#summer sauna is waiting for them

[tulisydan]

Joker Out <3 sauna

x/x/x

[sttm99]

TW..? Mentions of oral

Part 1

In as much as you loved summer for the long school break, beach days, and the opportunity to wear little clothes and even littler bikinis, you absolutely abhored the heat.

It was horrid.

And the store's air conditioning broke down the night before, so you had been stuck in the melting pot for at least three hours after you began your morning shift, three hours until the repair man came over to work on it.

And judging by the grunts he'd been making back there, you were certain you'd spend the next hour exactly how you were, sitting back in your chair behind the counter, one of the store's only three standing fans propped right infront of you and your magazine another makeshift fan.

"The fuck- I'm boiling already!"

You perked up just slightly at the groan, already recognising the voice. You turned around to face the door, a smile lighting your face as you caught sight of those four boys again.

"Yo! What brings you guys to the best sauna in Musutafu!" You sang out, still aggressively fanning yourself with the magazine.

"Sauna's definitely right." Bakugo grumbled out, slowly pulling at the collar of his shirt as he approached the counter, "Gimme some of that fan, will ya?"

"No, me!" Kaminari yelled and practically rushed forward.

"I've got high metabolism, I sweat quicker." Sero chimed in.

But you just scoffed at them, "Hello? I'm the one in here for a five hour shift. Get your own shit!" You scooted closer to the fan, soaking in all the air.

They all groaned, Bakugo louder than others, muttering something you didn't catch under his breath.

"What are you guys here for again, anyways? More drinks?" You raised a brow.

"Yep!" Sero said.

"And we wanted to invite you for a beach day." Kaminari grinned, hands on the counter as he leaned forward.

Kirishima stepped forward. "It's just us and like four other people - girls, so you shouldn't feel too overwhelmed."

You thought about it for a while. It's not like you really had any plans after your shift. So you just shrugged and nodded.

"Sure, I get off in like thirty minutes. What time?"

Which was how you found yourself near the back of the group next to Bakugo as you all made your way closer to the water.

Not only had they stayed until the end of your shift, when one of your coworkers came over to start their time, but then they'd followed you home and waited for you to take a shower and get changed.

Your mother was a bit apprehensive about having her daughter going to the beach with four guys she didn't know, but Kirishima was freakishly good with adults, reassuring her that she was in good hands.

That and they'd all pulled out their provisional hero licenses.

"Guys!" A pink skinned girl burst into your line of sight, hurling right into Kirishima. A group of three others - not pink skinned - joined in - not bulldozing the boys.

It was easy to recognise the other students of UA; their faces had become regulars on the news channel by now.

You didn't even have the chance to be awkward when Kaminari started aggressively showing you off to the girls like some action figure.

"This is YN!

She works at that convenience store we got those drinks at!

She's so cool!

Look at her!"

It had the girls laughing and greeting you, and had Bakugo scoffing, rolling his eyes as he marched away to lay down his bag on the sand.

"Hi, I'm Mina." She greeted, her hand around your wrist as she spoke. "This is Tsuyu, Jiro, and Ochako."

"YN," you responded. "I know you guys, by the way. 'Seen you on the news a few times."

"Seriously?" Jiro asked softly as she leaned into you.

"OMG- I'm literally famous now!" Mina squealed, wrapping her arms around you tightly and jumping a bit. "Did I look cute?"

You laughed, jumping with her. "Really cute. Badass, too."

"You guys! There's snacks!"

Most of you were seated now on Mina's very large blanket, the bag of snacks and drinks in the middle as you watched Mina and Kirishima have a chicken fight battle with Ochako and Sero.

"So...?" you whispered to Bakugo beside you, taking the bag of gummy bears he was currently fighting with. "How did it go?" You asked as you calmly tore the top of the bag and handed it over to him.

He glared at it for a moment, then at you, then the bag again, before snatching it and dipping his hand in.

It took him a while to answer you. "It was fine." He mumbled, willing the tips of his ears not to turn pink.

You hummed as you put your hand out to him for the gummy bears. He tilted the bag, pouring a couple into your palm. "You guys together now, or...?"

He shook his head. "Nah... just friends."

"Do you want to be together?"

Normally, Bakugo wouldn't even dream of engaging in such a conversation with someone who was practically a stranger. It was too private and too embarrassing for him to talk about. But for some reason, he couldn't help it. Your presence was too calming, too inviting even. You seemed so void of judgement.

It was what made him ask for your advice that first time, what made him ask for your number, too. And yet there was something about you that had him sweating and unable to text, had him deleting his words every time he typed them down in your chat.

"I don't know." He mumbled, eyeing how Kaminari pulled Jiro away somewhere, and how Tsuyu went over to stare at, or talk to, some of the fish, leaving only you two on the blanket.

"You don't know?" You raised a brow at him.

He huffed, keeping his eyes on the gummy bears, knowing that if he turned his head again, he probably wouldn't able to stop himself from glancing at your scantily covered skin.

"I just- out of everyone, she's the one I'd want be with. But... I don't know if I actually do." He frowned, trying to find better words to use.

But you seemed to understand just fine, reaching out your palm for another round of gummy bears. "Sounds like you like her cause she's the best option. Not that you really like her."

He was silent as he took in what you said.

"Yeah." He mumbled.

"Oi, you guys!" Sero called out to the two of you from where he was, running around in the water with Uraraka, Mina, and Kirishima. "Come on! Don't be boring!"

You chuckled at that, leaning forward to push yourself to stand.

"Hey," Bakugo quickly whispered to you, his hand reaching out to hold your wrist, stopping you just before you could get up. "Don't go yet."

And there was something in the way he said it, the intensity of his eyes, that had you stopping, relaxing back into your position before he pulled his hand away.

He looked back at Kirishima, "I'm not playing with you idiots!" He yelled in true Bakugo fashion.

"YN?" Kirishima called out to you.

You just offered him a wave and a smile. "Later."

He shrugged, going back to running from Kiri and Uraraka.

You turned back to Bakugo. "You don't want to join them?" You asked, collecting another round of gummies.

He shook his head, eyes on your hand as they dipped into the plastic bag. "They're idiots."

You hummed, laughing softly as you popped some gummies into your mouth. "And I'm not?"

He looked up at you, brows set low, and lips curled downwards. "You're not."

Maybe it was how he said it, or how he looked at you as he said it, but your stomach tightened a bit, and suddenly, Bakugo was attractive.

You looked at him as he pressed forward to grab another pack of gummies from the bag, watching the way the muscles of his back stretched and contracted, the flow of his hair, his jaw, his neck, his biceps and forearms.

He tossed you the bag instantly as he sat back down, and you smirked at him cheekily as you tore it open.

"Can't open a bag, Bakugo?" You teased.

He turned to glare at you, snatching the bag. "My quirk makes my hands sweaty." He scoffed, picking up some gummy bears.

Then he looked at you for a long moment before speaking up again. "I'm gonna go wash them. Come."

He stood up, and you followed suit, walking after him as he led the way to the washroom, both of you ignoring the looks you knew you were getting from the others.

You stood next to the sink as Bakugo washed his hands, eyeing the pale tiled walls and floors. "So... you sweat a lot?" You raised a brow.

He turned to glare at you as he dried his hands under the blower. "That's what you got from the explanation?" He'd just explained the entire mechanism of his quirk, and all you could say was that he sweats a lot?

You shrugged, an amused look on your face. "That's the backbone to it, honestly. Bakugo's a sweaty-palmed mess." You chuckled.

He shook his head in mock disappointment, sighing. "What am I going to do with you?"

You grinned. "Get me more gummies...?" You laughed.

He scoffs before looking down at his hands in distaste, thumbing at his palms. "This shit always makes them so fucking dry."

You glanced down at his palms before reaching out to hold on, rubbing aggressively on it.

"The fuck are you doing?" He says, but doesn't bother to pull away, he steps closer, so now you feel surrounded by him.

"I don't know. But my friend likes doing this when her hands are dry. She says it helps." You shrug, your mouth going dry.

"It's not working." He says to you. And his voice is lower than usual, breathier.

You let out a soft hum, your lower lip caught between your lips as you slow your ministrations. And just as you're about to let go of his hands, he grips yours, keeping you close and leaning down to catch your lips with his.

Your surprise is short, and you're immediately wrapping your other hand around his neck and kissing him back. His lips are soft, softer than what you'd expected.

And he's gentler, too. His free hand comes to softly hold your waist as he kisses you, mouth moving against yours so softly, so sensually, you're almost squirming.

He licks into your mouth expertly, tongue relaxed as he explores, drawing more mewls from you.

You pull away for a moment. "There's no way you were a virgin a week ago." You furrow your brows at, breathing heavily, your faces still close to each other, and your hand still clasped around the back of his neck. The way this boy is staring at you and breathing into your lips has you dizzy.

"I hadn't fucked doesn't mean I can't kiss. I'm amazing at everything." He retorts before he presses into your lips again.

"You practice kissing in the mirror, right?" You pull away again with a shit eating grin.

He glares and leans back in.

"Oh, I am so right, aren't I?" You pull away again.

"No, you just talk too fucking much." He spits out in frustration as he lets go of your hand, both of his palms now tightly gripping your hips and pulling you flush against him.

He crashes his lips into yours, backing you into the door and pressing his bare chest against your bikini covered one. Bakugo groans into your mouth when he feels your breasts flat against him, his lips growing greedy.

One of your hands is tracing the muscles of his abdomen, gliding up and down the hard ridges of flesh contracting with each deep groan from his mouth, whilst the other is in his hair, pushing his face closer.

You spend what feels like an hour in there, Bakugo's mouth attacking every inch of free skin his lips could reach, groaning at the sounds you made when his fingers were gliding down your stomach, dipping into your bikini bottoms and into you.

When you finally get back to the beach, everyone is on the blanket, and even Jiro and Kaminari are back. You'd cum once on his tongue, though it'd taken a while with his inexperience and you having to keep giving pointers on how to touch you with his fingers and his tongue.

But he was willing to learn and even more willing to make you feel good. And you'd rewarded him by shoving his dick down your throat.

"You guys took a while," Mina commented with a sly look on her face when you and Bakugo sat back down.

The latter just grunted, grabbing the last bag of gummies as he sat down next to Kirishima, shifting slightly so you could sit next to him.

You gave her a look before mumbling a quick lie about a long line and poor plumbing. Not like anyone believed. That and the fact that Bakugo just casually gave you the pack of gummy bears to open for him.

"Sure." Mina murmured.

You couldn't be bothered, really. And neither could he.

Tags: @lovra974 @khadeejanaur

[openupforme]

ꪖꪻ ꪗꪮꪊ᥅ ꪑꫀ᥅ᥴꪗ - E.W.

*pics from pinterest, i don’t own these.

[] Pairing : soft!rough!dom!ellie x needy!reader

[] Synopsis : Twice out of the year you both take the [] day off. One of you needs to relieve your stress and [] one of you needs to blow off steam. One out of the [] two of you does all the hard work, while one of you [] is incapable of moving or doing anything at all.

[] Warnings : 18+, MDNI, swearing, teasing, HEAVY SMUT, bondage, HEAVY overstimulation, PRAISING, ellie refers to the reader as baby and angel, dom!ellie, bottom!reader, face fucking (r! receiving), oral sex, strap on fucking {lmk if i missed anything please 🦦}

[] Authors Note : Digital footprint? we don’t know [] them. BUT ANYWAYS, i hope you enjoy. let me [] know if any of you have anything specific you [] might want to read next? CAN SOMEONE PLEASE [] TEACH ME HOW TO DO THE REQUEST THINGY [] FOR THE BIO? oh yeah this is a modern!AU

——————————————————————————

The soft pillow that is nestled under your neck turns cold, and your body shivers due to your naked state. Due to how smoldering Boston’s weather is in the summer, the AC unit thats connected to the window adjacent to your bed is blowing at high speed. Even after the sun goes down, your two bedroom apartment sometimes still feels like a sauna if it's not put to use.

The once forgotten chilling air pulls you out of your thoughts, making you shiver again. You slide your leg across the bed to try and locate your blanket, only to remember the words your girlfriend muttered to you thar morning. "I want nothing getting in the way when I'm fucking you as many times as I want later", she said even though she was sleep disoriented.

Your eyes are covered, your hands are tied, your bodies shivering, and Ellie is still nowhere to be found. The green eyed girl whispered dirty things in your ear, fingered you until your toes curled, just to get off the bed with a "You're probably hungry, I'll be back baby". You’re immensely lucky to call her yours, but now it's her fault you’re freezing.

You laid there for what felt like eternity under the blistering air until you hear the bedroom door open. Your head tilts towards the direction of the door. Well where you assume the door is. The soft patter of feet comes closer and you feel the bed sink under your girlfriends weight.

“Hi Angel are you awake?" Ellie says before dragging her finger softly across your jawline.

"I'm awake, but I'm fucking freezing. Can you please turn the air conditioner down?" You say in a small voice.

"Of course I will, it's my fault you're freezing anyway. I also stopped by Salvador's and got your favorite." she stated cutely as yoi waited for her to return to the bed.

The buzzing caused by the AC stops as Ellie resumes her position next to you. Silence engulfs the room and you feel her hand start to softly caress your stomach making you sigh. "I don't want the food to get cold. I'm going to feed you, not like you have another choice anyways," she said as you giggled at her reference to the ropes around your wrists and blindfold over your eyes.

"That's fine baby, I love when you take care of me" You smile and wait for her retrieve the food out of the bag. Soon you felt a styrofoam container being sat on your stomach, and as soon as Ellie opened it you moaned at the smell.

"Baby no more moaning please. For the foods sake, one more of those and I might throw this food and my control out of the window." she said with what you know is a smile on her face, that tone always indicated playfulness. "Open up" she says before the taco is placed in your mouth, and an unintended groan rumbles from your throat.

You hear a whimper come from Ellie who is sitting beside you, as the taco is being taken away from your mouth so you can chew. You hear Ellie begin to woof down her portion of the Taco's, moaning with each bite. While the two of you were eating you could feel her eyes trailing across your naked chest. You could physically feel her eating you alive with just her gaze alone. The thought alone making your legs try to clench together.

After many bites and groans the once chilly room was becoming warm and lust filled. The sexual tension was rising by the second and the thought of being thoroughly fucked for the fifth time today made your legs clench shut. “Already ready for more? Your last orgasm wasn't even an hour ago," Ellie said picking up on your body language.

“You're moaning and I can practically hear your loud filthy thoughts. Might I add that you're teasing me and I don't appreciate it." You sigh out. It's normal for you to get turned on quickly when you’re with your girl, her presence alone made your body want to heat up.

"I didn't mean to tease you, Sal's infamous tacos are just too fucking good. Plus baby, you know all you have to do is ask if you want something. Remember what I told you the other week?" she asked as her hand began to trail down your stomach.

"You've told me many things the other week. Please elabora-" you were cut short when her slender fingers began to rub your clit, making your back arch off of the bed.

"I told you that I am yours. Anything you wish is my command, because you are my everything. I also said that I love to please you, it's my favorite thing and an honor to have the privilege of worshipping you. You are my drug. You'll get anything you want, as long as I'm able to please you and call you mine." she said before removing her gifts from god from your nerve bundle. Butterflies and a series of whines erupt from your throat at her words and the loss of contact.

"You show me everyday baby, would you mind showing me just how addicted you are?" you say in a breathy tone, already dripping onto your shared black sheets once again.

"Anything for you angel, I was going show you whether you asked or not." The horn dog said moving the empty food carton from my stomach, and tossing it onto our bedside table.

You hear the rustling of clothes, and knew they were being thrown recklessly on the floor of your bedroom. The bed then dips and you feel soft and warm hands spread my thighs gently. Then you hear her soft voice cut through the silent air, "What do you want baby? Whatever it is i'll give it you". you moan at her low tone and start to thrust your hips into the air, becoming impatient due to your turned on state.

"I want you to do what you always do. Make me feel good. Put your tongue in my pussy please” you moan out desperately.

Before you knew it her long slender tongue was deep inside your tight hole. Ellie instantly starts moving her head back and forth, while she kept a strong grip on your thighs. You try to run away due to the pleasure being to immense, but your restraints keep you secure. She temporarily pulls away to sexily whisper to you.

“Why’re you running baby? This is what you wanted yeah? Then stop squirming and let me fuck you with my tongue. I know you want it”

She dives back in and soon sounds start emitting from between your legs that make you want to cover your mouth in embarrassment, but you physically can’t. Wet slurping and Ellie’s moans are booming off of the walls, as she continues to plunge her long muscle inside of you.

You can feel the tongue inside of you curling upwards and moving backwards. You realized Ellie was quite literally swallowing your cum, drinking from you like you held the fountain of youth between your thighs.

“Fuck baby please p-please, stop it feels too good” You say trying but failing to shy away from her quick thrusting tongue.

Ellie comes up for air to quickly say “You know your safe word baby, and unless you use it i’m not fucking stopping. So be quiet and take it like a good girl okay?” The auburn haired girl says before her tongue is once again quickly dragging along your walls. Making white lightning shoot up your spine. The noises coming from your mouth sound downright pornographic. Who can blame you? This is what you wanted right?

You feel her slender fingers glide up your thigh to your stomach and they end up harshly tugging at your nipples. The pain of that mixed with the wet sucking noises your pussy makes as it’s being rammed into you has you beginning to sob. It was too much. She was too much.

Seconds felt like hours. You could do nothing but lay there like a good girl and succumb to her torture. That tongue was relentless and it’s goal was to LITERALLY fuck the life straight from your body.

You could only imagine what Ellie looked like in this moment. Eyes closed in bliss, loose hair sticking to her forehead, while you could feel her whimpers of satisfaction vibrating inside of your walls. The thought alone has you approaching your orgasm with the speed of light.

The blindfold covering your eyes doesn’t help with your sensitivity. As soon as your vision was engulfed in darkness your other senses skyrocketed, and that was before Ellie even started fucking you. Now there’s a flame roaring between your thighs.

Her nose is pressing against your clit with every jerk of her head between your legs. They started to shake under her palms as you cried for mercy. “Good girl, it’s okay good girl” she’d mutter to you every once in a while when she came up for air.

Suddenly she pulls away from your pussy causing you to cry out. You start to wail out and beg for her to let you cum, but your admissions are being ignored.

“Baby calm down it’s okay. I’m just going to grab something, I’ll be right back okay” She whispering softly, to which you respond with a tear filled voice “N-no! Baby please just fuck me, fuck-fuck me please I need you”.

“So needy, behave for me please? Just wait a minute angel, I promise to fill you up again” She said as you felt her weight lift off of the bed, making you sob harder.

You hear the closet door open with a *click* and you instantly quiet for a second. “Hm what happened baby? I thought you wanted me to fill you up” she says with that fucking stupid smirk on her face. You can’t see her but you know it’s etched on her lips.

“E-ellie wait, I don’t know if I can take that right now. I f-feel like i’m going to pass out any second now” You whisper shakily, knowing damn well you want her cock to stretch your tight pussy open.

“You know you can always safe word if you want to. I’d never do something you’re unsure about, but something tells me that your neglected hole wants to squeeze me” Ellie says now on her knees staring down at your pussy from above.

The tip is pressed on your clit, making your back painfully arch as far as it could. A moan so loud it shook the ceiling escaped your mouth. “You want me baby? Beg me” She said repeating the movement making a squeal rush out of your mouth. All Ellie could do was coo at you and laugh at your overstimulation.

“In-Inside please” You beg like a bitch in heat. You try to rut your hips up enough to force the tip to slip inside, which earns you a blistering slap to your thigh. “Stop fucking squirming, ask me properly” Ellie was growing impatient, she wanted nothing more than for you finally beg so she could fuck you into your shared bed.

“Y-your cock, please put it in my pussy. I need y-you so bad so fucking bad. I-I’ll do anything, just PLEASE” you blabber making Ellie look down at you in pity.

“Okay baby, okay I got you.” She whispers thinking that she’s tortured you enough.

After Ellie’s statement you felt the fat head of the silicon toy push inside of you. This caused the loudest whimper yet the leave your tight throat. “Oh fuck well would you look at that, you’re trying to pull me in deeper already.” She mutters through a groan.

You feel the toy slowly gliding along your gummy walls, making it harder to breathe. The thick girth of the toy is causing your pussy to stretch. It’s a big step up from Ellie’s lengthy tongue but it feels deliciously painful. The toy is only half way inside of you now, but that doesn’t stop you from crying out “O-oh god fuck, it’s too much” to the girl above you. The toy is sliding in deeper, massaging the nerve endings in your channel perfectly, and all you wish you could do was put your hand on Ellie’s stomach to stop her from going any deeper.

Before the strap on can bottom out within your pussy you feel Ellie drag it out of you slowly. Squelching noises follow due to the vast amount of wetness that surrounds the toy. The sound makes Ellie moan out and then push back in slowly.

You think she’s trying to tease you but deep down Ellie just doesn’t want to hurt you. She’s trying to allow your pussy to accommodate to the large size. As much as she’d like to rip you in half, she still feels like being gentle is needed right now. Especially because of how sensitive she knows you are right now.

You cant stop the moans from pouring out of you at her slow pace, in and out in and out. It’s that mouthwatering torture you crave but fuck you wish she’d go faster.

You were so caught up in your thoughts that you didn’t even notice that the toy was now snug against your sensitive cervix. You yelp out loudly like a dog that just got it’s paw stepped on, because fuck it’s big. The toy she picked out of your combined collection makes few appearances. But when it does, you know you’re going to end up fucked out and gasping for air.

“Oh angel it’s okay, I know you can handle it. You’ll tell me if you can’t won’t you? Yeah I know you will. I just want you to give me one more okay? Just one more.” Ellie says wanting to coax a 6th orgasm out of your tired pussy.

Ellie on the other hand is so drunk off the sight of your puffy pussy lips stretching to accommodate her length that her mouth bobs open and closed like a gaping fish out of water. This is what she lives for. This is what keeps the breath in her lungs. Being able to make you feel the pleasure you deserve.

Ellie’s waited too long, and before you know it she’s pistoning inside your pussy with immense speed. All you can do is cry and try to squirm away, but still to no avail the ropes remind you that you can’t. Gut wrenching sobs burst past your lips as your tears soak the material of the thin mask. Ellie notices this, and she halts her movements while the toy is pushed as deep as it can go inside of you. She leans forward and gently pulls the soaking material away from your eyes.

“Agh there you are angel, you know the deal. Keep your eyes on me or I swear on all I love that I’ll stop. Do you understand me?” She says menacingly. You wouldn’t dare disobey her. But before you can even respond that you “understand” she’s already moving her hips back and forth.

The look on Ellie’s face right now can only be described as ravenous. You made the mistake of catching her eyes with yours, and she can see the submission pouring out of your irises. She bites her lip, grips your thighs, and starts fucking into you like it’s the last time she’ll be able to. You didn’t even think it was possible for her to move faster but she managed to.

Your eyes cross towards your nose at the newfound pace. This makes Ellie let out a cute giggle, you look so fucking pathetic. The toy mixed with the look of hunger on Ellie’s face has you back on the edge again.

The long cock is reaching so far inside of you that you can feel it nudging against your stomach. You can physically see your stomach bulging up and down from each of her harsh thrusts.

You cant fucking take it anymore. Ellie’s groans, the pleasure, the sight of your stomach popping up and down has you ready to explode. But Ellie knows that.

“I know you want to cum, beg me angel, or I’ll stop right now” That threat has you panicking.

“P-please can I come? Please m-make me come. I need it, please fuck I-I need it. Just want to come for you, be your good girl.” you cry out and babble in despair.

“Okay okay, shhhh I got you, I got you. Let go for me. You did so good” Ellie says lifting a purple remote. She then presses down and you hear a click. Oh fuck.

As soon as her finger lifted off of the device intense vibrations are being soaked up by your walls. The pleasurable hum touches that spot deep inside of you. You’re a goner.

The orgasm you finally get the chance to experience takes you out of your fucking body. Screams and wails flood out of your mouth. At this point your neighbors probably think you’re being murdered. But the thought doesn’t stop the white creamy liquid that’s shooting out of your hole. Not only does it cover the whole of Ellie’s thighs and stomach but is also soaks the bed under your ass too.

Ellie simply just stares at you in awe, still buried to the hilt letting the vibrations work you through the comedown. The aftershocks of your intense orgasm still have you shaking, they still have you crying, and fuck it won’t stop.

“O-out please, it’s too much. I’m so f-fucking sensitive. Ellie please” you cry out still feeling little tears slide down your cheeks.

Ellie finally breaks from her trance and clicks the button causing the sensation to finally stop. She slowly slides out of you making you whine at the loss, but cry out from joy. You pussy is completely wrecked and all you want is that sweet aftercare.

Ellie unstraps the toy and gives you a hasty but soft “Ill be right back, okay?” And after hearing the running water shut off she emerges with a wash cloth. The warm cotton glides against your thighs, and moves gently along your outer lips. She straightens her back and stands back up.

“What do you say pretty?” Ellie says her voice filled with love. But you’re still too stuck in a trace to answer. The crying has subsided but you’re still shaking. So she asks you again.

“What do you say? Don’t test my fucking patience.” Ellie now speaks with that dominant tone you adore.

“Th-thank you, fuck thank you” You whimper out pathetically, trying to think of how she could possibly assume you’re in any position to form words right now.

“Thank you for what angel?” The soft tilt to her voice returns.

“For making me cum, for calling me your good girl.” You say calming down slowly as each second passes by.

“Good girl, you did so good. I’m so proud of you. Thank you for letting me please you. I’m going to untie you now okay?” Ellie says already making her way towards the binds around your left wrist.

One by one each knot comes undone, and after each one you’re slipping closer and closer to sleep. Before your brain that’s been turned to mush can comprehend what’s happening you’re pulled onto Ellie’s strong chest.

The last thing you say to Ellie before you fall asleep is the soft admission of “You had your fun today, but next time it’s you that’s going to be in that position.”

Ending AN: So yeah that happened.

[ladykailitha]

The Caged Bird Still Sings Part 4

Just a heads up tomorrow is the start of my posting hiatus. I will still do WIP Wednesdays and will be posting headcanons and stuff like that during that time. I will begin posting again on Sunday Sept. 1st. I haven't decided which story will get each slot, or if I just post based on vibes. Most likely vibes if I'm honest.

In this we get the first of Eddie's presents to Steve, Eddie refutes the stupid Steve charges, and Steve remembers something important that he forgot.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

~

Steve was living it up in the pool. His parents had an outdoor heated pool, but it was more for leisure than laps because of it’s weird oblong shape. But this? It had an outdoor pool, but the indoor pool was Olympic sized. Like proper with the lane lines painted on the bottom and everything.

So he practiced his backstroke and butterfly. And by the time he got out his muscles were deliciously sore and his skin was wrinkly. He showered and then padded over to the sauna to relax his ache muscles.

As he was the only one there, he set the temperature to slightly hotter than warm but not scorching. He wanted to rest his muscles not sweat out every toxin in his body. Once he was feeling good enough, he got dressed and walked back to his hotel.

He looked at the swimsuit in his hand and realized he wouldn’t have do laundry here if he didn’t want to. Wow. His mom always made him do his laundry even though they had a maid who would wash his parents’.

Steve looked at his watch and decided it was time for some dinner. He threw the swimsuit into the laundry basket and went to go blow dry his hair. He pulled out his but then noticed the one already on the counter. His eyes flicked between the two and there was no doubt that the one the hotel provided was way better than his.

He put his back in his bag and turned on the hotel’s hair dryer. It never overheated or would start to smell half way through the process. He ran a little gel through his hair and spritzed his hair three times with the hair spray.

He admired himself in mirror a moment. He was good looking. He knew that. But he never in his wildest dreams thought he had the looks to pull a rockstar. Like that was crazy levels of confidence. But looking in the mirror just now, maybe he could see what Eddie saw.

Steve walked up the table that had his wallet and picked it up. He pulled out his fake ID, the one that got him this cushy hotel room. He wouldn’t be able to use it for god knows how long, but he wanted to keep it. As a memento of sorts. God. He was already feeling melancholic about the whole thing and it had only been five hours.

That was when he spotted it. On the bed was a big white box. He frowned and walked up to it slowly. He wasn’t worried about people getting in. This was a hotel. It was probably put there by housekeeping or even the concierge. He knew better than to keep anything in his room that might interest a snoop.

He just wondered who gave it to him. He picked up the card and read it.

-To my little Canary

A parting gift from me.

Promise me you’ll wear it and think of me often

-Your Eddie

Steve lifted the lid of the box and inside was the most beautiful silk pajamas he had ever seen. It was a short-sleeved button up that stopped just an inch or so below the waistband of the matching shorts. The shorts themselves weren’t very long, not quite booty shorts level, but close. Both in a soft, light yellow color. Perfect for summer time.

He ran over to the phone and quickly dialed Eddie’s cellphone.

“Hello?” the warm, dulcet tones answered.

“Eddie?” Steve asked, even he knew it was. He was just so excited.

“My little Canary,” Eddie purred. “I take it you got your present.”

“I did,” Steve said, twirling the cord around his finger. “They’re beautiful. I can’t wait to wear them tonight.”

“Good,” Eddie said, a smile evident in his tone. “I hope I go the size right. Did you do anything fun today?”

Steve told him all about his day swimming and the sauna. He even told him about the hair dryer because he was just that excited about it all.

“That sounds great, little Canary,” Eddie said, his fondness oozing through in his tone. “I’m sending someone by with a card that I will load money on so that you can get things like gas for your car and other things for your personal hygiene, as I assume you’ll want to buy that stuff yourself.”

“You didn’t have to do that,” Steve found himself saying, almost against his will. “Could have gotten by with the hotel toiletries.”

Eddie chuckled. “Probably, but I wanted to give you the option of a choice.”

Steve blushed deeply, glad that Eddie couldn’t see him in that moment.

“Look, little Canary,” Eddie purred, “we just got to our location and I have to go, but I’ll call you after the show and tell you all about it.”

Steve bit his lip. “Yeah, I’ll talk then.”

He hung up after they said their goodbyes with a sigh. He flopped on the bed and looked up at the ceiling.

Fucking hell. What was he even doing with his life?

His stomach growled. Well, for starters, he guessed he was going to dinner.

~

When Steve finished his meal, which was even better than breakfast...He never had a steak melt in his mouth like that before. It was so soft and buttery and the potatoes tasted of rosemary and garlic, the carrots were covered in a glaze that tasted of honey and something darker.

He shook his head.

Anyway.

When he finished his dinner he went back up to the room. He resolved that he would need to do more than just swimming to keep the delicious food off his waistline. He was going to have to check out the gym here.

Steve looked at the time and decided it was too early for bed, but he got into the new pajamas anyway. The shorts were pulled on first and fuck. Steve felt sinful just wearing the damn things. They cupped him in all the right places but when he moved or sat down they didn’t ride up or pinch. He seriously thought about not putting on the shirt at all. But the desire to see the full effect won out.

He pulled it on and buttoned it up. And just like the shorts, the top was form fitting but comfortable. The V in the neck from where the highest button went (it didn’t button all the way up) just showed a peek of his chest hair.

He admired himself in the mirror for several minutes before he forced himself to go back out to the suite.

Steve grabbed the remote and started flipping the channels. He was used to cable as his mother needed her HSN and his father needed the soccer score. Not because he was interested in the game, but because he’d bet on foreign games.

But either his parents only had basic cable or there were a bunch of new channels added recently. And he was willing bet it was the former.

He found a late night baseball game from a Japanese league and started watching that. He couldn’t understand the announcers and he didn’t know the players’ names, but it was still baseball, regardless the language.

Before he knew it the game was over and it was late at night, finally time for bed. He got all snuggled into bed when the phone rang.

“‘Ello?” he muttered sleepily.

“Oh, darlin’,” the warm tones caressed his ear, “did I wake you?”

Steve hummed in the negative. “Just getting ready to sleep. Tell me all about selling out Indy.”

Eddie huffed out a laugh. “I’d ask you how you knew Corroded Coffin sold out tonight, but you spent all of last night surrounded by my fans. Even the stupidest person on the planet would have had to pick something up.”

“Mhmm,” Steve murmured. “That’s me, stupidest person on the planet.”

There was silence on the line for a moment or two. “Who says you’re dumb, baby?”

“My parents,” he said softly, “my first girlfriend before I realized I was gay, my ex-boyfriend, you know the one my parents kicked me out for? And um...the kids I babysat for are all like super geniuses, so they get frustrated with me a lot.”

“Oh my little Canary,” Eddie cooed. “You’re not dumb. School smarts isn’t everything. I’m living proof of that.”

“That’s true,” Steve said, a little less sad. “I’m talking to a bona fide rockstar.”

“Hell yeah you are,” Eddie agreed. “But let me tell you about my night and see if I can’t lull you to sleep with the sound of my voice.”

“I’d really like that.”

So that’s what Eddie did, he talked and talked until he could hear the soft little snuffling of snores from his Canary.

“Good night, sweetheart.”

~

When Steve woke up the next morning, the phone was still dangling off the cradle from where it fallen the night before when he fell asleep listening to Eddie.

Eddie had a great talking voice. Dude should do books on tape or voice acting or something. Maybe he’d tell him the next time he called.

He stretched and yawned. He woke up just as well rested today as he had yesterday. Which meant that as good as the sex was, and it was amazing, it wasn’t as big a factor in his night’s sleep as he thought.

He got up and went to go grab a shower. He hadn’t had a chance to use it yet, as he had used the swimming pool’s showers yesterday. He ordered breakfast and then hopped into the shower, telling them to just come in and leave it next the sofa.

He dried off with one of the most luxurious towels.

Steve stopped for a moment. He really needed to stop comparing the hotel to the life he led before being kicked out. It wasn’t the same. It wasn’t even in the same state let alone ball park. His life here would always be miles away from the life he left behind.

New cage, same as the old cage really except real gold instead of merely gilded. Better food, furniture, amenities. Same limitations. Can’t drink, but he could smoke.

So he went out on the balcony to do just that. He brought his food out with him and just smoked, watching the busy crowd below him.

Oh shit!

He scrambled back inside the hotel room and fumbled around for his wallet. He pulled out a little laminated card and dialed the one on the top.

“Henderson residence, Claudia speaking,” the warm motherly voice answered.

“Mrs. Henderson,” Steve whined, almost in tears at the sound of her voice.

“Steve?” she asked gently. “Oh I was wondering when you were going to call. Dustin has been worried sick. He went to Family Video yesterday to return “Ghostbusters” and the snooty girl at the counter said you’d been fired for sodomy!”

He winced a little at the harsh word she used. “I–I’m gay, Mrs. Henderson,” he whimpered into the phone. This was it, she was going to turn him away too. Forbid Dustin from seeing him, then it would get around to the all the other parents and he wouldn’t be able to be around Holly or Will. And–

“Ah...” she said, just as gentle and warm as before. “Can you help it? Can you choose who you love?”

“No, ma’am,” he whispered, hanging his head between his shoulders.

“Then why would I care?” Claudia huffed in annoyance. “The first thing a mother should learn is to love your child no matter what, no matter who. Now, if Dusty gives you a hard time, you let me know. You hear?”

Steve felt a swell of pride in his chest, she might have not had been his real mother, but he should have known better than to bet against Claudia Henderson.

“Here, let me go get him,” she said softly. “Would you like me to explain it to him first?”

A lump formed in his throat as he choked down tears. He forgot he wasn’t isolated. He wasn’t cut off completely from people.

“Yeah,” he said, his lip quivering. “If you would.”

“Of course, sweetie,” Claudia said warmly. “I’ll be right back.”

Steve didn’t have long to wait. Soon there was the sound of Dustin practically screaming in his ear.

“Hey, bud,” he said when he could finally get a word in.

There was a sniffle. “Why didn’t you call me and Ma? We would have taken you in.”

Steve’s heart swelled again, this time in utter love for this butthead. “Because my dad would have seen to it that she lost her job at the library and with your dad having just passed, I couldn’t do that to you, to either of you, okay?”

There was another sniffle. “Okay...”

“Here,” Steve said, “I can’t tell you where I am right now, because no doubt my dad is trying to run me out of town, but I can give you a phone number to call. I might not always be there, but you can leave a message and I’ll call you back.”

“I guess that’s acceptable,” Dustin huffed. “Can I tell everyone you’re okay?”

Everyone meant his kids. Max, Elle, Will, Mike, Lucas, and Erica. And well, Holly, too. But she was too young to really understand what was going on. Technically Erica should be in that same category but she was too smart to be left out. Steve didn’t even bother trying most days.

“Yeah, bud,” he murmured. “You can tell people I’m safe. Just keep the number to yourself for now. I don’t want my dad knowing where I am.”

“Roger that!” Dustin said.

They talked for a few moments longer before Claudia took the phone back.

“I’m going to call the PTA calling tree,” she said, “and get the word out that you’ll be unavailable to babysit for the foreseeable future.”

Steve hummed. “I think that’s the part that upsets me the most about all this shit.”

“I know, sweetie,” Claudia assured him. “But we’ll figure it out.”

And he was absolutely certain if anyone could, it was Claudia Henderson.

He let out a sigh of relief for the first time since he was kicked out.

~

Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14

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[nerdgal27]

A Story Behind the Painting

Home

Summary:

Part 4 of (Mikey and Me Part 3), (It Happened Again Part 2), and (Don't Want to Talk Part 1). Struggle after struggle. There comes a time when the inner demon destroys so much, that one doesn't know what else to do. Other than keep the inner demon from loved ones.

Tags: Substance Abuse, Depression, Flashbacks, and Abuse.

Home 

Sunshine dapples the deep green forest. Burn the late morning dew glittering jewels in mid air. Coffee mug in hand black liquid slosh onto cold fingers as I wobble down the tiny staircase of the camper pickup truck. An old rust bucket is the last bit of my savings can afford. 

Sit on a lazy afternoon in a cozy chair. Stare at the endless view of evergreen pines and misty gray mountains is worth it all. Take in the cool sweet wood scent of green fill sore lungs. Swivel chair further away from an old gravel path. Wind over the lush undergrowth. Where customary rodents cover last night's tracks. Eat the empty nut shells and left over trail mix I left for them. Can’t stomach to eat anything again. What’s the point now?

Shield away by Mother Nature’s warmth and green walls. Her sweet melody chirps and whispers in the silence. The sticky sun glues me under the camper cobweb awning. Spiders big enough to play the banjo. Thought grows a chuckle to who said that once. Forever gone away in the forever distance. All for the best. For everyone. For them most of all. 

Free from pain, from it all. It has been done. No need to know the outside world. Can almost imagine it all. Not now. No need to think about any of that at all. Other than wonder how hot this coffee is for me to sip. 

Deep rich aroma takes me away from the pines. Old giggles bounce from concrete walls. Sparks spray in all directions mingles the smell with old metal. When muddle hands rub black grease over my eyebrow. Old scooter parts vomit all over the floor. A victim to be torn apart, rebuilt to either drive faster. Or explode. 

Phone rings memories back to green and soft blue reality. Muffle in the far depths of the 1967 brown and green camper. Can’t be right, I shut it off last night. 

Crawl back into the sauna brown dungeon. Follow the ringtone to the front. Weave over the hot tea water bottles on the fuzzy floor. Brush last night’s debris aside in the trap of doom between the front seat. Bright pink old life shivers in a frenzy. 

I shouldn’t turn the phone over to see the screen. This needs to be my new life now. Can’t go back anyways. How can I like this? How can anyone? Doing this for them. An glove box that only opens and closes by a swift kick is a good place to bury it all away. Turn off all of the past in orange velvet darkness. Leave it all tucked away. Return to the fresh sirene new life. 

Canadian geese honk over the tall tree peaks. The way the flock swoops down a long terrain down from blue skies and feather clouds. Sunrays beam grasshopper hisses mid day summer heat. Follow the distant honks and splash. A cool lake lap over dry cracked feet sounds perfect. Clear this heavy head of mine. 

Wander back inside. Cool worn out duds for lake water. Cold beer in hand, tuck comfy chair under my arm. A handful of fluorescent pink tags roll in hand. Nice way to return to my new home without getting lost. Wait for another set of geese to flutter above. Lead the way out of the hot sun. Weave between the trees. Step over tree root monsters. Smile at the odd bird or animal hops by. 

“We don’t keep secrets, right?”

I whisper to the memories. “No, you don’t.” 

Another voice in the dream rasp. “He still loves you.” 

He shouldn’t, neither should any of you. Too broken, not enough. Difficult. 

Out here. All are no different than any woodland creatures from the largest moose to the small voles scurry by. What is worse, to remember the words. Or the subtle silence of the first night when all of this began. A sink full of awful empty decisions. The oldest brother’s quiet gaze. Patterns flourish in the forest around me. Bright shapes shimmer all that is long gone behind me. Nothing wrong with a cold one in hand on a hot day. 

Besides, take in all of this. A wide dark turquoise green lake. Full of life. A single loon lone coo along with the tiny dots of geese in the water. Soft gentle slopes into sand and clay. Show evidence of deer were here moments ago. 

He misses you that’s all 

One’s voice. Does he?… Of course he does. How could he not? Everyone else knows. 

Sit down in the chair. Set down the last 3 cans of a 6 pack. Miraculous 3 survivors of a drunk blackout yesterday. Crack open heaven. Slide it down the fire throat. Feel it burn over it all. Take in this brand new peaceful life of quiet. Should bring out a couple fishing poles for tonight. If I remember to come back for them. Can’t go back to anything nowadays. 

When will I see you? 

My old self. When my voice had more life. 

Soon, Sweetheart, it will be like old times. 

There’s a reason why they are called old times. It was a good life. A loud life, somewhat chaotic. The endless laughs, pile ons, pushing around. Plastic cockroaches in cupboards, glitter in ninja smoke bombs. One time Mikey and I replaced Raphael’s shower gel for blue dye. Guy was a grumpy Smurf for 4 days. His grouchy growls. The wooden spoon in papa turtle Smurf’s hand. Mikey ran for his life. I laughed so hard I couldn't breathe. Wash over the more recent screams and pushes away. Even more of the dark and bleek. 

When closet doors rattle. Whisky bottles smash in the far distance- 

No. Not again. Never speak of it again. None of that ever happened. 

Water swishes numb ankles. Whirl to baby ducks splash nearby. Over work, Mother of 6 squacks her children to behave and paddle behind her. Chuckles at their little feet blur under the clear water. Match the same speed of their cotton ball wings. Can remember when Mikey used to run the same way. Anytime Donnie chases Mikey out of his lab. Sometimes so then Donnie and I could play science and pupil again. 

Water waves between my toes. Shallow parts warm from the sun. Heat numb limbs. Swallow back to boiling hot water. Scorch delicate young skin.

Mommy it’s too hot. 

No…stop

Screams echo. Blister scar. Bare to the summer heat. Every single one remembers every pain. Why did I wear this tank top? Why am I out here? Can’t stay.

Hands stick on to lawn chair. Water waves slosh against the sandy ridge. Small legs kick. Hot water splashes everywhere. Hands shove deep under water. 

Sweetheart, breathe…

Violet voice whispers. Take his invisible hands. Squeeze them. The way he told me to. No thumb rubs my hands. Take in all of the cool fresh pine. Have to get used to this alone. Least this way is the best. No one’s burden any more. Can pick up this lawn chair anytime. 

Wander back the pink flag trail. Lose myself to millions of songs birds and butterflies flutter by. Brush soft long grass under fingers as I go. Crisp fresh air. Think about what bait to use for food tonight. Another thing I will have to start getting used to. 

Yellow happy face atena swings in between shrubs. Wave me down the direction home. Swig the last bit of powerful robust dark beer. Ignite pain away in a smooth burn. Drown darkness where they belong. 

Soft breeze hushes the forest buzz. Breathe in strong bitter fuel knocks the taste of beer. Great animal growls a deep hungry growl. Take me back to a cool violet room. To a lab chair and elastic bands for hair tying. 

“Sweetheart!?”

 Old life hollars me dead frozen in the tall grass. Hidden behind thick honeysuckles. The low hanging tree branches block the meadow opening of my new home. Don’t need to see how close the voice is. Can hear his feet crunch back and forth in the gravel. Rusty truck doors whine open and slam shut. Yellow smiley atena whirs in a hyperactive spaz. Empty cans clang on the far away floor board. Fast in a frantic, more than the time he caught Mikey in his mutagen supply. 

Footsteps wobble in the far depths of camper sweet camper. No.

He can’t be here. No one can find me like this.  I did this for them. They need to stay away from me. Far from any ear shot here. Can drop everything and run. Spin to do so. Lungs leap to jump for the hot pink trail back to the lake. 

Get back here! 

Hot greasy hand clap thunder. Drop the entire lazy afternoon supply. Oh crap no! Don’t drop them.

Metal chair legs clang against beer cans. 

Shallow gasp in the wind. Pushes me faster down the trail. Teenage bare feet pound thistles and burrs I weaved around before. 

Child bare feet blur down a hallway. Slam the bedroom door shut. 

“Tessie, wait!” 

Oh shit! Dammit! All the curse words Mikey should never hear. He found me. Faster down the hill. Over the log. Reach for the ridge. Follow the open blue sky between the evergreen trunks. 

Slip under fast large hands. Hardwood scraps small bare knees. Away from him. Away from the man. Go go go. 

Feet hush to the quiet breeze and soft rainfall of leaves. The broken footpath behind me, bare. Maybe turned back to the shellraiser for something. No matter. Least I can slow down, and lungs can breathe. 

Leaves rustle ahead. Green blur drops from above. Dead in his tracks. The tall slender turtle raises his hands and snatches me. Should have known. Been raised by ninjas for Pete sake. 

Jerk arms in his grip. Swallow the rock down. 

“Donnie, what are you doing here? Let me go.”

Sink away from his gaze. Loosen his grip to one hand on my arm. 

He pants, “I’m not here to fight, and I should be the one asking you the same question.” 

Rip his hand off me. No point in running. His long legs follow behind down the path. As I pick up the lawn chair. 

“No phone call, no note, do you know what I found in that camper?” His feet pound behind. 

Pick up what’s left of the 6 pack. Dangle the last 2 cans yet to be drank. No point in hiding it now. Plus he said he’s not here to fight. There’s no need to answer. Lanky green hands rip the plastic rings. 

“Hey!”

Whirl back to the two cans soar into the forest. Shove Donnie back. 

“What the hell was that for? That stuff ain’t cheap.” 

He towers over me. Loom a dark shadow over. Calm eyes narrow into deep violet slits. Deepens his sharp tongue. 

“Do you know how long I drove to find you,

How long we’ve been looking for you?” 

Step out of his shadow. Continue down the path into the sunlight. Home sweet home lies ahead. 

Shrug as I go, “You didn’t have to. Just decided to take a trip, that's all, what’s wrong with that?”  

Old life lingers in the shadows. Listen to teeth grit splinters. Boy did he skip coffee? Why is he hear anyway. Everyone knows so what’s the point?

Set the lawn chair back under the shade of a hunter's green awning. Since Mr. Grumpy in the corner threw a good set of cans. Guess I’ll have to get more. Crawl back inside the brown velvet coffin. Weave over the thrown cans on the floor. Guess I’ll have to clean this soon. The camper door slams shut. 

“I wouldn’t shut that, unless you want to melt.” I speak to the ghost by the door. 

Silence. Gonna be civil now. Want to burn holes through my head? Go on, do it. Everyone else is gone, why should anything matter. Open the mini fridge. To an endless supply of bottles, cans, and what I forgot most. Leaps off the shelves, plop to the fuzzy floor. 

Oh shit. 

“…what is that?” 

He’s the brainiac and yet he’s asking me? Should be pretty obvious by the label. Let his long legs weave around me. Take a bag from the fridge. I Crack open a cold one. Fire burns down all those dark heavy nights. Think back to all of the colorful waves last night.

“…T-this…” 

Leave him in the camper. Let him figure it out himself. Wasn’t supposed to be here to begin with. Might as well read what brand I use, for what? Who knows. 

Set the can in the lawn chair. Camper door shuts, no slam? Weird. Shouldn’t he be furious or something? 

Been standing there for a while. Turn to him at the metal steps. Shaded from the hot sun. Bag shivers in between his fingers. Lost to the horizon. That I’ve seen thousands of times in his brown eyes. His internal gears whir. He never looks like this unless…

“You do know, right?” 

Silence answers. The deep rise and fall of his chest. He sinks down to the flatten tall grass. Let the bag fall between his fingers. A look I make when I wake up from a nightmare. Before I would run straight to his bedroom. 

Set the can away. How? What?! 

Rise up from the old seat. I ask, “The guys never told you?” 

Rise from his palms, bambi eyes round wide, “They know about this?!” 

“Well…yeah”- 

“How long?” He mutters, waiting for an answer, “Why didn’t you tell me?” 

Take a step away from his ember coals glow. Shrug an answer, “I thought you knew, how can everyone else know but you Donnie, you know every inch of the city.” 

“How was I supposed to know?” He shoots from the ground. Bury me in his height, “You never call or text me anymore, and then leave the city to who knows where, does Mikey know?!” 

Mikey. Golden sun, white dust particles float over the sweet turtle. Bath in old and new sunlight. Breathe that old dry air of that lazy morning. 

Nod in silence. Hoarse throat stops all words Heavy numb limbs drag back inside the brown coffin. Large queen size mattress at the back. Warm by the sun. Shut all of the curtains away. Curl all away in a ball. Close away from all life. This is not what is supposed to happen. 

“Sweetheart?” Footsteps wobble the camper. 

No answer. Feel the camper sink down with him. Warmth touches my arch back, soft thumb rubs me to the old cool lab. All those years ago. 

“What are your plans for being out here?” He whispers. 

No, he already knows now. He can’t know about this too. It will crush him. Shiver under his soft palm. There’s no going back. I’ve made this decision. Already caused enough problems as it is. First Leo. How it all turned Raph down into this dark hole. Times I’ve picked him up because of what I’ve done. Tried to fix it all for Mikey. Tried to be happy for Mikey. Yet…I am here. This is what I deserve. Donnie shouldn’t even be here. Why is he still here?

Weight shifts the mattress. Warmth drapes behind all along against me. His long arm slides around me. Pull me back tight against his beating heart. Donnie’s muzzle nestles deep into my shoulder. It doesn't take much for him to know. 

Brush back strands from my cheek. 

He whispers, “You don’t deserve to go through this alone.” 

Roll in his arms. Drown myself into this chest I’ve missed so much all night long. Muzzle in his sweet scent and warmth. Squeeze all pain in his tight arms. 

I shake, “I-I Don’t kn-know… if I can go back, big brother, I-I’m too broken. No one should be stuck with me”- 

Soft lips plant firm silence my heavy forehead. 

“You are never too broken, it’s okay to have space for a while when you need it.” His deep voice murmurs in my ear. 

Cling on to his belt. The same way when I was small. Take me back to the memories. Away from all of this. Let all of the pain drip onto his chest. Choke on my words.

As my brainiac brother traces slow circles on my back. Sweet rich coffee fills my world. Over the fresh pine. More warm than the summer hot sun. A soft sigh quells more than the lone loon. I am back home. This is home. Safe. Can hide here as long as I need. 

 He whispers, “I will stay for as long as you need me, little pupil.” 

Bit through all the painful tears to fall. That roll down my brother’s chest. Yesterday I was in darkness. Tomorrow, who knows where I will be. For now I am with Donatello. My close friend, my big brother.

I am home. 

[formulaforza]

—the seasons of love

or: the enemies to lovers situationship fic charles leclerc x female reader summ. and all of the sudden it was summer. minors dni. nsfw warnings under the cut. 5.9k part one part two part three part four part five

18+ because: public sex (not caught, not almost caught. just. public), dry humping, language.

“Please,” he begs, voice cracked and half-broken. His fingers dig into the fabric on your hips, pulls you down harder, moves your hips faster. You love feeling him grow under you. You can feel his dick, hard under you in his shorts, and you can feel yourself, hot and bothered and soaking wet. He pushes you impossibly further down against him, sinks his teeth into your shoulder, around the strap of your tanktop and the material of your sports bra. 

It’s so hot. So hot and steamy and everything is sweaty and flushed. You think you might have to drink a gallon of water after this, that it’s the only way you’ll be able to accomplish another task all day. The sauna had to be the worst place to do this, to finally break after all this time. It’s hot and it’s dangerous in more ways than you can count. 

You barely hear him over the thick heat covering both of your bodies, over the dehydrated ringing in your ear. “What?”

“Enough,” he breathes, thumbing at the waistband of your shorts, trying to slip you out of them, to have you all the way. “Wanna be inside you.”

“Mm-mm,” you hum against his lips, smile out of the kiss because you know your words will piss him off. Your hand covers his, practically intertwines between his fingers, holds him still at your waistband. He’s pouting before you can even tell him. “No, this is all you get,” you mutter, moving his hand further down, until it’s resting where the fabric of your shorts meet his, where you grind against him, against his hand. “Anyone could walk in.”

He pulls your shorts to the side, lets his thumb slide between the fabric and your underwear, slides up and down over your slick, all messy and wet through your underwear. It makes him shake his head, how much of a mess you already are for him. You relish in it, watch him with a sick smile. “Let them.”

You laugh, elbows on his shoulders while your hands run through his hair, all sweaty and salty and lacking the familiar scent of his shampoo. No, no, it just smells hot. Everything smells hot and humid. “You don’t mean that.”

He leans into your fingers, lets your nails drag across his scalp gently with fluttered eyelids. He looks pretty and content and you hate it. “I might,” he mumbles into your shoulder, kisses the skin just past your clavicle, nips a bruise on top of a bruise on top of a bruise. Just in case you forget. 

“If you did,” you hum, sitting up, raising your hips off his and reaching behind your body, under your ass to palm him through his shorts, to put the outline of his dick just where you want it–where you need it. “You’d let them hear how good you feel instead of biting off my fucking shoulder.”

“You want to hear me?” 

“Yes,” you nod. He takes a deep breath, almost spits it out in a laugh and you can predict his actions before he even starts. “FU–” you smack your hand over his mouth before he can even get the vowel sound out, head whipping around to look at the door, to wait for the handle to jiggle against itself and for someone to push it open to see what all the commotion is about. When nobody does, you turn your attention to him.

“What the fuck is wrong with you!?” You scold, a laugh tickling the back of your throat through the muffled rage. He’s such a fucking idiot. He licks a long stripe across your palm and he about curls over in laughter when you yank your hand away disgusted. 

He shrugs, toothy, dimpled grin on his face. “I was making sure you could hear me.”

He thrusts against you, fingers digging into your hips, flat hands spanning your back, your sides, groping at your boobs through far too much fabric. He agrees with your assessment, he does, because he’s pulling up the hem of your tank top, of your sports bra, pulling them up over your chest so he can properly play with your tits. You know you should keep them covered, stay as clothed as possible just in case, but every nerve in your body reacts to his touch, his gentle fingers over your skin, and you’re in no place to be sensible.

You kiss him, hard and deep and not very mean at all, nothing like you usually do, all noses bumping and half giggles and foreheads resting against each other. “I hate you,” you whisper into his mouth before kissing him again.

You swallow his laugh. All of this is entirely too laugh-ey for your comfort. It’s weird. It’s all so weird, this new dynamic; the way you both stumble back and forth, swing like a pendulum from one side of the line to the other. One minute, you wish you could strangle him with his own tongue. The next, you’re lavishing in the taste of his laugh. “You wish you hated me,” he says. You don’t say anything. You do wish you hated him. You do, because it would be so much easier. If you hated him the way you used to, you wouldn’t be here like this, fucking his lap, desperately tugging on the waistband of your shorts to pull them tighter across your cunt. Nothing you do will make it close enough, not as long as you refuse to actually fuck him, to let him fuck you. “Cat’s got your tongue now, does it?”

You shake your head, kiss along his jaw, nibble his ear and his neck and his shoulder; you give him a taste of his own medicine. “Mm-mm, just feels good,” his skin muffles your words, makes them short and lispy.

He laughs. You’re so fucking sick of the fact that you aren’t sick of his laugh. It exhausts you, the way his dimples dig into his cheeks, the way his shoulders shake and his abs flex and you get to watch it all up close. It’s fucking infuriating. “You don’t think I’ve fucked you enough to know that sex doesn’t shut you up?”

You smirk, grind down onto him and God, it feels so fucking good. Better than it should. “And what does shut me up, Charles?”

“One of my life’s great mysteries,” he says, and you don’t know how long it’s been since he last met your eyes. He’s so glued to the two of you it’s bordering on pathetic, loose jaw and half-lidded eyes watching every movement of your bodies. He looks at you like he’s starved. It makes you fucking crazy, and he’s the only one that does it–which is that much more annoying. Nobody looks at you the way he does. 

It’s just the time. The reason he watches you the way he does. It’s time. Time apart, a lot of it. It’s just the time, you tell yourself again and again. “I missed this,” you tell him, and it’s because of the time. 

“Arguing with me?”

“No, no. Missed you.” Because of time. Because of time. Because of time. You think maybe you’d gotten addicted to it all, to the push and the pull and the promise of things never going anywhere. That you grew reliant on it, on him, to be there when you needed him to be, when nobody else was good enough for a quick fuck. You’d become an addict, a sloppy drunk who’s favorite drink is him. The orange juice is gone now, and you’re back to consuming him and it’s like you never stopped. 

He grabs at your ass, at your shorts and your underwear and your thighs, at anything that might possibly force you down onto him harder and quicker. The pace is fading fast, and you’re both losing the fight to keep being smart. “Fuck,” he groans, the same way he always does when he’s close. 

“I know,” you whine, nodding, fucking against him like your life depends on getting off. “Me too.”

“So good, baby,” he coaxes you. You hear the pet name, you always hear the pet name. You always tell him to shut the fuck up because it makes you mush, putty in his hands everytime. This time, though, this time you’re silent, breath pausing against his skin. “Sorry, sorry,” he corrects before you can. You weren’t going to, not this time. 

“No, it’s okay. God—it’s okay,” the conversation gets harder and harder, your mind cloudier with each passing moment, with each thrust bringing you that much closer to the tantalizing edge. 

“Yeah?” He moves you quicker, finds the space somewhere to rut up off the hard bench and into you. “You like that shit now?”

  You nod, eyes pinching shut, fingernails digging into the skin on his back. “From you, baby, fuck, I do.”

He sighs, pained, half-whimpered. You don’t know how you aren’t coming yet, how the fuck you’re still having a conversation. You’re blindingly close. He’s closer. “Stop saying shit like that to me, gonna make me–fucking… fuck,” he sputters out, and you feel his dick twitch in his shorts. God. Next time–fuck. Next time, you want him dripping down your leg. 

The thought of it is enough to unravel you, to leave you following right behind, thinking maybe, maybe you can fit in another smart comment, something to still manage to assure that you’ve got the upper hand. Something that, when the two of you walk out of here, you’ll be able to replay back as the moment you won the battle. You’re wrong. “But it makes my jo…” your words trail off into a laugh, a stuttered moan that’s lost all semblance of the joke. 

(twenty-two minutes earlier)

You'd decided to take some time after Monaco, to separate yourselves in an attempt to untangle the mess of webs you’ve wrapped yourselves in. You’d turned to the gym to blow off all that excess steam left behind in his wake. Only problem is, your gym is his gym, and you’ve spotted each other from across the place more than once. 

As you entered the sauna, the steam enveloped you, wrapping you in a cocoon of warmth and relaxation. You were looking forward to some peaceful time alone, a chance to unwind and forget about the newfound complications of your life. 

The tranquility is short lived, however, when you notice Charles sitting on the other side of the room. 

Your eyes meet for a split second, and in that fleeting glance, a myriad of emotions pass between you. Surprise, annoyance, that same third thing you’ve been trying to kill for months. Both of you.

You didn’t have time to dwell on his presence, not with strangers in the sauna with you. 

You took the farthest possible seat from him, trying to focus on the hot air working your muscles instead of the irritating man glaring at you. You can feel his eyes, their stare only dueling your frustration. 

Minutes pass in tense silence as you both pretend not to notice each other. The other people in with you, acting as a silent buffer, your own personal sauna Switzerland, get up and walk out, leaving the two of you alone. The moment the door closes behind the last person, he’s jumping down your throat, his annoyance no longer restrained. 

“What are you doing here?” he asked, tone laced with irritation. 

You rolled your eyes. It’s been so long since you’ve gotten to play your little game, no way you’re backing down this early. “I could ask you the same thing,” you retorted, crossing your arms defensively. 

He let out a humorous chuckle. “Maybe I wanted some peace and quiet,” he shot back.

You scoffed. “Peace and quiet? You’re the last person I expect to want that,” you said, unable to hide your disdain. 

Charles glared back at you , clearly unappreciative of your sarcastic wit. “Well, we can’t all be perfect like you,” he replied. The tension was thick between the two of you, thicker than it had been in a long time. “Can’t you find another gym to steal?” 

You huffed, tired of his complaints. “I can go wherever I want. It’s not my fault you’re so inflexible with your workout schedule,” you shot back, trying to mask the unease you felt. 

He leaned back in his seat, a hint of smugness in his voice. “And can you at least wear something a little more… decent? You’re not leaving much to the imagination,” He comments, eyes flickering over your outfit. He’s just a douche, you’re wearing a sports bra and running shorts. 

You annoyance flares. Who the fuck does he think he is, acting like a boyfriend—an overprotective one at that. Fuck him. Fuck him. “Oh please, I don’t dress to impress you,” you retorted flatly. 

He seems unphased by your rage, which only makes you angrier. “It’s distracting,” he mumbled.

Fed up with his attitude, with everything he decided to represent by waking up and coming to the gym and walking into the sauna, you decide to call his fucking bluff. You got up from where you were sitting, moved closer to him, hands on your hips. 

“You want to see how revealing my clothes can be?” you challenged, folding over the waistband of your shorts, revealing just a bit more skin. 

He blinked, caught dumbfounded by your move, by your sudden proximity. “That’s not what I meant,” he stammered, bravado faltering. You took a step closer, gaze locked with his. 

“Then what did you mean, Charles?” you asked, voice softening just enough to let him think he’s going to get off easy. He’d never be that lucky, not when he’s talking like he owns you, like he has any right to your body or the clothes you put on it. “Did you mean to criticize everything I do, everything I wear, or just assert some kind of dominance over me?”

He looked taken aback by your words, and honestly, you didn’t blame him. Your tone surprised even you. It was clear he hadn't expected you to challenge him like this. “No, that’s not what I meant at all,” he replied, voice softer now. 

“Then what is it, Charles?” you pressed, refusing to back down. “What is it about me that’s bothering you so much?”

He hesitated for a moment, and then finally spoke, his voice tinged with frustration. “It’s not that I’m bothered by you,” he said, “I just… I don’t know how to be around you.”

You took another step closer, closing the distance between the two of you. You roll your eyes, huff and puff and almost groan because he’s only reminding you of why the two of you agreed to keep your distance in the first place. He can’t hang, can’t get with the program and understand that you just can’t deal with the implications of him.  “What do you mean?” you ask, voice cooling, wanting to understand him. 

He hesitates, gaze locked on yours. “It’s like… every time I’m with you, everything is just. It’s different,” he admitted. “I can’t pretend it’s not.”

You can, you can pretend. You like pretending. Pretending is easy, far easier than facing the facts, facing the feelings. Your heart skips a beat, his words resonating with the feelings you’d been trying to bury. “So, what are we then?” you asked, already gearing up to refute any claims he goes making about us, about we, about any other multitude of pluralities he wants to stutter out. 

He has no sort of a clear answer. “I don’t know,” he replies, harrowingly candid. You don’t think you’ll ever be faced with him being this vulnerable and not feel like throwing up.  “I wish I did, but I don’t.”

The vulnerability in his voice breaks any and all anger you’d managed to carry to this point. You almost felt bad, a pang of sympathy tearing through your chest. You knew he was struggling as much as you were. “I don’t know either,” you admitted, voice threatening to fall into silence. You both stand there for a beat too long, heavy with the weight of it all. And then, in a moment of impulse, you reach out and take his hand, intertwine your fingers with his. 

His thumb moves over the back of your hand, but he says your name like you’re hurting him, like he’s truly pained to hold your hand. “I can’t lose you. I won’t,” he whispers. “I can’t, I can’t keep running from it.”

You were taken back by the sincerity, but rather than pull away, recoil into safety like a scared turtle into their shell, you squeezed his hand gently. “I don’t know if I’m ready,” you spoke honestly, more generously than you had yet allowed yourself to. “But I. Yeah, I can’t lose you.”

And just like that, the months of rebuilding the barriers and the boundaries has all gone to shit, all the walls melting to the floor in a steaming puddle. The tension that had been built, destroyed, redbuilt, for so fucking long that it felt like a tightly wound spring just begging to snap. 

Without another word, you leant down, closing the distance between you and pressing your lips against his. There was no fight, no anger or frustration or game to win, it was just a kiss. It was no longer a hookup, a friends or enemies or… frenemies with benefits situation. It’s not an itch that needs to be scratched anymore. It’s a gap, begging to be bridged, to be explored after so long. 

You moved to straddle him, out of pure convenience–no distraction, no battle for domination. Just you, sitting on his lap, and him, kissing a smile onto your lips. 

As you pulled apart, breath heavy and hearts pounding, you looked at him, searched his eyes for the same fear you felt, gentle fingers making a half-hearted attempt at styling his hair. “I don’t want to ruin this,” he says. You don’t know how it could possibly make any sense, how you could possibly feel like you do, but you miss him. He’s right here in front of you, and you miss him. 

You nodded, “I don’t either,” you confirmed. You don’t know which one of you moved first, who started it all. Just that you were the first to speak again. “We shouldn’t.” Push.

“I know.” Pull. 

“But I want to.” It’s pained, just like everything else. You know better. You both know better. 

“I know, I know.”

You gathered at the entrance of the trailhead, the air full of laughter and excited chatter as all of your friends caught up, planned for the hike ahead. It was Marta’s idea, and she’d swore to you up and down that Charles wasn’t going to be there, that he had too much to focus on with summer break coming to an end in just a few days. 

It has been so long since the whole group got together, and when you’d gotten the text it sounded like the perfect excursion, the best way to spend a warm evening. You beam talking to them, catching up on work and romance and family and other friends. Your gaze sweeps over the group, stopping dead at the sight of him. Either Marta had lied to you, or Ricky had lied to Marta. 

“What’s he doing here?” you asked her, and she followed you gaze. 

“Who—oh. I don’t know, honest.”

As if he can feel your eyes on him, his gaze meets yours for a fleeting second. The shared surprise, the shared irritation, it tells you that he didn’t know you’d be here, either. There’s something else there, too, something about a reminder of shared history, an acknowledgement that no matter how hard you two try, there’s no escaping each other. 

You set off on the hike on opposite ends of the group, as far away from him as you can manage. Maybe, maybe you’ll be able to put off the inevitable for just a while longer. You’re not naive enough to think you can make it to the viewpoint without ending up next to him, without being forced into conversation. 

It lasts all of fifteen minutes before you, Marta, Charles, and Ricky have all been relegated to the back of the pack. You’re not surprised it’s the three of you—Ricky has Chiara strapped into this little backpack carrier, and it weighs him down. Marta spends more of the hike snapping pictures of the baby than watching where she walks, while Charles is attempting to be a professional photographer at every possible lookout point, grabbing a picture of each and every interesting thing he sees. And you, well. You’ve always been a slow hiker. 

The two of you still stand with Marta and Ricky between you, walking four wide through the trail. Marta’s already planning Chiara’s first birthday, trying to work around everyone’s schedules to make sure the whole friend group can be there. Ricky talks Charles’ ear off about work, about if they choose the best possible hiking trail and whatever else it is straight men talk about. 

Despite your separate conversations and the couple between you, your eyes continually find his, drawn in by the laughter and animated gestures that always annoyed you so.  There’s just something so. So painfully familiar about the unspoken and impossible to ignore tension between the two of you. You feel like a child, the way your mind blanks and time stops for just a second every time you meet eyes. It’s stupid. It is.

“Aimez-vous cette randonnée?” Enjoying the hike, Ricky asks you, oblivious to the tension floating around him. 

You tear your eyes from Charles, offer a distracted nod. “Ouais. Excellent moyen de passer la soirée,” Yeah. Great way to spend the evening, you reply. 

You hear the rest of the group before you can see them, huddled off to a decent-sized lookout point, one with a clear view of the entire country. The sun is just starting to set, casting a warm, golden glow over your home, sparkling off the calm sea. 

The group dispersed around the opening, snapping pictures of the view and with each other. You find a seat-shaped boulder to sit on, silently appreciating the sights, irritatingly aware of Charles’ proximity. You can always tell when he’s nearby, can feel him like he;s electrically charged. 

He’s only a few feet away, carefully crafting away at an Instagram story when he speaks to you for the first time all evening. “Beautiful, isn’t it?” he speaks softly, mumbles almost, and doesn’t bother to look up from his phone. 

“Always is,” you reply, eyes fixed on the horizon. 

He nods in agreement, and the air is so heavy. So, so heavy. 

Marta cuts through it all with a photocall, and because of the laws of nature, you and Charles find yourselves side by side. Like you said, electric. Magnetic, maybe; the pull. 

The camera clicks, captures the smiles and the shared experience and he’s looking at you again. It’s like it’s just the two of you, sometimes, all muddy history and lingering potential. 

With the picture captured, conversations resume, groups disperse, and everything is back as it was; even the innate awareness of where Charles is. 

As the hike continues to the summit, you and he move together in step. The familiarity is like a blanket, something comfortable amidst the messy chaos of emotional turmoil. 

“I used to love sunsets like this,” Charles began, snapping the silence of shoes on dirt and half-crunched leaves. 

You turn to him with piqued curiosity. “What changed?”

He hesitates, locks his gaze on the path ahead. “Life, I guess. Responsibilities, expectations, the weight of it all. It’s easy to forget to appreciate the simple things.” He shifts his steps slightly, brushes his arm against yours and makes you shiver. He makes you so nervous. You fucking hate that he makes you so nervous now. He’s looking at you, and you’re the one fixed on the trail. It’s a simple swap, but it feels heavy, it does. “Hey,” he says, soft. Comfortable. 

You pick at your nails. Anything to avoid his eyes. “Yeah?”

You can hear it in his pause before speaking that he’s choosing his words carefully. “I’ve been thinking a lot lately,” he began, gaze never leaving the side of your head. “About us, about everything.”

Your heart races the same way it does everytime he tries to have this conversation. You know what he’s referring to. You always know, even if he doesn’t say it outright. “Yeah,” you nod, meet his eyes and dare him to continue.

He swallows, Adam’s apple bobbing when he does it. “I just. I think we owe it to ourselves.”

His words sink into your skin slowly, poisoning your every cell like he just has to put voice to every thought that haunts you. “Charles,” you start, voice soaked in uncertainty and longing. He holds up a hand, stops you before you can continue. 

“I’m not asking you for an answer,” he says, and a lump is already forming in your throat. “I know you need time. I don’t understand it,” he chuckles, “but I know it.”

“Charles,” you whisper, voice barely audible. 

His fingers brush against yours in the space between your bodies. It’s so small, such a minute gesture, but it speaks volumes, gives you permission to feel, to open up to the possibility that lies before the two of you. 

“I know you’re scared,” he says, dares to hold your hand, to run circled over the back of yours with his thumb. “I don’t have answers, but. I don’t know,” he admits, “I don’t know, maybe we can figure them out together.”

You have to look away, you do. Because if you don’t watch the cotton candy sky, the watercolor oranges and yellows and pinks and blues, you might just cry right there on the hiking trail. He always does this, it’s his go-to move recently; make you feel all safe and stupid and like it’s okay to be vulnerable. 

You huff, think carefully before nonsense tumbles from your lips. “How did we end up like this?” You’d asked, as if it wasn’t obvious. The two of you had stumbled your way into this situation the same way you’d stumbled through the rest of your lives, bouncing from opportunity to opportunity just hoping, praying, that someday it would all work out the way you thought it would. 

“Does it matter?” he replies. 

This isn’t how you thought it would end up with Charles. You thought things would always stay the same—they’d made it this far, through this much in the past two and a half decades. What could possibly change the irritation between you two now? If you hadn’t softened with Jules, with Herve. If none of it had made you budge, why on God’s green Earth would a single drunken night change everything? 

It shouldn’t. There’s no reason that the cards should have fallen like this, but they did. They did, and now everything is so fucked up because you’re soft for the one person you’d counted on never being soft for. 

“No,” you finally say. “No, I suppose it doesn’t.”

He doesn’t fill your silence, the two of you just sit in it, continue up the trail, following the sound of your friends’ voices, of the music playing from someone’s speaker. 

L’appel du vide. The call of the void. The French and their incessant need to make everything sound more romantic than it is. Only they could romanticize the impulse to be destructive. You’re faced with it at the trail peak, standing on the edge of the cliff next to him. 

You could push him, solve all your problems and create half a dozen more. You could jump, solve all your problems and leave one big one for the rest of them to deal with. The problems would be solved, they would. 

“Okay,” you say, the toe of your shoe twisting into the gravel. 

“Okay?” He asks, in the middle of taking a picture of the sun. It’ll be dark when you get back, the sun is disappearing into the horizon as he photographs it. 

“I guess we,” you sigh. He shoves his phone in his pocket. “We can figure it out together.” It’s a terrible admission, an agreement that something does exist, that there is a thing, glaring at you with a third eye and needs to be dealt with, sorted out, controlled. 

He nods, doesn’t poke or prod for anything he knows you can’t give. “Alright.”

“Yeah.”

You don’t give into the call of the void that summer night. You couldn’t, even if you wanted to. The void had left you a voicemail in the early hours of the year, before the sun rose and after the moon set, lost somewhere in the dawns. The void had already called, and you’d already answered. 

(1 hour later)

You were right, it was dark when the group of you had finally made it back to the parking lot. You’d separated yourself from him again, somewhere on the way down the trail, and had taken Chiara from Ricky. You carried her on your hip and talked with Marta the whole way back. 

“Is there something going on with you and Charles?” She asked, and your heart rate doubled instantaneously.  You focus on the baby in your arms instead of looking at your friend, know that one glance in her direction and she won’t wonder anymore, she’ll know every detail without a moment and a half of eye contact. 

“What are you talking about?”

“I don’t know,” she shrugs. “You guys have just been weird all year.”

Your stomach drops. You’d thought the two of you had been so good at hiding it, and here you are finding out that what… everyone has known for eight months? For almost nine months, they’ve all been looking at you and Charles and knowing the two of you were fucking behind closed doors. “All year?”

“Yeah, I mean,” she laughs. “Ricky and I figured the two of you hooked up on New Year’s.”

Of course. Of course they knew. You weren’t exactly subtle about it that first time, the two of you drunkenly disappearing, just the two of you, walking hand in hand off into the night. Of course they knew, how couldn’t they when you’d made it so fucking obvious.

“We didn’t,” you still lie. If you can’t sort out your own feelings, rationalize anything internally, how are you supposed to attempt to explain the situation to anyone else, much less your best friend and his. Even if you could—maintain some sort of composure about any of it—you owe it to Charles to talk to him about it before anyone else.

Despite all of it, you owe it to him. 

“Yes you did!”

You get defensive quick, and Marta’s insistence that you did sleep with Charles (even though you definitely did, and she’s more right than she knows) gets under your skin and rubs you in the wrong way.  “And what if I did?”

Marta purses her lips, presses them into a thin line that reminds you of your sister, of your mother. “Nothing. If you did, it means nothing.”

“Right,” you sigh, nod, raise your voice half an octave and talk to Chiara more than Marta, squeezing her little leg. “It means nothing.”

She matches your tone. “Unless it means something.” You glare at her. “If there’s anything there, you can tell me.”

 “I know,” you nod. She continues to pry. 

“So?”

“I…” you sigh. It would be so much easier to just tell her she was right. That she couldn’t be more right and there are a million and one things going on between you and Charles. It would be so much easier to tell her, just like it would be so much easier to tell Charles, but. You can’t. No matter how much easier it would be, you can’t. “No. No, nothing is going on.”

“Okay,” she says, clicks her tongue on the roof of her mouth to remind you just how much she doesn’t believe you. “I better not see you getting into his car tonight.”

You smile, weak, but a smile nonetheless. “You won’t.”

You managed to maintain your distance, somehow, against all the polarizing forces of the universe, but trying to stay away from Charles is like running against a rubber band. You can only go so far. 

He’s parked two spots over from you, in one of his more… under the radar cars. It’s why you didn’t blink when you’d parked by it, because it wasn’t the Monaco National Anthem on wheels, it was just a car. Anyways, you’d parked two spots over and now here you were, walking side by side to the back of the lot. 

“So,” he says, drags his feet against the blacktop, scuffs on the bottom of his sneakers with every step. 

You can feel Marta’s eyes on you, look over your shoulder to confirm her position on the other side of the parking lot, and drag your own feet. The faster you walk, the faster you get to the cars. “So…”

The silence is half-suffocating, the wavering dare to break it hanging in the air above you both. You never can start the conversation. You never know what to say. “You wanna come back to my place?” He offers, and you think that maybe the reason so much between you is said in silence is because he doesn’t know how to start the conversation, either. 

“Uh,” you’re at your car now, fingers moving over the shimmering paint. You glance at Marta, still watching your interaction while Ricky straps Chiara into her carseat. “I do, but,” you sigh, eyes finding their way back to his. “I can’t.”

“Okay, yeah,” he follows your former sightline. “You alright?”

You nod. “What about tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow’s good,” he says, and then, with a dumb look on his face, “Are we gonna fuck?”

You laugh. “Probably.”

“Are we gonna talk?”

“Probably not.”

He purses his lips into a smile, runs his hand through his hair once, twice, three times. “Saw that coming.”

You’ve slowly—slowly—been making your way to the car door, backing away from him at the back end. “It’s settled, then,” you say, unlock the car door and open it, lean against it while you continue your conversation. 

“Yeah, settled,” he nods, fidgeting with one of the bracelets tied around his wrist. “See you tomorrow.”

You smile, annoyingly endeared. “Goodnight, Charles.”

He smiles back, at his bracelet and then at his shoes and then finally at you, stepping backwards toward his own car.  “Goodnight.”

You watch him walk away, because anyone would, and just when he’s about to vanish from your eye line, you call after him. “Hey!”

His head shoots back to you, eyes wide and brows raised. “Yeah?”

“Fuck you!” You tell, stand on your tip-toes to make sure he can see your middle finger over the cars. He shakes his head and winks back at you before climbing into the car. 

[sserpente]

A/N: Request from anon. Fluffy skinny dipping with Loki. Tell me something better than that, I’ll wait. Enjoy, everyone!

Words: 2568 Warnings: skinny dipping, implied smut, fluff

The air in Asgard smelled different. Fresher. Richer. You took a deep breath, inhaling not only oxygen but also that foreign Asgardian vibe. Summer felt a hundred times more intense around here. The heat was on the verge of unbearable, the glistening water right outside the palace inviting you for a swim to cool down. The whole planet felt like an Instagram filter—like someone had turned up the contrast, the saturation and the brightness all at the same time.

“How do you cope in this heat?” you complained, fanning air to your face with your right hand. You were sat in the lower parts of the palace with Thor’s friends Volstagg, Hogun and Fandral and of course, Lady Sif.

Odin had commanded you remained under supervision at all times. You didn’t quite understand what the fuss was about—it wasn’t like a mere Midgardian could wreak havoc among this realm but then again, he was probably just traumatised from the time Thor brought an Aether-infected Jane to Asgard a few years back.

But the company wasn’t so bad, especially upon learning new things about Asgardian culture. One person was missing though. You’d hardly seen Loki since your arrival even though it had been him to promise to keep you safe.

Boom—it had been like a heartbeat, like an explosion and just like that, you had fallen in love with the God of Mischief. It had started with a crush. A purely physical attraction that made you see beyond the things he had done on Earth all those years ago. Then you had gotten to know him and witnessed his wit and sarcasm day in and out. Soon, you began to see past the cheekiness and mischief until you had discovered a vulnerable god who would die for the ones he loved, an intelligent and kind man who might not have been a superhero and leaned toward a little selfishness every now and then but a good man nonetheless.

Loki had never been evil and you were now determined to convince everyone else of that mind-set as well. Especially now that you had been brought to Asgard for your own safety.

“It’s not so bad down here. I feel sorry for Idunn and her workers. The apple orchard is a sauna at this time of the day but the work won’t do itself.”

“First of all… you have saunas on Asgard? And second of all, if this is a realm of magic, why is there any labour at all?”

Volstagg’s cheeks reddened as he fought to explain it to you. “Well, let’s just say Idunn’s apples are special. They require skilled hands to handle them.”

“Right…” With a court nod, you emptied the rest of your drink and carefully put it back on the table—like hell you would smash it to the ground and scream “Another” like Thor and his friends did.

“Where’s Loki, actually?” you asked, attempting to sound non-chalant.

“Who knows? Causing some mischief somewhere probably. I for my part am glad I don’t have to see his face.”

“He’s been nothing but kind to me so far, Volstagg.”

“Hmm…” Hogun began, “He’s like a flesh-eating plant. He lures you in and then traps you in his claws. Be careful. We have known Loki for a lot longer than you.”

“Maybe you guys should stop giving him reasons to stab you in the back. Think about that.” Checkmate. That shut them up for a good minute.

You sighed. Well, in the end, you’d likely have a lot more work to do for them to accept the cheeky God of Mischief for who he was and why he behaved the way he did, it seemed.

“If you say so… I’m gonna go find him.”

“You can’t wander through the palace alone.”

You chuckled. “Watch me. I know where Loki’s chambers are. And I promise to scream if I’m getting murdered.”

“You shouldn’t joke about things like that,” Hogun insisted.

“I’m trapped on a different planet surrounded by gods. If I don’t joke about it, I’m gonna lose my mind.”

“I am still going to escort you.”

You rolled your eyes. Always obey Odin. “Fine.” Hogun wasn’t very talkative, at least.

It was a lot cooler in the palace—but then again, sacrificing a wonderful day that you could spend swimming and tanning and exploring to hide within some palace walls wasn’t all that appealing.

“Loki? Are you there?” Hogun was waiting around the corner with his hands clasped behind his back when you knocked.

Silence. You cleared your throat. “Loki, your hearing is a thousand times better than mine, I know you can hear me.”

A pleasant shiver ran down your spine when you heard a dark chuckle behind the door. A sliver of magic tore through the heavy wood of his door and it swung open, revealing him sitting in the shade on his bed with a book on his lap.

You blinked. He was dressed so casually. Bare feet, a green and soft-looking shirt with sleeves ending right below his elbows and wide black trousers reminding you of a comfy pyjama. Summing up, he looked hot.

“What are you doing here?” He was practically purring when he spoke your name, pulling a pleasant shiver from you. Something told you that Loki knew you were absolutely infatuated with him and boy, was he having fun with it. You sighed, letting it go for now. It was too hot to complain.

“I want to go swimming.”

“You want to go swimming?” Loki frowned at his book as if you’d suggested going rollerblading on the Bifrost bridge. Although… that actually sounded like a fun idea as well.

“Yes, Loki. It’s summer, it’s hot and I am melting. You’re a Frost Giant, how on Earth do you cope?”

“By staying inside where it’s cool, reading and most importantly, keeping my mouth shut.”

You grunted, closing the door behind you. “I’m gonna pretend like I was unable to take the hint to leave you alone. What are you reading?”

This time, it was Loki who sighed.

“Why don’t you ask Thor and his foolish friends? Are they giving you trouble?” he asked instead of responding to your question.

“No. Just… Because I want to spend time with you. And because they’re boring, obeying every single word the oh-so-allmighty-Odin says.” You threw your hands to demonstrate how ridiculous you found the whole situation.

Finally, Loki looked up from his book, a sly smirk tugging at his lips. “What makes you think that I won’t?”

“Please. You are the God of Mischief. And rules are made to be broken, right? You remember that pretty lagoon west of the Bifrost Bridge that you told me about? The one with the cave? I want to go there. Please, Loki. Pack your book and let’s go. If I’m on a different planet, at least I want to explore it a little.”

Loki considered you for a moment, almost as if he was trying to figure out whether you were just mocking him. Then, finally, he shut his book and elegantly stood from the bed. “Very well. Let’s go.”

His smile was genuine—it had to be. His book vanished into thin air the very moment his door swung open again.

“Quick. Before Hogun realises we are not really headed to the kitchens for a cool drink.”

Loki escorted you through one of the servants’ exits to avoid the guards and more importantly, Thor and his friends. The earthy path was steep as you followed him down further and further away from the palace until you reached the shore and the ground to your feet turned into warm sand.

A small boat was swaying in the water, tied to a rock in the sand with a thick rope. Loki, however, did not make a move toward it. Instead, he offered you his hand. Intrigued, you took it. Next thing you know, he transformed into an eagle, his talons gripping your hand tightly.

You cheered when you took off and he flew across the water towards the lagoon, your naked toes grazing the cool ocean water in the process. The landing, a few minutes later, was smooth and then, just like that, Loki’s eagle aspect disappeared again.

“That was incredible! Can you turn me into an eagle as well?”

“Potentially. It takes years to master transfiguration like this. Your body would have to adjust to the new form and you would have to learn how to fly. If I transformed you now, you would quite possibly drown.”

“Right.” You turned around, taking in your new surroundings. The lagoon was stunning. It looked like the inside of a volcano, a hollowed-out rock with a pond with the clearest sea water you had ever seen in the middle. Vines, trees, and flowers all grew around it, spreading a lovely scent, and the small cave at the opposite end looked like the perfect spot for camping. The waterfall was by far the best part of it all though. It was gushing and loud, drowning out all noise from the outside and reverberating within the lagoon.

“This is beautiful. How come no one ever comes here?”

“Well… Asgardians are not too keen on swimming. Most of them never even learn it unless they’re training to fight battles. It is considered impure and in some cases, disrespectful to swim in open waters.”

Loki waved his hand, letting a dark green picnic blanket appear in the sand that mixed with green grass where you stood. Along with it, he conjured up a golden plate full of grapes, apple slices, strawberries and other fruit you didn’t recognise. He sat down on it with his book in hand.

It was then you realised you didn’t actually have any swimwear.

“What? Why is that?”

“Ah, well, you see, according to our lore, the giant Ymir was slain so the worlds could be built. His brains became the clouds, his bones became the mountains and his blood became the oceans.”

“Are you trying to tell me I’m about to swim in someone’s blood?”

Loki chuckled. “Something like that.”

You suppressed a grin. Should you? It was only the two of you here after all. And what sent a clearer signal for “I like you, I’m attracted to you and I want to have sex with you” than skinny dipping? You shrugged your shoulders. You were on a different planet. Things couldn’t exactly get any crazier from here.

You pulled off your shirt and then peeled yourself out of your shorts. Your bra came off first after that. With your back turned to Loki, you could still practically feel his blue eyes boring into you. By the time you stepped out of your knickers and revealed your arse to him, he sucked in air so loudly you could even hear it over the waterfall.

Unceremoniously and gathering all of your swimming training from your school days, you dived head-first into the clear water as gracefully as you could muster. The water was divine. It was cool and salty enough for you to float without too much effort and the little fish you saw swimming past you didn’t even seem to be scared of you. You’d have to ask Loki for some fish food for them.

“I could have conjured you some swimwear, you know.” His blue eyes were glued to you. You grinned, swimming in his direction. The clear water did very little to conceal you and it was even clearer that the God of Mischief was having a hard time not to look down.

“And where would have been the fun in that? What are you doing, come in! It’s lovely! I dare you,” you added. “Oh no, whatever will all those fancy royals at the palace say if they find out one of their princes is skinny dipping with a peasant?” Dramatically, you brought the back of your hand to your forehead and then disappeared underwater for a moment.

When you emerged, Loki was standing and taking off his clothes. Yes.

“Last time I caused an uproar, I was in the middle of a feeble attempt at taking over Midgard. They’ll be relieved to hear I have resorted to less scandalous activities.”

Seeing Loki shirtless was quite possibly the highlight of your entire day. But he didn’t give you much time to drool over his muscly pale chest and those strong arms. He wasn’t wearing any underwear. When those comfy trousers came off, he was naked and damn, was he glorious even in a flaccid state. You didn’t even bother pretending not to stare.

Loki smirked and then, much more gracefully than you, dived into the pond. He looked downright gorgeous with wet hair when he emerged only a few inches away from you, so much so that you almost forgot to keep yourself afloat.

“Cat got your tongue? You aren’t going to back out now, are you?”

“Wouldn’t dream of it, Loki.” For a split second, playing Marco Polo with him crossed your mind but now that you had him naked in the clear water, you could think of more… adult activities.

“Can I ask you something?” You just needed some confirmation first. He’d promised to keep you safe but did that mean he reciprocated your feelings? Not necessarily, right?

Loki raised his eyebrows at you—in a gentle, teasing manner this time.

“Why did you agree to come here with me? I mean… the others… they’d never let me be alone with you. If they knew, they’d drag me out by the hair. Or you, whoever they manage to grab first. I guess… after everything that happened between you and the entire planet Earth, I didn’t think you’d want anything to do with a human beyond a genuine promise to make up for the past.”

Loki’s face fell.

“What? Did I say something wrong?”

He shook his head. “You did not. Let’s just say I forgot for a moment that you are mortal.”

Oh. “Is that bad?”

“I will have outlived you in a matter of decades. So yes. That is bad, pet.” Pet. You sincerely hoped he wasn’t able to hear the moan that escaped your lips. “I am not a villain. And it took a lot of convincing to make me realise that. So why would I not? I have no reason to meet you with hostility if you don’t either.”

You smiled at him. “That’s what I told them today, you know? That you wouldn’t have betrayed them if they hadn’t given you a reason to do so. And… That just means we’ve gotta make use of the time that we have even more, no?”

With that, you took the leap. You leaned forward, clung to him like a monkey and wrapped your arms around his neck. Your naked skin against his felt heavenly, even more so underwater. You kissed him as if your life depended on it, teeth clashing, tongues battling… your entire being lost itself in Loki, how good he tasted and how skilled of a kisser he was.

When you broke apart, you were both out of breath and a little surprised by what had just happened. Your eyes fell on his swollen lips.

“Admit it,” you whispered.

“What?”

“Admit it. You like me.”

Loki chuckled. “I wouldn’t put up with you if I didn’t, pet.”

A/N: Come say hello on my blog for more Imagines and my novels! ♥

[the-au-collector]

The Links On Vacation

Since summer is almost here I have to wonder what kind of vacationer each of the Links are…

Wild - Does not sit down. Explores everything. Takes lots of pictures. Eats at every restaurant (rip his wallet) and makes friends with the chefs. He’s the kind to drive in a random direction just to see what he’ll find. No plans, no maps except for a severely outdated atlas, just a camera and ready to explore. You probably won’t hear from him for the whole vacation (both because he forgot his phone and because he left the boundaries of cell service 3 hours ago). But then again Wild is just Like That everyday.

Hyrule - is hanging out with Wild most of the time. Also explores places, but prefers going to natural parks and the like. Ran out of cell service 5 hours ago probably decided to camp with the bears.

Wind - glued to the beach. He doesn’t leave the beach. He’d sleep on it if he could (and he has). You’re lucky if you manage to pull him out of the sea long enough for him to eat lunch. Always covered in sand. Has a perfect tan.

Warriors - the usually over-stressed parent who’s decided that THIS is the vacation on which he relaxes. He spends 90% of his time chilling on the beach ignoring the chaos. Gets the worst sunburn known to man, cries about it for 3 days (both because it hurts and the beat red face clashes with his hair).

Time - doesn’t know how to vacation. He tells himself he’s going to properly relax this time, but he ends up doing work instead because he doesn’t like doing nothing. His preferred vacation is staying home and doing work around the house. He will enable the others’ shenanigans, though. Gave Wild $100 to drive wherever, packed sandwiches for Hyrule for when he disappears. Time also always gets the best deals on rentals. He knows people, but never elaborates on how he knows them. The Links have various theories.

Legend - the itinerary man. He’s the vacationer who has every moment of his vacation planned down to a T. Knows every place he’ll stop, every place he’ll see, the exact time of the wait lines… except Hyrule and Ravio always force him to change his plans. If he’s the one renting, he always somehow finds the most overpriced places. He’s not allowed to make the rental plans anymore because of this.

Twilight - the over-stressed parent who needs a vacation from his vacation. He’s the one making sure he knows where everyone is because if he doesn’t he’ll implode. He doesn’t actually know what he’d do on an actual, relaxing vacation because he has to worry about Wind getting sunburns, Wild vanishing off the face of the earth, and Hyrule getting eaten by bears

Four - the “sleep is for the weak” vacationer. He knows how to vacation, he just doesn’t do it. He doesn’t like to sit still, his mind is too loud, so he tends to prefer to go to huge attractions over the wilderness any day. Will take a city over a beach in a heartbeat.

Sky - the “sleeps the whole time” vacationer. His life is usually so hectic and busy, he ends up sleeping 16 hours the first day and missing out on all of the fun stuff. Then he’ll go to bed early the next because he got exhausted from trying to do so much, then sleeps too long again, then—it’s a cycle.

+Bonus!

Ravio - the splurger. He’s usually so tight with his money, but Ravio wastes no expense on vacation. Will be booking every trip to the spa, sauna, and hot spring he can find. Will be eating at the most expensive restaurants. Will be making Legend pay.

Malon - the only one who gets to relax vacationer. Malon refuses to let her vacation be ruined. The Links know and respect this. They also know Malon will fight anyone who gets in the way of her vacation.

[garbinge]

Chalk Drawings

Happy Lowman & Juice Ortiz & Platonic!Reader Jax Teller & Teller!Sister Reader Opie Winston x Teller!Sister Reader

Day 22 from these April Prompts: Chalk Drawings

Summary: When Happy and Juice are on protection duty and the AC is broken you and the kids take to the outside to escape the sweaty prison that’s Jax’s house as you wait for your brother and partner to come home. 

Words: 1.9k 

A/N: I’ve been having a rough couple of days so I’m not really sure what this is but, I hope you all enjoy! lol.

Warnings: pretty fluffy (for me and my writing lol), reader has a daughter with Opie (no name given), no use of Y/N, slight angst/tension, alludes to death/murder slightly, nothing that’s not canon-level. 

SOA Taglist: @drabbles-mc @justreblogginfics​

It was a beautiful summer afternoon, the sun was shining, there were fluffy clouds in the sky that were shaped like cotton candy. The only downside was that the California heat had no mercy and apparently neither did Jax’s air conditioner. It had broken early in the morning and by the afternoon the whole place felt like a sauna. Fans and open windows did nothing against the real feel of 93 degrees and there were only so many popsicles you willingly wanted to give to all the kids. This is what brought you outside on the driveway that had been covered by shade all day so it was luckily not burning hot. You had the full Winston x Teller group today, Kenny, Ellie, Abel, and your 3 year old daughter with Opie. The club was in partial lockdown due to business with the Cartel. Partial lockdown usually just meant no one was left alone, everyone who was someone had protection on them, which meant it was easier for people to stay in groups. Hence why you had all the kids right now. Gemma was out with Tara grocery shopping for the house and had taken Tig with them just to keep a close eye. This left you with Juice and Happy while Jax and Opie went on a run together with a few of the other guys. 

The sprinkler was going on the grass, something for the kids to run through if they got too hot, but currently the group of them were on the driveway drawing with chalk. Abel and Kenny had paired up leaving your daughter to rest in between your legs with a piece of chalk in her hands while Ellie sat to your left doing the same. You started doodling with one of the pieces of chalk that was scattered along the driveway to pass the time as well while Happy and Juice leaned against their bikes, keeping watch all of you. 

“You wanna get your hands dirty?” You held up the pink piece of chalk and called out to the two bikers. 

Juice was quick to smile but deny the request, his way of trying to look tough. You clocked it immediately because just yesterday he was eating a spongebob popsicle off the ice cream truck when he was the only one on your watch detail. 

“Yes I do.” Happy said instantly and eagerly as he pushed off his bike. He was quick to grab the chalk from you and begin doodling on the pavement. You thought you’d be shocked at his instant agreement to join you on the ground with the pastel art tools but surprisingly, it was exactly what you expected. Happy knelt on the pavement, one knee touching the ground while the other was being used as an armrest for the arm that wasn’t creating a chalk masterpiece. 

“C’mon Juice.”  You nodded your head to wave him over. 

“Yea, c’mon Juice!” Your daughter called out with a smile. 

You smirked at that and so did Juice as he walked over to you both. The little girl in your lap holding out the pink piece of chalk up to the biker. 

“Thanks,” His smirk not falling as he grabbed the chalk from the girl. 

“S’my favorite color.” She beamed at you and said the color’s name to show how smart she was. “Pink.” 

“It’s Juice’s too.” You teased and patted to the free space next to you as he shook his head and blushed. “Show me what you got, Juicy.” 

He started drawing stick figures, graffiti words, tribal drawings like his tattoos. 

“Can you draw me a flower?” Your daughter was quick to crawl out of your lap and sit in front of Juice. 

“I can try.” He began to try and draw some version of a flower, although it was looking more like a blob. 

“That’s not very good.” She tilted her head and frowned at it. 

You called out your daughters name, a warning to be nice although it didn’t do much. 

“Why does your hair look like that.” She asked as she drew over Juice’s flower creating her own masterpiece. 

Juice practically spit out the sip of water he just took at the girl’s question. 

“Why don’t you go see what Abel and Kenny are drawing, huh? Go ask Happy your questions.” You interrupted to give Juice a break. The girl shrugged and skipped her way over to the other group on the driveway. You knew Happy could handle the questions and would give them right back which entertained her. 

“Can you teach me how to draw that?” You heard her voice behind you as she stood over Happy’s shoulders. 

“I sure can.” He nodded and handed her the yellow piece of chalk before the sounds of the chalk hitting the pavement filled the air.

“Mommy look!” She called out and you turned to see the tons of smiley faces drawn on the ground, some smiling, some crying, some grinning. Your eyes jumped to Happy and back to the drawings a few times. No one came out and told you what Happy’s name meant, but being a Teller you had been around the clubhouse enough to see Happy hit the ring which meant seeing the array of smiley tats across his lower abdomen. It didn’t take a genius to put it together. 

You weren’t sure if you wanted to laugh or be mortified, the kids had no idea what it meant but there was a part of you that felt like there was something eerie about it. 

“Nice drawings.” Your eyebrows raised at him with a smirk as your nostrils flared. 

Happy smiled, oblivious to your sarcasm and nodded.

The sound of motorcycle engines filled the air, but there was no sign of who it was yet. Happy and Juice quick to stand up, Happy picking up your young daughter while you got up as well. He handed the girl to you before walking to the end of the driveway with Juice. As you situated the girl in your arms you began to walk near the garage door and called the rest of the kids over to you. There was a pit in your stomach, you grabbed your nephew and placed him behind you and told Kenny and Ellie to do the same as you guided them as well, using yourself as a human shield to them as you typed in the code to the garage door. 

The bikes got closer and as the sound got louder so did your thumping heart. The garage door was taking its sweet time to open, you tried your best to keep your wits about you as to not scare the kids but it was hard when Happy and Juice were reaching for there pieces. 

“Let’s play a game!” Your head snapped to the kids as the garage door opened. “Go inside and we’ll play hide-n-seek! Only rule is you MUST stay in the house. You hide and I’ll find you!” 

The kids giggled and immediately ran inside the house, your daughter wasn’t eager to leave your arms to play so you kept her in your grip, her head rested on your shoulder which soon dropped in relief as you saw the reaper on the bikes that were approaching. You recognized both bikes, your brother and Opie’s. A breath you didn’t realize you had been holding in let out and you closed your eyes in reassurance. 

Happy and Juice fell back quickly too, their relief looking a little different than your own. As both men pulled up to the curb and backed their bikes up, you started to walk down the driveway. Opie walked over to Happy and Juice likely to fill in the crew on what had just happened while Jax walked up to you. 

“You look like you just saw a ghost.” His long blond hair blew in the hot heat as his smirk grew. 

“I thought I was about to become one.” The only reason you let the joke out was because within the few minutes of your daughter being in your arms she had fallen asleep. 

He frowned and picked his hand up to tuck your daughters hair behind her ear. 

“I’ve been on edge, heard the bikes.” You shook your head and looked down. 

“We figured it all out, we’re fine, you’re safe.” His eyes jumped from yours to the girl in your arms, “all of you.” 

Jax’s eyes looked down at the concrete to see the chalk drawings on the ground, clocking the smiley faces immediately and let out a chuckle. 

“Really, Hap?” Jax called out to the man who smiled and nodded. 

At this point, Opie was walking over, his tall body standing over you in seconds as he placed a kiss on your head. 

“Hey, you okay?” His brows furrowed picking up on your tension. 

“We spooked her.” Jax teased you as he pinched your elbow. 

Opie’s eyes moved back to yours looking for confirmation. 

“I’m fine.” You argued and looked up to Opie who smiled knowing that the sibling rivalry was coming through in your short worded sentence. 

“Where the kids?” He asked still smiling. 

“Inside, I told them we’re playing hide-n-seek if you want to go find them.” You knew both men would pick up on the fact you told them to hide and probably why but before either of them could get to the bottom of why you were so on edge besides the obvious, your daughter was stirring awake. 

“Look who's here.” You whispered to her as she sat up in your arms and you turned so she could see her father. 

“Hi Daddy.” Her voice was still half asleep. 

“Hi baby.” Opie’s arms extended out so he could grab her. “I drew smileys with Happy.” She rested her head against his shoulder in an attempt to go back to sleep. Opie looked down at the pavement and then back to you. 

“She also asked Juice about his haircut.” You crossed your arms. 

“It looks funny.” She said still at a mumble causing Opie and Jax to laugh. 

“I think it does too.” Jax started to walk inside the house. “Ready or not, here I come!” He called out but you knew he was going to grab a drink and a snack from the kitchen before he started to look for the kids. 

“I guess next time we’ll keep Hap with us.” Opie teased as you both started to walk inside while the sound of Juice and Happy’s bikes started. You turned to wave goodbye to both of them before looking back at Opie as you made your way into the garage. 

“Nah, he might be insane but he’s good with the kids and having him around actually puts me at ease.” 

“If this is you at ease, I’d hate to see you tense.” Opie teased you again as the garage door closed. 

“Why don’t you and this jelly bean here go look for the kids.” Your arms still crossed as your eyes rolled. 

“You wanna go find Abel, Ellie, and Kenny?” Opie bounced up and down to wake up his daughter. “I’ll give you a popsicle if you find them all.” His voice raised as he incentivized the girl who was suddenly wide awake. 

“Let’s go!!!” She kicked as he placed her down and she hit the ground running. “C’mon Mom, let’s go!!!” She called out to you. 

Opie smirked and threw his arm around you, “yea, let’s go.” 

[papasbaseball]

Primo x Reader (Calore e Gabbia)

+18 CONTENT NOT FOR MINORS. MINORS KEEP SCROLLING

Pairing: Primo x F!Reader

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Good old fashioned smut

Summary: Papa Emeritus Primo, the Gardener of the Ministry, has long caught your eye. You’ve slipped into the Ministry sauna this morning in hopes that you will catch his and move up in the ranks among the ministry. Little birds are rarely as hidden as they think, and Papa Emeritus Primo has plans for you too.

Word Count: 3,627

Notes: This is a birthday present for @astouract! Have the bestest birthday my love! Here’s to another year of sinning <3

Translations at the end.

AO3 Link

There are few things as unpleasant as hell-hot humidity. In the early summer, as the spring rain is on its dying breath, it clings to the skin like a blanket of sweat, unable to be wiped away. Skin sticks to skin and clothes melt to the body in a heated need to be united as one. It churns the stomach in revulsion, cooking the living like a delicacy. In the early weeks of summer the library and catacombs are a refuge to the nausea, ditching out on chores to slip into their cool dark embrace. The lengths you went to to make sure the sweat of nature never touched your skin crossed your mind just once as you pulled the towel around you tighter and walked into the sauna.

It was like choking on smoke, the steam infiltrating your lungs as you inhaled to adjust to the smoldering box. The scent of cedar followed on the tail of the steam seeping into you and you wrinkled your nose at it. Your fingers tightened around the rough terrycloth of the towel as you padded over to a nearby bench, the wooden planks warm and slightly damp to your feet. You were the only person in the sauna right then. Your host would be arriving soon.

You weren’t a morning person. Misfortune had forced that upon you four weeks ago. Standing there in the kitchen as siblings clanged pans and cracked eggs, you laid out soft, doughy biscuits on a tray. Looking out the murky stained glass window as the soft light of dawn slowly brought forth the shapes of cold bushes and delicate flowers, you couldn’t help but to wish for the warmth of your bed, a few more minutes of sleep. In the middle of your dreaming daydream you spotted him: Papa Emeritus Primo, bundled up in thick, warm robes, creeping quietly through the morning mist of the garden to the bathhouse outside the Ministry. Each morning you’d watch  the grease-covered clock that hung over the door to the dining hall until it was 5:50 and then stare out that murky window, waiting for the elderly man’s journey.

It was no secret that you fancied the Papas—most of the congregation did. There were perks to gaining favor with them: nicer clothes with less holes in them, meals with fresh meat and warm bread if you were invited to dine. Some lucky few had been moved to spacious living quarters attached to the papal suites for optimal discretion. That was never why you stopped and stared in the hallways as he passed by, gluing yourself to groups of siblings to make your spying less obvious. No, there was something comforting about the way he moved, something that the other Papas couldn’t replicate. Others thought him to be boring or scary, but you couldn’t quite shake the feeling that there was a gentle touch in those glove-obscured hands.

He was the silent type, sentences short, only giving polite nods and the occasional cough as siblings filed into the chapel for midnight mass. Bland as oatmeal was how one sister had put it. But you'd seen him in the gardens that day when you took a shortcut from the cemetery to the catacombs to avoid the humidity. It was the affection of a lover that guided his movements as he poured water onto the soft loamy soil that covered the roots of a curling plant that spilled its vines freely across the gravel path. He caressed the plant leaves and whispered to them in Italian, thumbs brushing away any stray dust or pollen that might have imposed itself upon the emerald life. Brushing and stroking the leaves, you watched him in a daze, wondering if he would stroke a lover’s face the same way.

The door creaked open and he shuffled in. The burlap cloak fell to the floor with a soft thump and you looked away quickly: he had no clothes on underneath. You looked back just enough to keep an eye on him in the peripheral. He gave a great yawn and stretched like a cat in the lazy afternoon sun. When he leaned back you heard his spine cracking followed by the whispered scratching of nails against skin. He shuffled only one foot forward before taking note of the toweled intruder.

“Sister.” Papa Primo’s voice was still hoarse from sleep. The never-before-heard bass caused you to shift.

“Papa,” you said. Even avoiding his white eye and naked body, the words stuck in your throat, tangled with the steam.

He resumed his procession toward the bench, taking his time to lower himself gently onto the baking wood, watching you the whole way down. His back popped again when he pressed his palms against his thighs. A groan of contentment echoed through the sauna as he released the tension, making himself comfortable. “I do not get many visitors here.”

“I’m intruding,” your voice came weakly. “I’m sorry. I’ll go.” You clutched your towel to you, hurrying to leave, hurrying to crawl back to your bed to forget this mistake.

“Scusa,” he hoarsed, a gruff authority in his voice barring the exit to you, “it is rare to find una suora that is an early bird. The steam only calls to me and an occasional ghoul this early.”

You took your seat once more, tucking your hands beneath your thighs to stop from fidgeting with them. “I couldn’t sleep,” you lied.

He sniffed at this and you dared to look at his face. “Could not or would not?”

You squirmed as he looked you in the eye, unable to speak. This was a bad plan. The urge to run away rattled through your bones. Who were you to try and sleep with a Papa? It would have been better etiquette to just wait for one to approach you. That’s how it’s done. That’s how it’s always been done. Ghouls delivering gifts and keys, being pulled out of Ministry duties for furtive appointments. It was all unspoken rules and signals. Yet here you were, trying to weasel your way into Papa Primo’s bed.

“Scusa, I tease.”

A half-hearted laugh escaped your lungs. He was joking. Of course he was joking. The silence hung as he examined you and your stupid little laugh. It hung until you were convinced it would hang yourself. The fake explanations gushed forth. “My dreams were restless. I found myself waking up so much that I came here. I hoped the steam would help put me to sleep.”

“If you are having trouble sleeping you could come see me, sister.”

“Oh?” It’s all you could manage as you fought the thought of slipping through the night surreptitiously to knock on his door and warm his bed for the price of a good night’s sleep.

He got up, joints creaking, and grabbed the ladle out of the water pail. You watched as he ambled over to the hot coals. You watched the sinewy arms guide the ladle dripping with water over the coals. You watched as the water slipped down the side of the ladle, hugging its curve, clinging to its old way, resisting the fire that would set it free as steam. You watched as with a little more tilt the water broke free of the curve, pulled down, and met the hot coals with a great hiss. You watched as the room filled with steam, obscuring the oldest Emeritus brother and yourself. You watched and moved.

“We have many medicinal plants that can help you if you are feeling unea-“ His words trailed off as the steam cleared, revealing yourself. You arched your back more to accentuate your breasts and the heart that hammered between them. Your hands gripped the towel that now rested around your hips, trying to still their shaking. He whispered something in Italian, his hiss mingling with the residual of the coals. “Rare indeed.”

Your stomach flipped. You were rapidly approaching the coals and had yet to know if they were hot.

A brief smile played in those old tired eyes before he resumed his seat. “You are bold, Suora. I knew I had a little dove watching me from her cage every morning, but I did not know she was so lascivious.”

Your blood ran cold, and you felt more naked in that statement than when you had first shed your towel. He had never once looked over to where you had laid out breakfast for the ministry in stupefied admiration. You knew he had never spied you himself because if he had looked at you in any singular way you would have knocked the tray of biscuits to the floor.

“Gli uccellini raramente sono così nascosti come pensano. You want an antidote to your restlessness?”

You nodded. His unmoving gaze commanded you to nod. It didn’t matter if you were answering the lie or the truth that had roused you from sleep into this hellishly hot sauna so early in the morning, and Satan was it hot.

“Dimmi bambina: You want your Papa’s cock?”

Steam settled around him as he waited for your answer, an early morning reverie that you were uncertain you wouldn’t wake up from. You glanced down at those weathered hands and then back up to his mismatched gaze. “I want your co… only yours. I-” Your mind felt fogged up from the steam, unable to tell him how Terzo was too flashy and Secondo too scary. It wasn’t the title you wanted: it was him.

“Vieni qui, colomba.” He patted the planks in between his legs.

You bit the inside of your cheek as you got up, watching as he dragged his eyes over your naked form. The butterflies in your stomach danced as you watched his pupils linger on your hips a second too long before they met your own, staring up into your sinful soul. He reached out a hand and pulled you to be seated with your back to his chest. His hands were worn smooth and shiny with age and hard work of many a garden tool. They slid up the steam-warmed skin of your arms, not in any particular hurry. Meeting collar bone, he gently pressed you back into him, his smattering of  silver chest hair tickling the nape of your neck. Like a flower, he luxuriously inhaled the bouquet of your scent, his aquiline nose pressed into your scalp and then neck. At last, he licked the petal-soft skin right above the last reminder that you were living and breathing and that it was all real.

You leaned into his touch and taste, whimpering as his right hand gripped your jaw to present your neck to him, his canvas soon to be painted with bruises from his lips. His left hand slipped between your thighs, not wasting any time swiping the smooth pad of his thumb over your clit.

Your breath came faster and faster and you squirmed from the brush, the important nerves alive for the first time that morning. “Rilassati, bambina. Papa will take care of you.” He mumbled the sedative into the crook of your neck as ring and index finger spread your lips, exposing your clit to his leisurely strokes, coaxing it and soothing it as if it were one of his revered plants.

Your heart beat against your ribs as he stroked and kissed, spurred on by the steam that loosened your vocal cords, a stream of moans praising his skilled touch and tongue. Papa Primo’s satisfaction at this pressed into your lower back.

He was well endowed by the Olde One. The tip of his cock nestled into the small of your back and for the first time, your worries were replaced with if you would be able to take the Papa you’d so long desired and watched from your kitchen window all those mornings. “Papa,” you started.

He flickered his finger quicker and quicker, his right hand dragged down your throat to knead your breast like he kneaded the earth before sowing seeds. “Cum for me, colomba. Cum for your Papa. Sì proprio così. Voglio che la tua fica sia bella e bagnata per il mio cazzo.” He quickly slid his fingers into your aching cunt, pressing hard into the tender flesh until you spasmed and fluttered internally.

You gripped his thighs as you watched the cords in his arm flex rapidly, unable to look away as palm and fingers continued to work through your orgasm, unrelenting. They pushed and pressed until you screamed, words failing you as he finally withdrew his fingers. He brought them to your mouth, pressing the cream-coated tips to your gasping lips.

“Assaggia te stessa, bambina mia.” He guided the slick fingers into your mouth, smearing your juices into your tastebuds. His fingers swept the inside of your cheeks, and under your tongue, eventually gently touching the back of your throat. “Good girl. It tastes good, sì? It is much better than the sleeping herbs I would have given you. Do you like the way your pussy tastes on my fingers?”

You sucked against them, tasting the salt and tang, until he pulled them free. The string of drool between your lips and his fingers broke as you answered, “Yes, Papa.”

“Bene, lay  down. This is your first time in the sauna, sì? I do not want you to pass out.” You did as told, and realized just how lightheaded you’d become as the blood flowed more easily, and sights and sounds became more clear. You watched how his thick cock swung as he walked to the pail of water. He scooped the water once more and brought it back to you.

“ Consider this a baptism.” He tilted the ladle, letting the water spill onto your warm skin. You jumped, but relaxed back into the cedar planks as the water washed away sweat and heat. He poured it over your chest, down your stomach, and at last between your thighs.

You sighed as the heat seemed to wick away from your body. He sunk the ladle back into the pail, returning to massage the water droplets that clung to your skin like morning dew. He tilled the earth once more before cleaving the soil. His hands gently guided your legs apart and you looked nervously once more at his cock trying to suppress a whimper.

He stroked your inner thigh, shushing with each pass. “ Non si agiti. Do not be afraid. You must relax.” Pressing a kiss inside your knee, he continued his parting. You swallowed hard as he lined the thick head of his cock up with your entrance. His hands massaged and pulled at the muscles in the creases of your thighs, stretching you as he slid himself in, never rushing, never hurrying. You winced at the ache only once before he bottomed out. Gentle hands guided you once more, taking your right hand in his to wrap around what wouldn’t fit. “ Good girl. Take all of your Papa.”

Your hand tensed as he moved over you, blocking the hazy orange light that glowed from the ceiling. He growled at the reflex and gave a shallow thrust. You whimpered as you fought the urge to cum from just how thick he was.

“La tua fica è stata mandata dall'inferno. Così stretto,” he growled. He pumped in and out slowly, letting you adjust, spreading your dripping arousal into your hand. He grunted softly as he worked in and out of your hand and cunt. His nostrils flared, pushing faster and harder in the humidity. His white eye burned in a new fire, one that you’d never seen all those times in the chapel or even that summer afternoon in the garden. It burned and plummeted past the side of your face, searing your cheek as he rutted to sow his seed.

“Is this what you wanted, little bird?” he panted against your ear. It was the first time you realized the smell of mint wafting about him.

The ‘yes’ was stuffed down with an anguished cry as his hips dragged up against your clit. His breath came fast at this, at you.

 “I wanted to call for you next week. My ghoul saw you watching. How did he put it?” A savoring kiss to your neck sent shivers up your spine as he thought. “Ah… yes,” he hissed. “‘She watches you like a sad dog.’”

You yelped as he shoved your left leg up against your chest, nails digging in as he hit a new depth.

“ He asked me if he should take care of you,” he continued, not minding the tears that spilled down your cheeks and onto his. “It seems la colomba wanted me to take care of her instead.”

“I’m sorry.” It was quiet, but it stopped him.

“Are you ashamed of your desire, little bird?”

You didn’t answer that.

He scooped you up and set you astride him. You watched as the orange glow highlighted the corners of his mouth set into a hard line. “I will have you, but only if you can rid yourself of shame here.”

You looked down and away, but he gripped your chin forcing you to look him in the eye. His fingers dug in hard enough to press the insides of your cheeks to the sharp edge of your teeth

“You will fuck yourself on my cock, or you will leave. The Olde One rewards greed, Sister, and so do I.”

Laying your hands on his age-thinned shoulders, you raised your hips a few inches. The hardline crooked up into a smile as you sank down onto his cock and into your sin. The greed wrapped itself like a cloak around your body, banishing the anxious chill. You needed this. You needed him. “Papa...”

“Hm?” He looked up at you, pleased.

“I want to be your bird,” you whimpered as you sank yourself down on him again.

“Many siblings want to be my bird…Fuck.” His nails dug into your hips as you took him as deep as you could. The same muscles that had forced you to come undone were digging their claws into you, insisting you keep the pace that you had set, if not begging you to speed up.

Your pained whine flowered into a desperate moan as you felt yourself clench around him. The muscles in your thighs ached as you angled and tried to chase your high, not even bothering to hide just how good the stretch of his cock made you feel. The moans and cries filled the sauna and the warm wood soaked them in greedily like thirsty soil.

“Canta per me, uccellino. Dimmi come hai bisogno che la tua fica bisognosa venga riempita del seme di tuo Papa.”

Was this really what you had wished for all those days in the kitchen? The way his eyes bored into you, seeing you for the first time, all of his attention on you. And yet you knew that you were not special. There was nothing special about a wild bird that looked inside of the window and dreamed of life inside of a gilded cage, being fondled and caressed by a caring master. What a stupid bird to subject yourself to all the scrutiny that came with a cage and perch, and yet…

You felt your high so close on the heels of your distracting thoughts and you couldn’t help the way you pushed yourself just a little bit more. Your voice came high and sweet, “Papa I’m going to come!”

“Right on time,” he smiled as you fucked your swollen cunt on him. “Come for your Papa, uccellino.”

His sweet words of encouragement are all you need to come undone. You cry, drawing sharp breaths of humid air as you look at him. He watched you so intently, mouth agape at the beauty that was turned into a pathetic mess at his command. His hands guided your hips in working through your orgasm, even though you wanted nothing more than to stop and savor every contraction. The sensations drove the tears to your eyes and your lip quivered as you dig your own nails into his shoulders.

The pinch of your talons must have been the final push as his guidance slowed and halted and you swear you could taste the salt as he sowed his seed. His sunken chest heaved with effort as you felt the hot ropes of him soak you completely. He was perfect like this, and everything you wanted: heaving, panting, and devoted to the moment of just you.

But even your unconventional ways had their limits. Prying yourself from him, you tried your best to walk back and grab your towel, cunt aching from the stretch and abuse, seed dripping down and mixing with the sweat on your thighs. Fuck it was hot in here. There was an external relief in being freed from the heat of him and an internal want to curl back into his arms. A hand around your wrist spoke to the latter.

“Uccellino.” He rose to address you, thumb coming up to lovingly caress your cheek. You tried to look away from his eyes, but they held you in the need to know of his approval. “Tonight. I dine at 7. Do not be late. I know you can keep time.” A short smile and one final swipe before he sinks back into the cedar wood, shutting his eyes in contentment. It’s as if you had never even been there, and your signal to leave. You wrap the towel around your trembling body and head out into the morning mist, darkness offering you refuge from the heat that now burned within you at the thought of tonight.

Translations:

Scusa- Excuse me

una suora- A sister

Gli uccellini raramente sono così nascosti come pensano- Little birds are rarely as hidden as they think

Dimmi, bambina- Tell me, child.

Vieni qui, colomba- Come here, dove

Rilassati, bambina- Relax, child.

Colomba- Dove

Sì proprio così. Voglio che la tua fica sia bella e bagnata per il mio cazzo- Yes just like this. I want your pussy nice and wet for my cock.

Assaggia te stessa, bambina mia- Taste yourself, my child

Bene- Good.

Non si agiti.- Do not be nervous.

La tua fica è stata mandata dall'inferno. Così stretto- Your pussy is sent from hell. So tight.

Canta per me, uccellino. Dimmi come hai bisogno che la tua fica bisognosa venga riempita del seme di tuo Papa- Sing to me, little bird. Tell me how you need your needy pussy filled with your Papa's seed.

Uccellino- Little bird.

[melanieph321]

Ruben Dias x Reader - Set Me Free Part 8/15

Part 9 and 10 are already out on my Patreon for Free!

+18

Ruben and Carla have grown apart. With Rubens career taking off he leaves Portugal to live the life of his dreams, breaking Carla's heart doing so. Years later, upon his return home, Ruben learns that Carla has moved on, happily engaged to another man, but not any man, Ruben's childhood bully João Mendes.

Enjoy!

Ruben ran around the local stadium. He stopped counting how many laps he had done once his smartwatch died. After running he made his way onto the football pitch, a ball at his feet. He moved fast, trying to keep control of the ball. Defending was his job and Ruben was set to not let anybody through, that started with knowing how to keep the ball at his feet no matter what.

He wasn't good enough, not yet. Years of training and Ruben was still not good enough. He certainly hadn't been good enough to keep the love of his life. How could he expect to be good enough for his team? The European championship was due this summer and Ruben had a long way to go. He had to work harder.

His family had left him for the day. Ruben's mother in particular, couldn't stand it when he got like this. His behavior was compulsive. Instead of expressing his emotions, Ruben would head to the gym and push his body to its limits. His family worried about him, but never knew how to reach him. They saw him as a ticking time bomb, waiting to explode from all the pent-up anger and stress. However, it's what made him the man he is today. That and other things.

"Hello, anybody home?"

"In here!" Ruben shouted.

He stood in the kitchen preparing his post-workout shake whilst waiting for the sauna to heat up. Emerging footsteps were heard out on the patio, followed by a sun kissed Santina popping her head through the glass doors.

"I thought that was you running up and down the street." She smiled. "Are you training for a marathon or something?"

Ruben shrugged his shoulders and took a swing of his shake. "I'm just trying to stay in shape." He said.

"You, stay in shape?" Santina invited herself in, her eyes wandering shamelessly to the pecks of Ruben's sweaty muscles as he stood shirtless before her. "Come on Ruben, you're built like a sculpture, what more do you want?"

He chuckled.

"I bet you can't do pilates though. I'm good for a spread eagle now that the studio in my house is fully renovated."

"A spread eagle?" Ruben frowned.

Santina glared at him seductively. "I'd show you how I do it but...."

"But?"

"But Carla is my friend so...."

Ruben flinched at the name. A grimace that did not go unnoticed by Santina.

"I saw you talking to her at the party." She said, resting her elbows on the kitchen Island and grinning when Ruben's eyes shamelessly diverged to her ass. "You left kind of early after that."

"Yeah, I was not...." Ruben scratched the back of his head, his gaze returning to hers. "I guess you can say I suddenly felt sick to my stomach." And he still felt sick. Not even the aching pain from working out so hard could mend what he felt inside. The fact that Carla wanted nothing to do with him was simply killing him from the inside out.

Ruben cleared his throat. "Was there anything you needed?"

Santina perked up. "No, not really."

With Ruben's success he had moved his family into a gated community. Santina had become their new neighbor as she lived down the street in the home that her family left her in their will.

"Alright, well I'm about to head into the sauna." He pointed.

"Cool. Mind if I join?"

It wasn't a question. Santina pushed off the kitchen Island and strutted down the hallway, peeling off the laces to her top as she did.

Ruben sighed but bent down to pick up the trail of her clothes, neatly folding them and placing them on the bathroom sink. The glass doors to the sauna were foggy, with Santina hiding inside of it. Ruben stepped out of his shorts and boxers before opening the door, welcoming the heat.

"What took you so long?"

Santina sat with her knees to her chin, head leaning back against the wall. She sat up as Ruben stepped up to her, his hand reaching to her lips.

"No talking during."

She smiled, "As you wish."

Ruben's hand went to the back of her neck, aligning her head with his erect cock. Santina's eyes widened at the sight of it, already pulsating in his hand.

She obeyed his wishes by not talking during, however Ruben imagined it hard for her to do anything with his dick in her mouth.

She squinted her eyes, tears running down the side of her face as he fucked her mouth, making her gag as he did.

"Good girl." He grunted.

Santina was no quitter either, swallowing his seed with the audacity to look up at him and smile as it went down her throat.

She had a hot body, no doubt about that. However Ruben was afraid that he would go soft seeing her face. There was nothing peculiar about her face, it just didn't belong to the woman that he loved. Nevertheless, Santina didn't mind getting fucked from behind, something told Ruben that she preferred it. She arched her back with his every stroke, gripping the wood and moaning like a maniac as he knocked his hips against hers. She had him coming within seconds. It would be embarrassing, however Ruben couldn't care less.

"We're done here." He said, falling back against the wood.

Santina nodded and made her way out of the sauna, letting out some of the fog. Ruben sat with his legs spread and glistening sweat dripping down his torso. He was still hard, so hard. Nothing did it for him these days. No other woman could satisfy him anymore. He was being a tad dramatic, but if Carla didn't want him Ruben would quit women altogether. He needed to focus on football anyway and now he could do that without looking back.

The wood burned his back as he slumped down against it. Ruben groand as he grabbed his dick, squeezing it in the palm of his hand. He stroked it slowly up and down, trying to picture her face behind his closed eyelids. "Carla." He moaned. Along with upping the tempo of the stroking of his cock. His biceps clenched, already tired from his workout earlier. He pushed through, biting down on his lip as he did.

Her name escaped his lips when he came.

He felt pathetic.

Ruben felt pathetic and disgusting. He was careless too, having fucked Santina without a condom. But who knows, maybe she could have his baby? Ruben wanted nothing more than a family of his own. But if it wasn't with Carla perhaps it was never meant to be.

Part 9 and 10 are already out on my Patreon for Free!

[kencoded-kengirl]

LOOOOOOL KRANK THAT SOULJA BOY 🔥💯 LMFAOOOO OLD MAN YAOI frank is every bit as bad as stewy is with kendall when it comes to logan. he can only see the nice parts. he knows logan isn’t a good man or even a good father but he’ll love him forever anyway. he could get fired a hundred thousand times and he wouldn’t know how to stay away. that’s how they are. he hates caroline because logan pays her so much attention. he hates marcia because logan trusts her so much. even, sometimes, he hates gerri, because logan wanted her like a lover and he’ll never, ever, want frank that way, no matter how long he waits or how much he parents logan’s children. and gerri is so ungrateful for it. she doesn’t even want his attentions, how can that be? it’s like logan doesn’t think anything of him anymore, even though when they were twenty-eight, logan would tell him everything.

he would tell him about uncle noah and keep telling him until his voice got scratchy and his chest got tight, which was something he usually only did with women he had become obsessed with. of course that made frank feel special, even though he knows it can never mean anything. he’ll never be logan’s real wife, or kendall’s real father, or ceo. logan has always known there was something strange about him, something queer, something that prevents him from being more than just loyal confidante and underling. does anyone ever tell you guys that you’re kind of obsessed with him? karl asks, new blood in the legal department, and gerri and frank glance at each other. he’ll learn soon enough.

he doesn’t, though. karl is always so placid with logan, nodding along when he’s bullied, smiling flatly, being just funny enough. he does his job and doesn’t get made into anybody’s godfather. frank waits for thirty years for something to change, but, in a way, the four of them are mountains, and thirty years is not enough. frank is sitting in the cabin of an airplane, staring at gerri, who is staring at karl, who is staring at him. for gerri, god is dead in the next cabin over. for frank, the realization that every minute he lives now will be without logan is dawning. karl is thinking absently of who might be made interim ceo. frank feels like he might have been sitting with the two of them in this airplane since he was twenty-eight.

no one spirals. it’s too obvious to do that. the kids need them. the company needs them. karolina needs them. and they’ve always had each other as a constant comfort, even if they’ve never been anything more. at matsson’s retreat, frank takes one look at the sauna and says, good luck getting me in that thing. karl says, i can’t agree more. the kill list feels far away and meaningless as they sit together, breathing in the cold air, laughing at hugo in the same way they’ve been doing together for ever and ever. the grief feels almost meaningless, too.

little shiv, who used to sit at the end of the long dining table in the hamptons doing summer school and tell frank every detail of her life because roman and kendall think they’re too grown-up for me, now, asks them at the funeral how bad was dad? frank can’t answer honestly. karl’s honesty is too dry. she walks away. when she does, karl brushes his knuckles against frank’s, and even though they never tried this once in thirty years of being in each other’s business, frank knows without having to be told that he’s supposed to tangle their fingers together and hold on tight.

maybe they should have cared more about the kill list, though. tom fires them. he has to. he does it together, the three of them in logan’s office, killing two birds with one stone. it hurts frank more than logan’s death did, and it’s the best thing that ever happened to karl. the two of them are standing side-by-side outside of the temple that is waystar, waiting for their drivers to take them away for the last time. did we ever meet up outside of work? karl asks, because he actually can’t remember. when was the last time either of us did something outside of work? frank counters, and karl chuckles. you wanna give it a try? frank does want to give it a try. he’s forgotten what it’s like to spend an evening without one of logan’s children, or mistresses, or siblings, or apprentices, or disciples within his line of sight. somehow, karl has completely avoided becoming any of these things.

the house in the country is many times too large for two. frank reads shakespeare in the sunroom and drinks tea. karl walks in and says, can we go to the pond tomorrow? and frank says, no, i’m meeting kendall for breakfast tomorrow. karl doesn’t roll his eyes. okay, can we go to the pond on wednesday? the ducks will miss us, karl tries again. you make me feel old, frank says, happily.

you gave him too much credit, says karl, finally, on wednesday, tossing stale bread into the duck pond. you never gave him enough, says frank. i didn’t have to. he was just my business partner, says karl. and he was the love of my life, frank says, but in saying it, he’s proving it wrong. logan would never have fed the ducks with him, or encouraged frank to idolize him less. FROG AND TOADDDD 🔥🔥🔥😂😂🔥 LMFAO COMPRESSION SOCKS

[fountainpenguin]

"He's a bad boy with a tainted heart... and even I know this ain't smart! But Mama, I'm in love with a criminal..." (x)

---

New Dog's Life chapter today! ~ 3rd Life series fan-season

Chapter 40 - “Wednesday: Melting Cookies”

❤️ Read on AO3

💛 Start from Chapter 1

💚 More Pixels Imperfect fics

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"That's not cheating, though… I don't cheat. I just have really bad timing."

BigB and Grian spent their night together. Without the need to sleep in the Between dimension (and with so few chances to steal this much time together), is it any wonder they fall so easily into one another's charms?

... Why can't BigB chase away the nagging thought that his boyfriend's seeing someone else? Someone neither him nor the Dog's Life teammate he's permitted to...

Dog's Life anniversary chapters, Part 2!

(First 1,000 words under the cut)

❗ Immediate sensual #trafficshipping (Secret Soulmates), so proceed at own discretion

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bigbst4tz2

Location: Grian's apartment, Midsouth District, 2nd Floor, 300

🖤  🌕  🖤

He can feel Grian's summer-scented breath against his lips, even though their pixels blended what must've been hours ago. Honestly, BigB stopped counting. Does it matter?

It's Wednesday now. The hub flower came crashing down Tuesday night; it's not like he could go home to his server. His room in Between is a study with bookshelves, but no bed. His betrothed's locked online right now. He has a boyfriend with elbow room for two. They couldn't fall asleep even if they felt like it. I mean… do the math.

Forget golden carrots. THIS is lovemaking. It's Grian lying partly beside and partly underneath him, panting softly and blinking sparks from the corners of his eyes. Mm; used to be underneath. Sort of lost their boundaries when pixels merged. But Grian's the one craning back his head, throat exposed, while BigB's in charge of gentle lips and leaving marks. Not really marks, but you know what he means.

Grian's still sprawled, one arm angled above his head. Naked. Exposed. BigB's hearts surge to crescendo just looking at him there, his wings frisking of their own will at his back. He presses with his hands. Fingers. Palms. Not all his illager magic still works like it used to, but there's enough to trace silent bonding swirls (Want you; find you) up and down Grian's hips. He lets out a shaky breath. It hitches his tongue. My okzHkt Y'nooTAt… Secret passion… Look at me. Want you bonded. Want you mine.

Situating their gangly limbs and bulky wings took a few minutes, but it's not like they hadn't had practice. Mm. Must've been hours ago. When did they last move? Comms are dead. His roommates are tucked online. No one's come knocking at his apartment door. Nothing about this is strenuous enough to take their hunger. And nothing's here to interrupt them. Not even phantoms. Even their hunting calls are silent now. They've never had Between like this.

HkkY VAa. YHkzTAao. otnV. (Keep you. Precious. Stay.)

It's not kissing. There's no grip. No touch. No prickle… but they have their breath. He has his chilliness. Grian has his warmth. It's enough. It's plenty and more. In the back of his mind, he itches for adventure… but he's not about to push the line. Not when Grian looks so peaceful there, even though the punches Scar suggested don't seem like they'd be that hard to work into conversation. That can wait for some other day.

"Such a pretty bird," he murmurs, running his hands down Grian's bare sides. Though he has to say it twice when Grian first looks at him in hazy question and he realizes it came out in Illagealt. BigB licks his lips, repeating the phrase in Tweentext, and Grian lets out a small, wobbly noise. His legs shift, long toes clenching at the air in a bird-like way. BigB moves a finger where Grian can catch it. Grian's body goes liquid again, holding steady. Holding firm. Black eyes flutter open and shut and every breath's one of sauna steam.

"Oh, you're such a charmer. D'you really mean that? You think I'm pretty?"

BigB adjusts his hands, bringing them higher up Grian's sides. With honey-colored slowness, he drags them down to hips again. Grian shivers. Chirps fall from his mouth like rainwater in the desert, and he's precious and BigB came this close to letting him walk away last night. He brings his mouth to Grian's leg, planting another sort-of kiss against his thigh. "Of course. I mean everything I say to you. Especially in bed. You're always pretty, especially when you've been running around, working hard."

Grian makes that noise again, whining like a starving thing. "B, take me back. I was so wrong… Shouldn't've palled around with Bdubs. Not without asking you."

"I'm here. You did ask, kind of? We were halfway to splitting up. I told you it was fine."

"Say something else. In your pretty Illager speak. B, you're just so… You're so romantic."

"Mm… You're so lucky my clones don't copy as well as they used to. Once upon a time, I could split my conscious mind five different ways. I breathed perfect people into life. I would ruin you, G. Oh, I would ruin you right now. You've no idea. You'll never know… but I do."

Grian's code doesn't react with visual signs when BigB blows across it, trying to stir up hot with cold, but… Grian himself murmurs now and then that he really likes the feel of ice-cold breath against his skin. He keeps his shirt off, hand resting on his pec. Trembling as he breathes. Cheek sideways. Legs twisted like a painting of a cherub, of which BigB owns a few from his more… art-oriented collecting days.

BigB curls one hand against Grian's half-mashed cheek. Or tries to. Grian's skin's always been soft as silk. It's one of the most tactile things about him. He misses that smoothness now. Blended, carrotless, no collision stops his hand from drifting straight through Grian's face to the empty nothingness inside. "Hey. Look at me."

"Mm?" Grian blinks his eyes open. Never just one. Always both, like he's excited to take in everything (even in his quiet, peaceful state) and BigB smiles.

"I've missed you lately. Busy little bees keep you up so late… but I'm so glad you're here with me right now. I'm the luckiest moth man in New Star."

"Bragging…"

BigB slides his hand away from Grian's cheek. He draws a circle against (maybe inside) his chest at a slow, careful pace. Grian doesn't react. Can't even feel it. Maybe a little, in the way it stirs his pixels around. The parrot closes his eyes again, drifting back into whatever thoughts had him at the moment. "I'm not lying, though. You're so pretty. You get all the folks you want, but you always come back to me."

Grian shifts his wings. They scrape across his bed sheets. He arches his back just enough to stretch them, then settles down again. "Awww… Yeah, yeah. You know what I like, B. You're gentle…" Softer, "You don't know what that means to me."

"Show me?" he murmurs back, still tracing circles through a sea of pixels with his finger pads. Grian chirps and stretches his arms, too. Then he stretches up with crooking fingers. They pass through skin without a thought, but the loop he makes is clear, so BigB responds.

Up until now, he's been propping himself on his elbow. Now he shifts, allowing Grian's arms to "pull" him down in a spot he likes a little more. Grian guides their mouths together. They part lips before they brush. And it's nothing. Not to him. Not to Grian. He can see as much from the trickling sparks that carve canyons through his pixels, oozing to the bed as his body hitches and he cries.

No touch. Not even soft teeth. They've been blended far too long.

[Full chapter on AO3 - Link at top]

[panickingpansexuality]

Elliot x GN! Reader pt 2 Hangover

Pt. 1

The morning came and left with Elliot, he woke up around noon, his head aching from the night before, he rolled over with a groan, the light from the summer afternoon streaming into his home and it was far too bright for his liking.

Elliots vision focused onto a cup of water by his bedside table and some Tylenol beside it, there was a note beside it but he currently did not have the mental capacity to read it at the moment, the hungover writer drank the water with the Tylenol and heard a knock on the door.

"Go away." He whined out, putting the glass on the table.

The door opened anyway, and Harvey came in with a medical bag.

"Figured I'd check up on you after last night." Harvey says coming to sit on Elliots' bed, Elliot groaned but moved himself to sit up. 

"Just a headache," Elliot groans out "and nausea, nothing unusual."

Harvey chuckled and pulled out an everything bagel and some tomato sauce from his bag.

"It'll help," he says "though I'd recommend the sauna after everything you and Shane did last night."

Elliot felt himself panic, a flash image of (y/n) came into his brain, carrying him home, then the farmer laying him down and then…

"What happened last night?" Elliot asked a slight tremor in his voice 

"Well.." Harvey began, "you and Shane were singing and dancing through the whole Saloon, after a while I took Shane home and (y/n) took you home and according to them you had some very interesting things to say."

FUCK

Elliot felt like his heart was going to explode, he reached for the note beside the water and read it.

"Hey Elliot, I hope this will help make you feel better, and don't worry about last night, you were drunk and I'll forget about everything you said. Promise.

Xoxo Farmer (y/n)."

"Harvey." Elliot said, "Did (y/n) say anything about what I said to them?"

Elliot handed Harvey the note and Harvey felt his lower jaw drop.

"Elliot it wasn't anything bad."

"Specifics Harvey please!"

"Just that you were happy they were with you at night and that them being here with you was all you wanted."

Elliot felt himself sink lower into the bed, Harvey quickly tried to reassure his friend.

"It's not anything bad really, it's not a big deal."

"It is a big deal." Elliot said, "It's true, that's all I want to do is be with them."

"We'll go ahead and let them know tomorrow, Harvey said closing his bag, "you're gonna need res-"

Elliot ran out of the cabin straight into town, pausing near a lamp post ( only because his head was spinning)

Harvey was running after him, quite certain that he would either pass out on the way or vomit. Maybe both.

Elliot turned and saw Harvey coming towards him, in a panic he ran away, past the bus stop and saw the farm coming into view.

"(Y/N)!" Elliot yelled. 

(Y/n)s dog perked his head up at the sound of Elliots voice, the movement caused the farmer to pause planting and wait another moment to hear what their dog was listening for.

"(Y/N)!"/ The voice yelled again.

"Elliot?" The farmer said to themselves, then out of the trees, Elliot appeared a panting and sickly looking mess.

"Elliot, what are you doing here?" (Y/n) asked rushing towards him, "you look like you need to be in bed."

"I had to tell you something." Elliot panted.

The farmer led them to a nearby bench and sat down with him.

"I meant what I said." Elliot gasped. "I want to be with you, I think about it so much that it's embarrassing."

The farmer blushed and Elliot took their hands in his, he brought them both to his lips and kissed their knuckles.

Suddenly Harvey came through the trees panting. The two on the bench and the dog on the porch looked at the disheveled man.

"You!" Harvey said pointing at Elliot. "Get to bed and rest!"

"I'm feeling spectacular Doctor." Elliot said, his gaze then shifted to you, "at least now I am."

(Y/n) gave Elliot a soft smile and got up from the bench and held out their hands to help him up which he readily accepted.

"Let's get you home so you can rest." Dr. Harvey said.

"Doctor don't you get it." Elliot said, "I am home." 

(Y/n) gave his hand a gentle squeeze, Harvey rolled his eyes and said.

"Ok but seriously you need to get to bed, you're looking green."

"Yup got it." Elliot said.

[marypsue]

Hello friends, foes, and followers, time for another Sneak Peek Sunday! As usual, here's an out-of-context teaser from former heroes who quit too late:

...

The gate across the entrance to the pool is shut and locked. But the door into the little office at the entrance is standing wide open.

Dustin gulps audibly as they peer through it. The office is empty. There’s no sign of Heather or Sara or the strawberry blonde girl or any of the other lifeguards. The July issue of Seventeen is facedown on the counter, and there’s a white bottle of something with a wordy label covered in hazard symbols lying open on its side on the carpet. The chlorine stink is strong enough to make Max want to sneeze.

Nothing moves.

“I don’t feel good about this,” Dustin says, as Max ventures into the office a step. No new and astonishing information presents itself.  

“When do you ever feel good about anything?” Lucas shoots back. “And why did you have to drag my sister into this?”

Erica Sinclair sticks out her tongue at him even as Max, privately, agrees. “Worried I’m gonna make your superpowered ass look like a scared, little baby?”

“Will said it was urgent, when he radioed,” Dustin says. “And I wasn’t just going to leave her at my house. Alone. With Russian spies after her.”

Lucas groans, and rolls his eyes, but he doesn’t say anything else to argue.

“Coast looks clear in here,” Max says, before the boys can find something else to bicker about. “Any sign of Will and El, yet?”

“Here they come,” Mike says, and then starts waving his arms at the road, like he’s guiding a plane in to land instead of waving at two people who definitely know how to get to the pool and can see them all standing outside. It’s Max’s turn to roll her eyes.

“Great. It looks like we can get through here to the actual pool. Come on, they’ll catch up.”

The actual pool, it turns out, is just as dead as the office is. There’s something deeply eerie about being out here, in the middle of a hot summer day, in the baking sunshine, with no one else around. And no sound but the rustle of trees outside the fence, and birdsong, and the odd car passing by, and the quiet slap of the gently-rippling water against the pool’s tiled sides. It’s almost like the whole pool is holding its breath. Waiting for something.

“Anybody else kinda tempted to do a cannonball?” Erica asks. Mike shushes her.

Max isn’t sure what makes her hang back, as the others head inside to the changerooms and the exercise room, talking about how they’re going to trick Heather into the sauna, whether they’re going to bake the Mind Flayer out of her or just find out what it wants, or maybe just find out if it’s really her it’s using at all. At this point, Max is pretty sure it is her, but she doesn’t really need to argue the scientific method with Dustin about it.

She’s not sure why she’s hanging back, staying in the sunlight, in the open air, to be able to hear the sound from the storage shed. But she is. And she does.

“Guys?” Max says.

She doesn’t think any of the others hear her. Lucas and Dustin are busily bickering about how the temperature controls on a sauna work, both of them talking over each other. They’ll be outright yelling in a second, despite Will’s attempts to referee – or maybe just egg them on. Max is never entirely sure with Will. El’s already disappeared around the corner into the building, with Mike close behind her.

“Guys!” Max tries, one more time, a little louder, before heading for the shed.

The sun must have passed behind a cloud or something, because the brilliance of the light fades a little as Max approaches the shed. The sky doesn’t get any less blue and blinding overhead, but all the colours around Max darken, ever so faintly, the shadows getting softer and less sharp in contrast. A little of the heat seems to leak out of the sunlight beating down on her back, making her shiver in the barest breath of breeze. Somewhere in the woods around the pool, a single cricket or grasshopper chirps almost frantically, before suddenly falling silent.

As she gets closer, Max can see that the storage shed door is ever so slightly ajar. The stink of chlorine is burning the inside of her nostrils again.

The sound that had made Max come investigate comes again. A sort of wet, rattling gasp, half-choked. This time, Max is sure it’s coming from inside the shed. It’s awful to listen to.

It sounds like somebody’s dying in there.

Max’s feet drift to a stop, just before they would have carried her around the door to where she could see through the inch or so it’s cracked open. To where who or whatever’s in there could see her.

She considers calling out for the others again. And quickly decides against it. They might not hear her. But whatever’s in there definitely will.

Slowly, cautiously, tensed and ready to spring back at a moment’s notice, Max starts to lean around the storage shed door –

And nearly jumps out of her skin when a voice behind her says, “Max?”

“Jesus!” Max claps a hand over her pounding heart as she whirls to face Lucas. “Holy shit, stalker, way to give a girl a heart attack -”

And then the door swings abruptly back, a rough grip grabs her upper arm, and she’s yanked off her feet and sideways into the storage shed.

[mxeve0]

Masterlist

Spiderman Noir X Fem Reader

Warning: 18+ Only, MINORS DNI, rough sex, oral sex (both male + female receiving), fingering, unprotected sex, degradation, praise kink, orgasm denial, public sex???(locked office)

Context: You visit Peter in his office and he can't wait until you get home.

Needy

It was a hot summer night and the building felt like a sauna. The front door was pinned open by one of the waiting chairs, and there were three fans going on the front desk. You turned one of the fans towards you to try and cool yourself down before heading upstairs to see your boyfriend. The receptionist had gone home for the evening, and honestly, you couldn't blame her. Your dress was sticking to you like glue and you had only been here for a minute or two; you couldn't imagine what you would feel like after being here for a full day. Wiping the sweat away with a tissue from behind a desk, you headed upstairs, dropping the tissue in the bin on the way past.

Upstairs, the hallway light was harsh and flickered periodically. The first office on the floor was dark and empty, but you could see a small light coming from the other two. Walking over to Peter's office, you peered through the window before entering, and saw him intently staring at the papers on his desk. You pushed the door open; his head shot up almost instantly.

"What are you doing here?" He asked as he pushed his glasses back up his nose.

"Well it's half seven, you were supposed to leave an hour ago," you answered, perching on the edge of his desk.

"Shit, I'm sorry darlin'. I got a case last minute and I didn't..want..to..." he trailed off as his eyes found their way to the hem of your dress, which was relatively short. He scratched the back of his neck as he tried to continue talking, but no sound came out.

"Didn't want to what?" You asked with a smirk and a flirty tone. Peter had bought you the dress last week and he hadn't seen you in it yet, so you knew it was driving him wild.

"You know what, the case can wait," he stated, his eyes flicking back to yours. He stood up from his chair and pushed the papers to one side. You giggled and swung your legs around so that he was standing in between them. Peter grabbed your hips to pull you closer, his strangely cold hands cooling your skin through the thin fabric.

He slammed his lips onto yours, and you wrapped your arms around his neck to pull him closer. It was moments like this, moments where you knew he needed to feel you that reminded you how in love he was with you. How obsessed with you he was.

You felt his tongue on your lips, begging for entry, which of course you allowed. As the kiss deepened, you felt his hands snake their way up your waist and to your tits. He groped them through the cloth, causing a moan to escape your lips. He was being rougher than he'd ever been, but god did it feel good.

The two of you separated to catch your breath, but he only took a second before he began to attack your jawline and next. Peter bit and pulled at your skin, leaving marks you knew would be visible for the following days. But he didn't care, and honestly, neither did you. You ran your hand through his hair as he made he way down to your collarbone. His hands had abandoned your tits and had fallen back down to your thighs, where they began to play with the hem of the dress. Peter slipped them under the fabric and up to your hips. He tugged at the edge of your panties, trying to pull them down. You let go of his hair and pushed yourself up on the desk, letting him slide them off.

He went back to kissing your lips as he pushed you down onto your back, his hand resting on the back of your head. Once on your back, he kneeled down and positioned his face in front of your entrance. His fingers danced lightly on your inner thighs, sending shivers up your spine, and his breath was hot on your wet cunt.

" Fuck, you're soakin' wet already," he said with a smirk. He started with his tongue, lapping up your juices like a dehydrated dog. The combination of how tender you felt and how rough he was being sent waves of euphoria through your body with each touch. Your fingers curled over the top edge of the desk; the pleasure was almost too much to handle. Your breath was short, and your moans were loud. Peter stopped for a second and came up above you.

"Any louder and he'll hear you," he warned, nodding to the office opposite. He placed a kiss on your forehead before going back down. His tongue danced around your entrance before actually going in. Your legs spasmed and you tried to close them but he held them open. You could feel your climax coming, but your throat was too dry to tell him. His tongue seemed to fill up your insides. As if he sensed that you were close, he pulled away, wiping his lips with his thumb.

As you took some deep breaths, Peter grabbed the edge of your dress and pulled it off if you. His eyes were locked on your tits, entranced by how perfect your body was. He used his left arm to prop himself up above you, and his right hand stayed down at your cunt. As his fingers circled your entrance, he placed kisses around your jawline and whispered into your ear,

"You're doing so well." Your breath hitched for a second; it was unusual for him to give praise when he was being so rough, but you weren't going to complain. His fingers grazed over your clit as his continued to tease you. You could feel tears forming in the corners of your eyes as the feeling of your climax slipped away.

"What are you crying about, huh?" He smirked. Peter knew exactly what you were upset about, but he was going to make you say it one way or another.

"Please," you whispered between moans as his fingers continued to tease your entrance.

"Please what?" He pushed as he slipped the tip of a finger inside you. Your breath faulted but you managed to stutter out,

"Please Peter, finger me," you whined. His lips pulled into a smirk. Your breath seemed to stop as his finger was pushed deeper inside you and quickly joined by another.

"Such a whore," He said while pumping his fingers in and out. You couldn't help the involuntary moans that escaped your throats every time Peter's fingers re-entered you. He placed one last kiss just below your ear before reconnecting with your lips. His hot breath tasted like cigarettes and whiskey, a taste you had become so familiar with that you expected it. You wrapped one hand around his neck as you moaned into him. Your climax was close, you could feel the knot in your stomach tighten with every second.

Without warning, he pulled out his fingers, causing you yet another orgasm denial. You whined as he pulled away from you, wiping his fingers on a tissue.

"What? Why did you stop?" You asked breathlessly, sitting back up.

"I can't let you have all the pleasure, can I?" Peter teased while undoing his belt. Your eyes widen before you smirk and help him undo his trousers.

"Good girl," he mumbled under his breath, just loud enough for you to hear it. The tent in his boxers was big, bigger than you'd ever seen. Clearly he'd been holding this for a while. He grabbed your hips and turned you around before pushing your back so that you were leaning over his desk. For a moment or two, he stood there, admiring your body. Admiring how perfect you looked from behind. Then you felt his dick laying on your ass. You spread your legs and grabbed the edge of the desk.

"Alright darlin'," he said as he pushed the tip inside. The timing could not have been worse. The guy from across the hall had just left his office and was turned around closing his door. If he turned back around now, he would make direct eye contact with you. You hit the switch on the lamp at the desk, plunging the room into darkness and you bit your lip to stifle a moan. Your nails dig into the wooden desk as Peter continued to push himself further in, completely unaware of what was happening. You watched as he walked away, thankfully not noticing the silhouette of you two through the window. Turning the light back on and letting out the breath you were holding, you realised that Peter was all the way in.

"Why'd you turn the light off?" He asked while he waited for you to adjust to his size. It wasn't your first time, he was just fucking massive.

"Because, Mr Unaware, the guy across the hall just left his office and he could have seen," you replied through deep breaths.

"Oh," he answered as he pulled slightly out. You couldn't help but let the moan it caused out. "You know, I'm pretty sure he's gay," he said as he pushed himself back in.

"PETER!" You shouted. You turned around to face him (which was only about half way).

"What?" His eyes were wide.

"You're in the middle of having sex with me and you're debating your co-worker's sexuality?!" You questioned as you turned back round. He pulled out again before replying with,

"Right, sorry darlin'," He then proceeded to slam himself back into you, earning an almost-scream to escape your throat. You huffed in annoyance, but you couldn't be mad at him. As much as you hated to admit it, it did feel good. Your grip on the table loosened. Peter's grip on your right hip tightened, and his left hand gripped your shoulder. You held your hands together and rested your head on your forearms. Your legs were beginning to ache and you were getting tired. If you didn't finish soon, you felt like you were going to pass out. Peter noticed your tiredness, but he didn't slow down.

Instead, he intertwined his fingers in your hair and pulled your head up. You moaned, half out of pleasure and half out of pain. You were close. So. Close. If he didn't let you climax this time you were going to turn around and punch him. Your legs began to shake, which Peter noticed.

*Aw, you close?"

"Yeah, and if you don't let me finish, I'll give you a vasectomy," you warned. He chuckled as he continued to pound into you. With every second, the knot in your stomach grew tighter and tighter, until it snapped.

You threw your head back and arched your back out of reflex. You screamed and your breath seemed to stop for a few seconds while you came down from your high. He let go of your hair and your head fell back down onto your arms.

"Good girl," he cooed as he eased you back to reality. He continued to push into you, but you couldn't last. You needed to stop.

"Peter I can't, please," you begged. He obliged and slowly came to a stop before slowly pulling out. You fell to the floor, resting your head against the desk. He sat back in his chair, his dick bouncing gently on his stomach. After a minute or two, you were strong enough to finish him off with your mouth. He'd been sat there slowly pumping it to keep it erect, but seeing you sit up, he let go.

You sat on your knees and positioned yourself between his legs. Grabbing it by the base, you positioned it just before your lips. You took a deep breath before taking it in. It was sensitive - you could tell from the way his breathing had changed - and it twitched every time you moved. Bobbing up and down, you danced your tongue on the tip, earning a few subtle moans from your boyfriend. You knew he wanted to be vocal, but he'd never actually do it. Peter's hand rested on your head, and gently began pushing you further down each time. His legs were twitching more and more; you could tell he was close. Normally he'd tell you a few moments before he came, so that you wouldn't have to swallow it. Not this time.

You felt it begin the throb in your mouth, just as he said, "I'm - fuck - cumming!" You didn't have time to take it out of your mouth, and you didn't want to taste it. Deciding it was your best option, you pushed it further down your throat, so that the fluid would go straight down without the taste.

He used your hair to pull you off once he was done, and there was only the slightest taste in the back of your mouth.

"Sorry darlin'," he said before placing a kiss on top of your head. He covered himself back up and then proceeded to help you get back into your dress. You left the room as he switched the light off and locked the door behind the two of you.

"So, straight to bed?" Peter asked as you walked down the stairs, turning the light off on the way out.

"I'll make you an egg cream first," you smiled up at him and he kissed your forehead.

"I love you, you know," he said while locking up.

"You better after that," you laughed.