#this one's just pure fluff

[askyofexplodingstars]

"Cancelling plans is like heroin" - John Mulaney

(Sebatian x reader, they're married)

[yuviur]

Summer vacation, 4am.

Tons of easter eggs in this one! Click the image to find them (and for better quality ofc)

Close ups and process shots under the cut, description in alt text

[libraryofgage]

Decided to combine 4 and 12 of the prompt list! Something about these two prompts was giving me major Addams Family vibes, so I rolled with it lol

If there are any other prompts you want to see written, lemme know!

4. ��You know I’d do anything to have you stay by my side, right? Anything.”  

12. “I’m going to have so much fun with you.”

Wherein the Munsons are branches on the Addams Family tree, and Steve finds himself the object of Eddie Munson's flirtations and devotion.

---

When the Munsons move in next door, Steve sits his brother down in the living room and says, "Don't bother them, Dustin. Wait, like, three days before asking for their life stories."

Dustin looks offended, to say the least. "I wasn't gonna ask for their life stories, Steve. I was gonna ask where they got all the bats and birds that hang out on their roof."

Honestly, Steve would love the answer to that, too, but that seems to be encroaching on the "life story" territory, considering the sheer number of flying creatures the Munsons brought with them. He'd been outside getting the mail when the Munson kids, a boy his own age and a girl Dustin's age, had opened a tiny cat carrier, and a veritable storm of black wings and feathers and screeching had somehow come streaming out of it.

The girl was watching them with a smile, and the boy turned around like he'd felt Steve staring. Their gazes met, and Steve's awkward wave was returned with the boy's eyes raking over him before winking with a grin.

"Look, ju-"

Steve's words are cut off by a banging on the door, the person knocking out a beat that he can't follow. He shoots Dustin a look to stay put before he opens the door to find the Munson boy on the other side. He's got that same playful grin and a plate of pitch-black...something in his hands.

"Uh, hi?"

Somehow, the boy's grin gets wider, and he shoves the plate into Steve's hands. "Heeeellooo, big boy," he says, his voice almost lowering into a purr that makes heat flood Steve's cheeks. "Wayne wanted me to drop off some of his famous arsenic and chocolate chip cookies. You know, since we're neighbors and all."

"Wayne? Arsenic?" Steve mumbles, looking down at the cookies warily.

"Our uncle," the boy says, leaning on the doorway and crossing his arms as he looks Steve up and down again. "Don't worry, it won't kill you. Yet. That's a friend of the family privilege, at least, and you just ain't there yet."

It must be a joke, and Steve lets out a strained laugh. He balances the plate in one hand and holds his other one out. "Right, well, uh, nice to meet you. I'm Steve. You'll probably meet my brother, Dustin, later."

The boy takes his hand, but instead of shaking it, he brings it up to his lips. Then he turns Steve's hand over, brushing his lips across the meat of his palm before nipping. Steve jerks, yanking his hand back and holding it close to his chest, his heart beating erratically as the boy says, "I'm Eddie, my sister's name is El, and I'm going to have so much fun with you, Stevie."

And with that, Eddie turns on his heel and saunters back to the Munson home, which had been painted pitch-black (just like the cookies) at some point. Steve doesn't move from the open door, feeling a faint tingling in his palm, until he hears Dustin shout that he's going to let all the cold air out.

The arsenic and chocolate chip cookies had not, in fact, killed either of them. And, despite their burnt-to-coal appearance, they were soft and chewy. It had immediately put the Munsons in Dustin's good graces, which he happily proclaimed while Steve's head and heart were still reeling from Eddie's introduction.

In the following weeks, Eddie kept popping up whenever Steve left the house. He never overstepped, though. He'd appear at a distance, wait for Steve to wave or say hi, and then approach with that big grin with canine teeth that looked a little sharper than they should. Sometimes he'd offer more baked goods from Wayne (always with some schtick to them: eye of newt brownies, hag's breath toffee, cyanide and cherry pie). On one notable occasion, he'd offered a baseball bat with nails stuck through the end.

"El let out a demodog the other day, so you probably ought to be careful. I'd hate for you to get hurt by something that wasn't me," Eddie had said as Steve confusedly took the bat.

He blinked when he had processed the words and looked up. "You would hurt me?" Steve asked.

Eddie had leaned close, his ringed fingers ghosting over Steve's side and inching closer to his waist, and whispered, "It wouldn't just hurt, Stevie." His words had sent a shiver down Steve's spine, his mouth suddenly dry as Eddie pulled away.

And their interactions had escalated from there. With every meeting, Eddie strayed closer, lingered longer, spoke softer, and Steve couldn't escape the growing devotion and fascination in his eyes. At some point, Steve knew, things were bound to boil over.

So, he definitely wasn't surprised when they did at the neighborhood's annual Fourth of July cookout. Eddie had waited until El and Dustin were distracted by their other friends, checked to make sure Wayne was sufficiently busy with helping at the grill, and then kidnapped Steve to a hidden corner of the Byers's yard.

Which brings Steve to the present, the Byers's house casting a long shadow over him and Eddie so nobody notices them. The sound of other kids screeching with delight and parents discussing summer camps fades when Eddie leans in closer.

"You know I'd do anything to have you stay by my side, right? Anything?" Eddie asks, tilting Steve's chin up as he crowds him against the wall.

Steve presses back against the cool brick, silently holding Eddie's gaze. There's a stark seriousness to his words, and Steve can't help his curiosity about just what anything encompasses. "Would you kill for me?" he asks, his voice soft.

Eddie practically lights up, a feral grin pulling at his lips. "Gladly, sweetheart," he purrs.

"Would you die for me?"

"I'd tear out my heart and present it on a fucking silver platter for you. In fact, I can do it right now, if you'd like." A knife appears in his hand from seemingly nowhere, and Eddie brings it to his own chest only for Steve to stop him by grabbing his wrist.

"Then, what about living for me?" Steve asks, carefully taking the knife from Eddie and smoothly returning it to the holder tucked into his jeans.

Eddie leans in until their noses brush, his hand cupping Steve's jaw. "I wouldn't even dream of dying without your permission, Stevie," he whispers.

And Steve would fucking love to meet the person who could withstand Eddie Munson's attention and flirting and gifts and care and sheer devotion without falling head-over-heels for him. Steve would want to put that person in a jar, study them, see if their indifference is something he could mass produce. He's sure Eddie would be thrilled to help him do it, too.

"I have one request," Steve whispers back, reaching up and pushing his hand into Eddie's hair, warmth rushing through him when Eddie leans into the touch.

"Anything. Say the word, and I wouldn't hesitate to crawl through hot coals and broken glass." Steve has zero doubts Eddie would; in fact, he knows Eddie would be ecstatic to do it, if only for the chance to make Steve smile.

"I want one of the bats. And Dustin wants a demodog, but you better make sure it doesn't hurt him, or I'll make you listen to bubblegum pop and watch a Disney marathon."

Steve can feel the shudder that goes through Eddie, his eyes revealing a mix of horror, pride, and love at Steve's words. "You, Stevie, have perfected the art of making threats. Consider your two requests granted and me sufficiently...threatened," Eddie breathes, somehow managing to press even closer.

And Steve can't make either of them wait a second longer. With a grin that can easily rival Eddie's, Steve kisses him and begins to think of names for his bat.

[smuttyaf]

You Can Be My Daddy

𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐢𝐞𝐰; 𝐛𝐮𝐧𝐧�� 𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐬 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐬𝐡𝐞’𝐬 𝐚𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐝.

wc; 13.9k | masterlist

gonna post this gem to deflect from my hiatus. sorryyyy!

tw: reverse harem threesome, degradation, and choking.

Cherry.

You remember that day so clearly. The middle of June and how the breeze ran across your skin to the sweet juice of fruit gracing your lips. It was the name given to you one early afternoon when lying with your stepfather in the ruby field past the meadow of your home.

Red dye straining flesh before tongue peeked out to relish in the juices, such innocent actions changing the duration of your relationship from then on.

Inked hands and wet kisses exchanged around trees that left sprouting leaves to lie shadows amongst your bodies. Such a beautiful sight of the both of you enveloped in each other and tasting the bitter fruit on lucid tongues, it was a moment of pure pleasure where something new blossomed.

And now there’s bunny.

That day consisted of the usual sight of oak and large antique trophies found on either side of the private school walls. Plaid skirt with the Phillips Academy logo embroidered along your chest as you made your way to your class to the beat of your mary jane’s.

You listen attentively watching the brunette teacher paste himself across the room, his own thoughts and teachings expressed throughout the hour. Broad shoulders, wide frame, and chiseled features sculpturing the middle age man that’s been on your mind since meeting in the doorway.

It was only your luck that your conscious slipped and had you stumbling over the chalk left in your hand, pink panties being on display when leaning down to pick up the mineral and return it back to its respective place.

It’s was those actions that made you stay behind in class and speak to Mr. Styles. Conversation dwindling on doing well in your studies to the length of your skirt. Obviously, you played dumb, unsure that the slight alterations to the uniform were revealing, it was never an issue before but it was known now that it was.

Now it was your turn to corner him, tease him even more when acting coy to the games you play. His nails scratched amongst the wooden desk with bulge pressed snug amongst his trousers as he stumbled over your name.

“Please bunny, I want you to respect me as I respect you.”

Oh, how those words meant absolutely nothing… a few seconds after that his lips were on yours before you fell to your knees. Wet tongue swallowing his thick cock down your throat to the point your voice grew strained.

That moment was everything to you, having your way with the man of your dreams. So tall, so firm, and the swelling head between your lips tasted like heaven with the salty taste of him.

That afternoon it was set in stone your game at hand, how you attain whatever you want with a simple bat of your eye and how it’s even worse that you get away with it. Displaying the messy strokes of his seed painting your tongue to soon swallow it down and shine a brightly lit smile at the principal.

You were too good at this… having your way with seductive hips, plump ass, and gorgeous face to match. You’re a tease and take pride in it; smiling cheerily and pushing your breasts together just right to show your teacher the soft skin he wants to touch and squeeze.

And it was going good, actually it was going really well for a few weeks. Nickname written neatly across your paper, curve spine and different colour panties everyday. It was hot and exciting! Everything you could ever wish for, but obviously that could only last for so long.

A slip up of love notes to reservations over the relationship only made you decide to make it known to Mr. Styles that you had options, and if he doesn’t want to act accordingly you’ll rub it in his face the treatment he wants with someone else.

Leaving hickeys along Luca’s neck or catching his gaze on you two when he drops you off to class. Mr. Styles' sight on the adventurous hands wandering down your backside to the kiss placed on his cheek, you wanted him to feel bad for not choosing more alone time with you, for allowing his thoughts to eat him up and not trusting in you.

All you asked of was one thing and he couldn’t even do that, how irritating… how annoying… it pissed you off not being the center of his attention like all your other toys.

But now, oh… you’re nearly bursting at the seams.

Thinking you were having your way so easily with your taunting game, it was only right for karma to turn around and bite you in the ass because just as you thought you had one up on him, the annual Phillips Academy parent teacher interviews came up and sure enough both of your parents were attending.

You tried to figure out an excuse, tried to say you had a stomach ache or a killer migraine but obviously that didn’t work on your mother, so instead you sucked it up and tried your best to not sweat the inevitable situation, and sure enough it was haunting.

Brown skin met with white, and you wanted nothing more than to drop dead right then. Both holding eye contact and stiff grip that you had to find a way out of the exchange, something that won’t show you sweating.

Immediately you dismissed your presence with your mother, a weak mention of a drink to try just to ease your thoughts. You didn’t know how the hell you managed to find yourself in this situation, your stepfather and teacher in the same room and now talking to each other, this was perfect… just perfect.

Your mother sits the translucent cup down while placing a hand to her chest, her throat clears at the same time she shakes her head gently.

“That is quite sweet for the dinner,” She comments, sight looking over the glass bottle before bidding you a smile. “But you’ve always had a sweet tooth, haven’t you.”

Your lips tug at the end, a gentle and soft grin as you nod your head. Fingers lifting your own cup to your lips and swallowing the sugary grape tinged juice before your eyes flick towards Mr. Styles and Malik, both nodding to each other in unison. The sight makes your stomach turn.

“Excuse me dear, I need to go to the powder room.” Your sight following your mom as a happy expression still plasters itself across your face as you bow your head. You watch her decorative rings toss the plastic into the garbage before leaving out the door to be alone with your thoughts.

The hammering beats of your heart quake in your chest, pads of your fingers clenching into the warmth of the cup that leaves sweaty prints along the surface. A deep breath travels through your nose with lashes fluttering as your mind completely blanks.

What the fuck did you actually get yourself into? How did you end up here? You thought you had all your lies in place, that an instance like this would never happen but yet, here you are; bambi eye and plush lips scared from the outcome of all your deceitfulness.

Shaky hands left up the cup and bring it towards your mouth as you swallow back the remaining juice. Shoulders flex back concedingly, tongue swiping across your bottom lip before you throw your trash away and take another deep breath.

With whatever slither of confidence you have within it charges your walk towards the two men. Poised spine, alluring hips and doe eyes, you know it’s the sight they love, the sight they adore and maybe, just maybe, you won’t face any consequences to your actions.

The subtle tap of your repettos sound against the old floor boards before halting, your left hip popping to the side as your arms cross over each other on your chest. Bottom lip sucked between your teeth yet chin still tilted high despite the uneasiness flowing through.

Your view falls on the jet black strands falling across his forehead as his hazel eyes pierce through you. Lengthy lashes and rugged beard captivating your sight till you switch it towards the teacher; stubble cheeks and daunting green hues. Their aura radiates a connection unbeknownst to you, one that sends a chill down your spine.

“Speaking of the devil…”

The words come off as a teasing bite, accent thick and sight roaming over your frame as if plotting to have his way with you just like the many times he would tell you about over the phone, except this time it’s different, this time there’s a glimmer of deception.

Firm shoulders and board chests tower over your appearance as both their view latch onto your petite frame and doe eyes so oblivious and worried over the two men standing next to each other.

“Father...” Voice quiet and sincere as you look towards him. Fingers fitting against your arms as you try to keep your composure.

And you watch closely, the way his hand leaves his pocket and runs over his jaw, teeth kissing together as he shakes his head amused at your appearance. The fat flesh of your lips run over each other with eyes blinking between both bodies in amazement at the sight.

“Y/N…” Your step-father counters, head leaning to the side as he smirks down at you so coy and scared.

“Still being promiscuous, are we?”

Mouth runs dry with throat growing strain and fingers running clammy against the material of your blazer. The pounding in your ribs reaches your ears and sends nervous shockwaves throughout your brain.

Lashes flutter hesitantly between the two as you feel the creases between your toes begin to slither with sweat. Your teeth clench down on each other, nails scratching into polyester at the same time your lips fall apart.

He’s fucking with you, he has to be. He can’t possibly know what’s going on between you and your teacher, he absolutely can’t.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about?” Thick droplet of spit eerily sliding down your esophagus, with ears ringing and jaw tight as you refrain from looking at the teacher.

That has Mr. Malik chuckle, deep and amused to the point that Mr. Styles joins along too. It has your eyes darting to him, heart causing painful shocks to run throughout your chest as the pads of your fingers begin to cause pain in your biceps.

This isn’t possible… are you even registering what truly is happening in the moment… are you in the Twilight Zone? You have to be, because the two men in your life are laughing together like old pals or something.

The taps of your mother’s heel rattles your spine, her heavy footsteps has your sight tearing away and looking towards her with an irritated smile, thankful she can at least save you.

Her perfume floods your nose as her own teeth shine in annoyance, her hand wraps around your shoulder as she brings you in dramatically to squeeze you into her body.

“My apologies dear, and Mr. Styles,” She smiles towards you before turning towards your stepfather. “Jessica managed to mix up the meeting with the Allen’s so we have to cut the day short unfortunately.”

A deep exhale leaves you as your grin turns to happiness. Thank god! This was perfect, literally saved at the right moment. Your feet flex in your shoes as you roll onto your toes, head swaying to the side to catch sight over your father who looks completely unfazed.

“We still have a couple more teachers to see, no?” Mr. Malik questions while giving your mother his full attention.

“Yes, but I really need to make it, I’m already ten minutes behind.”

“It’s okay love, you go and I’ll see the rest of them. Your viewings are always quite short.”

Your smile flattens, plucked brows pushing together as you try to comprehend if this is actually happening. It certainly can’t be real… you really have to be dreaming. Just when you think you’re about to get off scot free here is your father dangling his own satisfaction in front of your face.

Your throat grows strain, fingers curling in on each other while you fall to your heels. Your eyes roll obnoxiously as your head turns and catches sight on your history teacher. Flesh between his teeth and raised eyebrows, you can tell there’s a playful glint of happiness in his eyes, something you’ve never witnessed before.

“You’re a lifesaver! Thank you!” Cheerful voice rushes as she leans in and kisses both of his cheeks.

Now your heart is erratically beating to the point it’s the only thing that sounds through your ears as if white noise. Your mother rushes to hug you again before saying something that you don’t even comprehend because you’re completely fucked.

The strands of her hair trail away in breeze of blurry vision and slow breathing, nails digging into your cuticles as your gaze pans between the two men, your stepfather smirking charmingly and Mr. Styles with lip between his teeth.

You wish there was just a few more minutes for you to grasp everything thrown at hand. To collect your thoughts and lie accordingly but you don’t get that chance, not right now, not in this moment.

Eyes flick between brown loose curls to dark straight hair, from prickly bread to thick one, to piercing green eyes to alluring hazel hues. You’re ruined, absolutely ruined… and when looking between the two men does your mind really scramble.

There are only two choices you have; twirl around with tail between your legs or confront the issue at hand.

And because those are your only two options the sound of your heels tap against the floor as your vision fades from every single nerve swallowing you whole. Anxiety wasn’t even the word to describe how you’re feeling, and frankly you want it to evaporate immediately.

Without a second thought your feet are turning against the hardwood, arms falling to your side as lashes shelter your vision as you inhale deeply and place one foot in front of the other. Your chest surging with every beat of your heart as you try to think straight.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

Bradford accent clouding your ears as your wrist is caught within his palm. The grip over you has your body twist around and look at your stepfather with fury in your gaze. You would rather die than remain standing here at this moment.

“We’re not done here.”

Fingers curl into each other as sight never breaks, your teeth clench down on each other with toes curling into your shoes. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.

There’s really nothing you can do. You can’t turn away and hide, you can’t plaster a smile as if everything is okay, you can’t do anything but accept this for what it is.

So with that your posture relaxes. Shoulders slouching, jaw loosening, and deep breath escaping. For once you lost at your own game. You’re not in control anymore and only in this moment do you realize that you haven’t been as soon as these two met.

There’s a silent connection between them, from their eye contact to stance. Something unknown is brewing and it makes your stomach quiver. Never in a million years did you think this would happen, but it is, and you’re caught red handed.

“Mr. Styles was actually telling me about your most recent essay, a plus was it?” His attention turns towards the teacher who nods his head in agreement.

“Yes, it was written exceptionally well.” Mr. Styles continues while raising his hand to his chin and rubbing the skin there.

“I was so intrigued when he told me about it that we agreed to go to his classroom and look over your work.” Your eyes flick between the two men who look at each other with pride. “I’ve always loved your writing, so you won’t mind, now would you?”

You don’t even say anything as your father releases your wrist and smiles down at you happily. Of course he’s thrilled with whatever endeavor he has planned, if you were in his shoes you would be as well.

The two men walk past you in your dazed out state and continue to chat with each other as if best mates in the span of half an hour. You don’t even try and further understand this situation but instead tread slowly behind the two men as they walk down the long corridor before making their way up to the third floor and into your familiar classroom.

Because of the events taking place today everyone seems to be remaining on the first floor which just leaves the rest of the school eerily quiet to the point goosebumps prick your skin, especially when your the last one to step through the door.

Your hand hooks around the knob as you step backwards and close it. View looking over the two men as one goes through his desk and the other leans into the structured object.

“Come here dear.” Mr. Malik orders while gesturing towards you.

A tight limb smile spreads as you roll your eyes and lazily make your way towards him, heels sounding against the floorboards as you pass the rows of desk to the left of you and stand next to your father.

At the same time Mr. Styles rounds the desk with paper in hand, thumb peeling the three layered essay apart while he looks over the lengthy written sheet. His sight skimming down the page before he hums pleasantly.

“Marie Antoinette is very known to the point of being called famous, but yet it is not for any good deeds. She is most well known for her selfishness and self indulgence.” He reads before passing the papers to your father who nods his head while examining it.

“Seems like you and Marie have some things in common.” Mr. Malik comments while turning to look at you peering up at him.

Your jaw tenses before slight flicks towards Mr. Styles, his view already locked on you; and normally you would be happy that you have his attention, especially with the way it obviously looks over your frame, but right now, in this moment, it’s something you dislike.

“Wouldn’t you agree?” Your teacher continues playing off your father's words which only leaves you a mess of nerves.

You’re the one who’s supposed to have them on edge, have them on the tip of their toes. You’re the one who’s supposed to have them reeling with discomfort, not the other way around. Yet, here you are with sweat slithering in every crevice of your body in the position that you love to put them in.

“N—no.” Voice barely even heard as your lips curl into each other.

“No?” Mr. Malik reiterates only making you look back towards your father.

Your tongue peeks out your mouth to run over your bitten lip, deep breath escaping your throat as you let your eyes close.

It’s time to face the facts. You’re stuck in a room with two men who you’ve led on just for the fun of it. Here you are left standing between these two because having your way with them just does something to your mind, to your body, and spirit that you just have to toy with them. But now you’re here and surrounded by your own faults and deceitfulness, having nothing else to do but accept that you’ve lost.

“You’re really smart cherry, so just use that beautiful brain of yours.”

Eyes immediately flash open at the call of your nickname, nails releasing from their previous hold as your chest turns towards your father who smirks down at you. His hand placing your essay down on the desk while his own body follows suit and goes parallel to yours as he watches you fumble.

“Father—”

“—Sir.”

At the same time he corrects you, the rough pad of Mr. Styles finger is dragging up the revealing skin of your thighs, his warm breath fanning over the right side of your neck only putting you further in uneasiness.

“What is this?” You question as your teacher steps closer to the point you feel his erection against your backside.

“What you always wanted.” His voice panning over your neck so warm and sultry that your knees tremble.

Spit runs down your throat slowly, sight looking over the way your father's lips twitch into a smirk. Once again, his head shakes in utter disappointment.

“Speechless?” Mr. Malik says while leaning towards you to the point there’s little space left between you both.

“The first time she doesn’t have anything snarky to say.” Mr. Styles chuckles into your neck that has you absolutely feening.

Even though you’re scared shitless you can’t deny that the scene before you is remarkably hot. Both men squish you against themselves as they lure you in with their teasing movements. It has your adrenaline pumping. The fact your teacher has his thick cock nestled between your clothed cheeks while your father looks down at you so content with the situation at hand. You’re flushed and bothered, and quite frankly you’re excited for whatever is in store.

“Tell us bunny, why did you lie?”

“Yes, cherry, tell us why?”

Both nicknames run across your skin that leaves goosebumps in their wake. It’s nerve racking but it feels too good to not fall prey to their taunts.

They're both so handsome; tall to the point they tower over you, delicious cologne flooding your nose as rough hands feel over your body. You simply couldn’t resist them, not when they have you like this.

“I thought it was only me?”

“So did I… especially when it’s just us two at home… all alone…”

The mention of your life outside of school with the older man has your teacher grip your flesh even rougher, heavy huff escaping him showcasing itself clear that the comment made him jealous and you can’t help the way your heart skips a beat at the near thought of him being possessive over you.

Your father bites down on his bottom lip, his hand dragging along the desk to soon fit itself along your stomach and slither its way up your side and begin to fondle your breast. The charming glint in his eye is distinctive to the many times you two have fooled around, it’s your favorite feature that you’ve distinguished since the beginning of your relationship, and without even thinking a whimper slips out.

Immediately your fingers curl into your side as Mr. Styles continues to rub your hips roughly, his own waist rutting into you that your lashes flutter in pure satisfaction. This feels so good.

“I’m sorry.” Whisper trailing out so soft and quiet that you sound innocent and so sweet, like you didn’t drag them into your game; but the only difference now is that the two grown men sandwiched on either side of you are smarter than that.

Both of them laugh hauntingly, touch continuing to roam and grope to the point you're a moaning mess under their touch, especially when your father fits his other hand between your legs and feels you through your soiled panties.

A deep breath spills from your lips while both hands go to wrap along his wrist, eyes bulging and chest flexing towards his as Mr. Styles shoves you deeper when grinding against you. Thin fingers glide through your folds making you feel the dampness of your panties press against your heated skin.

“You hear that, she’s sorry.” Your stepfather breathes against your lips, so close and teasing that you shiver under the pressure.

“Oh, that’s so hard to believe.” Your teacher smiles against your skin that the air you ingest does little to calm your pinching nerves.

“Do you think that little apology is enough for us?” His hand gripping your breast even rougher as his fingers gently feel over your wet clothed hole. “After everything you put us through?”

Your head shakes slowly, eyes never breaking contact as you continue to let them feel over your body. He is right, after all the tricks you play that barely audible plea isn’t enough, especially with the way they touch and tease you it’s clear the apology that they’re looking for isn’t something that you can just say to squeeze yourself out of this situation.

“Having my job on the line…” Mr. Styles coos while pressing his lips into your thumping pulse.

“And my marriage…” Mr. Malik so close to your lips that you whimper at the near feel of him.

“So we think it’s only right for us to have our turn with you. The way we want.”

Warm breath falls over your lips so alluring and dominant that you can’t help yourself from surging forward and locking yours with his. The cool spearmint on his tongue travels through your lips and along yours as they wrap around each other.

It’s been months since you’ve gone without the delectable taste of him that it has you moaning immediately from the touch and the way he floats across your tastebuds. So sweet yet musky, so strong yet soft.

You missed him so much… the way he tastes, the way he feels, how he completely envelops every twitch that itches through your body. A high moan rakes through your throat, head swaying to the side as Mr. Styles begins to nip and suck at your neck, the slick feel of your skin growing hot and bruised only makes your ass back into the teacher further while your father continues to fondle you.

Plush lips slouch amongst yours with ease as the alluring taste of him is so delicious that your fingers curl even tighter around his wrist. Teasingly his mouth pulls away, teeth biting into flesh and tugging gently which only further reminds you of your need for him.

“Miss me?” Hazel eyes peeling open to watch your lips part, heavy breath drawing in as his index finger curves deeper into your hole. The restraint of your lace panties peeking into your flesh has you shivering.

“Yes.” You sigh with grip loosening and head cranning towards him.

The answer to his question has Mr. Styles nails sink deeper into your skin as they rake along your waist. Such heavy motions leaving scratches to the point it sends chills throughout that you can’t help but shudder at the feel.

The split ends of his curls rub against the temple of your forehead which causes your sight to turn and look towards him who doesn’t hesitate to lean forward. His lips sinking onto yours and enveloping the sweet taste of him. His saliva sweeps through your bloodstream tasting of honey and him, and just like that you're back to moaning underneath his touch.

Your tongue accepts the way he fills your mouth and fights for dominance. So rough and demanding as he rubs his muscle against yours in pure satisfaction. The two flavors of them mixing together and injesting themselves throughout your system was heaven and you simply just want more of it.

Your fathers hand prodes away at your hole shallowly, his own breath fanning across the other side of your neck as you continue to whimper against the man french kissing you.

It’s the combination of their grips gracing your skin and lips pressing love into exposed flesh that has you pull from the exchange out of breath. Heart pounding in your ear and nails pinching into the material of your step fathers blazer.

The feelings coursing through is something you never felt before; both men giving you the attention that you love so much, that you crave so much and adore… the attention that you truly deserve. It was intoxicating and better than anything you can imagine, it’s why your eyes have a screen of submission crossing over, and why you look towards your dad with your cheeks all heated and lips bruised.

“Can I sir?” Voice coming out in a wisp of uncertainty but desire. The sound being so pleasant that it has your father smile down at you.

“Can you what?” He reiterates, fingers leaving their position to run up your folds and play with your clit.

It makes you whine, head bobbing a bit as Mr. Styles lands heavy pecks into your neck. His hands now feeling across the ends of your skirt cup your cheeks and force you forward into your dad.

“Can I have you both… please?” Lashes blinking up at him as your lip sucks itself between your teeth.

Such words falling from your mouth has your father’s signature look tug across his features, his grip leaving your legs and fitting his fingers into your mouth. He watches closely the way they enter and how you don’t hesitate to immediately suck them.

Tongue twisting around skinny fingers tasting the muted taste of yourself as doe eyes stare up at him as he continues to fit them deeper and deeper into your throat. The pads of his digits collect the saliva draping along the service, heavy grip rubbing along your taste buds making you softly moan at the feel.

His version goes dark, eyes flickering as his sight drinks you in; plush lips and wet pussy just letting his fingers slide through your heavenly mouth, it makes him groan lowly, touch drawing away and running your spit across your lips, his touch tracing your cupid’s bow as your mouth parts erotically simply loving the attention.

“Cherry… my dear… you never had a choice.”

Those words have your skin burn even brighter, flesh still flexing against his fingers as he smiles hauntingly.

So this was their plan when left alone, lead you to the third floor where no one would be and let them have their way with you. This was hot, like extremely hot, nothing that you could’ve imagined before.

“Why don’t you get on your knees.” Mr. Styles breathes into your ear, his palms feeling over your ass before landing a soft smack that has your father chuckle so sinisterly that it makes your pussy throb.

Your head nods just at the same time your father pulls his fingers away, his body stepping back slightly as his hands fall to his belt only leading you to bend your knees. One hand balancing itself behind you on your teacher's thigh as the other holds onto your father's hip.

Jingling of metal sounds throughout the space before it's being met with slacks drawing down skin. Mr. Styles shuffles closer amongst the floor while your body positions itself better in front of them as if repenting for the sins about to happen.

Big round eyes dazzle in the soft light as you watch both of them reveal their erect cocks. Your father is lengthy and skinny compared to your teacher, all thick and girthy, it has you licking your lips with sight looking between the two completely captivated.

The left hand perched along Mr. Styles thigh creeps up his pelvic bone while the one situated on your father's hip roams amongst his skin to grip his dick. Fingers encasing around his length and tugging downwards gently as you don’t hesitate to lean forward and suck the head of his cock into your mouth.

It’s salty and sweet, just the way you like him which has you moaning immediately. Lashes batting up at him as your lips sink further letting spit coating him in every inch of your mouth descending further till he reaches the back of your throat. Eyes flick up at him as the swollen head of him tickles your uvula, the fingers wrapped around him slides down with ease as you draw back up his cock.

Leaning forward your lips to pierce together to let a heavy droplet of spit paint his cock, your fingers drawing up him to curl around the extra coat of lube to drag back down.

Humming pleasantly your head turns towards your teacher as the hand on his hip carries his cock towards your mouth. Tongue stretching out to run along the underside of him as you look up, his brown curls tossed behind his face as he begins to undo the buttons of his dress shirt.

Unknown ink being exposed along his flesh that has you grinning against his warm cock, mouth drawing from the base of him and humming pleasantly at how good he looks.

“You’re so handsome.” You comment before you run your tongue across the slit of his crown.

It makes Mr. Styles hiss immediately, his hands going to either side of your face with a smirk drawing across his lips as you tear away smiling at him.

“So pretty…” Mouth parting as you finally envelope him. Velvet walls sucking him in lovingly as your hand curls around the width of him.

Spit encases the erect flesh as he fills up your mouth. His grip over your jaw forces you to swallow him down just like the first time. Nose brushing along his groin just as he tags the back of your throat.

Your eyes roll at the feel of your airway closing around him, the hand wrapped around the base of his cock curls around the underside as you trail back up his cock. Saliva strung along the head of him to your tongue swirling around his crown before you’re moaning and pulling away.

Mr. Styles hands fall from your face as your sight looks over your step father who begins removing his blazer just as your mouth wraps around his dick. Tongue circling around his girth as your fingers glide up and down his lengthy cock while twisting it in opposite directions.

That’s how your knees end up bruised in the passing moments, lips moving between the two cocks in front of your face as the men before you begin undressing and treating you like the object that you are.

Swelling crowns diving deep till they touch the back of your throat, hands carding through your hair with each exchange urging you to take them further and further till you’re pulling away begging for air.

Tears breech your waterline as your chest burns in pain, your throat strains itself with each descent of their wet cocks abusing your throat. It aches but in the most beautiful way because the sight bestowed upon you is absolutely remarkable.

Such handsome grown men using you as their toy. Sexy tattooed skin, tall firm bodies and their gorgeous spit soaked erections leaving you drunk at the sight. Touch running across flesh as their lips part, electing moans as their sight never tears away from watching every movement you make.

Twisting wrist and red tongue sending pleasure to both as they observe how eager you are at this moment compared to before. How dainty and scared to now swallow them down so needy and submissive.

“Here, come here,” Your father rushes as your lips pull away from the underside of his cock. His grip is rough as he drags you up by your shoulders, palm pushing you into the desk as the other lands a deafening smack against your ass.

“Fuck!” Raspy voice crying out as you feel his fingers roughly shove your panties down your legs. Without waiting a second his fingers are drawing down your folds collecting your juices before thrusting into your dripping hole.

A moan carries out of your sore throat, nails curling into the gloss over the oak desk, as your eyes catch on the intricate detail of the butterfly tattoo plastered along Mr. Styles abdomen.

His hands carry your chin away from the table to press his lips against yours. Soft lingering peppermint tongue gracing yours as your father drags his fingers out to thrust back in.

His touch collects the juices you expel to curl into your pussy so beautifully that you can’t help but to break away from the kiss with a moan. Sight flickering open to catch Mr. Styles' green eyes watching the way your lips fall apart to sing such a beautiful tune.

His thumb leaves your chin to swipe along your bitten flesh, rough pad of his finger tugging at the skin before he’s leaning over and peppering soft kisses against your whimpering mouth.

“Take this off.” Your father orders interrupting the affection being displayed as his free hand tugs at your blazer.

Mouths part away from each other as you raise off your elbows, hands pulling at the ends of your school uniform as Mr. Styles helps with tugging it down your shoulders. The clear buttons of your button up are next as he begins undoing them to reveal your bra clad chest.

Your hands immediately go behind your back to unclasp it, your bouncy breast displaying itself with swollen nipples that your teacher can’t help but lean down and capture them between his lips. Warm mouth sucking you in so heavenly as your father slides his fingers in so gracefully that it was impossible for you to not contain yourself from every nerve consuming you.

“Please sir, please?” You call just as your dress shirt runs down your shoulder when letting your hands run through Mr. Styles curls.

Your father’s fingers thrust back in leisurely feeling your slick nectar encase themselves around every fold of his skin as your sweet wetness adds comfort as he continues to thrust into your plush walls.

Feet shuffle amongst the floor as Mr. Malik dots kisses down the wings of your spine, his fingers continuing to curl into your pussy as his lips trail down your back. His knees flexing as his other hand grips your backside roughly pulling your cheeks apart as he lets his face descend down your lower back to lie between your cheeks.

Wet muscle slithering along your asshole just as his fingers draw away to spread your other cheek apart to run his tongue down your pussy. A harmonious moan floats from your mouth at the adventurous pleasure floating between both holes.

A warm vibration floats along your skin at your father moaning from the taste of you. Tongue trailing out from his mouth to replace where his fingers once were. Strong yet tantalizing touch dipping into your pussy to taste your juices that has your toes curl at the feel.

Such sensual touch roaming all over your body has your heart pounding in your ear. From Mr. Styles sucking your nipples into his mouth to your father continuing to spread your ass even further to let his love run though, the feeling roaming throughout is absolutely unexplainable.

Your chest falls deeper into your teacher, fingers dragging out of his hair and down his neck with another moan escaping into the air.

Every object in the room bears witness to the sinful actions taking place. How grown men have their way with a girl who played them both in the first place, how her actions lead her to be bent over the desk ready for anything in store. How this crude behavior on the premises of the school should leave everybody in the room full with such disgrace however does the exact opposite.

It has your father groan against your pussy in pure arousal as his lips curl against your sweet ones as he draws up your slit to bury his tongue into your asshole. “Yes, fuck, yes.” Bitten flesh curling into your mouth trying to restrain yourself from drawing blood from your teacher's skin.

Mr. Malik's right hand peels away for you to spread your cheeks once more. His mouth pulling away just in time to land a thick saliva teardrop running down your second hole to lead down the slit of your pussy.

His breath floats up your back, his hand smacking your heated ass cheeks once more before taking himself into his hands. Without second thought the crown of his cock runs over the mess as his lips skim across the nape of your neck leaving a trail of goosebumps.

“You like this, huh?” Voice in your ear as if a second conscious while he continues to rub himself along you. “Like being our toy to play with… to use…”

Rough grip landing another demanding strike that jerks your body closer into the grown man still feeling along your breasts; and to add the pleasure does your father finally thrust into your pussy.

Every inch of him drags down your walls slowly to let you feel every inch of him, make you remember all you've been missing out on when someone else has been on your mind. He wants it ingrained in your mind everything you forgot about when not back home and under your covers.

“Tell me baby, tell me,” Teeth biting at your ear lobe just as his hips meet your backside. The feeling of his lengthy cock pressed tightly against your sweet spot leaves you shivering once again.

Mr. Styles pulls away from your swollen nipples, his lips running up your chest to consume every whimper falling from your lips.

Just as much as he wants to admire the beauty of your face completely drunk off pleasure he can’t help but feel jealousy surge through him. The way your lashes flutter to your nose twitching, it just leaves him with thoughts of him only being the one who should be making you feel like that.

It’s why one of his hands wraps around your throat to allow your gaze to connect while the other takes your wrist off the desk and brings it towards his cock, your fingers immediately wrapping around him as a whimper floats out of your mouth when your father thrusts back in.

“Such a dirty girl.” Mr. Styles says against your parted lips. His mouth swallowing every moan crawling out as your eyes shine and let your touch drag down his cock. “Like getting fucked by your step-dad, huh?” His grip tightening around your throat as your head bobs with each stroke pleasuring every part of you.

That’s the thing you loved about your father the most, the fact he fills you up so beautifully, so lean and lengthy that it tags your cervix each time that has you a panting mess begging for more. Your dress shirt is messily running down your arm, skirt hiked up with a screen of sweat roaming over your skin as you continue to bounce to each drum of the assault fucking you into oblivion.

“Mmm I missed him…” You sigh, lashes batting as your wrist loosely jerks your teacher off. “I missed him so much.” You mumble intoxicated with the way his cock drags down your walls enticingly.

The comment only makes Mr. Styles bite down on his lip, nostril flaring and eyes burning a different hue of green. His touch tenses against your skin as the look over your face combined with your breath hitching urges himself to draw away from you and force your head towards his cock.

Your father smirks, his hand continuing to spread your cheeks to watch where you both meet every time he thrusts back into you. Creamy discharge wrapping around him to glisten in the soft light and run over every protruding vein that displays his desire towards you, and now the scene before him with you proclaiming how much you miss him right in front of the man who has your attention while at this boarding school, his paste only increases.

“That’s my good girl, that’s my cherry.” His other hand running up your spine to hold the nape of your neck and control your movements as your mouth wraps around Mr. Styles cock.

Each stride into your pussy causes your mouth to move down his dick further as your grip continues to grope down the expanse.

Plump lips sucking him down as your father pinches your sweet spot each time he draws out to plunge back in. You’re so turned on with both men having their way that your pussy emits squelching sobs every time he rocks back in.

The oak desk jerks with every pound of his hips as he fucks you into the desk. Pen, name plate, and even the chair tucked into the table shuffling with each time you're being plowed into the table. The two bodies in the room relishing in the feeling of them using you after all the mind games you put them through, it’s completely thrilling to them, especially to you.

One cock sending undeniable pleasure while the other stretches your throat. You could die right now and be happy at the feeling of them spreading you apart and using you as their toy.

“Fuck… sir…” Mouth tearing away from your teacher's cock leaving a string of saliva from his head to connect to your lips.

Knees flex forward as your right foot subconsciously lifts up towards your calf as you feel your nerves pinch and tug up your spine as your pussy continues to accept every jab. The hand perched next to your stomach tears away from the table to sink between your pelvis to try and rub your clit.

“No, no, no,” Mr. Malik coos as his free hand captures your forearm and wraps it around your back halting your movements.

“Gonna cum my way,” He grunts with grip twisting your skin while he continues barreling down your walls. “Or not at all.”

“Sir,” You plead with fingers tightening around your teacher's cock as your head continues to jerk forward.

“C’mon cherry, come on my cock.” Mr. Malik demands, his hand slipping away from your neck to collect your hair in his grasp and turn your head around.

His sight watches your eyes barely remain open as your chest inhales heavily at the physical touch racing your heart erratically. His dominating touch peels your vision back as the other restricts you from doing anything further to your body that he doesn’t want.

“Do it baby, just the way I like.” He continues to egg on as his hips now sound throughout the room only making your spine curve further into the desk.

And Mr. Styles watches everything happen; the way your eyes roll, brows itch together as your voice elects the most beautiful moan just in time as your thighs begin to shake uncontrollably. His hands by your temple run through your hair seeking to comfort as gasps begin to travel between your lips.

“Mhmm,” Your father hums in encouragement as his paste never halts but continues as he fucks your through your orgasm. “That’s my cherry.” His grip releases along your wrist to drag down your back and hold your hip.

“That’s my good girl.” He groans as your plush walls continue to tick around him in the feverish aftermath of your climax. “Right?” Hand in your hair tugging your head gently as your eyes completely glossed over in lust nod up at him.

His lips tug into a smirk before his sight cuts towards Mr. Styles, tongue peeking out of his mouth before his free hand falls from your hip and collects himself as he pulls out. The feeling of him leaving you empty only has you crying out pathetically.

The two men switch places; this time your teacher is perching one of your knees up onto the desk as the other pushes your skirt even higher up your hips. Your father steps in front of you with a glistening cock and swollen balls that have you licking your lip at the sight.

“Oh my god.” You moan as you feel Mr. Styles replace where Mr. Malik just was. His thickness expands your walls just to apply even more pressure against your cervix as he continues to spread you out when nestling himself between your folds.

Your head turns with hands balancing you along the desk, view cascading down the muscular teacher holding your sides as he presses himself tightly against your dripping lips. Mouth parting open in pure arousal as draws away to thrust back in only making you feel like he’s stretching you out more then your father.

“Daddy,” You cry, nails curling into the wood as sight never breaks away from his hips drawing back and hair framing his face with stride. “You feel so good.”

Compliment trailing out without second thought as you whimper in complete enjoyment of him fucking you right after your dad just did. His cock fills you up so heavy and delicious that you’re shivering at the feel, mouth hanging open and brows relaxing as he strokes into you heavenly.

Mr. Malik teeth clench down amongst each other at the sight before him, how you’re so enthralled with the feeling consuming you that the teacher bestows that his hand goes behind your neck, grip tightening to try and turn your attention but however, you’re not budging.

“Yeah… you like this, don’t you bunny?” Teasing voice of your teacher floating into the heated atmosphere as his eyes never tear away from your bouncing breasts and submissive face.

“Yes, daddy… you feel so good,” You gush at the same time you let your hips retreat back into his only having the head of his cock tag your g-spot each time.

“That’s right,” He grunts with one hand leaving your hips and tugging at the collar of your dress shirt to drape it off your arms and leave your upper half completely nude.

“That’s my good bunny.”

That nickname so foreign to your step-father makes his grip even tighter as he finally directs your attention to look forward. Baby hairs collecting with sweat by your forehead as your mouth continues to expel harmonious moans at the feeling conveying throughout your body.

Mr. Malik's upper lip rubs against his nose as his head shakes disappointedly, his chin tilting for a moment before his head is leaning towards your ear.

“Look at you being the whore you are.” Such disrespectful words that should turn you off doing the complete opposite as you sigh pleasantly at the comment.

“Like getting fucked by two men? Like getting passed around like the dirty slut you are, huh?” His other hand going towards his cock as you continue to moan and whimper as your body jerks into his chest from each thrust.

“Every time I’ve asked you something you’ve been ignoring me… but not him.” His teeth kissing against each other as his grip continues to tighten. “Calling him your daddy before me, you’re so fucked up cherry.”

A high pitch moan escapes as Mr. Styles' paste increases, his waist clapping into your backside as your vision continues to bob between your fathers caramel skin and the chalkboard nailed to the wall.

“All that I do for you and this is how you repay me?” Voice filled with dissatisfaction as he raises up and brings his cock towards your mouth.

“Mm- I’m sorry,” You whine, eyes looking up at him sincere as your hand leaves the desk to curl around his dazzling cock.

“No, you’re not.” Mr. Malik comments while shaking his head once more while continuing to urge your head down. “Sluts like you are never sorry.”

The crown of his dick breaks through your lips and has you taste your climax as he forces you to take all of him. His hand once holding himself cards through your hair and collects the strands into a makeshift ponytail as you swallow him down.

“Yeah, do what you’re meant to do.” He grunts as your head bobs from the thrusts behind you that control your movements from inching further and further down him.

Mr. Malik was more than furious that he had to find out you were being devious and giving yourself away to men who weren’t him. From your failed previous attempt to the one fucking you on his desk he’s pissed off. He should never have to share you nor have to confront the issue that you’ve been ignoring his every demand unless being controlled to do so. You have him fighting to restrain himself from demanding more attention out of you as you lie spread out taking another man’s dick.

And it wasn’t helping that he was pleasuring you in ways he just was. Vibrating mouth and burning skin displaying itself each time Mr. Styles thrusts back into you and how your pussy emits the sweetest noise that he wants on repeat. He wants to tear you off of him, punish you the way he wants, but right now, the feeling of your throat gasping for air from being too drunk off the sensations combing through he’ll take what he can get until you finally return home.

“Holy shit!” You groan as your mouth pulls away to allow air to fill your lungs. Swollen lips falling apart as you both find the perfect rhythm of his cock filling you up just right as your hips meet his every time.

“That’s right, take it like a good girl.” Mr. Styles encourages as his hand twists around the cloth along your hips and pulls you closer to him only making his cock delve deeper into your walls.

“Yeah, a good girl who likes to get double dipped, right?” Your father’s teasing voice including himself as he watches your tongue escape your mouth to lick the slit along his head.

“Yes, fuck, yes.” You moan with one hand leaving the desk and curling around his cock to twist it down the expanse of him. “I like it… I like it so much.” Words coming out drowsy and needy as you look over his dick glistening in your fluid as your teacher continues to bury you into the table.

“Yeah, you love it don’t you?” Mr. Styles encourages as one hand leaves his hips to land a smack against your already bruised flesh that leaves you crying outl.

“Daddy,” You moan, eyes squeezing shut as you feel tingles begin to run up the bottom of your foot. Stomach fluttering against the now sweaty service as your pussy continues to accept every tormenting thrust.

“Dirty fucking slut.” Your father breathes out as your hand curls up his shaft with a tight grip as your head begins to sway. Goosebumps spreading along your body as your limbs begin to shake at the waves rippling through.

“I can’t.. daddy… sir…” Fumbling over your words as your mouth parts and hips still against your teacher. Your hand halting its movements as your body lies across the desk with no effort to balance yourself from your orgasm racing through.

“Tell daddy you love it, tell me bunny.” Mr. Styles calls as he never slows down. Aggressive thrusts continue to bruise your cervix with each jab unable to resist the pulsing feeling over your climax wrapping around him.

“Mmm my god, I love it,” You cry, your hand leaving your fathers cock to drag against the table as your heart thumps against your chest. “I love it so much.” Blabbering into the desk as your eyes flutter and mind goes completely blank, the only thing coherent is the dick sending sensation through every bone in your body.

“Look at her,” Mr. Malik comments, his fingers drawing through your hair as you moan into the desk with spit dripping from your lips so high off dick that you’re on a whole other planet. “Cock drunk, innit.” He chuckles mischievously, having fun at breaking you down.

“Yes… I’m so… in love… I love this so much,” Moaning the words out sloppily as your nails drag down the expanse of the glossy service trying to regain consciousness.

A drumming beat swells along your pelvic bone as tears prick your eyes from the feeling encasing itself all over you. Such heavy thickness spreading you out to leave your pussy a soiled mess with puffy lips and drench folds. It’s mind numbing how immersed you are with the arousal coursing through your body, how every limp lies weak and tired as you lose control of your muscles and lie squirming along the desk.

“You’re so good… such a good girl,” Your father coos as his fingers continue to card through your hair.

Chest continues heave erratically as Mr. Styles hips begin to roll into your body, his grip controlling your hips to relax as he pastes himself. Sweaty fingertips persuading movements as the two men watch over how consumed you are by such pleasure. How your body twitches against the desk and mouth humming every few seconds trying to grasp a single comprehensive nerve.

“Letting us use like this,” Mr. Styles adds with thrust dragging slowly down your walls. “You’re the best bunny.” As his face leans down to press kisses amongst the wings of your back.

Again, annoyance flares through your father. His eyes shift away from your wrecked expression to cut his eyes towards the teacher who pays no mind to him when he dots his love along your shoulder. Fingers escape your hair to run along your neck before he’s leaning forward in your ear.

“I can make you feel better cherry,” He mutters while enveloping the sweet smell of your perfume that he’s missed so much when nestle in this spot. “Haven’t you missed me?”

“Yes sir… please?” You moan without hesitation as the feel of his thick beard rubs against your skin, so prickly yet smooth that it eases the adrenaline coursing through.

The familiar chuckle running across your cheek only reminds you just how much you’ve missed how playful and commanding he is over you. How you’ve missed his lengthy cock touching you just right as he roughs you up just the way you like, oh how you missed him tremendously.

“Switch.” Mr. Malik states as he pulls away from your face. His sight watching closely as Mr. Styles lands one last kiss along the shoulder opposite of him before he draws out of your bruised pussy.

They round the desk once again; this time Mr. Malik positions you on your back with the ends of your skirt running across your stomach and erect nipples on display. It’s the view before him that is just another reminder to your father why he’s so in love with you and the games you play. How cherry red and swollen your pussy looks, all wide and exposed with your juices glistening in the light that he can’t help himself but to lean forward and suck your lips into his mouth.

Tongue dragging up and down your stretched hole as he hums pleasantly from the mixed taste of you on his tongue. “Sir…” You moan delightfully, eyes rolling erotically as your back flexes against the damp desk.

“Always treat me so good,” You gasp just as he runs his flesh over your clit and circles it around his taste buds making you quiver against the feel.

He groans against you, one hand leaving your hip to collect your fingers along the desk and intertwine them together. Reassuring touch displaying itself in the heated room that Mr. Styles can’t help but feel envious at the pleasure he now brings you. He takes himself into his own hand and shifts along to where your head lies across the desk, his grip tapping his dick along your cheek.

Without hesitation your mouth is opening yet barely giving the needed attention as your father continues to swirl your bundles of nerves along his tongue.

“C’mon bunny, you can do better than that.” Mr. Styles comments just as another moan escapes your mouth with head falling back from Mr. Malik sucking your pussy back into his mouth.

“But daddy, it feels so good.” You moan with sight tearing away from your fathers nose rubbing against you to look towards your teacher who flares up at the comment.

He collects his dick back in his hand to tug himself off as he leans down, other hand holding your locks to lift your head to the point you get an even better view of your dad lapping his tongue all over you.

“I bet I can eat you pussy better than that.” Mr. Styles whispers so alluring that it has your heart singing at the words. “I know I make you feel better.” He continues with stubble rubbing against the temple of your forehead only making your eyes roll once again.

Both men in your ear jealous of each other having their way with you was the last thing you expected especially since they were the one who came up with this plan. Yet, both of them are possessive of your attention and telling you how much better they can make you feel compared to the other, god, you can really die happy right now.

“Daddy always knows how to treat you right, always knows what to do.” He mutters as he continues to jerk off to the whimpers falling across his neck.

“Yes, yes you do.” Moaning along to his words as you watch your father lick back up your folds sloppily to swirl your clit along his tongue once more before pulling away and positioning himself over your swollen hole.

“That’s my bunny… my good girl.” Mr. Styles encourages as he feels your breath hitch amongst his skin. “Aren’t you daddy’s good girl, c’mon, tell me.”

“I’m daddy’s —Oh, fuck!” You cry out just as Mr. Malik pushes in, his cock easily descending down your wall as finds his paste and brings himself back to reminding you of what you missed out on.

The solid feel of him thumping against your walls so stretched and ruined from these two has your mouth hanging open. Sight still watches closely as his long cock drives into your drenched pussy while you have the best view of it happening as your teacher continues to prop your head up for you to watch.

“Come on love, get it out.” Mr. Malik smirks as his hand leaves yours to collect your bouncing breast. “Tell us how much you love being a dirty little slut.” He adds with other hand gripping your knee and pushing it towards your chest as he takes lengthy rough strides into your pussy.

“Love being stretched out, huh? Having me and your teacher share you. Such a dirty dirty girl.” He continues to gas as he bruises your sweet spot with little effort in such a short amount of time.

“Oh my god,” You moan with sight blurring towards your father and hand reaching out to grab Mr. Styles’ body.

You’re completely overstimulated and frankly every single time your step dad draws his hips to thrust back in you feel as if you want to explode. His head continuously rubs along your g-spot and leaves you a soaking mess of sweat and your sweet fluid. This feeling is so foreign, from two different cocks barreling down your walls to the third climax already making itself known, you might just pass out.

“This is so hot,” You whine as nails draw down your teacher's skin as you both continue to watch his cock disappear and have you jerking up the desk as a result of the new position. “Fuck this feels so good.” As your repetto heels dangle in the air as Mr. Malik’s lean body continues to plow into your tired pussy.

“Don’t stop, please.” You encourage as your gaze begins to trail away and sight become clouded from your eyelids drifting you away into the pleasure barreling down your spine.

Your father doesn’t object or even halt his alluring motions to tease you. He continues to fuck you just the way you like; fast and hard to point he’s leaving little space between your hips as he thrust back in not only loving the way you feel wrapped around him but also the look crossing over your face.

Heated cheeks, glossy eyes, and twitching nose as your mouth expels hesitant moans as if unable to control yourself from coming undone for the third time. Looking as if on another planet from the expression crossing over as if discovering a new found wonder. Your jaw goes slack, sight becoming drowsy and spit falling from your bottom lip as the grip you have along your teacher's chest tears away as one cards through your hair and the other goes to rub your clit only increasing the pleasure coursing through.

“Jesus… fuck… I can’t—” Words being cut off as a squeal rips through your throat as a wave of arousal squirts along your fathers abdomen.

The feeling so intense it has your thighs shake against his never ending thrusts as your movements never halt from the pads of your fingers continuing to circle along your bundle of nerves. “Mmm, sir… sir… sir.” Humming his name as your hand leaves your hair and presses against his jolting hips.

Your waist retreats into the desk at the overwhelming feeling crashing over you. How the plummeting assaults of his thrust made a mess all over your father and the school floors.

Mr. Malik lets his strides relax, his touch along your breasts feeling over your side as pulls out. The empty feeling of him leaving as well as the aftermath of your orgasm has you crying softly.

“Look so pretty, baby.” He comments before he’s leaning down again and slurping the remaining juices just projected.

“Holy shit.” You sigh as your hold travels to his hair tickling amongst your inner thigh.

Your step-father is doing everything in his power to spark all your memories together and Mr. Styles finds it obvious, and sure enough it has him fuming. It already pissed him off that you had a father figure, making him seem like he’s the only one. But, it wasn’t even that. It was the fact that he plays with you the way he wants, and the way he’s been imagining and dying to do ever since he felt you wrapped around him.

He gets to spend all this time with you and have your attention whenever needed but with him he has to fight and play petty games with his own student. He’s jealous, how can he not be? He finally had you just to discover there was someone else which only makes him having to prove himself even further by having mark his territory someway, somehow.

“Switch.” Mr. Styles demands letting his grip over your hair gently place you back on the table. Mr. Malik’s eyes cut towards the teacher before his lips are sucking your folds into his mouth once more. Flesh parting with a pop as he pulls away from his turn.

“Mmm… sir,” You whimper as his handsome face comes into view, his touch drawing up your stomach as you bat your eyes at him. “I missed you so much.”

“I know baby, I know.” He coos as he takes himself into his hand and examines the way your breasts shift to how you look completely ruined.

“I missed you too… how good you are to me, I missed you so much.” He reveals which only has Mr. Styles reeling. His eyes turn away from the sight before him as he collects himself to push into your pussy.

“Fuck,” Your view turning away from your father and towards the teacher slowly stroking himself in you.

“Mhmm… look at me while I fuck you bunny.” Teacher boasting concedingly as he gently nestles his hips alongside yours before pulling away and drawing back in steadily that it has you crying out.

“This feels so good,” You moan. One hand drawing up your body to rest along your fathers chest as the other goes towards your pussy and feels where you two both meet.

“Yeah, that’s what I like to hear.” He grunts as he begins to jerk his thrust roughly into you that you’re jolting up the desk and whining pathetically.

Mr. Malik lips twist into his mouth as he looks over you enjoying yourself as the teacher has his turn. He pays attention to your erect nipples and swaying head as your nails curve into his skin and drag down the expanse, you’re loving this experience as if on a whole new high that you want to ride on forever, and your father can’t help but moan lowly at the sight at how used you look.

Messy hair, sweat collecting around your temples as you spread your legs wide to continue to let them assault your pussy any way they want. You’re so eager, ready to please and deliver this perfect pussy on a platter to these two men just by persuading words and alluring touch. God, you turn him on more than you’ll ever know, cause as much as he hates sharing you, watching your face completely blissed out and screwed was sexy.

His free hand collects yours running across his chest and guides it towards his cock. Fingers immediately wrapping around him and jerking the lengthy cock in your palm as your other hand feels each time Mr. Styles presses himself snug against your pussy before drawing out with all his girth to slot himself back in roughly and repeat those devious motions.

“Oh. My. God.” Words falling out with each aggressive thrust as he never stops stretching you out.

“You’re pussy is so wet,” Mr. Styles grunts in pleasure, absolutely loving the way you feel around him with the added feeling over your fingers lingering alongside his wet cock whenever pulling out.

“It’s fucking amazing,” He moans before his hands are wrapping around your thighs to pull further into him.

Body drags amongst the heated service as he tightens his grip to make you feel every inch of him as he dips back into your slick walls, so bruised and tired as he continues to stretch you out. It burns in the most pleasurable way possible, the difference in cocks filling you up to the point you're intoxicated off such emotions coursing through.

Thick member coated in a mixture of fluid from all three bodies adding comfort to sore walls that aid you in feeling as if being underwater. The head of his cock pounds away at your cervix until he pulls out, letting you feel every veiny pulse of him thump against your tired walls to breech yourself along your wide hole before pushing back in again.

“Daddy… I love the way you make me feel.” You whimper as your hand tightens around your father as eyes look towards your teacher who leans forward.

His mouth parts to welcome your touch sloppily pressing against his when his hips strike into your pussy beautifully. The jolting of his waist only makes your lips bump each other messingly as he drinks in every sound you make.

“Daddy.” You whine pathetically as your neck no longer finds the strength to look over him fucking you but to fall against the clammy desk and catch sight between the two men captivated by your prescence.

“Bunny.” Mr. Styles grunts as his lips descend down your neck and goes over the hickeys scratching the service.

The frayed ends of his curls bob in your vision as your father's eyes detect every twitch combing over your frame. His feeling through your hair as he steps closer to you which only encourages your mouth to lean over to suckle the crown of his cock.

“Ah fuck, cherry.” Mr. Malik groans as his head leans back in distraught at how you drive him insane so easily.

Hearing both of your nicknames pass through their lips while having their touch roam all across your skin to fill you up repeatedly that it doesn’t surprise you at your climax making itself known in just a matter of seconds. The most exhilarating feeling sparks every vein in your body with shivers in adrenaline at your fourth climax overtaking you.

Sinking pleasure builds up in your abdomen once more that only leaves you to relieving yourself by letting your fingertips rub against your clit and have another wave of arousal trickle out of your pussy. A broken whine ripping from your throat as your eyes tear up by being so enthralled due to the feeling overcoming you.

“That’s it baby,” Mr. Styles breathes against your skin as his hips never stop their riveting motions. The feeling of you pulsing around erratically has him groaning at the feel. Tiny squirms blanketing him in pure warmth and wetness that his hips stutter when drawing back.

His love pulls away from your neck to look and watch the way you wrap around him all snug. Your pussy lips rippling against each movement of him into your exhausted heat still accepting every jab into your soiled box.

“Daddy…” You whine once again as your hand pulls your fathers cock away from your mouth to collect his balls and fit them in their place. The delicate feel of your lips sucking them into your mouth has Mr. Malik scratch your scalp lovingly.

“Jesus Christ.” He moans while letting his free hand enclose around his cock and jerk himself off.

Swollen glands glistening in the glow of the room as your lips obnoxiously slurp all around him and hum pleasantly while Mr. Styles still rocks into you. It has his eyes roll at the sight; seeing your mouth stuffed and put to work as your pussy lies spread out and abused on his desk. It’s the sight alone that has his hips twitching once more, with vision blurring as his neck cranes down just about ready to fall apart.

“Holy shit.” He sighs, as his grip against your thighs begin to leave bruises in their wake at the feeling of you wrapping around him is on a whole nother level. “You’re such a good girl, such a good fuckin girl.” He grunts as he can’t help his next thrusts from being messy and uncoordinated as his toes begin to curl.

The compliment is so reassuring that subconsciously you bat your lashes up in the position you're laid in, the connection between your step father and you as you suck his balls into your mouth so greedily like you were starving only made it right for him to cum at the sight.

The grip in your hair controls your head as he pulls you away from his sack and lets his seed paint itself across your cheek to dribble into the middle of your tongue. Yet, at the same time your teacher is emptying himself into your disheveled hole as he continues to fuck himself through his orgasm as your father taps away the remaining fluid he expels along the tip of your lips.

“Mhmm… that’s my cherry.” Mr. Malik hushes before he’s pulling away from his position over you. The hand that wrapped around his cock collecting the cum along your cheek and fitting it into your mouth just like the beginning of this escapade.

“My favorite girl.” He adds, as he watches you moan around his fingers and twirl your tongue around the digit.

Mr. Styles continues to thrust himself in sluggishly, the overwhelming feeling of his cum and your own juices overflowing in your pussy that with each draw out of the tired walls does traces of your combined fluids drip and run down your swollen lips.

“God, you’re going to be the death of me.” He breathes out before his hand is released from your thigh as he takes himself in his hand. Cock sliding out of your pussy to let the mixture ooze out of your warmth in a thick cream pie that has you moaning at the feel.

“Mhmm…” You hum, with sight looking between your father dragging his wet finger amongst your bruised lips to swipe your saliva amongst the flesh to your teacher who watches your sore pussy dazzle in the light.

“That was good, wasn’t it baby?” Mr. Malik questions while letting his touch trail across your skin to bring your focus back to him.

You immediately nod your head. Tongue escaping your mouth to run across your lips and offer an exhausted smile as your fingers shake nervously amongst your overused clit.

“It was amazing.” You breathe out as you feel your teachers come begin to seep along the folds of your cheeks as your father begins to sit you up in a better position.

“I’m glad… but you do need to hurry up and dress. Your mother is probably on her way back by now.” The mention of your older peer is enough to have your burning thighs closing amongst each other as your elbow fixes your posture on the desk as you lean forward, an overpitched whine tearing through your throat at the soggy feel of liquid running down your inner thigh to the way your pussy feels so used.

“W-what’s wrong?” Mr. Styles questions while stepping forward and taking your hip in his hand as Mr. Malik gives him cut eye at the affection while he rubs your back.

“She’s fine, just worked up. Isn’t that right sweetheart?” He remarks while leaning forward and pressing his lips against your sweaty temple. Your teacher's nose wrinkles at the sight, and wanting to help you in any way possible he leans over the desk where his discarded blazer lies and pulls his handkerchief out to collect the fluid still spilling out amongst his desk.

The cool silk material has you whimper slightly from the feel, eyes fluttering for a moment as a lopsided grin tugs at the end of your lips.

“Mmm thank you so much daddy.” You remark that has your step father pull away from your feverish skin to watch Mr. Styles collect the rest of his seed before he’s walking towards the garbage bin to throw out the material. It’s only right for your father to be possessive at such words falling in front of his face; does his grip over your chin only grow tighter when he breathes into your ear.

“When you get home you’re getting more than a punishment for this.” It has your eyebrows knot together but still doesn’t stop the dreamy look crossing over your face.

“Why? I thought this was part of your plan?” Sarcasm evident in your tone that makes him pull away and roughly turn your body towards his still looking as if he’ll like to destroy you.

“You think I like having your attention elsewhere?” He questions while his free hand grabs your forgotten dress shirt and wraps it along your shoulders. “Now hurry up and dress.”

Without objection you do, and like always your father is there to help you put yourself and him back together to keep the facade alive. Collar tucked high to conceal the bite marks roaming around, skirt being unrolled to cover the red smacks daunting along your skin, while you wipe under your eyes to remove any marks of distress from your promiscuous endeavors.

Just like before when you stood between them so scared of what they have in store in your refined pressed uniform, you manage to still hold that innocent appeal after everything that just happened. Mr. Styles watches closely. The way your father fixes the buttons along your chest before running his palms over the creases in your blazer, his eyes fixing you up and making you look perfect like he’s done this a million times before, and he can’t help but feel upset that he won’t get to experience that with you.

As if feeling his gaze your head turns and connects with your teacher. Smile tugging amongst your lips as he pretends to not watch the affection taking place as he continues to zip himself back up.

You knew that the threesome happening was too good to be true, and hell, you’re surprised you even lived through it after the constant back and forth of them spreading you apart and pushing you past your limits. Sure, it was intended as a punishment, and your father did make it known that it would be way worse when home, but you can’t help but feel sad that you only have a month left with Mr. Styles and didn’t want to leave it to just this.

“Father?” You say loud enough for the two men in the room to hear. He hums acknowledging you as his hands continue to fix your uniform.

“Don’t you think I’ll need a tutor for my summer classes?”

It makes both men's eyebrows perch on top of their foreheads. The teacher sucks in a surprise breath as your father kisses his teeth in frustration at your never ending games still taking place.

“You don’t need a tutor for that, your courses will be easy.”

“But sir… please.” You pout with eyes batting up at him which he only shakes his head at. Your vision rolls concededly before your head is shifting around and looking at the teacher who remains with his eye contact still on you. “Come here.” You gesture for him to make his way over, which he does, and to that you're happy about as you lean your head on his bicep.

“Please father… wouldn’t it be fun to do this again. I love having you both share me… it feels so good.” You continue pleading while your free hand goes to drag up his suited chest and slide up the nape of his neck. “And just imagine, in the abandoned maid quarters, how fun and exciting it’ll be!”

Mr. Malik watches the way your eyes beam with excitement and how your teeth shine at the endless possibilities that could happen this summer if giving the teacher the opportunity to privately tutor you from home. He knows it’ll make you happy, knows it probably top everything he’s ever done for you in the years that you’ve been sneaking around, but he’s unsure if that’s what he wants.

He likes you all to himself, no one else having you - despite this instance - but fuck, he can’t deny how hot it was to see you spread out and so fucked and used in a spam of an hour just between the two of them. He doesn’t want to admit that it turns him on, but it does. And maybe, just maybe, there might be a perfect alliance brewing from this day forward.

Hazel sight connects with green, and as he bows his head in a silent nod of gratitude of going along to his plan his head leans away from the sight of him and back to you, still needy and ready for anything in store that he smiles recklessly at the view.

“We’ll see.” He says, which only makes you pout and tear your hand away from his skin. Arms crossing over your chest as your eyes continue to bat up at him to get what you want like you always do. “Stop doing that. Now hurry to your dorm to fix your hair, we don’t need any questions, now do we?”

“No.” You huff before you're leaning off the teacher's arm and sliding off the desk. Mr. Malik makes space to let you pass him and begin to head towards the door to continue fixing up your appearance.

But, it would be unlike you to not be the tease you are, to not get what you want whenever asked. So as your hand turns the door knob and you twist around to look at the two men who spit roasted you in this room, you smirk at them before dropping your eye into a wink.

“Thank you so much for the fun this evening, I can’t wait to see what this summer will have in store for us.”

[amaranthdahlia]

kudoichi childhood friends au (revamped!)

more under cut !!

they r not free from my childhood friends au agenda 🙏🙏

heres additional doodles :]

i drew this right after 407 where we FINALLYYYY got the ofa/afo backstory AND brand new ichinii content , so in honor of that i revamped my kdch childhood friend au (ill add the older vers at the bottom)

random info:

>their nicknames: hero-san and k-chan (might change)

>kudou only called him that due to yoichi saving him from falling off the log bridge, and the nickname stuck cus yoichi didnt have a name yet (which ik afo taking 9 years to name him is crazy but bear w me) and cus yoichi liked it sm. ... also i rlly dont have a particular reason for yoichi calling him-k chan,

>thats also how they met, after afo left to scavenge or whatever hes up to, yoichi snuck out of the abandoned home he and his brother were currently residing in and found the forest nearby, then met kudou in happenstance

>they never talked about afo other than yoichi referencing him from time to time si kudou didnt know much about him other than "my brother has alot of cool meta abilities" and afo surprisingly never found out about kudou or yoichi leaving almost daily

>they only spent 2 months together, i hc that yoichi and afo moved alot when they were younger so..

>they were eachothers first friend

>the next time they met was in the vault

.

anddd heres the older version

dont have much info since i didnt think much of it, the only significant change is thst the age difference btwn the two

[sanatomis]

content. fluff, mentions of nudity, usage of celsius (the only correct way of measuring temperature iktr).

it’s an unwritten rule in your relationship with satoru that you two must sleep skin-to-skin. it doesn’t matter if the room is -4 degrees or if it’s nearing 32. you’re bare—partly or fully—and you lay touching the other. on some days, you lay chest to chest, on others you’re spooning each other (satoru is mostly the little spoon, but on rare days he switches it up), and on others it’s merely your pinkies intertwining as you two sleep peacefully during the night.

some part of you, no matter if it’s big or small, has to be touching him. actually touching him. without the barrier of infinity, that keeps him from touching the world in its entirety. and without the barrier of clothing, that keeps him from touching you—from truly touching you. the two of you need to feel each other, to feel the other on your skin and know that they’re here and that they’re real.

to be so vulnerable together, and to have absolutely nothing separating the two of you. it’s just you, and it’s just him. and suddenly the world doesn’t seem all that bad.

. . .yeah, sleeping skin-to-skin is an absolute must.

[baronessblixen]

Fictober Day 7: The Moment That Mattered Most

Prompt: "Follow me if you want to live"

Remember that scene in "Essence" when Mulder pushes Scully toward Krycek so he can protect her? Yeah, that does not happen here. Rating: T, wc: 886.

Tagging @today-in-fic @xffictober24

"No." The single word out of Scully's mouth was quiet, but her actions were louder anyway. She stared at Mulder, whose face began to disappear between the elevator doors, but she put her arm between them, forcing them to open up again.

"What are you doing?" Mulder grumbled, pushing buttons.

"I'm not doing this, Mulder."

"We don't have time for chit-chat," Krycek barked, grabbing Scully's arm. "Follow me, if you want to live." There was no need to be so dramatic; she knew what was at stake.

Her baby.

With a hand on her protruding stomach, she glanced at Mulder. Many years ago, long before this baby, and even before their first kiss, he had said that she'd saved him. That even if he wanted to do - and he didn't want to - he didn't know if he could fight this fight without her. They hadn't quit then, and she wouldn't quit now.

"I'm not leaving without you," she said to Mulder. "I'm not having this baby without you."

"Scully," he said, half pleading.

"I can't do this alone." Months ago she had thought she'd have to all of this on her own, with only his memory as her companion. Now, she wouldn't accept it. He was there and he’d promised to be by her side. She reached out to him, needing him to understand.

"You two are insufferable." Krycek ran a hand over his face before he regarded them with narrow, determined eyes. "Okay, fuck it. Get her out of here, Mulder. I know how to handle Billy Miles. I'll do it."

"You'll help us." Scully had rejoined Mulder in the elevator.

"Congrats, you two, by the way," Krycek said with a smirk, gesturing at Scully's stomach. "Now go and make sure your kid isn't born in an elevator and snatched by a super soldier. Go!"

And this is how it went. The elevator door closed and Mulder took Scully's hand. They heard it all go down, but they were safe. Guarded by their friends – and at least one foe – they made it out of the building without a scratch, or without anyone following them. A few days later, Mulder once again took Scully’s hand while he whispered words of encouragement and love into her ear until she held their red-faced, squishy miracle in their arms.

"And that, baby William, is the story of your life so far," Mulder whispers the words – and the end of his story - against the warm, soft skin of his newborn son. Holding the feather-light baby in his arms, he glances over at Scully in her hospital bed and is overwhelmed by the love he feels.

"Here's my first piece of advice to you," he murmurs as the baby sniffles in sleep, "your mom is always right. The story just proved that, didn’t it? She has the best ideas and just between us, baby William, she’s stubborn as a mule."

"Why do you keep calling him baby William?" Mulder lifts his eyes and sees that Scully is awake, smiling at them and ignoring that he just compared her to a mule.

"Because," Mulder says, transferring the infant back into her arms, "there are so many Williams in our family already."

"We can still change his name," Scully says, tracing William's features. "We can call him Fox Jr."

"Will." Mulder crouches down and talks to his son. "I take it all back. Your mom doesn't always have the best ideas."

"So we're sticking with William?" One hand on the baby, she uses the other one to touch Mulder's hair, softly ruffling it.

"It fits him," Mulder says, observing the boy. "I like it. William Scully III."

"No. William Scully-Mulder the First." Mulder just stares at her, wondering if he should ask her to marry him. He's had the ring for a while. A long while. He wants to make it official. It's him, Scully, and William against the world. Super soldiers, monsters, and anyone who wants to cause them harm will have to go through him.

"You were right," he says.

"I already like where this is going."

"To pull me back from fighting Billy Miles. All I could think about was protecting you. I thought... I thought fighting him was the best way to do that. I was wrong."

"Your heart was in the right place," Scully assures him. "I just couldn't let them win this one. I wanted you here with me. I knew you'd protect us, no matter what."

And he didn't have to because Skinner, Krycek, and Doggett handled it all. William might have been born in the middle of nowhere, but at least it was in a hospital. No one had come here. No one had threatened them. For now, they were free.

Scully's eyelids start to droop. Having read all the books in the little time he had, he knows that Scully should sleep whenever the baby is sleeping.

"Let me take baby William," he says softly, lifting the sleeping infant from Scully's arms. “I’ll wake you when he gets hungry.”

"Thank you, Mulder," Scully mumbles, already half asleep.

"I'll keep watch," he promises Scully, kissing William's forehead. Tomorrow, they will step back into the real world. They will go home and build a life together. “Tonight, tomorrow,” he promises his son, “and every day after.”

[palskippah]

*Slaps some Los Angeles Azules on this married-divorced couple* WOOO

Hi!

I was listening to this song the other day and thought about making a stupid thing with Comic Ambrosius sitting in a plastic chair with a bottle (of alcohol) in hand with colorful lights like a party- but I drew this comic instead where nothing happens and it's just Ambrosius looking at Ballister jskdsj

I didn't give myself much time to draw it bc I got stuff to do (pipipi) but it's colorful and that's all that matters to me ajskd

Under the cut there's the first idea and other things too c:

HC that Ambrosius listens to vieja culia's (HC 2 that he's a thirty-something vieja culia too) music and drinks Gato Negro wine and cries for Ballister while regretting his life choices from fifteen years ago

BTWW I wrote down this idea aksjdsaj I hope it makes sense, also I base every single thing I make for them on the few first chapters I read of the comic on internet, so- you know🧍 each number is supposed to be a panel wiii

It's based over that moment in the Good Place where Michael's like 'what am i supposed to say-?' and then says all he has done wrong, and Chidi's like, yeah, exactly that. And so, Michael apologies for real and he confesses he's scared and waa (I think, i haven't rewatched the show in a while pipipi)

I swear that I had thought of something deeper but then I forgot to write it down at the moment and had to improvise now ajsdkadj Curse my terrible memory.

Anyways, maybe Ballister's getting the apology he wanted but he hates Ambrosius so much and has so much resentment that his apology just makes him angrier- in a Yeah, you should hate yourself, I'm glad you do way, but he still feels like weird bc the guy's apologizing, and he has fondness for Ambrosius despite everything, so he's like 🧍

(HC that he is very resentful and is very hurt/upset that it took Ambrosius so long to dignify himself to apologize?)

I love them so much your honor

By the way, I didn't know Comic Ambrosius was a tad bit shorter and I love that fact 10/10

[imnotyetfound]

Five x Lila edit | Birds of a Feather

🎥 Full video

[p1x1x]

[resident-gay-bitch]

"that's not how you do it." steve said, his tone a little bitchy as he looked at the curly haired boy sitting on the floor in the doctors waiting room across from him.

"what do you mean that's not how you do it?" the boy said with a shriek, holding the ken and gi joe dolls in his hands out aggressively, "they're dolls! they have no rules, idiot."

"don't call me that, i'm not an idiot. i'll tell my mum on you." steve poked his tongue out.

"dibber dobber." the boy poked his tongue right back out, "plus, i don't think you know much about playing with toys because you're stacking jenga wrong."

"i'm building a house with it." steve said simply, stacking another block onto it.

"it's a shit house." the boy said, going back to his dolls.

steve gasped, "you can't say that!"

"my dad says it all the time." he shrugged, "you know, if you can build a really bad jenga house, then i think i can play with the dolls however i want."

"no." steve said, "plus, it's not a bad house!"

"it has no structural inter-egg-raty."

steve scrunched up his nose, "i don't think that's how you say that word."

"i don't care." the boy said, swinging his ken doll out to knock over steves house.

"hey!" steve gasped, and then covered his mouth to cough, "that was so mean."

"just wanted to prove my point." the boy said, "plus, if you think i'm playing dolls so wrong, then you should teach me how to do them right."

steve rolled his eyes and huffed, "fine." he crawled over to the curly haired boy, who was grinning very widely.

"so, are you joe or ken?" the boy said, holding up the dolls.

"neither." steve scoffed, "if you want to make your dolls kiss, it has to be a boy and a girl."

"nuh ahhhh." the boy shook his head out.

"yes." steve huffed, and grabbed a mangled barbie doll out of the toy box to play with, "look... barbie and ken go together. ken and gi joe aren't even close!"

"they're secret boyfriends." the boy shrugged.

"two boys can't kiss." steve glared at him, like he was dumb, and he was.

"yes they can." the boy shrugged.

"no." steve shook his head, "my dad says it's super bad and evil and will make you really sick... is that why you're here?"

the boy laughed brightly, "oh my goodness..." he wiped a tear from his eye, "are you joking me?"

steve shook his head, "no. of course not, stupid."

the boy calmed his laugh a little and smiled, "boys totally can kiss! it isn't bad or evil and it won't make you sick, i promise!" he held out the ken doll to steve, "i haven't kissed anyone... i'm only nine, you know? and i'm here because my mum is sick. why are you here?"

"i haven't kissed anyone either. i'm eight! and... i have a cough." steve shrugged, and then coughed, "mum said it has to go away before my dads work function tomorrow night, because i have to meet his work friends."

"boring." the boy blew a raspberry.

"i really don't think boys can kiss."

"boy's can kiss, just... stupid people just think its bad for some dumb reason."

"hmm." steve shrugged and held the ken doll up, "it looks stupid."

"all kissing looks stupid." the silly boy said, deadpan, "just... i think adults like it because it... is like a super hug or something."

"oh." steve shrugged, "a super hug?"

"yeah..." he said, "it's like... you kiss your family on the cheeks because it's super hugs because you love them."

"right." steve nodded.

"and then... when you think someone is pretty, you kiss them on the mouth because... they're pretty."

"so, why would ken want to kiss gi joe?" steve asked, fiddling with the dolls, "i get why joe wants to kiss ken... but..."

"don't be fooled by his buzzcut." the boy grinned and pulled up the doll's shirt to reveal plastic abs, "i think ken likes muscly men."

"okay." steve shrugged and held up his doll to play, "so... how do we make boys kiss?"

"the same as we make girls kiss." the boy shrugged and cleared his throat, putting on a manly voice as he pretended to be the doll, "oh, hello ken... you look very pretty today. blue is really your colour!"

steve shrugged and put on a ken voice, "thanks gi joe. you look super muscly! can i kiss you?"

"of course, handsome!" the boy giggled and moved his doll in to kiss steves, they made them make out for a while, with lots of kissing noises, "oh, this is the best kiss i've ever had!"

"can two boys be in love too?" steve asked, and the boy nodded with a bright smile, then steve turned the voice on again, "i think i love you joe!"

"oh my goodness!" the boy grinned, "i think i love you too! you are the prettiest boy i've ever seen."

steve giggled and made his doll kiss attack the boys, and then they were both giggling and smushing their dolls together.

once the laughter died down, they just kind of looked at each other for a moment, and steve decided to speak first, "i didn't know boys could kiss."

the boy shrugged, "don't tell your dad about it. he'll probably get mad... it can be our secret."

"okay." steve smiled, a slight blush in his cheeks, "i'm steve, by the way."

"oh... i'm eddie." eddie smiled brightly and held out his hand for steve to shake.

"you have really crazy hair, eddie." steve said.

"i know." he said with a frown, "dad says i have to cut it."

"don't... it's so cool!" steve promised.

eddie seemed to blush at that, "thanks..." he shrugged, "i think you're the prettiest boy i've ever seen, you know?"

steve blushed a lot at that, "do you think?"

eddie nodded, "yeah."

"oh." steve swallowed, he thought this boy was very pretty too, and even though he knocked over steves jenga house, he really liked him, "would you like to kiss me?"

eddie blushed even brighter, "i think so..."

steve swallowed, "i have a cough."

eddie frowned, "i don't mind... if you would like to."

steve smiled, because he would like to, "are you sure?"

eddie nodded.

"okay." steve shuffled a little closer to eddie on his knees, and the curly haired boy turned completely red, "i don't know how to kiss someone."

"me either." eddie said, "i think we just... put our mouths together."

"that sounds right." steve shrugged and started to move forward.

"steven!" his mothers voice rang from the waiting room, "steven, where are you? the doctor is ready to see you."

steve looked around the toy corner to see his mother walking into the doorway, and steve huffed, "i have to go."

"oh... okay." eddie swallowed.

steve smiled, "can i play with you at school?"

eddie frowned, "i don't go to school here. me and mum are just visiting my uncle."

"oh." steve sighed, "will you ever be back?"

"probably." eddie shrugged.

steve smiled, "okay."

"come on, steven. you don't want to keep him waiting." his mother tapped her foot.

"coming." steve said, looking back at her with a smile.

she turned and grabbed her things.

"well..." steve shrugged, "if i see you ever again, then i owe you your first kiss."

"okay." eddie squeaked, still red as a tomato as steve hopped up and ran for his mother, "bye, steve!"

"bye, eddie!" steve shouted, "hope to see you soon!"

★ ☆ ★

Part 2 hereee

[gigglesandfreckles-hp]

jilytober day 23!

“So, is this the plan then? Stay up there all day, criticising me?” “Maybe,” she says lightly, though her voice wavers. His grin softens as he takes a step closer. “Evans.” She hums in response, but he sees the tension in her posture—the way her knuckles are still stark white around the broomstick. “Evans,” he repeats, slower this time. “Is something stopping you from landing?”

@jilytoberfest

[hopelessfandomfreak]

agathario have me writing again and I’m very happy about it

[blorbocedes]

square shaped smile, heart shaped mouth

T, 2k, girl!sico, prom, boarding school au

nico assesses all the suitable prospects for her date to prom: jenson, lewis, mark. seb shows her sometimes the best man for the job is a girl.

[writingsfromhome]

Golf on TV

Ask: fluffy piece based on Lennon Stella’s Golf on TV (sorry I deleted the original ask but this song is so fluff so ty!)

—————————

I wake up to the bed made, for a second I don’t know where I am. My sleep-addled brain tries to catch up to the present moment. The present morning.

I was in bed, in my new home. It was Saturday morning.

Last night had been a late one. I was the co-lead in an intense case at work and the plaintiff’s team had been smoking our ass in court. Last night we’d gotten boxes of newly admitted evidence and every single person stayed well into the AM to sort it out. The other side liked to play dirty and this is how they did it. Little did they know we’d found our smoking gun. Never underestimate Stewart, Stone, and Nowak.

But I’d gotten home and passed out on the couch. Well, I’d gotten home to Harry passed out on the couch with the TV on. He must have tried staying up for me even though I had told him to go home. But he stayed.

I remember the tension leaving my body just seeing him snuggled on the couch, his face a kaleidoscope of colours reflecting off from the TV. I’d met Harry less than a year ago, a meet cute moment where both of us had gone for the same taxi. He’d waved me in like a gentleman and I’d invited him to share it. Turns out we were only going a few blocks from each other.

He was from London, in San Francisco for work. The taxi ride had been 27 minutes in total but in that time it felt like we’d known each other for 27 years.

As soon as I saw him on the couch, I’d dropped my jacket there, and gotten in beside him. He’d barely stirred, and I passed out pretty quickly thereafter.

I sit up and the sham that was draped over me falls over the side of the bed. I check my watch, still on my wrist. It was past 7. A solid 4.5 hours—that was a restful night for me ever since I took this case on.

Harry must have carried me to bed, I realize. And I’d been dead to the world while he did.

I never expected to see him again after that taxi ride. Until a few weeks later, he was waiting for me in the courthouse lobby. He’d looked me up, saw I had a case that morning, and waited. It was his last week in San Francisco and he wanted to take me on a date. He hadn’t stopped thinking about me, he’d said. I hadn’t either.

I’d dated plenty before him, had several boyfriends, even a situationship. Harry was the first guy I ever felt relaxed around. From that first date he made sure I felt cared for, that I was happy—he was unafraid to put me first. Even when he had to go back to London and we were long distance for three and a half months, we were always talking.

I’d felt unwanted before. Those were the days I chased after boys that only liked me for doing the chasing. Never did they actually want me. Because when they got me, they’d leave and keep me chasing them forever. Harry had never once been shy about the fact that he wanted me. That he chose me over everything.

We were always running towards each other. Never after each other.

I blink away the sleepiness and notice Harry had put me in a tshirt. It was the little things.

That’s when I hear the voices coming from downstairs. Harry…and my mom.

It was time to get up.

“Good morning princess,” my mom spots me first. I looked bad this morning—even though Harry had attempted to take my makeup off whenever he’d taken me to bed, and replaced my slacks for shorts, I still had craters for eye bags and a tangled bedhead, and dehydrated and inflamed skin from sleeping with makeup. But mom never stopped calling me princess.

“Harry and I were just making pancakes,” she points to the griddle behind her. God, mom loved Harry. It was weird because she’d only ever met 2 of my boyfriends since I started dating as a teen. She hated both of them and was never shy about it. All the others she’d heard about over the phone or a late night snack at her house back when she lived close to where I worked. She hated them all equally. “We’re worried you’re not eating enough.”

I catch eyes with Harry, it was a constant argument with us. But it was hard to eat with a regular appetite when I was so close to the end of big cases. He knew that. He used my mom as a shield to push his own agenda, they worked as a team like that.

But it never made me mad. It was more caring than any ex had ever been.

“Pancakes are your favourite,” Harry says while towel-drying his hands. He’d been ‘washing up’, as he would say with his accent.

“They are,” I say as he walks around the island to me and kisses my cheek. He was always weirdly chaste around my mom, nothing like his behaviour late nights in bed.

Mom grins at me from behind him. She was obsessed.

So was I though.

“Let’s eat!” Mom says. “C’mon, we gotta eat before they get cold. Y/N grab the fruit behind you.”

“Sure mom,” I grab the bowl she prepared. Harry watches mom leave the kitchen with the pancakes and syrup. As soon as she’s out of sight he tugs me right against him.

“Y’know you don’t have to wait for her to leave to be my boyfriend?”

“Is that what I am?” He nuzzles my neck. “I thought I was just your boy-toy.”

“Nah,” I let him kiss me even though we’re both smiling. “My boy-toy’s like, 5 years younger than you are.”

“Yeah well, he’s not the one trying to take your makeup off at 5am while you talk about invoices and flash drives.”

“Oops,” I must have been talking about our smoking gun in my sleep. I couldn’t even rest unconscious. “Thank you for that. You could have left me on the couch.”

“Maybe if I was your boy-toy. But I’m your strong English boyfriend, I take you to bed.”

“And you do it so well,” I pat his arm condescendingly, stealing one more kiss before skirting away. I leave him chuckling in the kitchen and gathering the coffee for breakfast.

Before Harry, I didn’t realize love could be so selfless. That it didn’t have to hurt all the time. That one person could be enough.

“Y/N?” Mom asks. “What do you think?”

“Huh?” I’d gotten lost in thought and I see Harry smirk. I guess I was just staring at him.

“For your dad’s birthday coming up?!” She sighs. “I’ve been talking about his dinner—Harry said he has to go back to London the week before. I thought we could do a birthday dinner early so Harry can be there. You know your dad would like that.”

He would. My dad was just as keen on Harry, telling me that he was good for me—the way a man should be. Those were his exact words.

I remember I’d been confused at first when Harry and I started long-distance dating. He was more stable and consistent than relationships I’d had where we lived inches apart. Being long-distance, I’d only missed him physically when we were apart, he was still there for me in every other way.

When he officially transferred to his San Francisco office 5 months ago, he had surprised me. I remember opening my door to him standing there with flowers and macarons��my favourite dessert. I’d nearly smashed them all when I screamed and threw myself onto him.

After that moment I knew I was done with romanticizing dysfunction and compromising. His love was healthy and pure, and it was for me.

I tried my best to give that to him in return. Lately I’d been a bad girlfriend working long hours and barely seeing him. But I’d make it up to him. He didn’t know this but I’d booked the same flight to London with him, that’s why mom was trying to move dad’s birthday dinner up. So I’d be there too.

“Sounds great,” I say. “That way we can all make it.”

“Perfect I’ll make us a reservation.” Mom picks up her phone and begins typing on it with one finger, one key at a time. She tsks, “Oh why is it doing this now.”

“Here Mrs. Y/l/n,” Harry holds his hand out. “What are you trying to do.”

“This new update has been driving me crazy,” she hand her phone to Harry. He glances at me and we bite back a smile. Mom was notorious for being Bad at Technology. But Harry was always patient and tried teaching her.

“The search bar’s on the bottom now,” Harry shows her. “That’s where you type it in.”

“It was fine at the top why do they always have to move it around, gah I’ll just do this on a computer.”

“Yeah no rush mom,” I say.

“Well I’ll clear the table now. I need to get going soon I have a squash game at half eight.”

“Yeah I need be in by then.” Court opened at 9:30 today and I had to be there a half hour early to submit what we had.

“You two stay here,” mom begins piling plates. She’s surprisingly strong when she snatches the mug Harry’s trying to take away himself. “Let me clean up. Then I’ll be out of your hair.”

“Thanks for the breakfast mom!” I shout as she heads away. Harry echoes a thank you.

“Don’t thank me,” I hear her mumble as she walks away.

Me and Harry are left grinning at each other. He holds his hand out on the table and I clasp his.

“Your mum’s sweet.”

“My mum,” I tease him. I keep his hand held as I go around the table to his seat. He tugs me down onto his lap. “Did you actually call your mom mummy as a kid?”

“Did you call your mum mommy?” Harry asks in a decent American accent.

“Maybe,” I smile.

“Maybe.” He replies.

“I’ll just ask your mum when I meet her someday.”

“She really does want to meet you.” He says seriously. “She thinks I’m deliberately keeping you away.”

“Maybe you are, so she can’t answer all the burning questions I have about you.”

“I can just imagine you and her teaming up against me. My sister will join in too.”

I’d met his sister a few months back when she visited. We hit it on immediately just like Harry and I had. It was a bit of a relief.

“I can’t wait to swap stories over breakfast with your mom.”

“Oh you’d love her breakfast,” Harry smiles fondly. I feel a twinge then, sometimes I wondered if he ever got homesick. Especially when he talked about memories from home. “She does the best English breakfast. You’d have to try black pudding though.”

I crinkle my nose, “Isn’t that the one with the blood?”

“Mmmm it sure is,” he grips my hips and a shiver shoots up my spine.

“Gross! Why would anyone eat that? Or your-what’s that other pudding thing? The one you tried making last winter that’s all puffy-“

“Yorkshire.” He smiles.

“You literally poured hot oil on your mixture. It’s clogging my pores just thinking about it.”

“That’s it. You’re coming to London before the year is over and you’re going to be begging for more when you have a proper roast. What I made at home was a pathetic attempt.”

“Mmm I don’t get it.” I wrap my arms around his neck. “I just don’t get English food. It’s like people who wear crocs, or golf on TV, I don’t get it.”

“You just descibed,” Harry tucks my hair behind my ear, “the perfect date. We’re sorted for the weekend.”

I laugh. “You’re ridiculous.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

“But I love you.” I kiss him. He pulls me back to him when I part.

“I love you.”

“I really do need a shower before I head in though,” I remind him.

“Maybe I’ll join you,” he says low enough so my mom can’t hear.

“If you’re brave enough with mom still here.” I tease.

“Okay hon,” she pops out of nowhere. “I’m heading out. Good luck with court today.”

“Thanks mom.” I get up and give her a big squeeze. “I appreciate you dropping by.”

“Of course. And I’ll drop dinner by tonight I saw the state of your fridge, you should clean that thing out y/n.”

“Yess mom,” I roll my eyes. Harry snickers behind me. Mom should see his fridge, it was half beer cans and takeout containers.

While mom tells Harry about the dinner she would drop by for us I get a headstart on my shower. It was already quarter to 8 and I couldn’t waste any more time.

Harry joins me shortly after, he lowers my hands when he gets in and washes my hair slowly with care. I nearly pass out in the shower with how good his fingers feel on my scalp.

“Thank you,” I turn to him after I wash it out.

“Don’t mention it love,” he kisses my temple.

“Harry,” I suddenly feel choked up. I think his scalp massage had unblocked some chakra stuff because I’m suddenly overwhelmed with feeling.

“What?” He tilts my face up.

“I’m just…I’m the luckiest girl in the world.”

“Nonsense.” He swipes my tear away even though the stream of water makes it all the same.

“No I…I never thought I’d meet someone like you. I used to think love was hurting. It doesn’t make sense anymore-“

“Like golf on TV.”

“Yeah,” I laugh and it breaks up the knot in my throat. “Yeah like golf on TV. Now being in love feels like soccer-“

“Football.”

“Soccer,” I correct him. He grins. “It makes sense to me.”

“If you didn’t have work in 30 minutes,” Harry pulls me into him and crushes me against him. It feels good, like being held together. “You’d be face down in bed in the next 10 seconds.”

“Where’s this Harry when my mom’s around.” I tease.

“This Harry’s just for you.” He says just as he turns the shower off. I draw away as he grabs us some towels and I watch him with an unbreakable joy; if it was physical it could illuminate this tiled shower and bounce around the whole room.

He was the reason I got through all these gruelling hours for court. Because I knew I had someone waiting for me, that I could steal an hour away with, and it would leave me refuelled enough for another 24 hour work-day.

“Why are you smiling at me like that,” Harry asks as he hands me the towel. I shake my head and wrap it around me. He watches as I blow dry my hair, kissing my shoulder when I’m done.

“I’ll leave when you leave. Should I drop you off to the office?”

“Please?” I ask. “That’d give me an extra 5 minutes.”

His face lights up.

“No,” I say as he picks me up and throws me over his shoulder. “No Harry I have to be early!”

“I only need 2,” he says as he launches me onto the bed. “Maybe 3.”

I pretend to be annoyed but I inch up in bed as he makes his way over and I can’t think of a better way to spend the extra 5 minutes. Or 10. Oops.

If the old me ever met the new me, she’d probably try to stop me. She didn’t know what love could look like. That it could be a gentle smile, a drive in to work, making sure you’re eating, helping your mom out with her phone, or washing your hair for you in the shower.

I’d tell her—the old me, that it was as simple as this: I wanted him, only him. And he wanted me too.

[firstelevens]

sambucky + “clue”, perhaps?

further adventures in the mr. and mr. smith au. i know i said there wasn't more. i lied. content warning for a mention of canon-typical medical experiments relating to an infant

None of the movies ever talk about the boring part of spywork. For every infiltration mission and black tie gala, Sam has learned, there's days of poring over data, digging through transcripts and ancient records and trying to find the one little clue that makes the whole search worthwhile.

With all five of them digging through files and case notes, it still takes until late afternoon for one of them to find an answer, buried in a twenty-three page report of the results from a six-month checkup. Sam really only clocks it because he was there for Cass's six-month checkup, driving Sarah into town on a rare visit home. There are all the usual details in the report, but there's also a section labeled 'reflexes' that far outstrips any checkup that Sam has ever heard of.

A little decoding by Nat and Bucky reveals that they were testing the extents of Jack's sensory perception, along with his speed and reaction times. There's a section at the bottom of the page that makes Bucky's jaw go tight when he sees it, and no one stops him when he tells them that he's going to go check on Jack. It's only when Bucky puts the report down that Sam sees a section under the reflex tests labeled 'healing factor.' There are no results in the section, just a reminder to test at a later date, but Sam still feels like he's going to be sick.

Bucky still isn't back downstairs by the time Steve and Nat and Yelena leave for the evening. Sam doesn't know Yelena particularly well, but she hangs back for a moment as the others leave and points to a floral arrangement on the coffee table.

"They had this at the florist by your apartment," she says. "Someone ordered and did not pick it up. I thought maybe I should bring a housewarming present, so..."

"It's beautiful," says Sam, and means it. It has peonies and gardenias, white and pink like the ones that grew in his mother's garden his whole childhood.

"I thought you would like it," Yelena says. Then, after a moment, casting her gaze up to where Bucky disappeared an hour ago: "I don't think he should be alone."

"I know," Sam says. "But I don't know how good he is at letting himself not be alone."

"Probably as good as you are," says Yelena, turning for the door. "What is the proper thing to say here? Thank you for not kicking me out even though I'm your husband's partner and he lied to you for so long?"

"That'll do," he says, around the hysterical urge to laugh. "Thanks for helping, Yelena. And for the flowers."

She nods at him before slipping out the door, and in spite of the rain outside, the house is much too quiet in her absence.

Sam should tidy up, probably, or at least figure out what to do for dinner, but instead his feet carry him up the stairs and towards his bedroom, where he hears the quiet sound of Bucky's voice, and below it the whimpering cry of a baby.

"I know, buddy," Bucky is saying, his voice gentle. "I know it's loud and rumbly. It hurts in your teeth, right? Or your tooth, I guess."

There's a quiet little sob, and a flurry of murmured nonsense from Bucky.

"I know," he says again. "It came out of nowhere, huh? I'm sorry. I know it's bad, but you're safe here, okay? You're safe with us, I promise."

Sam's whole entire heart is lodged in his throat as he peers around the doorframe to see...an empty room? He looks over his shoulder confusedly, like maybe Bucky and Jack will materialize in the darkened room across the hall, but then he hears another hiccuping sob from his own bedroom.

He steps in, looking left and right before he realizes the door to the walk-in closet is ajar, the light turned on. He rounds the door and finds Bucky, sitting on the floor in a nest of blankets with Jack settled against his chest.

"The thunder woke him up," Bucky says, something defensive in his posture as soon as Sam appears. "It was worse by the windows, so I thought..."

"No, it was a good call," says Sam. "Is it easier for h- for both of you in here? Quieter?"

"A little, yeah," says Bucky. "I have practice filtering things out, but it'll still be new for him. Too much stimuli is bad for anyone."

Sam glances up at the bright fluorescent light in the closet. "I'll be right back," he says, and ducks out again.

He finds what he's looking for in the nursery and plugs it in just out of Bucky's line of sight, reaching up to flick off the light switch as he does and filling the space with soft, orange-y light from the small nightlight that Sam had put in the other room.

Jack makes a quiet noise that could be anything, but Bucky's quiet sigh of relief is audible. "Thank you," he says, his voice soft.

"Wait, is this why you hate the recessed lighting in the apartment so much?" asks Sam, before he realizes what he's saying. "I mean--"

"Kind of, yeah," says Bucky. "The lamps are better."

They're both quiet for a moment, thinking of the home that they share and the stupid, precious debates that have colored the last four years of their lives. From his spot on Bucky's chest, Jack makes a soft noise.

"I'm looking for new apartments," Bucky tells Sam, when he finally speaks again. "You can leave my name on the lease as long as you need, but I just figured I should- I figured it made sense, is all."

"You don't have to leave," Sam says, instead of please don't go. "That's not- I wasn't even thinking about that. You don't have to."

"Yeah," says Bucky, sounding tired all of a sudden. "I do."

Sam wants to protest, wants to tell Bucky that he has to stay, actually, because how will they find their way out of this if Bucky just up and leaves? But then he thinks about the file, about how part of HYDRA's attempts to break Bucky involved lying to him every day, about every detail they could think of, just to leave him unmoored. He thinks about the four years where he was so desperate to keep Bucky safe from what he did at work that he lied to his husband day in and day out.

"If that's what you want," he says. "Who am I to stop you?"

Bucky doesn't acknowledge his words with more than a nod. "The storm's getting closer," he says instead. "We'll probably have to close that door, so if you want to step out..."

But something stubborn kicks up in Sam's chest, quiet and determined. He turns to the door, but closes it instead of stepping through, then crosses over to the stretch of wall where Bucky sits with Jack and squeezes in beside him. It's not the most comfortable position. He has to brace his arm on his knee, because he's wedged between Bucky's solid frame and a wall, and Bucky has always run hot, so Sam is immediately over-warm in the pullover that had seemed so sensible an hour ago.

There's an exasperated sigh from Bucky, but Sam refuses to acknowledge it, turning his attention instead to Jack, who's turned his head to face Sam, his brown eyes wide and attentive.

Sam holds out a finger, sweeps it gently over Jack's chubby cheek.

"You're okay, baby," he murmurs, as Jack reaches out and grips his sleeve in a tiny fist. He hears a soft exhale, watches Jack move with the rise and fall of Bucky's chest. "You're safe here, I promise."

Beside him, Bucky lets out another shuddering breath. Sam keeps his eyes on Jack.

"I'm sorry no one was there before," he says, bowing his head to kiss Jack's hand. "But you're not alone anymore, and now you're safe."

Jack coos again, blinking sleepily at Sam. If there's a spot or two where a tear has fallen, just above where Jack's head rests on Bucky's shirt, Sam pretends he doesn't see it.