#there's a lot of chatter in my mind today so i need to talk to myself in a post

[tothepointofinsanity]

Personal Log VI

Being raised under the wings of conservative religious parents and in two households of traditional Chinese relatives has taught me nothing but how to be a sponge for guilt. Everyone within my childhood has always made an effort to correct my "oddness" and open sensitivity. My sister pointed out to me only recently that she always thought I was a bit "off" when she was younger; an innate oddity I possessed on my persons attributed not only to the custom of dressing, but a highly reclusive nature that was perceived rebellious.

I don't think anyone in my family truly understands me. I say this not out of ill faith, but in the belief that no one has attempted to be sympathetic to my cause. They're not obligated to, certainly, and I have stopped trying altogether because I hate my father. My sister and I became close only a few years ago. On the phone, a distinct conversation I remember was when she told me the school counselor used play and art therapy in the room with her. And of these collection of toys, a striking posse of goldfish plush. She said that looking at these toys reminded her of myself. That seems to be all the hots of impressions about me these days by peers as well.

Rest in peace to everyone else in my psychology course for having me as their local madman. I'll never apologize for terrorising the class with my absurd fashion sense and blatant advocacy for homosexuality rights. (← Actually, I should do that more discreetly in the club instead because I might get arrested by the government!) I'm not over the fact that the schedule fucked me over and separated me from my two (2) friends in the entire course so I have to make new friends for the next semester. Thinking about socialising makes me sweat buckets, and I'm talking Johnny the Homicidal Maniac levels of neurosis here. Makes my teeth chatter a bit. Shiver me timbers. What's a man supposed to do if he hates how suffocating people can be? Something something Edgar Allan Poe was right. Sorry if it sounds like I'm "bouncing" here and there in my writing. I can never think straight and there's a lot of conversation generated in my brain right now. This sudden spike of jubilation (hypomania moment) was certainly unexpected, so I'll take advantage of it as much as I can to speak nonsense and garbage until I eventually sober up later.

[leviraaaaaa]

“Daaa-ddy.”

Levi startles, looking up. The little girl stood before him, all wide eyes and beaming at him.

“Yes? Shouldn’t you be at school?”

She shrugs, then thrusts out a hair brush and a set of scrunchies. “Do my hair today!” She grins.

Levi is taken aback slightly, not at all expecting such a request. It’s not that he had a bad relationship with his daughter really, if anything Levi spends every second that he can spare with her. But even so, it was so sudden and specific, not to mention she has never asked him to do it before. It was you who helped her get ready.

“Doesn’t mommy usually do that?” He asks slowly. “Is she busy?”

She shakes her head quickly. “I just want you to do it today.” She smiles, holding the brush out to him, waiting for him to take it.

Levi glances at it then looks back up. How could he say no to that?

So, without a word, he motions her to turn around which she follows happily, pulling a stool nearby to sit between Levi’s legs. Levi takes the brush, though slightly hard to hold without his missing fingers, he manages, combing through the black silky strands.

Like his.

Though, his own hair was stranded with gray now, a sign of the long years he had lived. Even Ackermans don’t stay young forever.

But it’s still so strange to him, having her here, right in front of him. He still freezes a little when she smiles at him, watching her with awe. She looked almost exactly identical to him, starting from the shape of her face to the color of her eyes, just the exact shade of the silvery blue that his own eyes hold. But there was a brightness in those eyes that Levi doesn't think he ever had. She was like this little ball of sunshine, always so bright.

And her smile, that came from you.

She was his. Yours. Theirs.

A part of him and a part of you. A whole other human being. A child. A blessing.

It was the hardest at thr beginning. For him to get used to it. Despite the 9 months of pregnancy, it was when he first held her that the realization finally hit him. That she was his daughter. His.

And the moment his eyes locked with the newborn, he knew he was doomed.

That there was nothing he wouldn’t do for this small, small, absolutely tiny person that came to earth no more than half an hour ago. That he had just met.

It was crazy how it only took him only a moment for him to swear his life for her, to become so protective. It was actually ridiculous, how he felt anxious even when it was the nurses holding her, he’d been so rigid, so poised. Even when handing her over to someone else’s arms, he had his hand outstretched because just in case. It took a shit load of convincing from you for him to let Jean and Connie hold her.

It was crazier watching her grow up. Never had he felt this ridiculous amount of pure joy and excitement ever. Only to hear her first words, to watch her take her first steps, holding his hand. He swears it was only yesterday.

His chain of thought was cut off as she started to happily chatter about things. Unlike Levi, she talks. A lot. Levi doesn’t mind, he listens quietly. Every once in a while, inserting a comment.

“I’ve read about you. In the history books. Our teacher taught us.”

“Yeah?” He mumbles, brushing softly. “What’d you learn?”

“They called you humanity’s strongest.” She stumbles on the word a little, which was a bit heavy for her usual vocabulary. She turns around to look at him with awe and wonder, wide eyes asking for confirmation. “That’s so cool!”

He only lets out a small hum in response.

"Will I be as strong as you one day?"

"Sure. You already are." He hopes she never needs to be.

“I saw your picture too. And mommy’s. Also, Uncle Connie used to be bald back then.” She finishes with a giggle, the idea of Connie’s lack of hair amusing her. “You were like a superhero, weren’t you daddy?”

“I wouldn’t shoot that far.” He answers with a small smile.

Back then, Levi had never imagined the idea of having a family. There, caged between the walls, surrounded by those tremendous monsters. When there was no guarantee that you’d come back alive once you’re out there. How could he even think of bringing a child to the world, if he couldn’t even do the least that is to promise their safety?

But now, here she runs and plays outside, without a worry in the world, tirelessly. She doesn’t have to starve like Levi had to, she grows up with only all the good the world has to offer. She doesn’t know the worst of how things could be and Levi hopes she never does. She doesn’t yet understand the role Levi and you had played in creating this world, but she does understand the value of it. She asks questions sometimes, about the wheelchair and the eye and the hand. About your scars and why somedays you can't get yourself from bed. He doesn’t answer. He doesn’t know how to answer. And Levi knows, one day, he’ll have to tell her all of it, life back then and the life he had. But for now, he prays, let her grow up with only love and pureness. Let her see the world in her rose colored glasses. Something he never got to do.

She taps Levi’s leg as he bunches the hair to tie a ponytail. “Do braids.” She says.

“Braids? Don’t you always wear a ponytail?” Levi asks.

“Yes, but,” She tries to explain, stumbling for words. “Tash always pulls by it.”

Tash was one of her classmates, Levi knew from her frustrated rants about him. From what he could gather, neither liked each other much. “Next time he bothers you, you do the thing that I taught you.” He tells her.

“The thing with my hands?” She asked brightly, balling her hands to show him.

“Hey, no beating up kids at school. Levi!” You appear in the doorway, only catching the last bit of the conversation. “Don’t give her ideas. And you,” You look at your daughter who was smiling smugly. “I’ve been looking for you–wait, is Levi doing your hair?” You say, finally noticing and very surprised.

‘Yes!” She replies excitedly, “He’s doing braids! He’s very slow though.”

Levi playfully pats her head. “It’s because you keep moving.” He sighs. “Must you need braids? I’m not sure if I can–”

“Yes.”

Levi was about to say something else until she turned around, giving him the most adorable pout ever, eyes all round and needy, her brows pinched together. “Please?” She asks sweetly.

Well damn.

Levi tries, he really tries. But the word no somehow managed to disappear from his vocabulary, along with all of its synonyms. So he sighs, nodding.

“Levi, I can–” You start.

“It’s okay.” He puts up a hand, stopping you. He doesn’t know much about the process, but he’s spent enough time watching you do her hair. So he thinks he can manage it. “I can do it. Probably.” He says uncertainty.

It was slightly difficult to manage multiple sections of hair when you’re missing two fingers, but even surprising himself, he does manage it, after a few attempts. A little uneven, but works.

"Happy?" He asks her, patting her head.

It was good enough for the girl, who jumped up right after it was finished and cheered happily as an answer to Levi. She jumps to his arms, pulling him by the neck to plant a big smooch in his cheek.

“You're the best.” She beams at him, then running off to grab her bag which was by the door.

“Wow, mommy’s nonexistent now?” You fold your arms in mock offense.

She doesn’t answer, only picks up her bag and runs to hug you full speed, wrapping herself around your knees. “I love you.” She calls out, then turns to Levi. “And I love you too! I'm leaving now!”

Then she was out the door before you could say I love you back.

“Don’t run, you’ll fall.” Levi calls out to her, who was already far out of hearing range.

You closed the door. Then leaned against it, staring at Levi.

Levi looked away, cheeks heating up slightly, noticing the strange way you were staring at him, already knowing what comes after.

“So.” You said.

“So, what?” He said, glancing at you.

“Where'd you learn how to do braids?"

He huffs. "From you. I watched you do it.''

"Really?' It was so cute you could melt.

“Stop looking at me like that.” He grunts. “She’s my girl. I can do her hair sometimes, it’s not that big of a deal.”

“So, I’m not your girl?” You pout, exactly the same expression your daughter made just moments ago. “How come I don't I get braids?”

“I–” Levi starts, then huffing frustratedly. He can’t even say no to his daughter, who was he to say no to the mother? He tries nevertheless.

“I’m not doing it. Stop looking at me like that.”

You did not look away, pouting out your lips more.

“I won’t.”

You blinked, turning your expression sadder.

Levi gives up.

“C’mere.” He sighs.

[yurinabluu]

🔹2. Honey-comb icecream

synopsis- Break-up of the it couple of the university was surely shocking for everyone but yu jimin didn't care. She knew it was right to do as she was in love with somebody else. Precisely her ex's bestfriend.

[A moment from the past when Ryujin and Jimin were dating]

“Do you like the taste? This place is particularly renowned for it’s ice-cream. I tried the raspberry one with Y/N few months ago and loved it so much. Though Y/N liked the honey-comb more. I had a bite and trust me when I say how bad it was. God knows how she likes it so much.”

Ryujin chuckled lowly and took a bite from her ice-cream.

While Ryujin was busy in talking about something, Jimin couldn’t help but motion her orbs onto the woman who had stolen her heart without even her realizing the moment it happened. She had convinced her broken heart that you did not feel the same about her , which led her to accept Ryujin’s proposal.

She thought this would help her to move on but boy how wrong she was. You were so pretty , so kind and so gentle. How can she ever move on from you?

Jimin was not a fool. She knew about her popularity. She was aware how everyone in the university adored her. Everyone except you she assumed. Nobody knows how many times she had prayed that she was wrong. Maybe you felt something for her. She did not mind if it was friendship or anything less . She just wanted to be near you and admire you for the amazing woman you were.

“I want to try another flavor.”

Ryujin looked up at Jimin before replying,

“Yeah? Tell me the flavor . I’ll go and buy for you.”

“The honey-comb one”

Ryujin looked at Jimin for a second before nodding and head towards the counter. Jimin gave her a small smile before her eyes moved back to you again. However, the smile which was gracing her beautiful face got replaced with a frown when she noticed a girl standing close to you which was more than enough to disrupt Jimin’s whole self.

She hated this feeling. She felt her gut wrench and stomach churn in a way she had never experienced before. It was an unfamiliar painful feeling and Jimin despised it. She never wished to feel like this again.

[Present time]

“Jimmy, are you fine?”

Minjeong asked her , her eyes mirroring the worry in her other two friend’s, Aeri and NingNing eyes.

Jimin’s eyes were fixed on you, particularly on your arm which was being held by Yunjin, the famous cheerleader. Yunjin was one of your admirers except for the fact that she was hell bent to make you hers. Everyone knew of her liking towards you and the efforts she has been putting in since freshman years to please you, which only resulted in earning a polite rejection from you.

Jimin knew you would reject her again like you have been doing since before , not to her but to everyone who’d dared to confess their feelings to you.

But the similar feeling always haunts her every time something like this happened.

“Do you think Y/N will accept Yunjin this time?”

“Maybe. I mean Yunjin has been trying for so long.”

“Really? I don’t think so.”

“Wanna bet?”

Having enough of the chatters, Jimin got up from her seat and left the cafeteria immediately. Jimin was a strong and resilient woman but she was nothing but powerless when it came to you.

Your eyes wandered on the screen in-front you while your hands were busy in jotting down the notes Mr. Lee was displaying. You had an important test coming up soon and needless to say you were lacking behind a lot due to volleyball practices. You loved the sport more than anything else but this test was important and covered an important part of your grade. Not to forget, the project which was going to be announced today held the similar importance. God it was extremely stressful but it something which was needed to be done.

“I just hope my partner will be useful. I cannot do all the work alone.”

You muttered under your breath when you noticed a presence beside you.

“Hey!”

You looked up at the source of voice when you felt your breath stop at the sight. Jimin stood beside you with her laptop and essentials in her hand, adorned in a white sleeve-less tee with a matching sky blue jeans , looking at you with a small smile. You were speechless. You never had a proper conversation with her before. You had no idea on what to say.

“Uhm hey..”

You mumbled nervously before Jimin sat down beside you making you even more surprised. You noticed her putting the materials down on the table gracefully before her eyes met your wide ones again. She let out a small laugh before speaking to you,

“We are partners….. y’know for the project.”

“Oh!”

You were cooked. Undoubtedly. You don’t know about God’s favorite child but you swore you definitely were the least. Before you could speak anything, Mr. Lee’s voice filled the classroom.

“Now that your partners are announced, I need you all to prepare a thorough and detailed presentation on the topic you like. Make sure to counter all the expected areas of the topic you choose along with your partners and discuss each other’s findings daily for at least an hour for a month before concluding it. Strategize your schedule for a month accordingly and remember this project is important for your grade. So better take it seriously.”

You cursed internally thinking about how you were going to survive a month being that close to Jimin. You just hoped that you won’t do anything stupid. Making Jimin uncomfortable was the least thing you ever want to do. And God knows how you were going to explain this to Ryujin. You cannot imagine what was going to happen during this whole month but things will definitely be taking a turn.

For good or for bad… only God knows that.

“So I was saying…” , Jimin looked at you giving you all her attention. You released a breath you did not realize you were holding before speaking,

“Should we exchange numbers?”

Jimin raised a brow at you in surprise which made you even more nervous if it was even possible.

“I mean since we are now partners, sorry project partners and Mr. Lee said we need to discuss our findings daily. So to decide the timings we need to chat and of course we cannot do that without having each other’s number. I am sorry if I made you uncomfortable. It did not mean that. Trust me I am-”

Placing her hand on your shoulder, Jimin gave you a light comforting squeeze while having a teasing smile on her lips.

“I did not know you could get nervous Y/N.”

Jimin spoke making you look away from her with blood rushing in your face, making your ears and cheeks turn red. She laughed looking at your flushed self before handing her phone to you and asking you to hand over yours to her. Jimin returned your phone back to you after saving her number making you do the same.

“Let’s have a good month together Y/N.”

A genuine smile graced your lips mirroring hers before you spoke,

“Sure Jimin.”

_________________________________________

Taglist(open) - @saysirhc , @1luvkarina , @myouiiiiiiii , @nasyu-kookies , @gayforalll , @yuyuy90 , @hooneysugarh , @spidrgamer , @sunshinez4 , @hwm1hyun .

[marvelfanfics1]

Paci kisses 🥺 I lub it!!!!! And so you can do may be winterwindow x little reader x little Peter where the reader Slips in babyspace and always wanna give them paci kisses so they are at the avenger tower on a Visit and baby goes to uncle Steve and give him a paci kiss on the cheek and then she goes to everyone and gives all paci kisses and little petie get jealous (may be tom Peter) and crawl to him and gives him paci kisses all over his face after that she climbed on daddy's lap and gives him paci kisses like she does with mommy and everyone adores the scene 🥺🥺

Kisses for everyone

Pairing: cg!Winterwidow x little!reader x little!peter

Warnings: Age Regression, lots of kisses, pure fluff, jealousy, not proofread

A/n: This has been sitting in my drafts for so long I'm sorry 😭🙏🏻

                                   ⭒𖥸⭒

The second the elevator door opened to the common floor Peter ran out and jumped on the big couch, reserving a seat for him and you like he does every time for movie night.

Bucky shook his head with a smile and turned his attention to you. Today you felt smaller than usual, which neither your caregivers nor Peter mind. They love you, doesn't matter the headspace.

"You okay, baby?" he asked and you nodded, smiling behind your paci you leaned forward to kiss his cheek.

Bucky walked over to Peter to hand you in his awaiting arms, knowing the boy could get fussy when he doesn't have his cuddle partner. To be fair, Peter is very protective over you and when you're in babyspace he's constantly on alarm, making sure you're happy and safe.

Half an hour later the common area was filled with chatter and laughter, everyone talking about how they have been before it was time to decide on a movie together. While the heroes chat you were going around giving each person a cuddle and a paci kiss, it's nothing new to the others how affectionate you can be.

Right now you were on Steve's back, arms wrapped around his neck and giggling, moving your head forward to give him a paci kiss against his cheek and letting out a surprised squeal when he pretended to drop you. If only you knew that you were the only little having so much fun at this moment. Peter was pouting on the couch with his arms crossed.

He doesn't know why he feels this way but seeing you giving everyone in the room the love and attention that he and your mommy and daddy were usually getting only, has him sulking on the large couch.

Natasha being the attentive assassin she is noticed almost instantly what was going on. She stopped her conversation with Clint and made her way to sit next to Peter nudging his shoulder.

"Wanna tell me what got you all pouty?" she teased, pulling slightly at his bottom lip that was jutted out.

He smiled a little but went back to frowning at his mommy before mumbling. "Just wanna have tiny for me alone..."

"Ah, I see..." She replied, moving some of his curls from his face and leaning closer to whisper to him. "Give it some time and she will be glued to your side."

On the other side of the couch, you were sitting on your knees between Bucky and Steve, occasionally listening to their conversation and looking around until your daddy tapped your thigh to get your attention.

"I think Peter needs some snuggles from his little sister, you think you can help him out?" he asked and you nodded your head proudly, a big smile forming behind your paci.

You instantly crawled your way over to Peter, shocking him first but he smiled the second you leaned forward to give him a paci kiss, and not just one, you kissed him all over his face until you were sure he was his happy self again.

"Lub Petie," you said proving it by giving him one last paci kiss on his lips.

"I lub you too, Tiny." he smiles brightly wrapping his arms around you to pull you in for a long hug.

When you were sure he was satisfied with the attention you gave him you switched from Peter to sitting on Bucky's lap, reaching over to play with your mommy's hair and also giving her and your daddy a paci kiss while the others cooed at the whole interaction.

⭒𖥸⭒

Taglist

@my-river-lilly @pauntedblacknails @fanfictioniseverything @devilslilbabysblog @buckymydarlingangel @hallecarey1 @daybreakwinter @loveshineslikethesky @wandaslittlewhore @vase-of-lilies @white-wolf1940 @simpingbutch @mischiefsemimanaged @alina02 @teddybearsgrr @doozywoozy @angelbabydoll28 @glxwingrxse @lilymurphy03 @veryvaughnny @lokigirlszendaya @youngstarfishdinosaur @little--baby--bear @minideathgoddess @rach2602 @aagn360 @gh0stgurl @flourishandblotts-inc @fluffyblanketgecko @lovelyy-moonlight @yoruse @paisley-yy

Crossed out are the ones I somehow can't tag!

[cloudyzeusy]

A Prize & a Punishment

james potter x top male reader

warnings: aged down james, spanking, aftercare

I loved James I really did but sometimes he just pissed me off with his arrogance and that is coming from me a Slytherin. Today was the long awaited final between Gryffindor and Slytherin and of course I would be supporting my sub despite my house.

But today I felt like he went a bit too far gryffindor had won the final which wasn't a surprise. James was the best seeker of the lot shocking that's he's allowed because he's a sub but as his dom I would never stop him from doing what he loves. But the way he bragged and tauted them was too far not making me look good as his dom. Especially as I know for certain he would be running to me to tell them off as soon as they said something remotely rude.

We were talking in a spare classroom as I finished up my potions homework. "Did you see me play [name] seriously Slytherin had no chance not sure what was going gone with their seeker but they lead more flying lessons." As he blabbered on I felt my patience get lower and lower.

I slammed my quill I was holding on the table making a loud bang in the empty classroom. "[Name] are you ok." He asked I didnt answer instead I began moving towards him watching watching him gradually become more nervous.

"Daddy-" He started but I cut him off immediately. "I think someone needs an attitude adjustment.". I smirked forcing his head up to look at me.

"But daddy I was so good today I just won the final too." He whined moving backwards but I didn't let up.

"I know baby and you will get your reward later, but now I think you need a spanking to bring your ego down I understand you one but the way you gloated in their faces was too confident for someone who knows their daddy's slut." I said making him flush with embarrassment before he could move or start complaining I dragged him with me over my lap as I sat on a chair.

I pulled down his trousers and boxers exposing his cute butt underneath I ran a hand over his ass watching him shiver in anticipation. I laid a sharp smack with no warning making him jerk forward but he stubbornly stayed silent like the brat he is. I laid four more in quick succession on on side before laying five on the other side. Then I moved to his pink hole only laying two down before he moved his hands to protect himself.

"James move your hands now before I spank you more than I planned." I said sternly but he ignored my orders shaking his head vigorously.

"James if you don't move your hands now I promise I will make sure to punish you well and truly and force a cock ring on you to make sure your friends find out about it." I threatened making him moves his hands instantly mumbling but I let it slide.

I laid 3 more on his hole drawing some whimpers out him. As I continued with 10 more spread out I got some whines from him and begs like I knew would happen.

As I finished with his punishment I helped pull his clothes back on pulling him into my lap. He wrapped himself around me instantly burying his face into my neck as I spotted little tears into his eyes.

But I knew he wasn't that upset at the spanking more so the fact he couldn't get away with not getting a punishment. I did find it quite cute but if I was soft on him he would be the most spoiled sub ever even more spoilt than Lucius.

"How about this you pick what you want to do for your reward mhm." I asked after hugged for a bit.

"Really!? I can pick anything daddy?." He exclaimed excitedly looking me in my eyes I nodded quickly before I had a chance to change my mind.

He sat thinking about it for a bit " Let's go to London I've always wanted to go." He said as I've always said no to him going but I didn't want to see him upset.

"Okay let's go when we have our next weekend off." I said making him hug me tightly chattering off about stuff he would do while he was there.

His sore bottom forgotten.

[testingthewatersss]

One day I'll get a request and keep it short, but uh, not today because this could've easily been a series. Under 4k is good for me though, so that's a win.This is my first time consciously shooting for a G/N reader in a long time so, bare with me.

Floodgates Usual Winter Solider context warnings but this is pretty tame tbh Bucky Barnes x G/N Reader Imagine 3830 words Fluff, mild angst. 18+ MDNI Requests open for a while via messages check masterpost for updated availability.

Everybody knows that Bucky is touch-starved. It's the unspoken truth that's used by everyone to excuse his irritable demeanour. It's the reason why nobody minds leaving the common rooms empty when he passes out on the couch in the middle of the day and Steve doesn't let Sam jab at him too much for how sweet he is on you. 

The hope that had flourished when you'd made your relationship a little more public was quickly dying out though. When all the inhabitants noticed that Barnes was still a grouch. If anything, he was more jumpy when people got too close. 

It was Bruce who suggested that the reason might be that the only person who didn't understand this blatant link between being kept isolated for the better part of a century and not tolerating mundane forms of contact might be Bucky.

After a lot of hushed discussion, Natasha was the one who decided to address it. Not being able to stand the undercurrent of gossip, but also not wanting to provoke any kind of intense reaction, she bided her time and cornered you. 

"Does Barnes know he needs some skin on skin, or is he still takin' the long way round figuring it out?"

Coffee catches in your throat. You're in a Starbucks, you've just run a stupid 5k route that you hadn't wanted to and she's asking you this, now?

"Of course, he knows" You reply after a beat, "I mean, we all know, but he really knows."

She looks unsurprised, offers you a brown sugar packet and sits back on her stool. 

"You know, couples-"

"Are you about to give me a sex talk?" you cut her off, humour making your lip quirk, "Please do not give me a sex talk"

"I wasn't talking about sex, we all know you're havin' plenty of that-"

You scoff at her, not bothering to ask how or why that's a topic of discussion at all. 

"-I know exactly what you're talking about..." you decide to say, tone a little more serious now, "...It's delicate, Nat"

"That's why I'm talking to you" she replies, "I want to stop hearin' about it, and the only way I can get Rodgers to stop talkin' is to stop him from worryin' and the only way to do that is give him something."

You consider her words for a moment before nodding. 

"He knows, I know- We all know, but it's difficult for him and I am not going to rush him into anything" You tell her, "but that doesn't mean I'm not keepin' an eye, and for what it's worth, he's gettin' better with the whole thing."

"His attitude didn't seem better this mornin'-" she counters from behind her paper cup, "He nearly Wilson put through a wall-"

"-for trying to get him to go to a couples therapist with Steve." You remind her smugly, "He told me all about it."

It's her turn to scoff then. 

"Any other personal things you want to ask me?" you press, half a challenge. She grins before making her expression intensely serious-

"So, about the sex-"

You don't linger in the cafe for long, and you definitely don't run back. You call a cab, much to Romanoff's dismay. The break from the serious atmosphere of the tower has done wonders for her mood though, and by the time you make it home your arms are ladened with bags. Fast food for everyone and clothes and some new kind of tablet thing that Tony had insisted he can turn into a portable holo-deck.

Bucky is waiting in your suite. 

The second you see him the conversation you'd had about his attitude seems ridiculous. 

He beams up at you so wide that he gets creases by his eyes, and all he can do is chatter about everything that's happened since you left.

Steve annoyed him by out-lapping him on their run. 

Wilson annoyed him, by well, breathing apparently. 

He's finally figured out how to fix the dishwasher, so he doesn't have to call maintenance anymore, and he's finished packing his bag for the mission he's leaving on in the morning, and, he tells you proudly- he's made dinner. 

It's some kind of soup, at least, you think it's meant to be a soup. But, whatever it is, it's good. And he's still smiling as you wash the dishes, bumping his hip against yours when you make a snarky comment about him still not using the dishwasher he's so proud of fixing.

And then he gets quiet. 

You're sitting together on the couch, the same way you have been for hours, with your legs barely touching but with his warm, flesh fingers wound tightly through yours. You think about asking why he's suddenly turned mute, but then you notice the time. 

"When do you leave?" You ask, stroking the back of his palm with your thumb.

"Four" he mumbles unhappily, giving your palm the lightest squeeze, "You're stayin' here, right doll? You're gonna wait for me?"

You laugh silently, pulling your legs up beside you to curl into his side. 

"Don't I always?" you tease, grinning as he reaches over with his metal hand, guiding your lips to his. 

"I'll be back before ten" He promises, "Steve promises"

"Oh, does he?" you murmur, lips still ghosting his, "You know he's driving Natasha crazy"

He quirks a brow, even so, close to his face you can see curiosity shining behind his eyes. 

"Aparently you're a jerk because I don't give you enough skin on skin"

He rolls his eyes, laughing as your fingers find his cheek.

The second you actually touch him, though- the laughter dies. He has to focus all of his energy on not moaning at the contact. 

You feel him tense and lessen the pressure, letting him move instead, pressing another kiss against your lips as he goes back to looking at you, this time, though, there's nothing but adoration behind the blue. 

"you do plenty" he whispers, before moving quickly, standing and pulling you up with him, carrying you effortlessly, "I'm fine."

"I know" You hear yourself agree, although you think he'll hear the doubt in your tone, "But- if you do ever want something, you know I'm here, right?"

What Bucky wants he thinks, is totally irrelevant. 

He wants to lay in your lap for hours, he wants to fall asleep and stay that way for hours because your fingers are in his hair. He wants to cry and not have to hide in a shower to do it. But you deserve better.

You deserve normal.

As normal as he can give you anyway. 

Not that that's much, but he can't control that he reminds himself sternly, what he can control, however, is this.

He can keep the floodgates closed. He can do what he does best and keep it down. 

He can make do with fleeting points of contact. With your hand in his, and your body in the same bed. The warmth of you is more than enough. You being there, smiling safe and lovely is more than enough. 

And when he places you on the soft mattress and watches you start to tangle yourself with the covers, he's once again certain that that is all he needs. 

What would I say, anyway? he thinks sadly, taking his place on the side of the bed that always seems too cold, How could I even bring that up without openin' a whole can of worms? 

His cheeks burn hot with embarrassment, and as he thinks tragically about how much he wants to just reach out and feel you, his eyes start to sting.

"You doin' alright, sweetheart?" you ask, already knowing that he's not. He nods though and forces a smile you recognise. 

"Tired" he mumbles unconvincingly. 

Before his cheeks can get any more pink, you decide to smile back. It works to settle him. So does the way you reach out to take his hand again. 

"I'll try not to wake you up" he promises quietly, "I'll see you tomorrow night"

"Tonight" You correct, looking over at the clock on his nightstand, "It's 1, you're leavin' in 3 hours, you better try and get some rest."

You don't know whether he does or not. He's gone when you wake up, reaching out for the fingers you normally fall asleep holding. He's left a note, telling you he loves you, and that he'll see you soon. And you tell FRIDAY to send him a message wishing him luck. When you don't get a reply, you decide to keep yourself busy. You order a delivery of food, which Bucky needs more than he realises, the state of his small built-in kitchen is shameful it's at best and depressing at its worst. 

In all fairness, a punnet of pulmbs, some milk, 2 carrots and half a loaf of bread is far from that- but still. A stock-up isn't going to hurt anything.

And then you still haven't heard, and the tower is creepy when it's empty. 

Like a school at night, you muse, walking through the walls, chattering to FRIDAY just to have some background noise.

Aside from assuring you that everyone's vital signs are fine, she can't actually do much to distract you, so in the end, you abandon her too and settle for sitting in your suite, on the bed, exactly where Bucky had left you. 

You fall asleep reading and only wake up when you hear the door click open. You beam, rubbing tiredness from your eyes as you wait expectantly for him to come in and greet you. 

He doesn't though. You can hear movement but it's not coming towards you, so you decide to just go to it instead.

"Hi, sweetheart-"

Your happy greeting dies as soon as you see him. Flushed with adrenaline, and tugging at his belt, which is still laden with grenades. When he finally rips it free, tossing it to the floor with such reckless abandon that you can't help but cringe, you walk towards him. 

He's pulling at his vest now. Metal fingers pulling desperately at the straps that hold it in place, growing more and more frustrated as he can't quite get them loose-

"Here" you whisper, hating the look of anguish he's wearing, "Let me help"

His arm snarls as you reach out to replace his fingers with your own. But to his great surprise, you don't even flinch. You just hush out a soft breath and guide the metal palm away. 

"You're fine" you promise, seeing the way he's relenting. 

His brow meets the window as he leans against it, both arms falling lamely to his sides as he focuses on breathing. 

On staying still and not just taking off running until his legs give way beneath him. 

"You're back late" you muse, flicking a glance at the wall, where the time is being projected by what you're assuming is Tony's version of a wall clock.

11: 33

"Not too late though, huh?" you continue, knowing he likes the background noise, "Is anyone hurt?"

Bucky gives a short shake of his head. 

It hurts. The movement sends daggers through his eyes. But still, he bites his tongue and tries to keep still.

He needs the vest off. He needs the layers of heavy, bulletproof padding, gone. He needs to not feel like he's dressed for battle, and he needs the ringing in his head to stop.

"Just you then" you murmur, more to yourself than to him.

"'m fine" he mutters, knowing you won't argue- especially since it's exactly what you've just told him.

You hum in quiet disagreement instead. Tugging the last of the straps free before letting the rough weighted vest fall to the ground with a dull thud that makes you wonder if you should've checked it for explosives first. 

"Better?" 

Your voice cuts through the pulsing in his ears, making him hyper-aware of the way he's still resting his head against the cool glass of a window of all things. 

Is it better? he thinks, rolling his shoulders unhappily. 

"Yeah" he murmurs, "Yeah, thank you, sugar"

And then he turns to you, wearing the fakest smile you've ever seen, and you can't help but reach out and stroke his cheek. 

He flinches. He physically recoils back into the glass with a look so sad that you miss the false grin. 

"They-uh" he coughs, embarrassment burning through his chest, "They shouted my words out through a speaker" he confesses, "I- I probbaly shouldn't even be here- Steve, Tony, they all, all say I'm okay, but I- I might... I, I just wanted to see you"

Your phone is already in your hand. Typing frantic questions to Natasha, to Tony and Steve and feeling your whole chest relax as replies start flooding in. 

The words are deactivated, as deactived as they can be, anyway. He's not a danger, not that a different answer to that question would've changed anything, and everyone knows where he is. When he'd bolted from the Quinn-jet in irritable silence, the entire team had let him go because they knew exactly where he was going, and considering the fact that he's physically uninjured, fighting to get him to go to Med-bay would've been a waste of everyone's energy. 

They still might've tried, in fact, Steve definitely would've tried, if they hadn't all been exhausted already. 

When you look back up at him, your heart cracks straight down the middle.

He's just, waiting. 

Eyes closed, brow on the glass,with his breath making it fog up by his face. 

His back is heaving too, shining in the dim lights of the room. His back is shaking like he's crying, but his jaw is locked tight. 

"What do you need, huh?" you wonder softly, not moving to touch him again, "Sweet, sweet boy- you got off that plane, and you ran- you ran all the way here, and then you stopped in here, why?"

His eyes flicker open, red and sore. 

"I" he swallows, "I had to get it off"

You quirk your head, not understanding, and then you see the vest by his boots and nod. 

"It hurts" he mutters to himself, "It's always hurt. I needed it off"

You know he's not talking to you, but you nod all the same, hoping that it might at the very least encourage him to keep his eyes open.

And then you realise what he's saying, and you can't keep quiet anymore.

"What hurts?" you ask softly.

His cheeks are hot again. He knows that he's embarrassed. That he should be, that it's right that he's burning with shame, but with the way his head is splintering he really doesn't care.

"The vest," he tells you quietly, "My skin, it- uh...it's always... the scars they uh... I- I needed to get it off..."

He looks at you, expecting to see a hint of something. Disgust, maybe? Or pity. What he doesn't expect, is the way you just nod again, expression understanding as you inch closer towards him. 

He bites back a whimper, using all the strength he has left to not just collapse in your arms. 

Keep the floodgates closed.

"Its off..." you remind him mildly, "Your home, it's off... so, what else do you need?"

Bucky blinks, sniffing to try and stop tears from forming as he stares at you.

And then, he hears you sigh, and his chest tightens so much that he can't catch a breath. 

A sigh is never good. He thinks. He's done it. He's finally done it. He's done something that has made you realise he's a lost cause. 

He's the lost cause. 

But, when he forces himself to look back at you, wanting to memorise your face before you leave his world forever, no matter how painful it is, he sees you smiling. Leaning against the window, only inches away from him. 

"I want to help" you promise softly.

A disbelieving scoff bubbles up through the tightness of his throat, and for a second, you think he looks like himself again. Even if he's a little rough around the edges.

"You did..." Bucky reminds you quietly, "I couldn't get it off, and you helped me"

The urge to roll your eyes at his gratitude is quickly tempered by the genuine affection in his tone. You settle for nodding instead. 

"So what else do you need?"

This time, when your hand meets his face he shivers. Feeling something deep in his chest snap as he starts to lean back into the contact. 

"C-could you..." he gulps, desperately shy now, "God, doll- could you just, touch my hair?"

"Your hair" you murmur, love drenching every word as you slowly trail your fingers up past his temple, stroking through the tangled length so gently he wants to scream. 

"Please" he shudders, "don't pull-"

His frantic request chokes off incomplete, the heat in his cheeks making his jaw lock petulently.

"You don't like havin' your hair pulled?" you muse, tone light in contrast to his, "Noted."

"Does anyone?" he wonders bravely, adjusting to the slow, trailing warmth across his head.

You laugh at that, further coaxing him out of his embarrassment.

"Sure they do, Buck," you tell him conversationally, "people like all kinds of things..."

He's melting. He's sure he's physically melting into your fingers. Into the gentle tug and pull, into the wonderful, brilliant sting of human contact.

All you hear is the softest hum. It's content though, so you take it as a win. 

"So since this definitely a winner..." you drawl, bringing your free hand down to his, letting him grasp your fingers in reflex, "What else do you like?"

The part of his brain that isn't purring like a cat, stuttering to a halt at your question. His eyes focus, as he blinks at you, face full of such total adoration that you feel like you should probably look away, but he's so beautiful that you can't quite manage it. 

"You"

That makes you laugh, small and flattered as you shake your head.

"You've got me, Barnes." You remind him lightly, "If we could be doin' anything, anythin' in the world, right now what would we be doin?"

The smile he gives you then is the most precious one he's ever worn. Your whole body flushes with affection as he chuckles silently reaching up and pressing a kiss against the back of your hand, as you scratch your free knuckles against the back of his head.

"I have no idea" he mumbles honestly.

Your brow quirks, before you move, pivoting and opening your arms to coax him in.

He freezes, staring at you with longing as he offers a sad shake of his head-

"I can't- darlin'-" he stammers nervously, "I want to- I- I really- I-"

"You" he hears you whisper, "can do whatever you like."

He shakes his head again, stubborn this time.

"Not that" he mumbles, "Not to you"

"To me" you repeat, curious.

His lips tighten and then part, breath shallow as your thumb finds his cheek.

"I won't be able to stop" he explains, voice quiet like he's sharing a secret, "If I start, I won't ever be able to stop and you- you're-you're everythin' to me and I- I can't put that on you- because I really- I mean it- I don't-"

Your head is already shaking, your arms are moving, pulling him into your chest. 

"I don't think I'll ever be able to stop" Bucky feels his words melting into your shoulder, he feels the heat of your body against his. His bare chest burning against the thin fabric of your vest. The feeling of your skin against his threatening to make his knees buckle. "I- I won't be able to stop"

You shake your head, hushing him as his resistance fades away to nothing. As he goes pliant in your arms, head falling to the crook of your neck. 

"I'm sorry" he whispers, "I'm so sorry"

"You're never listen" You mumble in reply, letting his hand go so that you can hold him tight against your front, "I just told you, sweetheart..."

Bucky pulls away just enough to look at you, and when you see tears brimming in his eyes, you can't help but hush him again, noting the way his hands are wound tight into the fabric you're wearing. 

His lower lip pouts, he tries to avert his gaze but it doesn't work. He just can't manage to tear his eyes away from you. From the way you're looking at him, full of affection. Full of patience and kindness and-

"Didn't I just tell you, huh?" you murmur, smiling a little again, "You've got me"

He blinks, still not understanding. 

So you do the only thing you can. 

You kiss him. You kiss him until he pulls back, until he dips back down into your arms, tired and aching and pressing his own kisses against the skin of your throat.

"I'm not goin' anywhere" You remind him gently, "We don't ever have to stop"

We don't ever have to stop.

Your sweet words rattle through his mind all the way to the bedroom. 

If it weren't for the aching in his knees and the awful cold of the room now that he's not hidden in your front, he might not've even noticed the journey. 

He's too tired, now. His head aches, and his adrenaline is well and truly shot. But the hope of you, of more of the wonderful warmth of you, is more than enough to keep him moving through it. 

I've done worse for less, he reminds himself with every wounded step. 

We don't ever have to stop.

And then there's the bed. The edge of the bed against his calves, and he knows his hands are free and that he should be doing something but he can't think of what, no matter how hard he tries.

You remind him, your hands on his belt, your feet nudging his boots so he remembers to kick them free before finally lowering himself onto the covers.

For a minute the familiar coolness jars him. His head spins and throbs and pulses and then, 

and then your fingers are back in his hair. Your arms are wrapped around him, and all he can feel is warmth. 

Warmth and pressure building behind his eyes. Incredible pressure that finally spills free as his eyes overflow. As he surrenders and clings onto your back with all the strength he has left, and cries.

He sobs, silently at first, tears melting into your chest as you stroke his back. Whispering soothing words that you know he can't hear. Letting him finally just be. 

And then, he's asleep. And so are you, a tangle of limbs and covers and heat. The kind of heat that makes you drowsy, that makes Bucky drowsy. 

Drowsy enough to sleep through whatever nightmares were bound to have been triggered by the missions, drowsy enough to keep him that way for hours in a row. And when he does wake up, for the first time in... well, a long time- he's smiling.

[fatuismooches]

Just read the Dottore x Fragile!Reader fic and I absolutely utterly adore it!

Can’t help but picture Columbina sneaking the reader out in bundles of clothes to show them Snezhnaya, meanwhile the lab is in pandaemonium like the burning SpongeBob meme because wheRE OR WHERE DID THEIR PRECIOUS GO???? ITS NOT UNDER THE BED! ITS NOT WITH ZANDY! ITS NOT BY THE FIREPLACE! WHERE IS IT?!?!?!

A similar idea where Zandik or a segment takes the reader out for once, be it Snezhnaya or a more tranquil region. He turns for one second and oop— where… where is the butterfly?????? While he scowers the town the frail butterfly crosses paths with a rather tall and intimidating wolf (idk what Capitano would be) who knows of them but isn’t quite sure what to do. The reader, having recognized the stylish clothes of a Fatui Harbingers, just starts to follow him around until eventually crossing paths with a squawking raven(s).

THANK YOU SO MUCH!! 😭😭 THIS IS SO CUTE AHH,,, AND THE SPONGEBOB BURNING OFFICE MEME 😭 OH MY THAT IS SO ACCURATE!!

You've rarely ever left the lab, perhaps there was just one or two times Dottore allowed you out, and even then it was barely a few footsteps. To think you've lived in Snezhnaya for so long, but have yet to see or know the vastness of the nation. So when Columbina hears your melancholic desire to see the outside world, she is on board immediately. As much as you appreciate her enthusiasm, you laugh, as Dottore would never allow you to leave like that, especially not with her. But Columbina is a sneaky lady. You often take naps during the day, don't you? And the clones don't like to disturb your rest, so they most likely won't come in for a while. And even if they peek in, you'll just stack a bunch of pillows and cover them with the blanket! She'll sneak you back into your room's window and it'll be as though nothing happened, promise. Columbina's words convince you far more than you want to admit. And it happens. She sneaks you out and you see many beautiful things! And you visit her mansion as well, even meeting Arlecchino! You three had a wonderful chat.

Only that you're a very unlucky person and it just so happens that today of all days a segment decides to come wake you for a meal... only to see you gone. And oh boy, the regular Fatuis are in for a hell of a show 😭 not once have they seen the lab or the segments in such disarray. Not an inch of the lab doesn't go unchecked and they're all losing their minds. I imagine Zandy would be on the verge of tears because why did you leave him like that 😭 When you return from your little joy ride, Columbina dips so quickly though, she knows that Dottore would never hurt you, but her? Oops, she'll just have to lay low around him for a while~ (And you get a very long, long talking to from your lover and get to see the segments clean up the lab from how badly they tore it up 💀)

AHH AND CAPITANO... PUTS THIS IN MY MOUTH (The wolf sits quietly and stares at the butterfly perched on its snout, until a raven appears and snatches it away.) You need to stop going where he can't see you, Dottore lectures. By his side is where you must remain, for the sake of both of you... and really? Befriending more Harbingers? He's exasperated. Though of course, Capitano would be a very quiet and silent gentleman. He doesn't speak much to you, but he'll let you talk and talk. He's surprised Dottore likes you so much though, considering the man doesn't care for useless chatter. Hehe the same could happen with Pierro too! I imagine fragile reader feels quite indebted to him and likes him a lot for recruiting Zandik and therefore saving you as well, he is your old man!

[mehkers]

Just another date on a calendar

Back with another hc~!

This time it’s the bro’s and a Mc who’s celebrating a deceased person’s birthday whom they were close with.

Except that Mc is literally me.

It’s mostly self indulgent, since today’s my grandpa’s birthday.

Warnings: talk of death, birthday celebration of a deceased person, trigger warning for anyone who’s having a really tough time healing from the death of someone close to you? Idk, gn!reader, not proofread

I originally wrote this in second person but switched to first person, so if you find some odd words that may be it.

It ain’t too heavy; angst with comfort

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Beel was quite happy today. I took them all out on an impromptu trip to the human realm (after a lot of begging), and am treating them to dinner.

It was a nice restaurant. Not too fancy, but not fast food casual. I was sitting outside in the patio, enjoying the warm night with the brothers and the delicious food. The ambiance was quite calm, everyone settling into an idle chatter has they munched on the appetizers.

“…ey. Hey. Hey!” Mammon waved his hand in front of my face and pulled my attention back to him. I accidentally zoned out for the trillionth time this night, and now there is 7 very concerned demons looking at me.

“Sorry, don’t mind me. All is well!” I tried to reassure them, hoping it might quell their concerns. It did not.

“That’s the 10th time you’ve said something of the same variant, after zoning out .” Satan spoke up, his brows furrowed as if he’s trying to figure out the killer in a detective novel. I could feel those electric green eyes piercing through my mind and body, trying to decipher what’s actually going on.

Asmo let out an dramatically sad exhale, and wrapped his arms around my body. “Is my baby tired? Oh my! It is indeed quite past your bed time.”

The brothers, especially Lucifer, loved to treat you like a child at times. Asmo once pointed out your eye bags during breakfast, and now Lucifer has implemented a curfew for everyone. No one actually follows it, but they forced me to do so.

“Mmmm, zzz..” Belphie was out like a light as usual and Beel was eating out of his plate after finishing his portion.

“We can go back to the hotel to rest, if you wish. I don’t see the point in staying up later than you’re used to if you’re not feeling well because of it.” The eldest’s voice spreads over the table. Some of the brothers are pouty about leaving so soon, some are glad to leave, and the rest just couldn’t care less.

“N-No! It’s an important day, I can’t..” I trailed off. Now you have the attention of all the brothers, even Belphie bothered to open one eye. “A close one of mine died some time ago, and today is their birthday.”

I felt their eyes on me, widening at the new information. That was not what they were expecting, but it’s nothing new to them. They all knew how hard it was to lose a loved one, so they could all sympathize.

I was surprised when Levi reached out first, holding my hand in his sweaty palms as he looked away from across the table. “Please.. don’t cry.” He murmured.

I chuckled softly, pulling up a soft smile and shaking my head. “Don’t worry, it happens. Death reaches everyone. At least I get an excuse to party!” I pumped my fists in the air in a futile attempt at being enthusiastic. I couldn’t hide the tears welling up in my eyes, so I picked up my drink, lemonade with some masala mixed in it, and kept myself busy. I didn’t even like it, but I needed it to not cry.

I sighed softly when they started to chat again, glad they left it at that. I felt their concerned eyes travel over me time to time, and their attempts at including me into their conversation failed for the most part.

“Do you think… I could see them again?”

Lucifer looked up first, knowing what you meant. “Ah.. Well, the chances are higher that he became a spirit. Spirits tend to go wherever they like, so it’s hard to track one down. And if you do manage to do so, you’ll find them as a shiny orb.”

I nodded my head slowly.

“I would suggest a resurrection spell, but that’s highly dangerous. I’m sure Solomon would avoid such spells as well.” Satan included, placing his knife down.

“No, no that’s fine.” I muttered, then smiled. “Thanks either ways.”

“Look.. Ya can cry if you want.” Mammon’s voice rang softly from the right side of me, his eyes watching me carefully and with a certain gentleness that he’d deny if being called out on.

“You know, the day Lilith died was when we fell.” The gruff voice of the 6th born started, some chewing sounds followed behind. “No matter how much I ate, I couldn’t fill that empty hole. But when you came.. I feel a lot more full! You’re like.. worth more than a thousand Human World cheeseburgers.”

Belphie lifted his head, interrupting his twin. “What Beel is trying to say is that we’re always ready to help, like how you helped us.”

“Ya! Yer always taking so much on yourself, don’tcha get tired anytime?”

“It is a wise option to rest, considering the mental strain you might be going through.”

“Omg! A spa day always helps me! You should join me <3”

Their voices slowly drowned out, and all I could hear is the loud beating of my heart ramping it up in my eardrums. My grip around Levi’s hand tightened, and I lifted my other hand off my lap and around my face. Long withheld tears rolled down my voice silently. Mammon’s arms swaddled me quickly, pulling my face to his chest. Everyone else slowly huddled around me, leaving Lucifer in his spot watching the rest of them. He didn’t know what to do, so he left it to his brothers this time. He’ll get his chance once they decide to call it a night and head back to the grandiose hotel.

I took a couple deep breaths. “Alright, thanks guys. You can let go of me.” I smiled softly, wiping my eyes.

They reluctantly let go, only Mammon kept a comforting arm over my slightly slumped shoulders.

The night went by more smoothly. Well, as smoothly as it can go with seven over protective demons and one emotional human.

[oh-koenig-my-koenig]

Fit for a King - WIP - "Open wide, Prinzessin"

Fit for a King - Masterlist

a/n: a little chapter i wrote this week, mostly while on the go, so i hope there aren't that many typos hehe

CW: arm p*rn, rough bj, light degradation

(NSFW)

The atmosphere is quite different today. Chatter is filling the team tent, everybody's sitting in loose groups and me right in the middle. Not on the outside like it has been the case some times before that. The team is coming together, especially on missions like this. On the other side of the tent, Horangi is cracking jokes and telling stories from times when he and König went to bars in the villages. Beside me Nikto and Aksel are philosophizing about how they don't miss the midnight sun, but I'm only half participating in the conversation because my attention is on the other side of the room. On the tall austrian man standing behind Horangi to be precise. On his arms to get even further into detail. He's wearing a simple black t-shirt with short sleeves that hug his bizeps in a certain kinda way. Get yourself together, it's only fabric around some muscled arms. But oh lord, what arms. My minds flashes back to when I was holding onto them - for dear life! - as he was fucking me senseless.

He has his arms crossed in front of his chest, only his hands covered by gloves. His hood is tucked into the t-shirt, secured in place by the clothing item. So, really, the only parts of his body are his arms and his eyes. And those got me feeling like a victorian man seeing ankles for the first time. He's not really participating in the conversation, not talking a lot at least, but every so often he laughs about one of Horangi's raunchy jokes and his whole body is shaking with laughter.

His arms tense and relax with his movements, the cords in his muscles moving under the inked skin, the outlines of his veins fighting the shapes of his tattoos. I will myself to look away, to pay attention to what the others are chatting about, but my eyes always wander back to him. His gaze is already on me, every single time, but with the hood it's always hard to make out where he's looking except if his stare directly on you because the white of his eyes contrast with the darkness of the hood around them. And it's always on me.

And he sees me practically drooling over him, over his arms. There's a smirk on his face, i can tell, there's this cocky aura about him. He knows exactly how his arms are making me feel. My eyes drop down to where he's leaning on the table, his hips swayed to the right. I know now what they are capable of and the thought sends a pang of dirty need between my legs. I don't even dare to speak about how his cargo pants hug his lap, because... Well, there isn't much left to the imagination. Why are they so goddamn tight? My mind directly goes to the naughty places, letting the possibility linger to maybe unzip them and freeing him. And maybe put him in another tight space.

I curse under my breath as I hold myself back from squirming in my seat. I focus my attention on Nikto who is telling a story about his youth when he lived at his uncle's for a whole month, driving the tractor and repairing an old shitty car. Aksel is laughing so hard by now as Nikto talks about the one time he drank so much and then got groceries with his uncle's tractor. Great, more drinking stories. I huff a bit, and I mean, I get it. It's just not the thing I'm most enthusiatic about. For obvious reasons. My drinking stories wouldn't be that fun.

My eyes find their way back to him in no time. He's looking at me and I can see the hint of worry on his face. I shake my head minimally and smile at him weakly. He gives me a little hidden thumbs up which turns my smile up. Then his hand is gripping his bicep again, the muscle on his arm jumping as the gloved fingers dig into it. My mouth falls open a bit, because it just got harder to breathe. His upper body shakes again and I can see the little chuckle he's hiding while his gaze on me gets all lusting.

His head tilts to the side again, and his eyes dart to the entrance of the tent. A subtle yet-not-subtle-at-all move. A little "let's go get out of here". I nod the tiniest nod I can manage, and that's all he needs. He speaks up, but over the distance I only hear words like 'Wachablöse' and 'gotta relieve them'.

Smart move, Colonel. Nobody is going to be suspicious if he goes to relieve the other guards on a huggelig evening like that. A few words to Horangi and a general nod to the rest of the people. He heads out the tent, his gaze on me, filled with desire and pure filth. It makes me want to follow him in an instant, but that wouldn't be very subtle now, would it?

I wait a bit, a few minutes, nodding along to the other's conversation like I did the whole time, then I get up. "What's up with you?", Nikto asks me. "You're not going to bed, are you?" I shake my head. "No I'm only taking a leak.", I joke with a grimace, imitating their gruff voices. They all laugh. "Look at Müller, already one of the guys.", Aksel says, seeming a little bit too proud of me. It's fine, he's got more of a dad energy anyways. It's what I like about him. He's also the only one who’s older than the Colonel himself. Well, except for Ridgeback because he is ancient, but he never goes on missions anyways. I digress. I shoot them all a look as I go which only makes them laugh more, then I leave the tent.

The darkness and the cool night air surround me like a chilling hug. I shiver and look around. No 6'10'' silhouette in sight. I take a few steps, trying not to make too much sound. "König?", I whisper into the shadows. I feel the warmth of his body before I hear his chuckle right next to me. "For a recon sniper you're not that stealthy, huh?", he teases me. I turn around with an exasperated gasp. "Well, I'm not really on enemy territory right now.", I shoot back, but he doesn't continue the banter and steps closer towards me, until he presses me against the wall behind my back, caging me in.

"Did you tell them you were going to bed?", he asks, his voice all hushed, so he almost seems breathless. I shake my head. "No, I only told them I was going to the toilet." His hand drops to his belt and he undoes it with a single smooth motion, before he says: "Then you better drop to your knees quickly like a good little slut, so they won't get suspicious what's taking you so long." My body already moves before my mind has even registered every last one of his words. I don't think I've ever been asked to give oral this brazenly before, but the blunt filth only turns me on when it's with him. Kneeling before him I have to stretch to be at eyelevel with his crotch. My hands latch onto the side of his hips and I look up at him while he strokes his dick a few times until he lets the tip rest against my lips. "Open wide, Prinzessin.", he orders softly and my jaw drops down as I lick him for the first time.

He groans and his head rolls back while his hips buck forward. "More.", he pleads harshly. I close my lips around him as well as I can, licking and sucking his dick as he pushes into me. He hits the back of my throat, not even fitting halfway in, and I start to gag, drooling all over him. He doesn’t let up, taking what he so desperately wants. “Fuck, you feel so fucking good.”, he groans. His gloved hand grabs the back of my head, his fingers in my hair as he moves me to his rhythm. He’s fucking my mouth now and I can only take it. Hot tears stream down my cheeks and his other hand holds the side of my face, swiping some of them away as he looks down at me. Our eyes meet and I feel a zap of pleasure running through me with the way he’s looking at me, downright feral. He groans again and the sound rumbles in his broad chest. It’s all so much, almost a little bit too much with how he stretches my throat.

This is the exact thing I expected when I got myself into this … deal with the Colonel. Me at his mercy, him in charge taking what he wants that I give to him oh so willingly. I look up at him, his stature towering over me, and the thoughts vanish from my mind as he face-fucks me senseless. My little whimpers are getting muffled by his dick that’s still pushing into my mouth at an almost ruthless speed.

“Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck.”, he breathes. “Bitte, ah, fuck, I’m so close, scheiße, I’m gonna…“ and he spills in my mouth. I keep sucking him, licking up every single drop of cum that he’s giving me, humming satisfied around him. Then he finally pulls back and I take a deep breath of air, almost toppling over when he lets go off me, but his hands are right on me again pulling me to my feet.

“Fuck, that was…” His strong arms, the ones I’ve been eyeing up all night, wrap around me, pressing me against him and we just stay like that for a moment. “I don’t think I’m ever gonna get enough of you.”, he mumbles into my hair as he nuzzles his face against the top of my head. I breathe heavily so my whole chest rumbles, and he looks at me again. “Fuck, are you okay?” I nod quickly. “I’m sorry, I…” His eyes gloss over, his two sides fighting over what to say. “I ruined you.”, he finally says and I can hear the gremlin voice coming out. I laugh, sounding hoarse because of the state of my throat. “I think you did.”, I admit, wiping some spit off my chin. “What are you doing to me?”, he asks then with a sigh and the deeper meaning is not lost on me. “I could ask you the same thing.”, I smirk up at him which pulls a chuckle from his lips. “Even after I stuffed you like that, you’re still mouthing off at me.”, he says with a little edge to his words, but I can see the grin behind his mask.

“We have to hurry now.”, I remind him. The others must surely think I’ve fallen down the loo by now. “Right, right, but…”, he trails off. “But what?”, I want to know. “Can I- can I wake you when my watch is over?”, he asks. “Why do you- oh…”, I blush. I get what he means. “Yes, you can.”, I tell him, not hiding the smile forming on my face at all, which earns me a satisfied grunt and some more smore smoldering heat in his gaze. He caresses down my back once, then we part ways. I try to make myself presentable again before joining the others. They’re all laughing and chatting away, so they’re not paying attention to me anyways. I get a drink and sit back down at one of the tables, to calm myself down. And ignore the pulsing need and wetness between my legs.

And he does. Wake me up in the early morning hours. I’m still all drowsy and sleepy when he pulls my panties to the side and slips two of his fingers into me. I whimper and squirm against him. “Good morning, Liebes.”, he whispers as he starts to play with my pussy. I’m still all worked up and needy from yesterday (just few hours ago really), so it doesn’t take much until I gush around his fingers with his name on my lips. He undoes his belt again and crawls over me, the camp bed aching under the added weight. He pushes into me, stretching me around him and the pressure draws moans and high sighs from my lips. His hand clasps over my mouth shutting me up as he starts to fuck me, hurriedly and hard. Goddamn, this is the best morning sex I ever got. He fucks the sleepiness right out of me until I come a second time, this time around his dick, then he fills me up.

König pulls back with a satisfied hum and tugs my panties over my pussy again, stroking me through the soft fabric. “Don’t you dare change them today.”, he orders me, the inflection of his voice turning unhinged. “I want to know every time I look at you today that my cum is still inside you, that this pussy is all mine.” His words take away my breath as I look up at him, loosing myself in his eyes that pull me in with the intensity of his stare, and all I can do is nod. “Good.”, he gets up, all breezy now. “See you then, Sergeant.” He winks at me and leaves my tent. I hide my face in my hands for a moment, just breathing and calming myself down. I brought myself into this whole ordeal and I’m not complaining, but oh boy. This is intense. I finally get up and dress myself, following his order. Of course.

[winchester-24]

Holy crap! I'm addicted to your Sam choosing Ruby over us series! I need the next part please and thank you!! 🙏🙏

Here is the final part of the Ruby series! Thank you to everyone who has supported this series <3 I had a lot of fun writing it! You guys are amazing :)

Imagine Sam having to choose between you and Ruby (Final Part)

Sam improved significantly over the next two weeks. You would bring down food, you two would talk, and occasionally, he would complement you. He would say you looked beautiful that day or that you looked pretty. Your heart would flutter, but your mind would think it was a trick.

One morning, Dean was sipping his coffee when you came downstairs. It was unusual for the older brother to be up before you. He didn’t say anything when you walked in, so you made yourself a cup and sat across from him.

“I wanted to give you a heads up; I plan on letting Sammy out today.” You look up at Dean, who is already watching you. You slowly nod, thinking of things you have been pushing off for the last two weeks. Whether you will stay or go. “Whatever you decide,” Dean says, already knowing what you are thinking about, “You need to tell him.” You nod your head again, and Dean stands up; he walks past you and puts his hand on your shoulder.

“I know what kind of monster my brother was, but I know whatever he was- he isn’t anymore. I know that addiction messed him up in a lot of ways, but I know he still loves you.” Dean walked away, and a tear slipped past your eye and down your cheek.

You walked down the stairs. Sam was already standing by the door when you reached the last step. Bobby’s old house didn’t exactly make it easy to be quiet. He saw you and smiled as you walked towards the door.

“We are letting you out today,” you started. You saw his eyes light up, and a more extensive smile appeared.

“What? That’s great, I’m ready to,” You interrupted him.

“I’m leaving today.” You said as firmly as you could muster up. Sam stopped talking and gave you his famous broken puppy dog look.

“Why? I thought we were doing better; I thought I was making things right.” You sigh.

“Sammy, I just need more time, okay? What you did and what you put me through hurt and angered me, and I’m not ready to forget all that. I understand now that the blood (you still cringed every time you said it) made you think differently and made you do things you wouldn’t normally do, but it still hurt; I still have dreams about you with her. I still have this fear that I’m going to walk down here one day, and you are going to start yelling at me again about her. I need time.” You watch Sam, waiting for him to say something, but he nods in understanding. You give him a small smile, turn around, and start walking back up the stairs. He watches you, not blinking, because he doesn’t want to miss a moment of you still being around, even if you are walking away.

“I love you.” He says to himself, knowing that’s what he wanted to tell you but didn’t get the chance to.

Three years have gone by. You would see the brothers from time to time on cases. You would smile at them and talk about what you know, and then either they would take the case or you would. You never worked on it together. Before you left, you hugged each brother. You would tell Sammy it was good to see him, and he would say the same, but that was it.

That night, you would go to a bar and find someone to be with.

With the brothers back on the road, much more chatter was picked up at the roadhouse. You ignored it for the most part, but if a hunter asked you about Sam and why he wasn’t here with you, you would handle things a little too physically. It's not the best way to handle conflict, but these hunters are too nosey for their own good. Whatever unlucky hunter met your fist that night, you heard mutters afterward from others.

“Still a cold bitch.” Ellen would grab you another shot of whiskey on the house.

You felt better coming around the three-year mark. In between your cases, you casually would find someone and see them for a few weeks, but it never felt the same as it did with the boy you fell in love with so many years ago, so you would end it. You would do the one-night stands, and it was a nice quick fix, but it was never really your scene. You did a lot of self-care that a hunter could do. You did baths, wrote in journals, and even took up stretching in the morning. Every morning, you would giggle about how stupid you probably looked, just like Sam looked when he did it, but you must admit you felt better after stretching out all your muscles. It reached a point where you only wanted to see the man you fell in love with. To at least reconnect. You didn’t know if he found someone else then; you told yourself that you would be happy for him if he did. He never said he would wait for you; you honestly didn’t expect him to.  You called him.

He picked up on the second ring.

“Y/N?” He asked, not believing the caller ID.

“Hey, Sammy.” You said softly, a little more nervous than you were 10 seconds ago.

“Hey.” He said back; you could hear the little smile through his voice.

“Where are you guys at right now?” You chewed your bottom lip.

“Uh, some little town right outside of Bermingham, Alabama.” He responded. That was a day trip for you.

“I want to see you,” you said. He was quiet on the other end of the phone. You were about to apologize and hang up when he responded.

“I’ll send you the address.” You said okay and started packing. Two minutes later, an address came through on your phone. You put your stuff in your car and started your trip to see Sam.

You got there the next day after taking cat naps throughout the trip, gas, food, and all the essentials. It was right around lunchtime. To your surprise, the address was a restaurant, not a motel like you had expected. You pulled into a spot and turned the car off, seeing Sam sitting by the door with your favorite flowers. He still remembered. The restaurant was nothing fancy; it reminded you of O’Charley’s or Chili’s, where they serve everything. It isn’t too fancy, but it is not fast food either. You got out and started walking towards him. When he noticed you, he stood up and met you. He held the flowers out.

“If I remember correctly, you mentioned these being your favorite back in Illinois when we had to visit that Foral shop.” You took them and smiled down at them.

“Yeah, they are. That was five years ago, Sammy.” You look up at him, giving him a small smile. He stares at you and then clears his throat.

“I knew you would take a while to get here based on your road trip habits, so I figured you would be hungry for lunch when you arrived.” Damn, he was good. You nodded, and he led you into the restaurant, holding the door open for you.

The hostess sat you and you two silently, looking at the menu. After you two ordered your drink and Sam ordered you an appetizer, you noticed he was looking at you from above his menu.

“What?” You asked. He smiled and said softly.

“I’m just happy you’re here.”

“Don’t get all cheesy and cliché on me, Winchester.” You joke at him. When you decide what to eat for lunch, set the menu down and wait for Sam to finish selecting. Your drinks come, you order your entrees, and now you two are just looking at each other. Sam starts,

“So, what have you been up to since that last nest six months ago?” You tell him about your other hunts, trips to the roadhouse, trips to see Bobby, and your new hobby of journaling and stretching.

“Stretching?” Sam laughed. “I thought that was stupid.”

“It is stupid! I feel like an idiot when I do it, but it feels so nice afterward!” You giggle, defending the arguments you used to have with him. Throughout the date, because that is Sam’s intention with this lunch, you start to feel relaxed. Your nerves about seeing him go away, the anxiety of how you would react being around him is gone, and it is just happiness. You felt like you did all those years ago before Ruby came in and set your world upside down. You and Sam’s conversations are light and happy, with giggles and teasing, just like they used to be, but you must be honest.

“Sammy, I need to tell you something.” You say, becoming serious, unlike the conversation you were having with him. His face becomes serious, and worry etches onto every aspect of it. He doesn’t respond, so you just come out with it.

“These past few years, I tried dating other people. I tried to get over you and build a life with someone else. I had one-night stands on the days I would see you to try to stop thinking about you. I dated a guy for six weeks, trying to see if I could be with anyone else and erase you from my life. I couldn’t. I would always end up breaking up with the guy or leaving before the sun was up the next morning from a fling. That’s why I started journaling, stretching, and trying all these self-help things. I knew I needed to heal for myself, and I couldn’t find it in a guy. I just thought you should know.” You spoke. Sam nodded, and you could tell he was thinking about what he wanted to say next.

“I understand Y/N. I know I hurt you, and I put you through things that I would have never thought I would. You deserved to go out, find yourself, explore, and see if anyone else was out there for you. I was a jerk, a piece of shit, and the worst boyfriend anyone could have asked for during that time.” He looks down and then back up at you.

“I never knew if you would come back to me; hell, I still don’t know if you are. This could be a permanent goodbye date for all I know, but I want you to know that I waited for you and will continue to wait for you. I still haven’t forgiven myself for what I put you through, and that is something I will live with for the rest of my life, but these past three years, I have missed you every single day, and I was also so happy when we ran into each other, and I got to see you, even if it was just for ten minutes. I knew you were still alive, and there could be another chance I would see you again.” Your eyes were tearing up, dammit, Sammy. He continued his speech, and you can tell he rehearsed repeatedly.

“There is no one else for me. I don’t want anyone else but you. If you want to be done with me, I respect it, and I don’t blame you, but I want you to know what I wanted you to know three years ago when you left Bobby’s: I love you. I will always love you and never stop proving it to you if you give me another chance.” When he finished his monologue, you two looked at each other, not knowing what to do next. You had many thoughts running through your head, and he was too scared to ask what you thought. The waitress came by, dropping off the check, pulling you two out of your trance. He threw cash on the table, enough for lunch plus tip, and stood up. He offered his hand to help you out of your seat, which you accepted, but he didn’t let go after you stood up. You didn’t pull away, either.

He walked you to your car, the overcast hiding the sun with a little breeze setting in. You turned to look at him with your back against the driver's door.

“Thank you for lunch.” You said softly. Sam looks over your face. His eyes flicker to your lips and then your eyes. You hear him take a breath, and then he leans down and kisses you. His hands grip on your waist as he pushes into you, making you lean against the car door. You kiss back, your hands on his chest, and then slide up to his hair, which you intertwine into your fingers. He deepens the kiss as both of you fight for dominance, Sam winning. When you can no longer breathe, you pull apart from him, resting your forehead against his, breathing heavily. Sam looks into your eyes, hands still gripping your waist. His shoulders move a little as he breathes heavily. After a few moments, he whispers, eye contact never leaving yours,

“Was that a goodbye kiss or an I love you kiss?” You give him a small smile,

“I love you.” He has the biggest smile you have ever seen on him in years, and his eyes light up with joy before he leans in for another kiss, which you gladly return.

You’re finally home.

[evermontamour]

Take This Longing

“Let me see your beauty broken down”

warnings: 18+, fluff with a touch of angst, oral (m and f receiving), sub al, a bit of rimming and fingering (m receiving), piv, choking and crying during sex, lots of feelings

word count: 3.7k

Alex and I sat in our local East London pub with loud and hectic chatter filling the room. A football match was on; it was Arsenal vs. Manchester City.

I leaned against Alex's shoulder, with his hand wrapped tightly around my waist, while we both watched the match on a wooden seat adjacent to the unlit fireplace.

The smell of alcohol lingers in the air, mixing with the sound of clinking glasses and exuberant cheers.

Despite the noise, I felt a sense of peace from being so close to Alex, enjoying our time together in the midst of the excitement. The pub was fairly crowded on this gloomy Friday night, with the dimly lit, cosy atmosphere becoming more intimate as it approached halftime in the game.

Alex got us each a pint of Estrella, though he finished his within a couple minutes, which wasn't like him.

He didn't make much effort to talk to me today; even when we prepared breakfast together, there wasn't much from him, just shy kisses and silent smiles.

I couldn't shake the feeling that something might've been off between us, but I didn't want to distract him by bringing it up. Instead, I nestled closer to him, hoping that the warmth of his body would dispel any doubts lingering in my mind. Closing my eyes, I sought solace in the chaos around us, immersing myself in his embrace.

Only when I tried to lighten his mood by commenting on someone's outfit or the match on TV, which he seemed to be laser-focused on, did he reply with deliberate laughter or a monotone “Yeah."

He usually gets so pumped up watching a football match, especially when London is playing. He even normally invites a friend over to watch with us at the pub or our house.

However, this whole day was just different. The air around Alex turned cold, a stark contrast to his usual warmth. While I have seen him like this before, the silence between us was unprecedented.

Though he was quiet with his words, he kept clinging close to me, like he needed something but didn’t want to ask for it.

Abruptly, he got up from the seat. Adjusting his cap, he tilts his head to the side while gesturing to me, holding his hand out to grip mine, indicating that he wants to head back home.

My face reads in confusion as we walk out together, hand in hand, his grip becoming tenser with every step we take.

"Are you okay?" I asked, turning towards him.

He looks at me with a pained expression, his eyes betraying a vulnerability I wasn’t too familiar with.

"Not feeling well," he finally admits, his voice barely above a whisper.

His distant gaze gave me a sense of detachment. He was obviously out of it.

I nod in understanding, squeezing his hand reassuringly. We walk in silence for a few minutes with the weight of his words hanging heavily in the air.

He would never admit it, but I could see right through him. I knew I had to tread carefully around him but still offer my support without prying too much.

The tension in his grip grew weaker as we approached the front door.

As we entered the familiar surroundings of our home, I sensed a slight shift in his demeanour. Was the comfort of being in his own space beginning to alleviate some of his burdens or worsen them?

He removed his black cap and leather jacket, hanging them on the coat hangers by the entrance. He kept his head down, his gaze fixed on the red and black patterned carpet, its hues reflecting his sombre mood.

Alex walks up the narrow, black stairs as I follow behind to our bedroom.

We both slip into something comfortable, and while doing so, I find myself stealing glances at him, analysing his reactions with each movement he makes, attempting to gauge his emotional state.

I felt a sense of pure happiness and belonging in Alex’s presence that I’ve never experienced before. Every moment spent with him is a gift I never want to take for granted. The way he looks at me with such intensity, as if he can see right through to my soul, he means everything to me. I find myself constantly drawn to him, craving him like a drug.

Yet, it was impossible to ignore this nagging feeling constantly pouring off of Alex.

Although he was acting cold towards me, the warmth of his firm hands all over my thighs and my waist in the pub reassured me that I wasn’t his problem.

I knew this was something bigger. His ego.

I could feel the weight of his insecurities, and I wanted to help him carry them.

At times, I contemplate the authenticity of his struggles, questioning if he fabricates his torment for creative fodder rather than facing the superficiality of his social circle and lifestyle.

But deep down, I knew his struggles were real and that he needed someone to see past the facade, and I was that person for him, no matter how long it took for him to trust me completely.

We sat up on our bed, adorned with white linen, both reading a book. His was Despair by Nabokov, and I wasn’t even aware of what mine was called, as the only thing I could think about was how desperately I wanted to comfort him.

I’ve noticed a change in Alex since the end of the tour. He no longer recognises himself; he got lost in between his true self and the character he created during tour. There's something deep inside of him that despises the fact that I can bring out the real him.

I feel the burden of the unspoken words between us hanging in the air like a heavy fog, bringing us down.

Full of anguish, he places his book on the nightstand beside him and fixes his pensive gaze onto the wall in silence, his jaw clenched, losing the ability to cope with his yearning for self-esteem.

Alex gets entangled in his thoughts too often, and I knew if he wasn't writing about it, it was really consuming him.

I turn to face him, witnessing the struggle in his beautiful eyes as he fights back tears, determined not to break. I sit directly in front of him on the bed, holding his face in my hands and caressing his jaw.

I see it in his eyes—the battle between wanting to open up to me and shut me out. He's afraid of letting me in, afraid of what might happen if he allows himself to be vulnerable.

“Alex, tell me how you're feeling,” I softly say.

He remains quiet, but as we continue to stare into each other's eyes with utmost intensity, I know exactly how he's feeling.

That lost little boy look he had. The unspoken pain in his eyes. It’s already breaking my heart. But some things are just meant to be felt rather than understood.

I bury my face in the warmth of his neck, feeling the steady rise and fall of his chest beneath my hand as I sit on his lap. I caress up his shirt to his stomach while my other hand grasps his hair, grounding us in this moment of intimacy.

He breaks down into tears as we wrap our arms around each other, embracing one another as tightly as possible. I feel his body tremble as he sobs into my hair.

Not expecting him to break down like this, I start to cry too, knowing how discontent he's feeling and how I just want to help him in any way I can to make him feel better.

"I'm sorry," he whispers, his voice breaking with sorrow.

I couldn't help but to hold his face in my hands again, as he kept his eyes closed with tears still falling. It's as if I dove into the depths of his fragile soul and brought his raw emotions to the surface.

"It's okay; don’t apologise, baby. I love you," I say with a soft disposition but a heavy heart.

“I love you.” A few seconds later, I repeat, accompanied by gentle tears.

He finally opens his eyes, a storm hiding behind them.

He softly says, "I love you too," his voice cracking with a poignant sadness reflected in his gorgeous brown eyes.

I slowly start to kiss him with all the love I possess, and our extremely vulnerable moment of intimacy quickly becomes aggressive, with our tongues both passing through each other's mouths.

We get lost in the pure desire of the moment, conveying our longing for each other through our intense and passionate kisses, consumed by the fire of our love.

I trace my hand from his abdomen to his heart as we both gasp for air, our souls intertwined amidst the lingering scent of sorrow still in the air.

We reluctantly parted lips, locking in a piercing stare that made us both throb as we caught our breaths.

The taste of Alex’s lips lingered on mine as I guided him in removing his basic white t-shirt and black joggers, throwing them upon the wooden floor, leaving him with only his boxers on.

He removes my camisole and silk shorts, leaving me with nothing on. My body was completely exposed to him.

He gets on his knees on the bed, resting my feet on his thighs.

I knew what was coming next, but a part of me didn't even want him to. I would let my cunt drip with need forever if it meant I could please him, but this helps him feel better; it helps him let it out in a way.

He delicately caresses my legs, making tingles race down my spine as he refuses to break his dangerous gaze on mine.

He gradually moves his hands to my feet to gently stroke the top of them before returning back up to my legs.

He lies on his stomach, guiding me to spread my legs as he starts sensually licking stripes up my inner thigh, but with each time he gets close enough to my sopping wet cunt, he stops and licks my other thigh. Knowing that every touch he’s giving me makes me wetter and wetter.

Alex finally gives up this teasing agony to put his middle finger into me, curling it precisely to hit my sensitive spot just right as my head falls back in pleasure, moaning out his name.

He swirls the wetness to my clit with his finger, slowly rubbing it up and down, then inserting it back inside of me while forcefully sucking on my clit as I whimper and moan, trying to take deep breaths to feel as much as I can while still carefully watching him devour me.

Alex moans into my cunt, making me throb even more as he continues sucking meticulously on my clit, shifting his free hand to rub my inner thigh.

It was already overwhelming enough with his skilled mouth nearing me to the brink, but looking into his glassy eyes always heightened my senses, and I simply couldn't handle it any longer.

I feel my body tightening up, and he feels it too, as every part of me shakes, my hips moving all around his lips, feeling his scruff on my wet cunt. I loudly whine and moan, pulling on his hair, letting Alex know just how good he's making me feel. Releasing all of the tension I had, I cum hard on his tongue, making me into a powerless moaning mess.

He stops as soon as I get too sensitive, looking up at me as my release fades and my body relaxes. I caress his hair, giving each other a content look.

Alex soon feels his infallible needs take over his brain. He needs his sweet release that only I can give him. How insanely bad I longed to please him, to make his worries all go away just from my mouth. But he's going to have to wait to be inside of me.

I smile as I gesture to him to lie down on the bed. I pull down his black boxers to reveal his hardened cock, with precum leaking out of his tip.

I suck it clean, then spit it back onto his cock, mixed with my spit. He watches me in awe as I rub it all around the head and base of his throbbing cock.

I hollow my cheeks, sucking his thick cock, focusing on his tip, swirling my tongue around it, and using my hands to rotate the rest of him in rhythm. I watch Alex moan and squirm beneath me, his hand gripping the sheets tightly. With each movement of my mouth and hands, his breathing becomes more erratic, and his body tenses with pleasure and anticipation as I’m determined to give him the relief he needs.

I deepthroat his cock, his hand in my hair, pulling harshly. I try not to choke while massaging his balls with my nose buried in his soft pubes as my eyes start watering from the impact of him in the back of my throat. His little furrowed brow expression and needy moans only motivated me more. I can feel him pulsing and throbbing against my tongue; his moans are now becoming more and more intense. His hand pushed my head further down his cock.

I can feel his release slowly drawing closer and closer, pushing me to intensify my efforts while the sound of his pleasure fills the room.

I pull back to breathe, and I continue to stare into that intense, lust-filled need written all over his face, with loads of spit spilling down my neck and dripping to my tits.

He watches me in complete bliss, mouth open, eyes widening, whimpering like the little good boy he knows he is. The sensation of his gaze on me heightens my arousal, making me want him more, if even possible.

I feel him trying to hold back his long-awaited release. But I won’t let him wait any longer.

I dive back into his wet cock, slurping and devouring his tip like he was my last meal. At last, I feel him right on the edge of his release, putting him as far as I can in the back of my throat.

His body tenses, and he lets out a loud guttural moan before he finally surrenders to the overwhelming sensation of my mouth. I feel his warm, thick cum slide down my throat as I immediately swallow it.

He groans loudly as he cums, letting out a loud and vulnerable moan that the neighbours, for sure, must have heard.

I flick and swirl my tongue along his tip as his sensitivity is heightened, relishing in the taste of his cum. His face scrunches up with his mouth agape, overstimulated. His breathless cries of pleading pleasure intensify with us both out of breath.

I stop, taking a moment to kiss him hard, full of spit, full of lust, and full of love. I look at him to see the desire in his eyes, knowing we both crave more of each other.

I wish I could forever see his eyes half open, rolling back, his mind detached from anything bad, as I give him my mouth, sucking his cock to make him feel better. To fill him up with pleasure is all I need to live.

I place two of my fingers into his mouth as he sucks on them, getting them all wet.

I slowly spit on his hole, then delicately lick at it while sensually rubbing his wet and sensitive tip with my thumb and index finger.

His eyebrows furrow as he continues to let me take over his body, surrendering to me.

I lick around his hole and put my tongue slightly inside of him as he gives me shy whimpers, unable to contain his pleasure as his breath quickens, his cock still sensitive under my touch.

I put my middle finger inside of my dripping cunt to make it wetter, then I push my finger inside of him slowly, feeling him tense up before relaxing into the sensation. A low moan escapes his lips as he gives himself over to the pleasure I’m giving him. Fingering him exactly the way I know he likes it as his little moans start to become aggressively louder. Seeming like he's about to cum again, I don't let him, knowing it just makes him harder when I deny him.

I sit back on his lap with the base of his cock rubbing against my clit. I run my hands through his messy hair, giving him sweet neck kisses as he softly caresses my body, going from my back to my ass, his touch sending me shivers.

Wanting to see and feel him cum inside of me, I push his cock in my cunt, giving in to our needs. The tightness and wetness consuming him as I watch his face explode with pleasure.

Our eyes meet in a haze, deeply feeling each other as I grab the back of his head, pulling on his hair as I ride his cock. His hands grip my hips firmly, guiding me in sync with his sensual thrusts, our bodies moving together in perfect harmony.

Our sweat mixes together from the friction of us rubbing against each other. Passionate and heavy moans come out of us as they coax the room.

We stare straight into each other’s eyes with an unexplainable intensity. I bury my face into the side of his, moaning right in his ear.

As I go to tell him how much I love him, I see tears falling from his eyes. I’ve never seen him cry during sex before. In that moment, I realised the depth of the emotion between me and Alex, our connection transcending physical pleasure. I hug him as I continue riding him with all I’ve got.

With our bodies skin to skin, sweat to sweat, there’s nothing that feels better than this.

His moans grew louder, barely being able to breathe out “fuck,” with his hand rubbing my back, the other wrapped around my waist. He puts his head back onto the wall, body deep in ecstasy, inviting me to put my hand around his neck as I squeeze it, bringing him closer to the edge.

I kiss him sloppily, filled with emotion. He’s melting into me and my body, forgetting who he is. We’re flowing through each other's veins.

Unable to hold back our loud moans, I keep riding him with a slower pace as we get closer, but as deep as I can with my precise moves and grip, feeling every inch and vein of his cock. Loving how he fills me up perfectly, like I was moulded just for him. His pleasures outweighed any thought of mine, urging me to fuck him harder.

Feeling Alex on the brink of release, he lets out a lowly, submissive "Please,” begging me to let him cum as I feel myself nearing the brink as well.

“Let go,” I breathily say, us both knowing there's a deeper meaning behind those words.

My desperate cunt clenched around him even harder with my hand around his neck, foreheads against each other, our bodies tremble in the throes of our intensely powerful release. We both gasp, his eyes fluttering back in euphoria, crying out each other's names in a near symphony. Tears of emotion and intensity stream down our faces. I slowly keep riding him; us both still super sensitive, to the point where it starts to hurt as his soft whimpers fuel my soul.

“That's my baby,” I softly say into his ear.

As we collapse into each other's arms, the room fills with our heavy breathing in sync as Alex and I come down from our high. A sense of deep connection and satisfaction washes over us. I stay with him inside of me for a few minutes, revelling in how amazing it is to feel Alex inside of me, full of him and his cum. We wallow in our weak and relaxed state, hindering any clear thoughts.

We now lie down in our bed, our warm bodies as close as possible, practically hugging. My head buried in his neck close to his jawline, getting lost in his natural scent.

As we lay there, basking in the afterglow, our hearts beat in unison while I wondered what I must've done to be so lucky to have Alex.

And I love him. More than anything or anyone. I love his smile, his body, his lips, his eyes, his gaze upon me, his hands, his body, his mind, and every little detail about him. I love him for who he really is. Behind the mask. Behind the facade. And the way he touches me, how he loves me, how he laughs, how he talks, how he kisses, and how he fucks me.

Sometimes I feel a bit undeserving of being with someone so utterly perfect, yet he's perfect for me.

He's beautiful, emotional, intelligent, mature, sensitive, sensual, sweet, and talented in every way. There's no way I could ever live without him. He’s the air I breathe.

My devotion to him consumes me; I would sacrifice everything, even my life, for him. I mean it with every fibre of my being.

“I'm sorry,” His slow, soft tone instantly brings tears to my eyes.

“I don't wanna be like that to you.”

"You don't deserve to be shut out because of my problems.” He slowly said, stuttering a bit, like he didn’t exactly want to admit it.

I kiss him in response, tasting divinity.

When we first started dating, I never really thought he would be this emotional with me; I thought that was spared for his alone time, just with his piano and acoustic, writing in his spare room.

But of course I want him to keep allowing me to soothe his pain. Even if it is through sex rather than words.

I tenderly caress his cheek, feeling the warmth of his skin as he teeters on the edge of falling asleep.

"I love you so much," he whispers softly with his eyes closed.

“I love you more, Al.” I respond, smiling.

Minutes later, I feel his body jump, indicating that he's drifted into sleep. I was so consumed in him that I didn't even realise how tired I was.

As I drift off in his comforting embrace, a sense of tranquility washes over me, my smile fading into contentment.

⭑

part 2?

[twinklelilstarkey]

Tutor: Dress Picking

Words: 2.4k Type: Angst? Warnings: This is literally a chapter just to announce that I'm back, so, yeah, settle in folks :) because shit is about to hit the fan, but not yet.

Tutor Masterlist

I do NOT give you permission to repost my work. If you’d like to read my stories on other platforms, you can find them on my Wattpad and AO3.

Hours later, when stepping into school, you are more than in a good mood. You must admit, you almost got to school late due to oversleeping with Rafe after having conversations that led until 5AM. Your headache has gone away with a simple aspirin, and most of your worrisome thoughts are in the back of your mind, safely tucked away.

You also were able to leave the house with Rafe without his family noticing, and the same thing goes for your parents. You made it home safely, put on new clothes as you had already showered at Rafe’s house, and he dropped you off at school. Your parents would never know of such a thing as they weren’t home when you got there, and you, supposedly, were with a friend of yours the whole night – one they know very well, but have no idea you don’t even speak to anymore.

Almost late or not, every minute of this morning was better than any other. You wish you were still in bed and that today was a Saturday, not a Wednesday. A day where you could just lie in bed with Rafe, talk about life, and get affection. Gosh, you would sell a kidney for that. Your poor kidneys.

You still got a few minutes in the car with him, even though different, it was still minutes that you had for yourselves. A lot of kisses and reassuring words were exchanged. As well as promises that everything will go well and nothing bad will happen. And if it does, he’ll be parked outside as soon as you call, ready to get you home.

Because of this, when the bell rings to tell you to get to class, your mind is still cloudy and warm.

You sit on your chair and stare at the empty page of a notebook while remembering the dumb ways Rafe made you laugh this morning, from the time in bed to the shower. The way his kisses were always soft and warm, and his arms would always hug you tightly and close enough for all your worries to fly away. Ugh, that kidney is about to go.

The classroom's door closes as the teacher walks inside, and the class begins. You lift your eyes off your notebook and notice a bit of movement beside you. You don’t have to look to know. Kristy wasn’t missing school again. She’s in class. In her usual seat, beside you. Her eyes are currently drilling a hole into the side of your head with all that staring, kind of hard to ignore.

Overall, the class itself is very uneventful since school is about to end, and there isn’t much the teacher can do to make everyone still find it in their will to study or work further. Due to this, the hour is slow, and there aren’t many notes that you can take from what is taught and discussed between the teacher and the other students.

In the corner of your eye, you see a small piece of paper being slid over to your side of the table, but you look away as soon as you can. You’re sure that Kristy is better than sliding small pieces of paper asking for an apology or time to talk, but maybe after the stunt that she was able to pull on you in that car... You probably need to draw new conclusions about this girl.

Throughout this one class, you continuously saw how Kristy tried to get your attention by sliding the piece of paper closer and closer or even trying to write a completely new one. You ignored all of her attempts. But also hesitated to check your vibrating phone as the possibility of it being her was just as large as the piece of paper she last tried to slide into your field of view.

The bell rang, and the teacher screamed the small assignment over the loud chatter that quickly erupted. You took a quick note of it in case you forgot it and got up to put your things away. Five different pieces of paper are just by your notebook now, and you almost want to scoff at the stupidity. Curiosity is also biting at your skin for wanting to know what is written in all of them, but you are better than that. Kristy sits there as you put your things away, almost as if waiting for you to address her or pick up her papers.

You slide your bag over your shoulder and take a step to the side to begin walking to the door. You ignore the hand that stretches in your direction to get a hold of your arm (but fails) and walk out of the room. Once outside, your phone begins to vibrate in your pocket, and you pull it out, knowing for a fact that Kristy isn't that ridiculous. The caller: Mom.

“Hello?” You say as soon as you accept the call and put your phone by your ear.

“Guess who just got invited to a party?” Your mom asks excitingly.

“You?”

“All of us!” She corrects excitingly. “Rose Cameron just called, saying that there will be a small get-together with the few families close to the Camerons at the country club. We’re all invited to celebrate your and many others' graduation. Isn't this amazing?”

You open your locker while an expression of surprise is more than obvious on your face. She continues to talk to you all about the details of the party, like how many people, what to wear and what will be there for decoration. You move your books around in the locker to switch classes, and not once do you need to speak because your mother speaks for the both of you.

The call drags out until the next bell calls you into class, yet not a new word has been said by you during the whole thing. You smile at your mom’s rare excitement for a party because, sincerely, it's hard to forget how any event organized by Rose has left your socialite of a mom more than pleased with the range of guests, food, or conversations. You’re in for a hell of a night.

“When is it, exactly?” You ask right as you get near the classroom.

“At the end of this week. Rose said something about it being a great way to celebrate the end of classes for all the graduating students invited.” She explains, leaving you to nod to yourself, “When are you free to go dress shopping?”

“I’m not sure.”

“Well, we won’t need more than an hour,” a lie, “to find a good dress for you, so as soon as you know a day we can go, call me back.”

“Will do.”

“Now, go to class. Your bell must have rung almost 5 minutes ago.”

You chuckle at her exactness and say your goodbyes before ending the call. Inside the classroom, you find everyone already seated, but the teacher is still absent. You walk towards the back of the class and ignore the same pair of eyes as before - since it seems the person has failed to gain something more interesting to look at lately.

You take your usual seat and think back on the conversation with your mother. The party doesn’t seem bad, but you can only wish for good company during it. Usually, your company in parties such as this is not exactly talking with you, much to their disappointment. And standing by your parents the entire evening doesn’t seem exactly exciting, as the conversations will be quite… uninteresting for your ears, surely.

While you occupy your free time on your phone, ignoring the constant whispering and glaring from all directions of the room, the teacher continues to take his sweet time to appear. Long enough for the guy in front of you to turn around and hand you yet another piece of paper. At this point, trees cry with all the attempts at communication Kristy happens to do.

Maybe it was how annoyed you felt. Maybe it was the fact that all their attention left you as soon as the teacher decided to walk in with a mug of hot coffee in hand. But you opened this last piece of paper. Truthfully, you did it so quick the unfolding and folding back up wasn't noticed by a single soul, and you read it.

Are you going to Cameron’s party? – Kristy

(…)

“Definitely not my color, mom.” You say for the thousandth time while looking at yourself in the mirror of the boutique.

“Are you sure? I like it on you.” She says while tilting her head to take another good look at you.

“I like the style, just not the color.” You admit to her, in a calm tone, nothing to start fights over - as you usually tend to do when picking a dress for a party your mom is so excited about. “The red looks better on me.”

Your mom gives you her usual look, ‘Well, but I hate red’, which only lets you know that this discussion about a dress will lead you to another hour of dress shopping. Nothing ever made you feel as grateful for yourself for clearing your schedule the way you did for this entire evening. As always, your mom is against any color that isn’t light and sweet or any cleavage that isn’t conservative enough. While you happen to like a lot of different styles of dresses and have dealt with your mother’s antics for years, your tastes still tend to clash.

“Red is too much, I think,” she comments, turning to look at the large number of dresses she has asked the worker to get for her. “What about blue?”

“Depends on the shade.” You try to ignore the look she sends you over her shoulder but fail miserably while looking down at the ground to chuckle.

“This one is too dark, I think.” She says while holding a silk dark blue dress with thin straps, “What about this one?”

“It almost looks white, mom. I’m not getting married.”

“Okay, Miss Picky. You pick one, then.”

It went on for hours, but soon you two came to an agreement after much begging on your part and almost on the store’s worker's part as well. You settled on a blue, not too light or too dark, dress with straps (your mother insisted). It has a straight neckline, but due to it being silk, it sits well on your chest. It tightens at your waist (again, due to your mother’s request: not too much), and its length rests gracefully at your feet – leaving you enough room to walk, but not much.

The moment you dramatically took in the fresh air outside, your mom wasn’t shy to pinch the back of your arm for the drama you decided to drag throughout the day. This also helped keep her distracted as your phone continuously received texts from a certain group of people who still are desperate to know if you were going to the party. They made it impossible for you to show her anything on your phone, like dress ideas, without her seeing the messages constantly being sent.

You take your seat on your mom’s car seat and set the bag with the dress inside by your legs, beginning to block the entirety of the group of girls on your phone. They have been asking you for, you assume, the same thing that Kristy had written in those papers yesterday in class: another conversation among all of you.

In all the messages you’ve received from them, you’ve read the ridiculous words of ‘unfair’ and ‘selfish’ all directed at you for either not answering the messages or not speaking to them in school, though all they did was stare at you once they saw you. You’re not sure you heard a single word come out of their mouths the day before or this morning. They all stayed silent while their eyes scanned your every move. It was obsessive, and they were driving you insane for it.

You’re just thankful that you were able to spend the evening with your mom, away from their gazes, as well as for the recent silence coming from your phone now that all contacts are blocked. Now you can finally relax and stop thinking about them and your conversation. But maybe you spoke too soon.

“Is everything alright between you and the girls?” Your mom suddenly asks while driving you both home. Her tone is calm and sweet, with nothing hidden behind it.

“Why do you ask?” You try to sound as calm as possible.

“I just feel like they haven’t been hanging out in our house that much lately. You’re always the one going out to see them,” She explains, not knowing that all the times you’ve gone out to see ‘them’ lately have been to see Rafe or Patty instead. “I sort of miss having the house full of girls.”

You two sit in silence while you simply look out of the window into the night, trying not to make any faces or sounds that could lead you into a lie that will snowball into the avalanche that is your current situation.

“We’ve just been busy, you know? With finals and all.”

“Will they be at the party?” She asks, still unphased by anything you’ve said.

“Yeah,” You assume, yet still make sure your tone makes you sound sure of your words.

“Well, good. I’ve missed talking to them. Maybe we can plan something.”

You almost zone out as soon as she begins to talk about the possibilities of having something cute like an afternoon tea party, or anything along those lines. How will you even be able to tell her the truth? You'll break her heart.

“Yeah…” You look out of your window again, “We could do that.”

As you continuously look away, your mother takes a look at you when stopped at a red light, with her smile still bright and sweet, ready to get one in return. But your eyes and mind are elsewhere - far away from the conversation you’ve just had. She noticed how your tone had just dipped from dramatic and happy to something so different it was hard to pick apart with such a short answer.

Your mother opens her mouth to say something, maybe even question your sudden change of mood directly, but the light turning green was enough to take her attention away. Some other time, she’ll be able to make you talk to her, confide in her about what could’ve happened to make you so moody. She’ll be there to hear it no matter what, right?

Am I back 100%? I have no idea. Did I write this while having no plans to do it? Also yes. I hope it was good!

Hope you enjoyed it!! AND HAPPY NEW YEAR!

[pryllee]

Sly kitty.

Scara x Fem! Reader

Flirting, SLIGHTLY suggestive, modern AU, college AU, idk

A/N: Finally decided to post this after it collected dust for like a month or three in my drafts/privated.

—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—

Part 1 / Part 2

You sat there, across from Scara as you stabbed into your lunch with your mind wandering away. As the blood drains even harder from your face, his smirk that he tried to hide so badly failed thrice as hard.

"Why so gloomy?" His eyes flickered to your hand, following the movement of a fork hammering into your food up and down.

"What silly trick do you have up your sleeve up this time, hmm?" You glare, cutting a portion, shoving it down your throat one after another.

"Oh come on, if this is what a bad day looks like, you clearly won't be liking tomorrow, dear." He laughs, making a portion almost go down your lungs,

"Excuse me? Tomorrow what now?" You grasp onto your sore throat making him laugh harder, was that meant to be sarcasm? You flush a slight red gritting your teeth, rushing to grab a random book from your bag, slamming it HARD against his face almost making his nose bleed.

"Ow fuck! Calm down, it was just a joke!" He pinches his nose, his head leaning backwards to apparently 'help' with the escaping blood, at this rate, you're hoping he dies from the slow increasing lack of blood in his body. "Piss off." You slide the book back in your bag, walking away with the tray with a bunch of leftovers on it.

"Ah whats her problem? I thought girls liked flirting." He stared at your fading silhouette.

As soon as class ends, you slowly shake your head around trying to spot Scara. You find him with a small tissue rolled up inside his nostril, exiting the classroom.

"Ah... wait!" You run to grab his shoulder, "Hm?" He glanced at you as a random girls voice echoes throughout the hall over to you both.

"Scara-kun? Are you coming?" His attention is diverted over to someone. Who..? No way, did he already get a girlfriend right after calling me that stupid pet name? Ah seriously this little.... - You look over, seeing a girl whos far younger than anyone here. "What? Who is she...?"

"Are you talking about Keni? Just a kid I agreed to tutor after school. I don't know why but her mom trusts me a lot." A vivid image of a middle aged woman pops up in your mind, with a thumbs up gesture. Quote; 'You can do it! Its your chance!'

"Do you have anyone at your house today? If not... I could whip something up for you over there." You give a wry smile in hopes of acceptance, his eyes lit up slightly. "Sure, you don't really need to make me anything though, Keni would love some pancakes." He walked away, clearly trying to hide something as Keni followed behind, running energetically.

–

Fast forward over to his house, you grab an apron, and some basic needs to start cooking. - Hmm... I wonder what he likes. Should I just make him some chicken katsu? I guess I'll make that and pancakes for me and Keni.

You started to make the batter for the pancakes, overhearing some distinct chatter between the two at the table. You were so focused on something else, that you almost tipped over the entire bowl of the batter, though you still spilled quite a lot.

A sudden shock overtakes you, making your face flush a bright red and skin burn when a hand latches onto your waist, and another onto your wrist. "Be careful. You're no use if you'll end up spilling everything. It's already a hindrance that you have a huge mess piled up." His voice felt like it was blowing gently into your ear, his chest pressed against your back as his hand guided yours.

You hear a little snicker from behind as you shove his hand and slap away the leeching hand on your waist. "I can do it myself, or if you want I can burn this whole place down."

"Oh sure thing miss professional, step aside and let me follow your amazing tutorial." He takes your spot in cooking, as you end up being shoo'ed away with a gesture to 'go wash up'

Meanwhile, Keni is well... a little flabbergasted.

-

As you start to wash yourself up, your hand navigates itself over to your chest, feeling your heart beating faster than ever. Your skin burning a pinkish hue, as a new feeling pops up in your heart, your stomach feeling like there was a huge pit, it felt like something was missing, it felt like so odd. — I must be going insane. —

He was a good friend, but everytime you began to love him, a huge anxious pit developed inside your stomach, which made you feel unsure.

He has never had any interest in love. After all, he is a puppet with no heart, can you really trust him knowing that? A huge sense of guilt overlapped your whole body, running fingers through your hair. You weren't even sure if you deserve to be apart of his lives chapter at all.

After all, this has and had always happened to you. You shook it off, trying to finish your little 'wash up' time as quickly as possibly. "Hmm... I didn't bring any spare clothes. But there is a clean pair right here..."

You walk out, drying your hair with a towel as you saw them eating... Well. Only Keni was eating, however Scara was just drinking tea, I guess he still likes tea.

His clothes smelled good, and it felt warm. "Oh, those... are my clothes." He scanned your figure, looking dazed as he takes larger sips of his extremely dark tea.

"Should I change out of them?" You tease, making him flush a pinkish red. "Nnnooo...." raised your eyebrows at him.

"Oh well, your clothes are comfortable, where do you buy them?"

"Its a little difficult to describe, but if you want I can show you where tomorrow. Perhaps you could consider it a date." His frown turned upside down sheepishly,

"Ah... what?"

"Nothing, however I am assuming thats a yes." His eyes flickered over to Kenis papers, sitting down beside her. "Alright, so you should..."

His voice faded out into the background, giving you time to contemplate on what he had just said. You took your phone out, looking at the time to find its already super late.

"Ha...?" Confused, you restart your phone biting on your nails. "I should get going..."

Only whispering to yourself, but it managed to catch his attention. "You're leaving already? Its quite late isn't it?" As he continued to help the little girl beside him.

"Uh... Its not like I really have anything going on at home but...-" cut off, "Just stay here for the night. Its just one night after all." You stayed silent, watching his movement helping Keni, wait... Has she been listening in silenc–

Now fastforward to a few hours later, he guides you over to the guestroom, "You can stay in this room, but if its too dusty for you, you could take a look at the other one." He asked, glancing over to check the expression plastered onto your face.

"It's fine, its just for a night anyway, thanks for trying to keep me safe though I'm clearly responsible enough." You tease, settling into the room.

He stared shortly, before closing the door, walking away to his room with a blank expression. "Hm... "

-

Not any later into the midnight, you woke from your sleep due to a nightmare, eyes flashing open with your chest heaving up and down. "Shit... My head.." It felt like someone had stuck a needle through your head due to the piercing pain that stuck from the nightmare.

You held onto your head as you nauseously walked out of your half-opened rooms door. You reached out your left hand, holding your head with the other as you tried to count the doors away to his room.

You pushed a door open, walking inside assuming it was his. His eyes quickly shot over to you concerned, he was wrapped with a fluffy soft blanket as he played on a 'Xbox'. "... Huh?" He spoke with a quizzical tone calling out your name, walking to you with the blanket, wrapping you with it instead.

"Uh, you alright?" Brows slightly furrowing, you nodded; "Yes.. Kind of.." You sighed. Burrowing yourself into his blanket, trying to wrap yourself like a burrito,

"Go back to your room, I'll make you a hot choco... If you even can by yourself." You nodded, walking out again with the blanket loosely yet tightly wrapped around your body, falling onto your mattress still feeling sick to the core.

You heard his wary footsteps, turning you around and making you sit up, "Can't you drink it by yourself?" You nod in response, but he sighed in annoyance as he placed the mug over to your lips for easy access to the hot choco.

Watching your lips slowly be stained from the hot choco and slightly glistening each second dusted his cheeks with a pinkish hue. Till you stopped and mumbled about something like; ’'m too full..’ as you fell asleep straight away. He scoffed at the sight of the possibly wasted leftovers, only to decide on drinking it. And he hoped your dang 'condition' isn't infectious.

Now morning, the sun eagerly shone onto your face peeking from the blinds. "Ugh... It's already morning...?" You whined, tossing around in bed sleepily.

Someone knocked... once-twice-thrice, on your door waking you up alertly, "You awake yet?" The voice seemed to be Scara behind the locked door.

"Come in...– Oh wait, the doors locked." sighed, you did. Getting up making the 'soft fluffy' blanket fall, and to lazily unlock the door, twisting the knob opening it for him.

"You said you wanted to check out the place I buy clothes at, how come you're still so tired?" He scolded.

"Ugh...-gimme a break. It's so early." You sobbed back in response, yet he pointed at the wall clock somehow right infront of 'your room', the time showing 10:21 am

"It's the perfect time to go now, unless you want the parade to be rained on when we have to go home around 2 pm." Crossing his arms, "Oh c'mon, are we even gonna take that long?" complained, you did.

"I'll just go shower first. You better be alert and awake when I come back." He complained back, walking away downstairs to shower, you scoffed angrily throwing yourself back into bed for a few minutes before getting back up—You are the one who did ask after all.

You walked slowly downstairs, sitting down near the table in another sleeping type of position as you burrowed your head into the table.

"I'm done, you can go now, you can borrow one of my moms extra pair of clothing." He said while drying out his hair with a towel, walking away upstairs to do something.

—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—

yea thats it. I'll make a part 2 in idk

[cosmiclion]

Some ppl have shown interest in my lil self indulgent YOI AU (tl;dr if u haven't seen my previous posts: the only difference is that Viktor and Yurio are half siblings -on their mother's side, so that each keeps their respective last name- and the parents aren't around anymore by the time Yurio is 6 so he spends half his off time with Viktor and the other half with Nikolai), so I made more art of it bc it brings me joy 👉👈 And then I felt like writing a lil something to go with the piece bc why not, I very rarely write but when I do it's so much fun. Text under the cut.

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“I did great, right, Vitya?” the little blonde boy asked excitedly as the silver haired teenager crouched down before him to pull up the zipper of his parka. A brown standard poodle pranced happily around them.

The older boy smiled fondly. “You were amazing, Yurochka.” He squeezed his cheeks and chuckled at the noise of indignation that came in response. “I’m sorry, mama and papa couldn’t come to see you skate today either. But grandpa took a lot of photos and videos to show them.” He adjusted the hat on the kid’s head before standing up. “Now come on, let’s not keep him waiting.”

Little Yuri’s eyes lit up at the sight of Nikolai near the exit and he dashed towards the man, Makkachin trotting after him and Viktor following close behind. The kid talked their ears off during the short walk to the car and during the whole ride, through mouthfuls of the pirozhki his grandfather had brought, proudly boasting about every new thing he could do on the ice now. Seated next to him on the backseat to keep an eye on his greedy dog, Viktor just listened and nodded along, trying and failing not to let his mind drift off.

At only 17, figure skating genius Viktor Nikiforov was under an enormous amount of pressure that had nothing to do with any competition. Even for someone who spent as much time away as he did, it was hard to miss that things had been going not so great at home. He had left in pursuit of his dreams long before Yuri was born, only to come back sporadically and spend short periods with his family before going away again, but he had to be blind not to notice just how starved for attention his younger brother was and just how absent his mother and her new husband were.

For a long time now, Nikolai had been putting in the work of being there emotionally for Yuri since his parents barely had time for him and his brother said hi to him only through video calls more often than not, so the least the latter could do to make up for it was to spend as much time with him as possible during the off season. At least Yuri didn’t seem to resent him, if anything he seemed to admire him more and more, and the teenager had gotten used to having the kid following him around like a duckling when they were together. At only 17, figure skating genius Viktor Nikiforov felt like a surrogate parent.

Suddenly, a finger poked the whorl on Viktor’s hair. “You’re distracted!” Yuri protested.

Viktor hadn’t even noticed that Yuri had taken his seatbelt off and stood up on the seat. “Sorry, sorry. Now please sit back down, that’s dangerous.”

Yuri obeyed but narrowed his eyes as Viktor re-adjusted the seatbelt. “You get distracted a lot. And you often forget things. Are you getting old?”

Viktor gave him a half offended, half amused look. Nikolai snorted a laugh from the driver’s seat. “If Viktor is old where does that leave me? Ha! But do listen to your brother, having to keep my eyes on the road is enough responsibility.”

“Sorry~!” Yuri sang almost innocently. He dug into the paper bag he was holding and took out another bun before resuming his incessant chatter. He talked so fast that Viktor wondered whether he actually needed to breathe. “If you’re getting old does that mean you’ll retire soon? Can you coach me? Will I be just as good as you? Will I be better than you? Will I win a gold medal? Don’t answer, I bet I’ll win a gold medal soon! Just wait and see, I’ll win my own gold medal one day!”

Yuri’s enthusiasm was almost contagious. Viktor ruffled his hair, earning himself another noise of indignation. “Of course you will.”

-------------------------------------

Some notes:

-I mentioned before that I couldn't find any official data on whether Nikolai is Yurio's maternal or paternal grandfather, but for this AU I'll assume the latter, so he and Viktor aren't related. -I almost deleted the whorl poking part, it's such a special thing between only Yuuri and Viktor that I felt like I was defiling something sacred lol. But then I thought that it'd be cute if Viktor's hair just had that effect on people. -At first I worried I had made Yurio too ooc but... he's 5 yrs old here, tbh most kids are the same at that age, just give him some time to develop his characteristic personality. Also I think it'd be both hilarious and tragic if he was a sweet adorable bby who loved his big bro before turning into an edgy teenager who hates everything ☠️

[missredherring]

Highway Honey

Frankie Morales x Female Reader

Rating: R

Word Count: 5.5k

Warnings: Established relationship. Frankie flirting. spit everywhere. make out session. thigh riding. m!masturbation. cumplay and cum eating. No Kids AU. A bit of Pope bashing.

Summary: “What’s gotten into you today?”

“You don’t have fond road trip memories?”

“Not really, and I wouldn’t call the trips I do remember ‘road trips’.” He says and you don’t let what he doesn’t say, that most of them were missions or deployments, bring the mood down.

A/N: The rumors of a Triple Frontier sequel came out and then this just poured out of me. Thanks to @morallyinept for the encouragement and @johnwatsn for their superb beta skills. Divider made by @saradika-graphics.

All bad Spanish is my own.

Santiago is the one who reaches out first.

It's late at night and any plans for a date night have dissolved into cuddling on the couch with what's left of a movie scrolling on the TV. You're almost asleep when his cell phone rings.

Frankie jolts a little; he was so close to drifting off with the warmth of your body against his. His limbs are tangled with yours, keeping you close even when there's nowhere to go on the small couch. So when he reaches for his phone on the coffee table, you go with him and end up dangerously close to falling off the edge. You squeak at the unpleasant sensation and Frankie slides a big hand from its usual spot on your ass up to your back to hold you better. 

"Sorry, baby, sorry. Lemme get this," he says. Any traces of relaxation disappear from his body when the voice on the other line starts talking. 

It's male, but no one from work, and not Benny or Will, who you can recognize easily with how often Frankie is talking with them. They bring a smile to his face as he looks off into the distance while they talk, like he can see them across the way. You like it when they make him laugh so hard he bends over in his mirth, the phone tight to his ear so he doesn't miss anything. 

This voice is different and speaking fluid Spanish. You've picked up a lot from Frankie, but you can only make out a word or two until you hear a phrase you're very familiar with. Only you usually hear it from Frankie in a different tone. The positions you were in was right for it though.

"Te necesito."

"What do you want, Pope?"

Ah. Although you’ve never met him, you've heard about Santiago Garcia aka Pope. From Benny, from Will, and from Frankie himself. There's many mixed feelings about the man and his relationship with the boys, but one thing has been agreed upon after many talks. Talks between them, their therapists, and their partners: Santiago wants what he wants and will do what he needs to to get it, regardless of the damage he leaves behind. 

And what he wants this time is Frankie. Your Frankie. Again. 

Frankie's grip flexes on you and his body tenses. You look up at him and kiss his whiskery chin to comfort him, to remind him he's got you. He nuzzles you back, just a pass or two of his nose along the curve of your cheek. 

Oblivious to Frankie's tension, Santiago continues to chatter, dancing around the reason he called and switching from English to Spanish so quickly it's hard to keep up. That's probably what he wants. Frankie said that’s part of Santiago’s strategy: he dazzles you with his attention and then keeps things going at a fast pace so the next thing you know you’re halfway around the world and it’s too late to turn back. 

"What is it?" Frankie repeats, cutting him off, his tone edged with impatience.

"Malo," Santiago sighs and it's enough to spark your apprehension into anger and you'd like nothing more in that moment than to take the phone and give him a piece of your mind. Then throw the phone out the window for good measure. 

"I'll be stateside for a couple of months and I wanted to host a beach weekend away for you guys. I miss you guys and I want to see how you're doing- catch up," Santiago's confession is heavy coming down the line and you feel Frankie brace for its impact. But Santiago rushes on. "You can bring a partner if you want; do you have a girl right now? A guy? Man, did you know about Benny's boy? It was like I took one of his right hooks when he told me-"

You roll your eyes and huff out a breath. Of course Frankie knew about Benny's boyfriend. It wasn't news to someone who kept in contact regularly.

Frankie’s hand spreads wide over your back; maybe it was a twitch, or maybe he's looking for comfort. You decide on the latter, remembering the nights you'd wake up to his hands running over you. It was rarely sexual, but he'd always stop when you turned towards him with a questioning hum. 

"Can I hold you, baby?" He'd been able to ask for it under the cloak of night. 

"Of course." It was your automatic answer, but you always meant it.

Eventually you'd coaxed his needs into the daylight and a hand stroking up and down an arm, a back, around the waist, was a touch of comfort and reassurance for both of you. 

"So you call out of the blue and want to do a beach vacation; rent a big house on the beach and all that?" Frankie asks.

The skepticism is there, unspoken. He doesn't voice it yet, doesn't confront his friend about everything he's done, what he's dragged him in and out of. It's the last part that stops him, because as many shitty situations as Santiago has talked them into, he always gets them out. Whether they're in one piece or not is a different thing. 

"Yea," a nervous chuckle. He wasn't expecting this resistance from Frankie. "I figured we could enjoy the beach–" without being shot at, without trying to keep our friend's dead body from being swept away is how Frankie would’ve ended that sentence, but Santiago tries to save it. "–with this nice summer weather."

"Nice summer weather." Frankie repeats faintly. And there's a wealth of emotion in the soft tone. He's already at war with himself and the conversation hasn't even been going for ten minutes.

When you tug on his shirt to get his attention, Frankie raises his hand holding the phone up over his head like he doesn't want anything of Santiago's, not even his voice, near you.

"Tell him we have to talk it over," you say. It was true, and it would give Frankie an out.

Frankie smiles at you and nods, a bemused look on his face like he'd forgotten that he doesn't need to answer Santiago right away. There's no deadline looming over them, urging them to move. He brings the phone back to his ear.

"Mhm," he says, sliding right back into the conversation. Had Santiago even noticed the pause, or was he just steamrolling ahead? "It sounds nice, man, but I gotta talk it over with my lady." He glances at you and rolls his eyes. "I'll get back to you. Is this your number? For now, uh-uh. Talk to you later, man…"

He hangs up and lets his phone drop to the back of the couch. He pinches the bridge of his nose and runs his fingers through his curls. You know if he was wearing his hat he’d be readjusting it. 

"Wow," you say to break the tension. Santiago’s presence is still lingering in the room with you. 

"Yea. Haven't heard from him in damn near a year and he wants to play beach house?" Frankie grumbles. 

"You wanna go, huh?" You know he does. But he doesn't want to want to go. You give him another option.

"You can blame it on me: say I wouldn't let you go."

"Nah, baby," he leans down and kisses the top of your head. "But thanks."

"Alright, so let's go. I'll be there and the boys will too. Maybe we'll finally get to meet that person Will's been seeing. Just make sure you make Santiago pay for it. If we're doing this I want a free vacation out of it at least."

Frankie laughs and reaches for his phone. You get it before he does. 

"Don't text him yet. Let Will and Benny know first, then text Santiago like next week. Make him sweat.”

Frankie rolls his eyes again, but this time he's smiling. "Alright, alright, you devious mastermind."

His hands are back on your body now, rubbing down your back before switching directions. One slips under your shirt and the other dips into your pants to cup your pussy. 

"How ‘bout I make you sweat?"

For all the tension Santiago’s sudden reappearance brings, the details come together in an extremely ordinary way: texts back and forth get most of it done, along with a coordinated group call to stipulate that Santiago pays for the house. It's six against one and Santiago gives in with a few grumbles here and there. You could hear the boys and their partners chiming in now that the big issue was out of the way. Ordinary discussions of meal plans and what people would like to do with the time they’d have at the beach. 

When he speaks, it's only Santiago’s voice; no talking quietly to someone off to the side, no pauses while looks are exchanged. Does he have anyone in his corner for this fight? Anyone he’d be bringing with him? 

Frankie shifts next to you with an uncomfortable look on his face while Santiago is saying something about an aquarium near the beach town he’d found, and you squash those thoughts down. It doesn’t matter what Santiago’s personal life is like. What matters is supporting Frankie and the others in the face of whatever Santiago really wants. 

It's an early morning when you finish packing the truck for the trip. Taking your car would be more fuel efficient, but it'd be cramped with all of your things and poor Frankie squeezed in the seats. His truck might gulp down gas but it's comfortable for him and you like the bench seats that gave you more room to spread out during the drive.

The sun hasn't come up yet and there’s a chill in the air, just hinting at the cooler weather on the way in a few short months. 

You’re already situated in the cab when Frankie climbs in. He looks at you while shoving his thermos full of strong coffee in the cup holder and laughs. 

“‘Look cozy there; a real passenger princess.” He says, leaning the other way to close his door with a solid thunk. 

You wrinkle your nose at the term. You look more like a burrito than a princess in yoga pants, a sweatshirt, and a blanket wrapped around you. “I’m just comfy. You blast the A/C like it’s 90 degrees already.”

“I’ll open the windows when it warms up. You can sweat to your heart’s content, promise.”

The truck’s engine dutifully turns over but Frankie lets it sit for a few minutes. The rumbling of the engine is more noticeable in his older truck and it almost lulls you back to sleep, but you resist it when the minutes tick by. You glance over at Frankie and watch as he picks at some of the dirt that’s been pressed into the letters on the gearshift with his thumbnail.

“We don’t have to go,” you say.

His smile is bittersweet. He knows Pope won’t stop showing up until he gets what he wants, one way or another. 

“You gotta stop giving me easy outs, baby; you make it sound too tempting,” he says, trying to make light of it. “It’s gonna happen, and I don’t know about you, but the sea air and a cold beer will help.” 

“They’re not easy outs,” you remind him. “It’s setting boundaries.” 

“I don’t know if Pope’d accept that.”

“Then those boundaries are even more important.” 

A look crosses his face that you can’t place and he shrugs. Without another word he puts the truck into gear and pulls out of the driveway. 

It’s quiet as you drive through town. Not a lot of people are out except for a person looking asleep on their feet while walking their dog and a runner decked out in reflective gear, a headlight bouncing as they go.

When you pull into the gas station you both get out of the truck to attend to your own tasks: filling up the truck for Frankie, and procuring snacks for you.

He’s putting the cap on the gas tank when you come back with a bulging bag. 

“I got the goods,” you inform him in an undertone, glancing around you for good measure. “Plus some of those breakfast sandwiches you like.” 

He peaks inside the bag while you hoist yourself back into the truck and gives a little whistle.

“Double bacon? You spoilin’ me?”

“That one’s mine, but if you ask nicely I’ll let you have a bite.”

The bag is handed over while he gets in and before he buckles up he leans over and kisses you.

“Can I have a bite, please?” A little nip of your bottom lip shakes off what was left of your sleepiness. “Hm? Please, baby?” 

You purse your mouth to answer and he’s still so close that the movement makes your lips brush together again. Deciding not to say anything, you nod and this time your noses touch and the skin around his eyes crinkle as he smiles.

“Yes!” He starts the truck and as he leaves the parking lot he yells out the window to let everyone know his good luck. “Double bacon!”

It’s silly and it makes you want to hide your face so people don’t see you with the guy hooting over a sandwich, but he’s in a good mood now and you wouldn’t trade that for anything. 

Once the highway clears of city traffic you settle in for the trip. The blanket is tossed aside and you dutifully let Frankie take a bite of the coveted sandwich. He makes such a production of enjoying every chew that you let him have the whole thing. 

When the radio loses the signal for the local stations you push in the cassette tape adapter and hook it up to your beloved, beaten up iPod. You select one of the playlists you’ve curated for the trip and feel pleased when Frankie starts to nod along to the music, his fingers tapping on the wheel. 

The mile markers go by in a blur and soon you’ve turned towards Frankie on the seat, shucking off your shoes and wiggling your toes underneath his thigh. He just shifts to the side so you can get better access.

From this position you can look at Frankie all you want, which is a lot. His hat is at an odd angle from when he’d bumped it putting on his trusty aviators as the sunlight got stronger. You can see his eyes behind the sunglasses flicking from the mirrors to the road and back. His eyelashes are so long that you’re surprised they don’t brush against the lens. 

You nudge his thigh a little just to see those eyes flicker towards you. His eyebrow tics up in a question and you smile at him. He squeezes the calf nearest to the edge of the seat and rests his hand on the gearshift, his attention back on the road now that he’s checked in with you. 

You doze on and off, coming fully awake when you hear the sounds of Frankie’s yawn and the metal-on-metal scrape of his thermos being opened more frequently. He takes a long drink from it, but it’s only a few minutes later until he’s yawning again.

The next time he opens his mouth wide with his tongue contracting back in his mouth, you lean over, whip your arm out, and hook a finger on the inside of his cheek.

A noise somewhere between “augh” and “fuck” comes out garbled.

“I’d offer to switch but I can’t drive stick," you say like you don’t have a finger in his mouth. Instead of forcing it out he closes his lips and makes quick work with his tongue, covering it in spit. You take it back and don’t waste the time or the opportunity to give him a wet willy, putting the tip of your spit-covered finger in his ear. You watch the shudder go down his body, feeling no small amount of childish glee. 

“You handle my stick just fine,” he says after recovering. 

"If I do that we won't be getting anywhere."

"I'd be getting off," he glances over at you and waggles his eyebrows. 

You cover his mouth with your hand in an attempt to staunch the flow of bad flirting and he licks it. His tongue is just as hot and wet as it had been on your finger, but thanks to the width of your palm his tongue flattens out to cover more of it. Your clit throbs at the reminder of just how good Frankie is with his tongue. 

"Is that payback for the wet willy?" you ask, wiping it off on his shoulder. He pouts at you, and the inversion of his expression is so quick and dramatic from behind the dark aviators that it makes you laugh. 

"’Could've wiped that off on my dick instead."

You give his shirt one more swipe for good measure and go back to your side of the cab.

"Keep driving, Morales."

The clouds overhead are getting darker and denser as the day goes on.

You’re halfway there and Frankie’s getting tense. He’s sitting up straighter with both hands on the steering wheel. The aviators have been tucked into his shirt front and now you can clearly see his eyes darting to the rear-view mirror. His mouth is tugging down in a worried frown. 

The day had warmed up enough to roll down the windows and enjoy the fresh air, but that meant that now the cab was filled with the charged energy from the storm. It prickles along your skin and you have to resist the urge to dispel it by rubbing your arms.  

“Frankie,” you say before touching his arm. You don’t want to startle him when he’s hyper alert like this. The flex of his bicep is the only outward reaction he gives.

“Storm’s coming. We might get caught in it," he says.

“Ok. That’s fine,” you say, trying to convey with your tone that it isn’t a problem, but it’s clear that the storm on your heels, chasing you in the rear-view mirror, was aggravating his nerves and stirring up his PTSD symptoms. Maybe it's the combination of the storm behind you and the encounter with Santiago in front of you that's reminding him of previous missions. As much as he loves his friends, there are hard memories attached to those friendships that he can never forget. 

“Mhm,” he locks his elbow as he adjusts his grip on the wheel. 

Frankie flinches when the first few drops splatter on the windshield, but he doesn’t blink as the clouds open up. He just increases the wiper speed and keeps a steady pace. Soon he can’t see even with the highest setting, and with a curse he throws on the hazard lights and pulls off the road. 

There hadn’t been much traffic on this stretch of highway, thankfully, but the pounding rain on the truck’s metal panels is deafening and you can’t see much out the windows except rain and the dust it’s kicking up from how hard it’s hitting the ground.

Frankie sighs as he surveys the bare land stretching out into nowhere and taps his fingers on the steering wheel. With the engine shut off the tick tick tick of the hazards is louder in the cab, but the rain is louder and you have to clear your throat and raise your voice to get his attention.

“Yea, baby?” 

“Gimme your hand,” you say and he does, looking back out the window. You can practically hear the thoughts turning over in his head: if you're delayed for so long, that’ll put you a few hours behind schedule, which means you’ll be late getting in to the beach house and then he’d have to deal with Pope’s mock disappointment and whatever teasing Will and Benny would throw in. 

His hands are big, everything about him is big, even if he doesn’t feel like it when he compares himself to his friends, but his hands are a favorite of yours. You press a kiss to his palm and massage the muscles there, pressing your thumbs in and smoothing them outwards towards the fingers. 

You move closer to him until you’re pressed to his side with one of your arms around his shoulder on the back of the seat. His arm is trapped between you now, with the hand in your lap splayed over a thigh. 

He sighs again, but starts to relax, his posture sagging just enough to slope his shoulder towards you, so you kiss it. The worn material of one of his favorite t-shirts is soft and thin under your lips. This close you can feel his body warmth radiating off of him from the warm day and when you inhale you get a nose full of the deodorant he’d swiped on this morning before tossing it in his bag. 

He swallows, drawing your attention there. The urge is so strong that you give in easily, following the seam of his shirt to the bare skin of his neck. A light kiss, a nuzzle to his jaw, and then a wet lap of your tongue followed by a noisy suck to the salty skin there just to throw him off guard. 

He tries to move away, but you’ve got him pinned to the door now, and unless he wants to tumble you both out into the downpour, there’s nowhere for him to go. But he’s laughing and wrapping his arms more firmly around you. 

“What’s gotten into you today?”

“You don’t have fond road trip memories?”

“Not really, and I wouldn’t call the trips I do remember ‘road trips’,” he says and you don’t let what he doesn’t say, that most of them were missions or deployments, bring the mood down. 

“Then that’s even more reason to make some good memories on the way, Frankie,” you say, continuing the path of kisses up his jaw. The bare patches of his beard are one of your favorite places to kiss, so you press one there lovingly, before turning his jaw so you can repeat the action on the other one. 

Frankie’s head is turned towards you now, his hands holding you close. His eyes have stopped looking out the window and are focused solely on you, and the attention affects you like it always does: a warmth creeping up your chest to settle in your cheeks. A feeling of pride follows that heat; that you’re enticing enough to have this handsome man’s attention only on you. Like a magnet, his mouth finds yours and you share some soft sweet kisses. But soft and sweet isn’t what you had in mind.

“Wanna make out and see if we can fog up the windows better than the storm?” you suggest and you can feel his answering grin. He nods as well but that knocks the bill of his hat into your forehead, and with a quick swipe it’s off his head and your fingers are in his curls, scratching along his scalp. 

Groaning at your lips, he licks along the seam there, asking and receiving entrance in the same moment. He wants to go fast, his tongue plunging and twisting with yours, but you slow him down with a tug at his hair. There’s no need to rush this. 

Slow, thorough kisses are the template for this. You press forward to rub your tongue on his then draw back to pull his lip between your teeth. Frankie, ingrained to follow orders, falls into line with you. His beard rubs on your skin and the prickly sensation heightens the softness of his plump lips as he soothes the scratches he’s left behind, trailing both sides of your jaw and then down to your throat. It’s a never-ending task of his own making. 

Wanting more access, he tries to bring you into his lap but your ass gets caught on the steering wheel at just the right angle to hit the horn. It startles laughter out of both of you and you shush his grumbling by settling on his thigh angled toward the truck’s stereo system. 

His jean-clad thigh feels good between your legs, and you wiggle closer to him just to feel the drag of the seam of your pants against your pussy. You gasp and it only takes a kiss or two to make him stop pouting. He’s entirely focused on you: rubbing his nose along yours and kissing your sun-warmed skin. With how you’re kneeling on his thigh you can feel the hot bulge of him against your knee. You press into him there just to watch his chest hitch and his hips chase the feeling. 

It truly turns into something from a teenager’s wet dream then. Hands groping and fingers pressing into bared skin as shirts are removed. Sweat is rolling down the line of your back and it makes you shiver on top of him. He holds your hips down and flexes his thigh in response and you can only drape yourself on him, gasping into his neck when he hits just the right spot. 

You take a moment to catch your breath and bite his earlobe since it’s right there. 

“Are you all worked up, honey? Need to take the edge off?” you ask.

Like he’d been waiting for you to suggest more, one of his hands quickly goes to the fly of his jeans and thumbs the button free, pulling the zipper down before reaching for the waistband of your pants. You lift your hips up and away and can’t help the grin at the disappointed noise he makes. 

“Uh-uh. Just you. Touch yourself for me, Frankie.”

You’re never going to get tired of seeing him take his cock out. It’s just as beautiful as the rest of him and you feel an answering ache inside of you when he fists the straining length. He only gives one stroke, up and down, before letting go and offering his hand to you.

“‘Need some help, baby.” His eyes are so dark without the sunlight to brighten them, but somehow they get even darker when you take that hand and press it under your waistband. 

“Then get it,” you say and he does. Cupping your pussy with his entire hand, he uses his fingers to part your folds, letting the wetness they’d been holding back drip out onto his palm. Just like he’d done to his cock, he strokes your pussy up and down, making sure to get as much of your slick as he can in the confines of your clothes before pulling his hand back out. 

Shining with your slick, he takes his cock in hand again and moans at the glide you’ve provided. 

The inside of the cab is filled with the sounds of Frankie’s pleasure as the rain continues to beat at the roof. The scent of him is everywhere and what little space you’d made to watch him gets smaller and smaller. Every time he strokes up, pausing to squeeze the head of his cock with just the right amount of pressure, his knuckles brush your pussy and your hips follow the downward stroke of his hand until you’re covering him again. His cock trapped between you, limiting his hand’s range of motion. But it’s an easy trade off for the feeling of your breasts pressed to his chest and the needy way you’re moving your hips on his thigh. The heat and weight of you combined with his expert touch brings him to the edge quickly.

"Kiss me, baby. Kiss me," he begs and fucks your mouth with his tongue like he wants to fuck your pussy. It’s sloppy and your chin is dripping with spit when he stiffens under you, a guttural groan passing between your lips as he comes. When you don’t feel the familiar warm wetness on your skin, you peak between you to see his hand covering the tip of his cock. Cum drips from between his fingers and a little had splattered back onto his soft tummy. 

The way it drips down into his pubic hair is too tempting, but when you dip your head to get a taste he stops you with an elbow nudge to your shoulder to keep you back. 

Frankie leans over you and grabs a few napkins from the glove box, wincing at the rough texture as he cleans himself up. Finally he swipes a finger to collect the last streak of cum from his front and hold it to your lips, pushing past them to press the cum onto your tongue. Your eyes flutter close at the tang of him and you hum around his finger. He cups your cheek and brushes at the sweat beading at your hairline. 

“You didn’t come.”

“I’m saving it,” you say and the surprise is clear on his face. 

“You think I’m letting Santiago have a decent night’s sleep? We’re taking the room next to his and I’m hoping for thin walls.”

He shakes his head at that and gathers you close in a hug. “My devious woman.”

The storm passes over as you cuddle close together and when only the odd drop of rain hits the truck you both hop out to straighten out clothing and stretch your muscles a bit before getting back on the road.

The rest of the trip is uneventful and you check in with Will and Benny when you stop for lunch, sending them a picture of Frankie with a mouthful of fries. Benny’s boyfriend responds with a picture of Benny flipping off the camera, and Will sends a blurry selfie of his windblown face. ETAs are established and you can’t help but roll your eyes at how exact they get, knowing it’s going to end up in a competition on who can get there first. 

Frankie’s focused on the road, but he takes your hand in his every now and then to squeeze it, to roll your fingers between his, and to press a kiss to whatever part he can reach. 

The surrounding land changes as the truck rolls on. Hard packed dirt gives way to shifting sands and tall reedy grass swaying in the breeze. You can’t help the excitement you feel when you can finally smell the salt in the air and take a deep lungful. Childhood memories of vacations filled with sunburns and sand everywhere come to mind. You squeeze Frankie’s hand and throw him a grin. He returns it with a nod of his head. His aviators and hat covers some of his expression, but his lips are tilted up. 

The turn off for the community of brightly colored beach houses is just ahead, but so is the sign for the public beach access. You point it out to Frankie, who is checking his phone for the latest update from Benny. 

He opens his mouth to object but you’re persistent. 

“Let’s enjoy the beach a little before anything else happens,” you say and he only has a moment of hesitation before turning towards the big parking lot where half the spaces are covered in sand drifts. 

Frankie groans as he bends backwards to stretch and feels a few pops in his back. You roll up your pants and fish out flip-flops from a bag in the back. Your feet sink in the sand as you follow the path between sand dunes and then the beach is there. Waves roll up the sand, reaching for you, as seagulls whirl overhead, their cries getting carried off on the wind as it blows through. 

You walk a little ways up and down, weaving in and out of the water as you take turns nudging each other into the oncoming surf when you bump together, tethered by interlocking fingers. It’s too late in the day to find seashells, but you make plans for an early morning walk on another day. Frankie puts on a good show about sacrificing his sleep to get up with you, like he’s not the one who hasn’t been able to break the habit of an early morning wake up time. 

It feels like the start to a real vacation instead of a tense meeting of old friends who last parted on uncertain terms. Frankie’s shoulders are broad and he’s not hunched in on himself. His expression is open as he watches his toes getting covered in sand as the water comes in and out. This is what you want for him, this brief reprieve, a moment of relaxation. 

Frankie’s phone chimes and you see the incoming text from Pope: “You get lost out there? Need me to send out a rescue team?”

“Let's tell Benny to take the room on the other side of Santiago’s,” you say and Frankie’s laugh is loud enough to be heard over the crash of the waves. 

[secondhandsorrows]

3 Quick Tips on Writing Dialogue

Okay… so one of the biggest writing hurdles I often face is writing dialogue. Good dialogue. I know such a statement can be pretty subjective, but there’s something to dialogue that demands attention. There’s things involved like subtext, purpose, characterization, and sense of realism. On the other hand, there’s also character voice, expression, body language, and dialogue tags (sparingly, if you can)… all of which can be important, too. Sometimes it’s tricky for me to get a handle on writing dialogue that sounds natural, less stilted, and more as though the characters are real and conversing like we humans would (not to say dialogue should include unnecessary filler-words and repetitions we tend to overuse in our day-to-day conversations). 

Today, I’m going to share three quick tips I’ve accumulated from research and from my own experiences in creative fiction workshops on improving your dialogue. 

1. Avoid needless filler-words and phrases.

Let’s just get this one out of the way. I know this was already mentioned a few sentences ago, but it needs to be further cemented. This is the kind of fluff that we use in day-to-day chatter, like misused grammar, useless small talk, and talking in circles that, more often than not, comes across as boring and trivial. We may think this is a good way to create realistic dialogue, but alas, there is such thing as too-realistic dialogue. Focus instead on crafting dialogue that sounds as natural as possible. At least, try to get rid of the fluff, or use it with caution, as it may bog down your pacing and slow down your readers. 

This doesn’t mean you can’t utilize some small talk, repetitions, filler words, or speech patterns like stammering. Rules are sometimes meant to be bent, just a little. It can be used to create distinctions between unique character voices, lighten the mood, express an emotion that is being felt, if you know where to put them. Dialogue can — and should — be personalized to each character. 

This brings me to the next point:

2. Refrain from revealing too much information at once. 

Not only is this considered info-dumping, but giving away a ton of detail in a piece of dialogue can come across as stiff and out-of-place.  Though it may seem convenient to utilize dialogue as a way to pass information to the reader without getting all repetitive or boring within the narrative, it tends to break away from what the character (or a real person) might actually say. Especially when it’s given to a character that has no reason or incentive to recite drawn-out exposition to give the reader some background. This can be attributed to being uncharacteristic. 

Try tweaking it as to fit your character’s voice: their mood, how they communicate their values, which aspects they find more important to discuss, which topics they actively avoid or tend to overlook. Also keep in mind who they’re speaking to, and whether or not they need to hear the information, as well. 

3. Think about what is being left un-said.

Now, I’ve mentioned subtext quite a bit, already. Subtext, as the definition goes from Literaryterms.net, is “the unspoken or less obvious meaning or message in a literary composition, drama, speech, or conversation.” Knowing this, we can implicitly communicate to the reader covertly a truer meaning or mood within a conversation or interaction between characters: that a character is smiling through a grimace trying to look as if he’s enjoying what his friend had cooked for him when in reality he’s forcing it to spare their feelings. Or, when a woman says “she’s fine” when actually she’s not fine (real). Her answer is forced, her tone clipped, her arms are firmly crossed and she’s angling herself away. How about when a character is pining for another? They might stammer over their words and are prone to blushing whenever they’re around. 

There’s a lot of different ways you can go about using subtext. I probably could’ve added a lot more, but all I want to say for now is that the beauty of subtext allows to stir interest and to further character examination, especially in dialogue. There is more that can be said, but the characters may choose not to. It could also be used to hint at the reader, to foreshadow, facilitate themes, make contradictions, to build tension and emotion… there’s internal conflict that can be explored here. Let your characters tell their own stories in their own, unique ways.  

That’s all, for now. Hope this helped!