of a shovel, “I said a great many things, remind me?” as you tease.

“Gladly.” a hotness more snug than the sun cupped your wrist, pricking your grasp open free of the shovel–hilt and spinning you like a ballerina– knocking shin to shin so you plaster flat on the splintered wood door of that barn. Els hovered close, horridly close, breath fervent to your mid–face, “where should I start, babe?”

You freeze, blizzard of a kindled burn, a smolder trenching roots through your reddening cheeks. That throb, returns. You just couldn't gauge which throbbed more severely– the banging of a mad heart, resounding echoed thwacks against caved ribs, or the chokehold of your beaded clit, squeezing up into your cunt and getting you to chafe moist arousal from your labia, wringing webs across your entrance.

No, not again, not here.

“You should start..” a gulp burdens the words back in your gut, re–rounding with a deflect, “by mucking the stable.” silkenly fallen to a wholly nether topic.

Dumbfounded was the look to darken her visage, bristly brows dropping like sawed trees and cleft of her lips bowing to a frown, unamused, “Seriously?” 

“Mhm!” you swerve the shovel handle at her unprovoked, letting her catch it prior to crouching under her barred arms and strolling off towards the sheep stall.

And like a dog, she tailgates hot on your hind. Bark bark bark, yapping ditto to one too, “Why do I gotta shovel shit n’ not you? –Huh?” yet in the most unserious, sportive tone, ever. Dorky smirk lingering in her words, pounding a laser through the thickset back of your skull.

Man, if Ellie was a dog– she'd be a damn Siberian husky. Pining for unending attention and peskily playful, too playful, even. 

Each crunch of hay behind you, every little sigh she put forth in bone–dry air, the sum of her laughy scoffs that no way in a verdant pasture heaven wouldn't be expelled without a toothsome smirk. She was the blight of you, your anathema, pockmarking inside your brain imagery of how she looked when you averted your gaze, meanwhile she beheld the rear of your head, cocksure of her annoyance. Oh, and goddess how it never falters to soar her heart high of a heavenly altitude, skirmishing every cloud with her melodious drum of life when even simply laying scrutiny to the hair awry with mess, shrouding your nape in the natural fall of it, bouncing on each step. A love of life that you could give.

That is all her mind bends to, pestering you, so help her goddess, she will enact anything, to make this abominable sin a grounded relationship.

Look upon me, won't you?

You tuck a finger around the tiny hook lock, opening the large sheep stall, “Because–” you pause, cutting past the rails and drawing an arm over to grasp a rickety rake, elevating it over the half–wall, “someone's gotta uncover the shit first.”

Her knee pooches out mildly as she recasts her weight on a wall, twiddling her thumb over every scuffed mark of the shovel, examining its ridges beneath her print. Yet, her eyes stayed absorbed in you, taking the waft of every leg stride, arching of your spine as you stoop down, extension of your hands grasping the rake's shaft– stabbing the crooked tines into a labyrinth of heaping hay, the screaming of metal scraping on concrete, causing her ears to tremble and tighten, alongside a squint. The noise muffles, then awakens as she relaxes her facial muscles, slacking her jaw to speak, “Y'really good at that, y'know..” mumbled, even.

“Mmht–” you smack your tongue moist, dithering your head in puzzled wags, “–I am literally just raking the ground,” humbled you, thinking of her dumbly so, “weirdo.”

“Pshh, yeah, but I bet you'll have this whole stall swept in like a minute tops.” she claims through a fried rasp, vailing her pale lids low as she stares– stares of yearn.

Further squashed upon hilarity, you whack a tuft of hay clean through air, then stake the rake upright to a wooden beam and lean, staring back rich with spite, “And I bet an hour for you, what– just standing there?”

“I don't see any shit yet, m'waitin’ on youu..” her vowel drawls long, smug–fuck expression curling those rosy lips.

“Oh really?” your thumb unlocks from the lot of your clutching digits, breaching the rake with a springy sound as it bludgeons against the oaken column. Ranging your foot forward, you brace the skimp distance from you to her, planting softened steps.

Maraschino cherry of her chubbed cheeks, a puckish smirk reads more and more intently as you approach. Each thwack of sole leather to hardy ground is a pump of excitement for her– reckoning your current passage as a rite of igniting something. Sway of your hips, stopping of your tracks in front of her, she wonders– or hopes, of what you'll do next.

You gave that freckled face a prompt pore–over, recognizing that flare of her brows jerking up slightly when you park optics onto her slit–open ones, inhaling, “Then let me do it.” and splaying your palm up to the ceiling, expecting the shovel plumb in–hand, easily.

“Hmm, nah.”

You furrow a lone brow, “Why not?” 

“Cuz’ I got it.” spoken cockily, lips flubbed out and head swung like a whip, winding the crescent strands of burnished hair out of her eyesight.

So cavalier.

If Dina were here, the place’d be fuckin’ primely polished. Be for real.

“Sure,” you blunt your accent, nigh on sarcasm, “what's gotten into you?” pleating your fist to a ball, you slot it between the warm pocket of breast to bicep, crossing your arms.

You.

You– are what's gotten into her. Two horny adults unchaperoned, in the convenience of privacy, sub rosa, a smidgeon apart, lusting with their parts of lechery, staring down at sorely empty hands that could be full of each other's flesh, it doesn't fare well. Emptiness, a sphere of it, sleeping in palms where it is an unwelcome voyeur– snoring, vibrating. Dormant touch never falls short of pulsation, like a magnet, it reaches for her. 

Stroking the shovel rod as she does, with those knobby fingers of hers, twining the length, was patently suggestive. Soft rings resonate with each tug of her clewed hand, rubbing up and down, slow and thorough, what the fuck. 

And worst–best of all? Eyes. Her sooty, pebble blown pupils thinning the evergreen in her eyes, pierced yours. Forbidding ones. 

God, wary of reality or not– admit this, it was definitely hot. Hot, how her ashen lids embrace the snow and veins, a human cadre of gossamery skin. Hot, because they read debaucherous– and could carbonize a bible to cinders with a single glance, sacrilege to poetry, ergo; ‘Fuck me’ eyes. And lastly, hot, as they sat a throne upon a wicked smile, exposing her front teeth lightly, spit line attached top to bottom. In short, breathing you in, made her high off lust.

Asudden, the bow indenting her mouth is backwashed in a swallow, and her eyes disappear beyond the hood of her brow bone, captivating her soul upon a sigh. A sigh she breaks contact for, a sigh she must take, in lieu of composure– when all she perceived of you was a temptation.

A bastion of forced air swells up her cheeks, lukewarm on the gums, pouty of the lips, “Fffffffuck–” mouthed she full of that exhale, shaking her head to a low duck.

“Fuuck, what?” a mimic of her quiet curse befell your lips, curving tone and brow in confusion.

That's when her head perked, an inch, a slanted inch, bedeviled eyes divided by the drop of a short russet strand, mouth pursing to vowel out, “You.” hoarsely.

“Like ‘Fuck you bitch’ or in a ‘I'm gonna fuck you’ typa’ way?” you undulate your head cartoonishly, heightening the emphasis of both those options, cause both appeared likely.

Fluff of her brows crooking weirdly, she gawks with an inlay of temptations, bought, “That is the dumbest fuckin’–” she chuckles dryly, nose facing heavenward as she spins the shovel, going clockwise ‘round you, “–question, I've ever heard.”

Step by step, on beat, you slowly spun with her encirclement, noticing now that you're inclined to back up into the wall as she kitty–corners you, idle mitt pressing finger wads to textured wood, laying spread.The scratch of it smooches your shoulder blades as you smush plane on the wall, calves ghosting wales of wood coarse enough to leave blushy marks, and yet you rely on it to camouflage from her intimidating gaze.

A heartbeat hastens, brimming your throat with a blockage capable of consuming the words before ears could, tethering a timid gasp out instead.

Ellie rasped deep, “Cat got your tongue, hmm? Don't back down ‘n me now..” the heat of her face hovers close, cocking her head laterally to fit perfectly in your headspace, air blown from every syllable fanning your sutured mouth.

The weight her stare threw upon you was, probing, and direful. Every attempted scape–glance was a gut instinct, a reflex when shagged to a set of human bars. Flesh of bone, bone in flesh, arm to arm, what a bloody mess.

You curl your shoulders inwards, pressing folded elbows skin–tight to your ribs, “Dumbest question?” a gulp cuts the sentence, “you didn't even answer.”

“Want me to?”

“Yeah,” in defense, you tested her, “I do.”

“Ohhaha– okay..” Els’ cadence rose to amused laughter, shifting on her feet slightly, “We can fuck.” but she spoke it like you requested of it, although, did you?

Fuck.

A bulbous mass pushed your legs clean apart, trampiling the dress to a tight pull around your thighs. Confounded, you drop sights, sinking your chin in towards your neck and realizing– it was her knee.

Rough denim rustles clemently, a whisper of two fabrics meeting, between your quads. A friction so faint, so hush, begins to purr more acutely when a– ahh, pressure. A carnal pressure is given, given with urge, urging on your barely confined clit.

It stings as she drives her knee in, getting  you to clench your insides, to seize up.

A juxtaposition doomed to interblend skin.

You impel up on the wall, heel sloping to rest on the flat trim. It smashed your pussy lips, causing a chafe, ramming fabric inside the rim of your hole, a velvety draw of sleek depressing on the cotton tongue of your panties makes it stay there. Thereupon, her groin grinds a roll, nudging your pussy on top of her knee.

“Remember this, babe?” Ellie gives thrall to the dense steel in her vocals, ticking her head aside more to pass that breath firmly on your ear, “–‘member how good my knee felt? Mhm? ‘So fuckin’ good’, you said?”

A diabolical coo, she's trying to get under your skin figuratively– and literally further.

But it surfaced that memory like a buoy, erecting ayond the navy sea line with its eye–catching signal. In you, it materializes. Last night, came a blanket of umbra, yawning its penumbra in the horizon. Witching hour, obscene–eyed, gloaming your senses and eating away at deceit. Deceived? Yeah, that's how you felt, daylight by day bright, a misinterpreter.

All throughout the day, she would ghost right past you en route to Dina, much like earlier– and love up on her. Spread her taint of arousal between you, her, and you, then her again. Leading on last night, where she stowed her knee, just like now, affirming how mortally she may succumb to madness without your vulnerable phasing unto her, except, in a casual way, short of poetry. On top of that continuous grind she gave on your groin, she marked you with a claim so bold,

So freakish, so outré.

Dirty with her perverted thoughts.

You remember it, hard.

‘You love me just as much as your pussy does, face it.’ 

Hence, her knee felt as fucking liberating as it did that stone stark night. Your clit throbs with an ache, coiling your womb in moreish begs, more, moree.. please more. 

“I remember.” uttered softly, throat shutting on the words as you choke up in sensation.

A cordial chuckle blows summery hot on your ear, “Hehe, good,” and is soaked deeper in with a puckered kiss, popping quietly, “Good girl.”

That made you shiver, in a growing delight. A heat seeping between your folds, has you bearing down on her knee, slopping that raw precum all over the ruined seams of your underwear. In bodily reaction, your cunt shriveled in on itself, squelching a drop on barely–there textile– glossing a wet patch on the knoll of her knee.

Ellie espied that moistness saturating through her jeans and spreading warm on flesh when it seeps, slinking her leg a wimp inch out to gauge the spot, a fucking masterpiece, smack dab on her knee, “Fuck,” she spews, pinning teeth to lip, “for me?” she questions, even with an obvious ass answer staring her in the eyes.

Forget Dina, this felt right– too right.

“For you.” 

Her teeth bare vast in a smirk, doubling up her cheeks, “God, I love you.” because finally, fucking finally, she will have her cake and eat it too.

But first, eat the space before you.

And so she does, tucking the wad of her nose squashed in the crevice of your nostril and cheek, brushing of her mildly cracked lips greet yours to part, a balmy ask of entrance. Wagging against, the skin barely hugs with cushy compress, then she nips your bottom lip and wedges her own between, indulging the bump of your cupid's bow to cradle a whisker inside her suckled hold– her humid realm of fog. Buds connected, she felt like butter searing, softness melting, disintegration inside your clasp of a satiny hole, and she was pungent of farmland, muck sweat, everything you could have prest for. Ellie pushes passion in the form of little spit bubbles down your throat– ingesting your voice, your taste, your brain, essence in whole. Taking each other in your own two gullets, bolts of song, and long gaping moans– and even longer pants of make–out exhaustion.

“Mhhh,” she shoves another groan to rattle your teeth, hopping over cloud nine with each moan you reciprocated– like music in a fairytale, a ballad, or of a siren song, splendidly spellbinding, yes? “–fhhck yeshh–” She hums, forwarding a buck of her knee fiendishly.

You yelped, and she liked that, an impish grizzle pushing past the swollen smile and drags saliva across yours.

But.

Those hands once empty, cannot lie powerless to being so. Hers, fly from the wall behind your head and trace down your biceps, buckling unfurled over the bulge of your loose breasts and cup them tender, giving a squeeze that dimples flesh above the neckline of your dress. Not a complaint rose from you, you liked it, yearned hard of it– loved it.

She could tell by the mere movement of your back, arching into her grasp, getting her fingers to squish them even flatter, laughing the kiss to a pause, “Look at you–” she hinds back to look at you, taking your eager rush to follow her lips into regard, “fucking cutie.”

“Don't call me cutie.” you astern.

“Why noott–”

“No.”

A grin enlightens her anyways, “Got it,” and slides her lip back between yours, suckling the plump of your upper, “Mhmm..” hummed so gravelly, so good on your ears, yummy.

This girl will be the first suspect of your murder. Murder of love.. in spring.

Adjourning the freshly–sown kiss with a sloppy smack, you interrupt, “Y'know–” mhhp, a quick peck, “–think I love you too.”

“Think?” she knits her brows together dumb on your featherly melded foreheads, squishing the grooves that form in–between, “could already tell from last night,” her rasp makes it sound of a patent fact, chuckling like an asshole when you whine amid her tease, “hmm–hm, sorry babe.”

“God, you're such a dick,” you bind your head lower and ghost your barren lips over her chin, smiling amongst your dim shadow.

Index and thumb of her hand thaw ripely of your chin, exerting under the bone and beckoning you up with a kind pull, “Would a dick do this–” she twines you to the left, “Mmph,” pasting a kiss beneath one eye, “or this,” twines you to the right, pasting another peck, “or even this?” and lastly, twines you faceward.

Patent of her pattern, you expect a delicate pair of those blood swell, pouty lips to spare something planets away from porny lust– a promise, that none of this was bad. However, hopes are dashed like a racehorse when your chin rears free and a blur of her auburn head plunges out of sight, and under the hood. 

“Els’, where are you–”

Oh.

A gale of air spills up the gap of your thighs, sought upon by the whipping of your sundress’ hem up crinkled in her dual grasps, pushed against your hip bones. Knees grind in shallow dust, planting just next to your parked feet with a soft rub between the four, the perfect position, an orgasmic view. Ellie lets a gasp free upon eyeing the fat blotch soaked thoroughly to a glisten, fabric eased in your labia, showing her the shape of it. God, ‘think she saw you clench just now.

She balls the fabric to one hand, dropping her other and husking dry, “There she is– fuck, missed me?” a waggy finger rises to your clit, toying it in meager flicks– almost as to pet it.

A wince cries from you, “Ahh–” and you perk on your toes, inching away from her fingertip now padded in your sodden arousal.

Yet that fucking finger follows, pressing a hiemal print to flatten your bloated clit, clothed labia hugging the willowy knuckle. Cocky chuckle– likeness of her unabashed assholery and spilt through grit teeth, she muses in your clamping pussy lips, “Hehe, yeah? Need my fuckin’ fingers, huh?” and those damned coos, that tender tune, gosh– you can't get enough of it.

But you've had your fill of plaguing rumination.

Dina's away, nay a breath of her lingers here, not a peep of her can disrupt you, disrupt what you feel– how Els’ makes you feel. It's not wrong, if you're not the one suggesting it. It's not immoral, if it was never held in the hands of your intention. It's not your fault, if you let it transpire. Nothing to rue, not your sin, not your wrongdoing. 

So you pluck the apple.

An ease of your quads down pricks your clit with the poke of her finger, cushing the delicate flesh, “Mhm– yes, yess.” whined you, nigh on breathless.

“That's right,” thick is her voice– like a coddling of wood thicket, pushing past the devout lips that embed themselves in the chub pliancy of your belly, lain of a smooch to your womb, a quiet one, “thaat's fuckin’ right.” and jerking your clit measured with tease, idly rubbing.

The gentle marrow of that contact with your belly and your clit, sent you aquiver. Your abdomen, shaking lightly against her mouth with a breath in, lading your stomach with a rise, high–strung by that simple kiss. Too sweet, you thought, sweetly toxified of honey, unorthodox to how hoggish she usually strikes as– you expected her usual playfulness.

Softness can be addictive, and her version of soft, definitely was.

“Soo fuckin’ good t'me..” her lips detach only to press back in, multiple times, same exact spot. She wouldn't dare budge, not when it was deemed her duty to kiss you there by some unknown force, or her own accord. Ellie whispers, lugging those honey–drug lips over the pouch of your belly, “need that good fucking pussy n’ my mouth.”

A tilt, a modest slant of your hips projecting your crotch against her collarbone was your ask of entrance, and she gave her answer so fast.

“Hold this,” she cranes the clump of skirt to one of your paws, letting go when you meet fingers over fingers with her and hold your skirt to your ribs. She stops playing with your clit completely, tracing said finger up your groin and under your pantyline, pleating the band in on itself as she journeys it to your knees– letting it freefall from there.

Despite the milk–warm weather lambent to your forehead when settled under the sun, meant zilch to the cooler world inside the barn. Not wintry, but a tangible change sensed in your bare pussy. That's why you fastened your quads to a clench, nearly sucking in your cunt– oh, and the fact that two olive fern eyes are bluntly viewing it. Stage fright, much?

 A fried gasp of, “Ohh, shit–” chills it further with exhalation upon discovering the raw truth to your aroused pussy, engorged in size and pinkish in sex irritation. Ellie was drunken in that eyeshot of serumy precum wetting a film between your slit, drawing gluey webs over your hole, barely open for full study. She needs you open, she longs to see, gulping a horny thought audibly before speaking, “spread them pretty legs for me, hmm? C'mon, it's just me–” she assures, donning that calming placidity whilst palming the round of your knees apart to guide you, “–there we go, uh'huh, fuck..” departed of her voice, husky as she studied the open spread of your filthy hole, dripping for her like it fucking knew she was looking at it.

All you could engage was a tunneled stare down of your protruding crotch and her reddish–brown dusted crown, the slump your knees took clung on the flank of her biceps– plowing with an indent in her bare sun–baked skin. Els’ face so sanguine compared to the paler pigment of her fingers, which now push your thighs uncomfortably agape to the extent of bulging fat between her knuckles. Eyes bark, luring under lids so heavy and lashes like a vignette– they bark and say, ‘Keep your fucking legs open.’

Say no less.

Taken in awe, “She's so fucking pretty–” she curses with meaning, a means to make it known, licking up a river between your folds upon seeing that exhilarating view, cupping a glob of slick in her pink muscle.

“Shit..” 

Withdrawing her tongue, she swallows the creamy delight, “Prettiest pussy ever, ‘uh'huh, that's right.” Ellie being Ellie, she slaps it, eyeballing the spongy skin recoiling.

“Ah!” 

“Yeah..”

Your nude cunt was honeydew heaven in her eyes, gleaming wet like grapefruit, that's why her tongue was already slipping out on open air. Head inching to intimacy, the button of her nose dovetails seamlessly between the tippity top of your folds, and your clit, kissed with a hot spell. That bud, it fit perfectly in the wrapping of her lips, straightaway suctioned further into the gummy pucker of her mouth.

An ache zaps that little bouquet of nerves and coerces you to nearly swoon over it, yelp hitching, “Ha– aah,” and shudder teething, “Ellie..” with a hump of your glutes butting her head back, only stirring that hungry mouth of hers to pop off and swaddle it back in, tongue flicking.

Her nostrils sunk deeper in, airflow turning muffled in your crotch– yet her moans remained, abounding, vibrating on your sensitive pearl, “Mhhhh, mhmm.” rumbling deep under the soft squelching her moving jaw brought to fruition. 

Ellie, you fucking god, giving those plumate licks that are barely there, but scarily paired with deftness, getting you to squirm and squeal, “Yess– baby, yess..” That pink muscle snagging under the hood sometimes, smacking that pretty tiny clit of yours around with foams of flavor whisking onto her taste buds, humming in the notes of sex.

“Mhhh, fhhck.” her lips sever an inch, mumbling into your clit, “fuck you and your pretty little hole, god, fuck you.” she curses, cause how dare you let her impulses conquer, returning a trio of digits along your legs and swiftly finding your pussyhole, dilating the lips apart and shoving all three inside. How dare you, engross her ears in your moans echoing akin of a cathedral in her skull, ushering her to fuck you unholy.

“Ellie!” you wail, hoisting on your toes a second and clutching her in those slobbering walls– which only gushed a leak of arousal on her digits, and blocked her from further thrusting slightly, taken aback by the sudden stretch.

Her lips pop off again, slurping up the wet laces strung to her pout from your fattened labia, “Schlp– jesus, you are fucking tight,” the deepness rippled in her voice, groggy from the moist caking her gob, “let me in, don't push me out.. c'mon..” she coos gently, eyeballing the swallow her fingers took past your soaked lips, knuckles disappearing.

“O–ohh,” you tried to mouth ‘okay’, but the word just didn't fit the part.

“Just like that..” Ellie cools a fresh sigh, praising with a proud curl on her face, “Good fuckin’ pussy..” 

Letting go, your gut loosens and heightens the sensation of her skinny fingers bottoming soundly inside your vagina, feeling the callouses rub as they curl and tickle your angelsent spot, airing lips find purchase behind her fingers– and a pointy nose bumps your clit pervaded with purpose.

Spry is the moan, moaning over ‘spilled milk’, “Oh my g– uhnn..” woe is you, clawing phantomly at the spring that coils inside your womb, unknowingly providing Ellie's eager mouth with your precum.

The physical reality around you, suddenly only consisted of you, her, the barrier that stills your back, and a void inside you– being filled.

Literally.

And figuratively? Cause jeez, you must give sanctuary to a sin–eating, fleshoid beast inside your bone prison of a body, coming back here for seconds like that.

Might you be the dirty.. dirty dog instead?

Rivers of filth, she pumps those glossy droplets out of you, leathery scars caressing your ribbed canal with each pleasuring undo of your senses, she steals them like they are impartial to your bliss– bliss is all she needed you to feel for her. Fuck the worry, trash the heartache, yank the anxiety out, and soften into a pretty blob atop her fingers.

Her sultry blessing sitting upon those fingers, that's how she deems you– you do well to remember that. Her, willing frame of hips thrusting back down on the friction she gives, burrowing her nose a scent so naturally seducing, a pheromone, fucking elates her own throbbing pussy. Nothing sugary, nothing stomach–churning, just the taint of you. The threading of her jean's crotch was enough of a brute, bullying her egged clit by driving a split in it, flattening the fleshy hood everytime she shifted weight from knee to abdomen, poor her. 

“Huhnn– shit,” heaved grizzlier in her carp of stimulation decay, lack thereof rubbing one out herself and watching your delicate skin expand and crease. How could you blame her– her hand looked so right plugging your hole.

You suck your belly in, drawing tense on that thickset motion playing with your g–spot, whimpering, “Els’, please.. I can't..” a well floods in your waterline, searing with tears of crystalline iodine.

You really can't.

That scruffy mullet hides most of her big cranium, but, it was so fucking hot seeing the nominal stroke of her face, blushing strawberries betwixt your butter–spread legs. Her nose bobs north and south, dragging the bulb of cartilage over that nippy rosebud she happily exhales onto, pushing you over the earthly edge born of paltry touching. Ellie cognizes the slick–clear gospel that you were pending climax, manifesting as your needy bear downs into her slopping mouth practically lactating your pussy juices deep in the pit of her stomach, and the swelling of your wooed clit led on by her tongue, growing big and reddish on her nose to where it clasps the tip in a pillowy fashion, dabbing a glob of creamy sap. 

A mouthquake splutters wetness mixed with her spit across your inner–thighs abd vibrates your folds, betrothal of her voice waking back up, sourly muted, “She's– suh good.. mhphh– to me..” 

“Ellie..” you falter on breath, leavening in pitch.

“Phh–” a frothy sound garbled in your pussy lips, pushing her spit bubbles inside your gaping hole and traveling deeper with her fingering you, “makin’ this pushhy’ mine..” flubbed she, lapping up her cupid's bow of smeared sleek.

Your hole clamps her in as the pang begins to tick its patchy count of time, wearing the glass knot of your womb to a cracking, and troubling the base of her digits.

“Fuck, you wanna’ make this harder?” she sterned to the velvety rim of you locking on her triple shafts, porking webs of your pre–finish to teardrop down your walls as her palm splashes against your loch–sodden slit and mashes your g–spot repeatedly, plush of your labia bouncing in ripples. The noises were abundant, and pornographic, mushy as she fixes so much of your arousal on the pads of her fingers, hormones spiking at the lewd noises, “you hear that baby, ooh, fuck.” foxily ‘ooed’ that foxy–maned girl, beguiled in how your pussy spurts for her.

It wept in slaps, eliciting a palping squelch to bang, bang– bang– pound, brandishing a chilly tempest through and through your bloating labia, quivering as it readies to release. The stuffing was intimate– like a punch inside your spirit, coaxing the fragile glass to a rend, ergo, pushing out every lash of pure lucid squirt.

On the beat of your hole gushing, yelps batting you shut in the plain intensity such an orgasm brought forth, tore Ellie from simply just watching– to drinking every drop. Her voice, dusky in the backdrop of your wails sounded, “Yes– yess, babe fuckk that's it.. mhm, all over my fuckin–” her words wane as her lips clock in, a sudden rush of void fleets with her fingers sheathing out, drawing a long lubricous bunch of webbing only to be nourished in the warmth of her mouth– pursing into your labia and shaking about as you squirt.

Ellie has no shame in getting soiled of you, even the devil himself blushed at the linkness of her mid–face pancaking your lissom skin apart, spewing you wide.

“Ah! Nuh– nonono, t'much, too– uhhnn..” your throat fails you, clumping wads of words that wanted to breach, but her mouth was too good, and it's fucking obvious that she wouldn't stop, not when she can have you like this, bucking onto her flat tongue. Sinfully good, disgusting in the rawest fashion, making your crotch burn with ecstasy more than it already did.

Water upon the push of her mouth, blowing in and slopping noisily at the meat of your pussy lost it's carry to your ears. A biome of shadow, veils your vision and a pressure rains less than tender between your eyes, blurring everything before you, ebbing the grasp of your skirt to an impossible job, hands ashake. All you could gauge above the hood was fiery sweat, hot, steaming– taunting sweat, licking at your forehead.

Her nose headbutts into your vagina, slinking languidly as her head finally smacks off your numb folds, laughing, “Holy fuck– y'taste so good,” the air windy to your soaked entrance, convulsing in front of her barren eye, “shoulda’ let me lick you sooner.”

Huff, and puff, until the binds of your chest blow down, sprouting with an entire current of air, panting more than dramatic as you dwindle down like a bird's plume, “Too.. huh– haah, bad.”

A new kiss is savored to your clit, absorbing the snift her snort gave, “Haha– yeah yeah, n'you liked it, don't lie.”

No lie was home to call. You’ve a truthful virtuality.

You truly did like it, love it, cave obsession over that moment– for now it passes, and not a peck of guilt ran prickly on your arm hairs, saving your gullet free of a stony gulp. No crows died in the revelation of your scandal, only doves, encirclement in a trance chirping nuptials to be had.

I really do love you, Ellie.

Is that so bad?

“I can’t catch my– oof,” you grab sudden air with your fructifying lungs, “–can’t catch my fuckin’ breath.” and the struggle was visible, muscles like puppet strings to your fingers losing proper grasp and billowing the skirt plop on her head.

The rotund shape of it wiggles from the draping hem, continuing to laugh when her wet–handed fingertips poked thin on your ankle, bulging on both sides as she drew your panties back up all the way, slithering under your skirt’s canopy and stretching the band to a snap on your hips, skin tiding, jerking you off warning, which for sure winded the breath back in ya.

“Sheesh, no care for my panties at all?” remarked you of fun wit, gliding your thumb apart to rub the bend of your hip crest.

“You literally ruined them before–”

“And whose fault is that?” you winched from the barn wall and met pupil–to–pupil with her rising figure, revealing how slick–fucked her face really is, glossing with evidence of your cunt.

“Mine..” proudly, guilt was basal to her tone, nonexistent, inching closer to you with a slight wobble swaying on her heels.

You hark the crunch of gravel below, but keep your gaze airborne, Ellie–borne, “Exactly.”

“Cause m'hot?”

“No,” you rock your head, evil smirk deepening the corners of your lips to your gums, “that's a dumb question.”

Her arms begin to slink at fore, elbows chafing her flank, “Wow, stole my line.”

“Still dumb.” you pinch the neckline of her tank, straining it up to wipe her mouth clean.

“Coulda’ just used my hand.” she still does, the dork, purging any excess to the hill of her bent wrist.

You scrunch your nose fakely, “Uck,” and express, mumbling, “Bring a rag next time.” 

Her hands then drop, creeping towards your sides, “Didn't think we were gonna–”

“Liar.”

Those strapping hands bend with wrinkles in her knuckles as they plant pleasantly on your hips, fingernails curling with lustier keys, tugging you plane on her body, “You're so fucking cute,” is all she could say, because there was no stem of denial baying for a different answer,

Doing this was always lingering a tail on her thoughts.

“And such a bitch, fuuck– want you so bad,” complained she, pushing the last of her grizzled groans past her blood–swell lips, which now dive in the sweaty nook of your swan neck– bespattering the sensitivity, “–need y’so bad..”

You comb a paw of fingers through her honey–cresten mane, dividing strands apart and giving a fond press to her scalp, whispering upon her pale–rosen ear, “Then have me–”

“I can’t,” her crumbled lips fail to cling, dragging dry beneath your ear, “I fucking can’t.” wearily said, wearing her voice to nothing.

Infidelity.

Wasn't nice at all, on both sidewalks.

A purer bid of tears wet her cheek, drenching into the flesh of your neck as she pushes into you, holding you dear, vast afar from intentions to let go.

“I know..” was a rare comfort, and wasn't one to you right now– for plucking that apple, ripped you of innocence. A blind eye you turn when sensuality is awake. Enrapture chokes your senses, sweeps you in the moment, clouds your memory of those ugly, nasty etceteras– those facets that deplore it. Even now, when Ellie collapses weight onto her ankles, pressing you into that same wall you saw heaven on, touching heartbeats incandescent for each other's total consumption, weeping wet on your bare shoulder– it hurts, aches you to say, “But I don't want to know.”

Clutch of your neckline, she bruises her knuckles tight in it, spiteful almost– gagging on tears that roll the wrong road, “Guh– fucking hell, don't say that..” 

“Ellie, it's–”

“Don't.”

“Not your fault.” you flap your fingers up, palm still glued, patting her head.

She doesn't belong to you.

Yet you act like she does.

Pity.

A sniffle is the intake of air you feel before her nose skims off, craning her neck to an angle where she can gaze adjacent to your cheek, for beholding may prove a demise. But she can't forgo this one ask, this dream perched upon her brain, “Babe..” she purrs, dead of cadence.

“Hmm?” a whirl invites your nose to her cheekbone, offering you the picture of her side–profile. Oh, those lashes so dashing, they curl, darken her snow of eye, and trap tears.

Why, it's as if a rainbow overcasts those auburn reeds.

Ellie's capsized tune finds its stream back to that scratchy rasp, silkenly intoning on your earlobe, “Can you sleep with me tonight?” her buds ghost the rim, popping on the syllables.

Is that even possible? 

You debate with the figments in your mind, casting doubt over your facial muscles, knitting, “Ellie, you know–”

“I don't.”

“Els.” 

Long forked strokes of her fingers run up your jaw, scrolling you to then focus on her face cocooning your entire sight, and a husk enlaces you, “Forget about Dina,” a glimmer summons her lips to curl once again, “just tonight, fucking please?”

Fucking please.

A silence rots in the cordial space sparsely separating you, wrenching her brows with a ravine indenting between them– the serious look you love. And her hold of hands appear to deepen in your cheeks, claiming your skin as one, melting into her prints, squeezing a reply from you.

“Please?”

Odds may dote on you, think about this.

“Okay.”

(couldn't tag everyone who wanted to be)

taglist; @whore4abby @aouiaa @ellieslittlewhore @baumbii @tlougrl @mina-281 @beabeebrie @fleshunger @elliewilliamsisactuallymygf @nicolicht @cosmikoo @xinyaya @sawaagyapong @reinersbigolboobies @brunettedolls-blog @syrenada @fairyysoiree @p4ison1vy @nil-eena @hi2647 @disaster-bi-suki @rarestdoll @narieater @hrtmal @eudaemoniaaaa @ellie-07063 @luvfaeri @carleenaelaine @kissyslut @ellieswh0r3 @beemillss @elsmissingfingers @bugaboodarling @slynxs @maleelee @savannahsdeath @beforeimdeceased @fleshunger @williamellieslilho @mcqueeferson @pretty-prrincess-13 @naomis-daydream @weridcatttyy @gold-dustwomxn @evera-era @criminallydownbad @yohibmbi @ang3licpretty

[megalony]

They're Joined

This is an Eddie Diaz imagine, requested by Anon, thank you for this I love writing dramatic, angst pieces. I hope you like it.

Taglist: @lunaticspoem@butlegendsneverdie@langdonzvoid@jennyggggrrr@rogmeddows@radiob-l-a-hblah@rogertaylorsbitontheside@chlobo6@rogertaylors-lipgloss@sj-thefanthefan@omgitsearly@luckytrashgooprebel@scarsout@deaky-with-a-c@killer-queen-ofrhye@bluutac@vousmemanqueez-blog@jonesyaddiction@milanosaurus@httpfandxms@saint-hardy@7-seas-of-fat-bottomed-girls@mrsalwayswritex @rogerina-owns-me  @hellsdragon@im-an-adult-ish@crazylittlethingg@allauraleigh@onceuponadetectivedemigod@ceres27@avyannadawn@noonenuts@sleepylunarwolf@coverupps@justagirlthatlovedtoread @musicistheway @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @luula @missdreamofendless @bradleybeachbabe

911 Masterlist

Summary: After a day trip, the Diaz family are on their way home when they get caught up in a crash. The 118 work to get them out when their lives are in danger.

Enjoy.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A soft smile lit up (Y/n)'s face as she slowly turned in her seat to look behind her in the back of the car. Her gaze fell on her son and she smiled brighter as she watched him for a few moments.

He was in his carseat, biting down on his thumb and rocking his head and chest back and forth, lightly bashing into the seat. He had a big smile morphed around his thumb and his legs were swinging back and forth, catching his shoes on her seat but she didn't mind. He was ecstatic.

It had been a long time since Chris had visited a zoo and the hour and a half drive had been more than worth it to see his face light up. He had zoomed around on his crutches, never tiring even though he had been walking about for hours. Every so often Eddie had picked him up and sat him on his shoulders to give him a break or let him get a better view of the animals.

His favourite had been the penguins, which was why he had a stuffed penguin toy tucked under his arm, pinned against his chest. (Y/n) had worried they wouldn't be able to get him to leave the zoo but he had been hungry and the promise of a takeaway for tea was enough to get him back in the car.

He had been stimming for the last hour.

Every now and then a squeal would break through over the noise of the radio or Chris would push back in his seat and rock so much the carseat started to creak and bash. But his parents were used to it and his happy stimming like this always made them smile.

(Y/n) slowly turned back round and shuffled down in her seat, relieved they were only twenty minutes away from home now. It had been a long day and she wanted to get out of the car and get something to eat.

Just when she reached her hand over to hold Eddie's thigh, her eyes widened and her lips parted silently. She caught Eddie's eye, noticing his raised brows and he tilted his head to look in the rear view mirror. Chris was doing echolalia.

"Then we were running and I ran-"

(Y/n) couldn't make out the rest of what Chris was saying, each word was said faster and faster until he was messing up his pronouncing and mashing the words together. His voice got higher as he continued to repeat a few random, unrelated phrases he had heard until he stopped himself and screamed excitedly.

It wasn't very often that Chris would do his echolalia during the day, it mostly happened at night when he was trying to fall asleep. It was a condition where Chris would repeat words and phrases he had heard, some of them recent and some of them could have been from months ago. He didn't understand what he was saying, it was just his brain processing and repeating and it usually happened at night when he was excited and winding down to sleep.

They had heard him say a lot of random things over the years and it was surprising how Chris could talk in full sentences when he was doing his echolalia. But then when he was talking properly to them or at school, he didn't always use enough words or use adjectives or connecting words. He was a lot slower at talking when he was engaged in conversation whereas like this, he talked so fast even he couldn't work out what he was saying.

Eddie had started to watch what he said around his son after hearing him one night repeat 'he ran into the fucking fire' followed by a loud giggle. It was surprising what Chris could hear and remember.

"Someone's happy,"

"He won't be sleeping tonight," Eddie reached down for (Y/n)'s hand that was on his thigh and raised the back of her hand to his lips. They knew this would be a possibility when they decided on a day trip out but it was worth it to have Chris so happy and elated like this.

"Yeah but we already knew that."

The next scream that Chris let out, (Y/n) and Eddie joined in too; but for a completely different reason.

***

Something burned in Chimney's stomach and ignited deep in his chest, causing his steps to falter when he got closer to the crash site. He could feel his breaths getting clogged up in his throat and the med bag on his shoulder started to slip when his shoulders sagged down and his feet went from running to a floppy shuffle.

He knew that truck, he had seen it hundreds of times in the car park behind the station.

He moved his hand to grab the med bag that was almost falling to the floor and he picked his feet up. Shuffling awkwardly through the mess of cars that had slammed on their brakes and spun to a stop to avoid the pile up in front of them.

"Oh fuck," Tears were already welling up in his eyes without seeing the damage or commotion that was happening inside the truck.

That was Eddie's truck.

There wasn't a lot of space around the truck, it was banged up pretty good. The passenger side was slammed up into the concrete barrier separating both sides of the motorway and there was another car wedged up at the back of the driver's side. There was only a small angle of room where Chimney would be able to open the driver's door and try to get in and help. They couldn't even pull the truck forward because another car was rammed into the engine that was smoking and making a clicking, whirling noise that didn't sound good.

He dropped the bag to the floor and yanked on the door handle until it swung open and slammed into the empty car next to it. There was just enough space for Chimney to climb up onto the small step and lean inside the truck to see what was going on.

He didn't like what he saw.

Eddie was in the driver's seat, slumped forward onto the steering wheel with his left arm bent around the wheel and his right arm stretched out towards the passenger seat.

Reaching down, Chimney pressed a finger to his neck, relieved to feel a strong pulse and hear his deep breaths.

"Alright Eddie, help's here." He pushed himself higher on the step to try and see over Eddie's back towards the passenger seat. "(Y/n), can you hear me?" A groan from Eddie was the only response he got.

He could barely see (Y/n), she was slumped against the door, her hair fanned across her face hiding her from sight but Chimney could see glass littering her body. The window had broken as had the windscreen. She was slightly hunched over and if the seatbelt wasn't bound around her, Chimney could see she would have fallen down into the footwell.

"Christopher? Hey, you with me?"

Chris wasn't responsive either. He had his glasses slung around his neck, his chin pressed down into his chest with his head slumped forward and his arms crossed loosely over his chest and a teddy slumped between his legs.

Oh dear.

"Attention, I need a lot of backup over the East side of the pile up to the black Ford truck. Guys, it's Eddie. Repeat, Eddie and family are trapped unresponsive in the truck. Bring the saw."

He would need a lot of help getting all three of them out of here and he needed the metal saw or cutters or something like the winch to get enough room to get them all out. If they had spinal injuries, they might have to hoist them through the windscreen.

When another groan left Eddie's lips, Chimney could have cried in happiness, it would be more helpful to have Eddie awake and able to tell them what hurt and see if he had internal damage. But if he was awake and his family wasn't, it was also going to make the situation a lot harder for everyone.

"Eddie, it's Chim. Take it easy, I'm gonna ease you back and check you over, the team's all here to get you out."

He braced his hand on Eddie's chest and held the back of his neck before he slowly helped him sit back up in his seat. It would be easier to assess and talk to him if he was upright instead of slumped over like that.

Eddie started to blink and he twitched his head away when he felt unfamiliar hands on his neck trying to assess whether he had any spinal damage or nerve damage. He didn't. He could feel his legs, he could wiggle his toes in his shoes if he wanted to and every part of his body was on fire but he was waking up and that was good. His vision blurred for a while and he jerked his arm when he felt Chimney pressing on his chest that felt like it was tight and aching.

"Can you move your toes for me Eddie?"

"Yeah," It hurt like Hell, but he tapped his feet up and down against the pedals as he felt Chimney turn the engine off for safety.

"Eddie!"

"W-where the fuck am I?" He shook his head but it only made the unbalanced feeling get worse and turned the world on its axis. He could hear Buck calling out for him over the dull ringing in his ears.

"You're in the car, you've had a collision but we're gonna get you out, just hang tight." Chimney patted his shoulder before he jumped down and leaned over to talk to Bobby. "I can't get to (Y/n), she's unresponsive and Chris doesn't look too bad but he's unconscious in the back. Eddie's waking up,"

"Alright, Hen break the back window and get Chris checked out. Buck switch with Chim to get Eddie out and Chim, you and me will get on the engine and check (Y/n) through the windscreen. Go."

The truck was rammed in at all angles, the only way to get in the back would be to break the boot window and climb over to get Chris checked over. If he had no spinal or nerve injuries it would be a lot easier to get him out they could break the back window and ease him through that way. Eddie could get through the small opening in his door and wait near an ambulance if they could get him that far.

And for (Y/n), they were going to have to climb onto the truck and go through the already broken windscreen.

As soon as Eddie's horrendous roar emmited through their ears, Chimney moved and Buck hopped between the cars to get to the door and see what was going on.

"Eddie, hey it's Buck it's me! Let's get you out of here and I can help (Y/n), come on-"

"No!"

"Eddie I have to-"

"I can't- I c- Fuck!" Tears spilled down Eddie's face and he slammed his head back into the headrest and pummeled his left fist into the dashboard beside the steering wheel. He let his aching head flop to the right to look at his wife but when he heard the engine groaning from the team climbing up, his eyes shot up to look at Bobby. "Don't touch her!" His elbow flew into Buck to get him off before he reached up and held his arm out towards them.

"We need to check her over-"

"We're stuck!"

"Cap, they um… they're joined." Chimney crouched on his hands and knees as he leaned his head through the windscreen, being careful of the broken glass but he could see why Eddie was suddenly panicking.

In the struggle, Eddie had reached his arm out to try and help pin (Y/n) back in her seat so she didn't get whiplash or fly onto the dashboard. When metal chunks went flying through the windscreen, a long, thin shard of metal punctured through the middle of Eddie's hand and went into (Y/n)'s lower chest. They were pierced together, the team couldn't move Eddie without moving (Y/n) at the same time.

They were pinned.

"I'm gonna take a look I won't move either of you, okay?"

Chimney leaned his chest onto the dashboard and laid down so he could reach them easier.

The first thing he had to do was check (Y/n)'s pulse and her breathing. She had a pulse, her heartbeat was fluctuating and uneven but it was there and that was all he needed right now. He could see her chest rising and falling beneath Eddie's hand that was splayed out on her chest. Chimney kept his hands steady and firm and stretched his arms out towards them.

His hands patted over (Y/n)'s neck, shoulders and then down towards her legs before he moved back up to her chest.

"She's got a few broken ribs," He couldn't hide the grimace from his face when he pressed around (Y/n)'s hips and her torso. "I think her pelvis is broken. The metal is below her heart which is good, it might have pierced her stomach though. We have to move quick."

He couldn't add pressure to the wound and he couldn't cut off her blood supply because of where the wound was. (Y/n) needed circulation to the rest of her body, there was no way to cut off her blood supply to stem the bleeding like there would be if the metal was in her arm or her leg.

"W-what about Chris?"

"Hen how's Chris doing?" Bobby rested his hands on his knees and peered through to try and see Hen who was now sat in the back of the car next to Chris.

"Fractured arm, possible concussion but some glass had cut open an artery in his leg. I'm gonna have to do a stent and tie off his leg before we get him out."

"Oh God," Eddie tipped his head back and smothered his mouth with his hand to stop himself from screaming. He kept his palm pressed tightly to his mouth, morphing the Spanish prayer his mother used to use in times of crisis because if there were such things as miracles, Eddie sure as Hell needed one right now.

He darted his eyes back over to (Y/n) the moment he felt Chimney touching his impaled hand which flinched and twitched in response.

"It's a clean cut, looks like it's missed the main bones. Eddie, I'm gonna have to pull your hand off of the metal and (Y/n). The metal has to stay in her to stem the bleeding but we can pack and bandage your hand for the ambulance journey."

"Do it."

"I'll get you a shot of-"

"Just rip it off, we don't have time to fuck about. Get my wife out of here,"

He wasn't bothered about a shot of morphine which Eddie knew from experience would do very little to take the edge off. The most it would do was make him feel limp and lethargic and he couldn't afford to be anything other than awake and alert. He had to be with his family and keep watch over them. (Y/n) was the one who would need a shot of pain relief if she started to wake up from this.

Eddie wanted her in the ambulance as quick as they could manage.

"Alright, here we go." Chimney carefully strapped a neck brace around (Y/n) and tilted her head back before he rummaged around in his med bag Bobby handed over to him.

Eddie watched with pained eyes as Chimney cut a strip up the middle of (Y/n)'s top and ripped it away from the metal punctured through them both. A clean view was needed to pull Eddie's hand away and try to keep the metal as still within (Y/n) as possible so she didn't get any internal damage. His left hand curled around the steering wheel and he hissed through his teeth when he felt saline and a solution being squirted all around his hand and over (Y/n)'s chest and stomach.

"Keep your arm still and let me move your hand,"

He didn't need telling twice but he wished he had something to bite down on just in case either (Y/n) or Chris could still hear what was going on. He hated to scream in front of them but the pain was burning and it dragged out because Chimney had to move slow. At least when Eddie had been shot at, it had been quick and countered out by adrenaline.

Carefully and slowly, Chimney pulled Eddie's hand up until it squelched off the metal and was finally free. He handed Eddie's hand over to Bobby who washed it down in more solution before packing gauze to either side and wrapping a bandage tightly round to keep the pressure.

"Eddie we need you out so we can get a back board in there and move her."

"No, no I'll get her out with you," He flung his belt off to the side and shifted round in his seat, muffling a groan when he felt his knee twist and spasm. It was either dislocated or broken and Eddie hoped for the first.

He could do this. He was awake, alert and no longer punctured into his wife, he could get her out of here and he could help Hen get Christopher out if she needed assistance with that. He wasn't standing by like some idiot who didn't know what he was doing. He was part of this team and this was his job, they did this every day, it wasn't that much different. Eddie was just sitting on the other side of the line this time.

A silent look passed between Bobby and Buck and with a nod of his head, Bobby gave the order.

Eddie couldn't help with this. He was hurt, in pain and he was concussed, not to mention this was his family and he wasn't on shift. They wouldn't be liable if (Y/n) got injured during the process of getting her out and it was found out that Eddie helped get her out.

He was too close.

"Wh- no! Get off me! Let me GO!"

Scream after scream flew past Eddie's lips and he flung his arms out to grab the door frame when Buck held him under his arms and started to tug him out of the truck. He had to get out, they had to be quick and get (Y/n) and Chris out of there and Eddie couldn't help.

Buck held his breath, tensed his arms and pulled until his closest friend was out of the truck and his legs flopped beneath him to the floor like a rag doll. He didn't give Eddie the chance to try and scramble back into the car, he shuffled backwards and hoisted him along, kicking, screaming and elbowing him to get back in the truck.

Reaching behind him, Eddie dug his nails sharply into the back of Buck's neck and roared, pulling his head down with a jerk to try and get him to let go but it didn't work. Buck let him go and flopped him down onto unsteady feet before he moved round and stood in front of him like a boulder.

"Traitor!" Eddie slammed his fist down on Buck's shoulder but it didn't make that much of an impact and all Buck did was frown and look like he was about to cry. He was put in an awkward position and all he wanted to do was help but he couldn't let Eddie get involved in this. "T-they're my family, if they… I need to be with them,"

When Eddie slumped forward and pressed his forehead into Buck's chest, Buck wrapped his arms around him and held him up.

"I know, I know."

With Eddie out the truck it was easier to get in and get ready to move (Y/n). Bobby got the backboard while Chimney undid her belt and they both eased her up onto the board as slowly as they could so they didn't move the metal too much and rupture something. Once she was strapped on, Chimney pushed the board up through the windshield and climbed out with her.

"Go follow (Y/n) to the ambulance and I'll help get Chris out," Buck gave Eddie a nudge towards his wife before he headed over to the back door that was jammed up against another car. He noticed Hen had managed to roll the window down after she got Chris stabalised. "Pass him through and I'll carry him."

"Easy, do not move or jostle his leg or the stint won't hold,"

Chris was slowly passed between them and Hen held tight hold of his legs and helped shift him round until he was laid over Buck's arms. And just before he turned to run towards the ambulance, Hen leaned over and placed his penguin teddy on his chest.

"He'll be needing this."

***

"How are we doin' in here?" Bobby peered his head around the door and took a tentative step inside but what he saw melted his heart.

He noticed Buck first. He was sat in the plastic chair on the left side of the bed, his legs propped up and crossed on the bed and his body slouched back in the seat. His chin was resting on his hand and he was fast asleep, still in his uniform with his blazer slugged over the back of the chair.

On the floor by Buck's feet, was Chimney, sprawled out asleep with his arms folded over his chest and his head leaning on Buck's leg.

On the other side of the bed, sat Eddie. He was in a dark blue reclining armchair that had the bottom propped up so Eddie could stretch his legs out. His jeans were cut around the middle of his thigh on his left leg and his knee which was dark purple and swollen, was fitted in a brace. It had dislocated during the crash and putting it back in place had almost felt as bad as the cut in his hand.

His right hand had been stitched up and wrapped in a thick clean bandage that went down over his wrist for safety.

He had taken his shirt off in the emergency room so they could check him over and send him for an X-ray which they had also done on his hand and found only one little break in his hand. And now he was sat in just his jeans with a tight bandage wrapped around his lower chest since he had broken two ribs and fractured a third.

Despite the ache that was pulsing through every part of his body, Eddie was still sat in the chair with his son curled up in his arms.

They had put Chris under a mild sedation to fix his leg and bandage it up so he couldn't scratch or pull at his stitches and they had set his arm back in place and put it in a cast from his wrist to his elbow. But when he woke up, no one had been able to stop Eddie from picking him up and walking up and down the room with him like he was a newborn again. He swayed him in his arms, whispered and sang to him to calm him down and as soon as (Y/n) was out of surgery, they went to her room and refused to move.

The metal had successfully been removed and her stomach had been stitched up. Her pelvis was slotted back in place and bound tight just like her chest for her broken ribs and stitches.

She wasn't awake yet, but they weren't expecting her to be after the sedation she had been put under.

When Buck and Chimney found out that she had been moved into a room, they used their uniforms to get past the nurses and hid in her room with Eddie and Chris. And subsequently fell asleep.

"I think we're okay," Eddie waved Bobby inside before he rubbed at his tired eyes and tightened his arms around Chris who was sound asleep on his chest, cuddled up with his penguin. The weight was more comforting than aching and uncomfortable, Eddie would take any amount of pain if it meant his son was comforted and close to his chest.

He couldn't come close to losing either of them again.

"I'm glad to hear it, Hen's on her way down to pop by and see you."

"Cap?"

"Yeah?"

Eddie didn't know what he would have done if the team hadn't reached them so quickly or if they hadn't all have thought on their feet and got him and his family out of there. They didn't let their closeness cloud their judgements, they got everyone safe and got them out and did what was best.

"Thank you,"

[butchreg]

puppy ! regressor caitlyn kiramman headcanons !!

requested by anon. i see caitlyn as more of a bunny or kitty regressor but why can't she be a puppy too ? also i've decided that i'll turn anons back on once i've gotten through all the requests that i have. if another meanie tries something again i might turn them back off but :3.

as typical for me this post contains he/him vi ! if that's not your thing that's okay but hate / transphobia will be blocked. arcane masterlist here , upcoming list here

she's a pretty quiet pup but she follows vi around wherever he goes. she's not exactly the most threatening pup, her bark is worse than her bite but vi lets her think she's his guard dog.

puppy ! caitlyn who wears a collar with a tag that says "if lost return to mama" with vi's contact information and she's soo proud of it ! she loves the way her tags jangle as she walks, she'll stim that way sometimes !

everyone knows she's vi's puppy, sometimes people will give him little treats or toys to give to caitlyn, and people are always asking him about her. he's always happy to chat about his pup !

she's a very obedient pup, definitely a good girl, keeping her nose out of trouble. she's always there when jayce or vi calls. imagine vi coming home from a long day, patting his knees and calling for caitlyn. "yoohooo, where's caiti?" caitlyn comes running immediately, tags jangling as she runs towards vi, jumping up on him excitedly, licking his face like a real puppy would. this makes vi giggle, gently pushing her away because her licks tickle.

caitlyn will only get loud if she's left alone for too long, especially when she misses vi. she's a very loyal girl and after all she's only little, a few hours feels even longer when you're so small. she starts out with a few soft whimpers, maybe a few experimental yips. before long though she's howling, sobs wracking her body. she only stops when she's tired herself out, sobs and howls subsiding back to small whimpers. vi is heartbroken when he comes back to find cait curled up asleep on the floor, eyes swollen from crying. he pampers his baby, apologizing over and over again when she wakes up.

vi getting jinx to make caitlyn a custom dog bed which excites her so much !!! jinx pretends to be annoyed and uncomfortable when caitlyn hugs her but she can't contain a smile. vi taking so many pictures of cait in her little bed, cait so deeply regressed all she can do is babble and yip quietly.

vi and jayce getting the brilliant idea of teaching puppy ! cait tricks... it would be so chaotic Flop Duo cheering and yelling every time she does anything, feeding her too many treats because they can't get over what a cutie she is.

vi tying a little bow to caitlyn's collar, kissing her head telling her what a pretty little puppy she is.

caitlyn isn't the most playful pup, she's very laid back and calm, but she Loves squeaky toys. if someone is to squeak one around her she gets a bit rowdy until she has it in her mouth. she may even try to tug it out of their hands, though vi scolds her gently for this.

caitlyn being one of those silly puppies who does Not stop chewing on her squeaky toy even after it's sound has gotten super annoying for everyone else. being autistic she struggles to pick up on this, especially when she's so engrossed in her toy.

adding a picture of what i think her ears look like :3 i imagine her tail to have a bow as well.