#And wonders to this day what kind of immortal they could have become

[jessicanjpa]

I wonder how many patients Carlisle has lost knowing he could have saved them, if only nobody had been watching. I wonder how many times he's spoken to grieving families and lied through his teeth when he said he'd "done everything he could."

... and I wonder how each of those losses has burned him.

[qdbs-writes]

How do you think the Cullens would act around a disinterested crush? Maybe they're fated but reader isn't having it lol

(I love your twilight writing btw thank God someone is still doing it 🤤🤤)

ah it has been many moons since I've gotten a twilight request yay!

Cullen Clan Reacting To Their Crush Being Disinterested In Them

Carlisle Cullen

Being alive for just over 400 years tends to give one a good perspective on life and the bigger picture, and Carlisle sure has a pretty good idea of how all things pan out. So you're not interested in him? That's fine, Carlisle can wait for as long as you need to change your mind.

In the meantime, Carlisle will continue to maintain your friendship and continue to show just how hard he's worked to become the kind caring father figure he is. He knows you'll fall for him, eventually.

Esme Cullen

Obviously, she's not going to stop caring about you just because you don't return her feelings. But she might switch up how she shows her affection.

Rather than flirty winks and suspiciously candle-lit wine tastings, she'll back up to more traditionally motherly affections. Making sure you're eating right, baking cookies, etc. And of course, giving you homemade soup when you're sick is still one of her favourite things to do, no need to stop now.

Edward Cullen

Of course, you're not interested, how could anyone love a monster like him? Who did he think he was, thinking he was worthy of your love? Or so his inner monologue goes.

But it's really not that dramatic, it almost never is, Edward just sprung his crush on you suddenly and it caught you off guard. It was largely the excessively long preamble about how he was an irredeemable murderer that put you off first, but of course, he won't realise that until considerably later.

Rosalie Hale

She's a little relieved actually. All her mortal and immortal life, Rosalie has been aggressively pursued by people she wasn't particularly interested in, so the fact that she can crush on someone who isn't really that interested is a wonderful change of pace.

For the first time ever, Rosalie has butterflies in her stomach, she fumbles with her words when she speaks to you, and she feels like a silly, mortal teenage girl again, begging her mother to let her go to the dance just so she can sneak away to catch a glimpse of someone just like you.

Emmett Cullen

You and Emmett had been good friends for a while so when he casually drops a blissful "We should get married" into the conversation, you initially choke on your drink in laughter.

Emmett's a little heartbroken that you'd laugh at something like that, considering that he was being 100% serious. But since you've known him, the both of you have been constantly cracking up jokes, trying to get on each other's nerves, so no wonder you thought this was another one of his pranks. He decides to take this reaction as a blessing, you have no idea he's actually into you, now he knows he has to work out a different way to confess his feelings for you.

Alice Cullen

She's a little confused obviously, having multiple visions of the two of you in a romantic relationship kind of gave her the impression that it might've been going to come true, but your disinterest says something else altogether.

But the worst part is that those damn visions of you and her together keep coming back, taunting her, luring her in deeper to despair with the thoughts of what might be. It's all getting so intense, so she decides to skip town for a bit, see if that changes anything, or at least helps her clear her head.

Jasper Hale

Oh well, so you're not interested in a romantic relationship, so what? Doesn't mean you can't still be friends. Doesn't mean he can't be the charming Southern gentleman he is. Doesn't mean he can't still pull out chairs or open doors for you. Or send anonymous bouquets to your house. Or leave your favourite snacks in your locker when you're having a rough day. Of course not.

It doesn't mean he can't worry about other people who might want to date you. Doesn't mean he can't scare off people who'd be bad for you. I mean, what else are friends for?

[mononijikayu]

city of loving angels — gojo satoru.

angel! satoru who was assigned to be your guardian angel.

angel! satoru who thinks about how it's his duty to keep you safe from all unseen harm.

angel! satoru who doesn't understand human emotions or senses and yet still finds it interesting

angel! satoru who watches you, a doctor, lament to yourself in silence at your failure to save your patient.

angel! satoru who becomes transfixed in your daily life, trying to understand everything your expressing and saying. every feature of emotion, of relief— what your smile and tears mean.

angel! satoru who thinks about how many times he's asked human beings what their favorite thing in life is and yet none of them satisfied him more than just watching you express things he couldn't understand.

angel! satoru who finally reveals himself to you and found how you were kind to him the moment you saw him.

angel! satoru who thinks there's something about you, with how warm your hands are and how genuine your smiles are.

angel! satoru who thinks that every bit of his long, immortal life has become consumed by wanting to spend it looking at you.

angel! satoru who thinks that if there is anything worth doing, it would be protecting you from the uncertainty of life.

angel! satoru who meets masamichi yaga, his old mentor in heaven who was your patient in the hospital.

angel! satoru who is surprised but he thinks that its been a long time since his old mentor had fallen from heaven.

angel! satoru who is surprised that his old mentor didnt fall from grace but chose to leave and live a human life.

angel! satoru who asked what sort of life would that look like, thinking about you. his old mentor smiled and said, that human life is everything.

angel! satoru who returns to heaven and says that he can no longer serve the father when all he can think about the paradise of serving you.

angel! satoru who is no longer quite an angel, returns to the human world and starts to be overwhelmed by feelings.

angel! satoru who is no longer ignorant of what it means to be consumed by love, by humanity, by you.

angel! satoru who comes to you at the hospital and brings a bouquet of flowers as a gift.

angel! satoru who notices how lovely that scarlet blush was against your soft, supple skin.

angel! satoru who asks you if you'd like to have dinner with him that night.

angel! satoru who feels his heart beat wildly for the first time when he heard you say yes.

angel! satoru who lives his life devoted to you and taking care of you in all the ways he knows how.

angel! satoru who thinks that there is no regrets when it comes to leaving, because he is finally living, as he should, with you.

angel! satoru who thinks that he would love to just do laundry and taxes with you for the rest of your mortal lives.

angel! satoru who thinks about how he would like to go on and marry you one day.

angel! satoru who realizes that there are things he could not protect you from.

angel! satoru who finds out from you that you were diagnosed with terminal illness and that there is no cure.

angel! satoru who is devastated at the thought of losing you when he had just gotten to be with you.

angel! satoru who is comforted by your loving arms as he cried over and over about how he can't save you.

angel! satoru who starts to think that he should have stayed an angel, so he could have guided you back to health.

angel! satoru who thinks he should have loved you from afar so that you didn't have to be ill.

angel! satoru who stops thinking that when you tell him that his love being yours is what gave your life meaning.

angel! satoru who can't help but be overwhelmed with love for you when you tell him that no matter what, he was the best of life itself.

angel! satoru who devotes his entire self, his love, his soul, what remains of your life.

angel! satoru who lets himself put away the grief and pain to try and make you smile everyday.

angel! satoru who wonders how he could ever let you go knowing that he loved you too much.

angel! satoru who could sense everything knowing that today was that day.

angel! satoru who stays with you in bed all day, taking in the warmth of that last good day.

angel! satoru who felt your sweet tender kisses on his neck as you wrapped your arms around him.

angel! satoru who took in your weak voice speaking those sweet little lies, those sweet little nothings.

angel! satoru who asked you what your favorite thing in life was and you smiled at him and replied that it was him. because he loved you.

angel! satoru who watched you slipped away as you leaned closer to his embrace.

angel! satoru who could only be inconsolable as he held you even closer knowing your warmth will depart soon.

angel! satoru who holds your funeral and only a few had come but that didn't matter because he was there.

angel! satoru who gets a visit from angel! suguru as he watched him unfold in rough grief.

angel! satoru who looks up when angel! suguru asks him if all this suffering, this grief, this loss — if it was all worth it.

angel! satoru who looks at your memorial photo and laughs at the question angel! suguru asked him.

angel! satoru who without hesistation says that everything was worth it, because he was human with you.

angel! satoru who was so happy because he got to experience being so very loved by you.

angel! satoru who looks at angel! suguru and said that he had no regrets because everything was perfect even if it wasnt.

angel! satoru who looks at an appalled angel! suguru and continues to smile back, telling him that one day he'll understand.

angel! satoru who witnesses the first dawn of life without you in his life that morning.

angel! satoru who yells out a loud thank you, that he was human, that he was ever allowed to be one.

angel! satoru who starts crying and smiling all at once because he knows you heard him from above.

angel! satoru who promises to live on, because you know one day, you'd love to hear all the stories of his long life when you meet again.

[rinskazuu]

their voice lines about you, as their lover!

just my fav characters^^

INSPIRED BY @fatuismooches and their “harbingers’ voicelines about you.” they did so well, i loved it. y’all should go check it out!

xiao, itto, tighnari, ayato, ningguang, sara, yanfei, childe, diluc, zhongli, kaeya, beidou, cyno, & al haitham x gn!reader

implied that reader is an immortal/non mortal being in xiao & zhongli's.

cw: fluff. use of they/them pronouns. pet names: you’re mostly referred to as their “lover”, and “my darling” in 2 of them. some of them are slightly ooc, but i already put it in parentheses. i tried my best!

a/n: this is my very first post here, and im kinda nervous because even tho ive been writing for a long time, im still rlly insecure of my work. i removed a couple characters cus it got too long.. but if you guys like it, ill make a part two<3

♡

XIAO

about [name]:

“hm? you want to know about [name]? well… there’s not much to say. what? i’m not blushing!”

chat: meals

“personally, the idea of human cuisine doesn’t delight me much. food isn’t necessary for an adepti but, i do enjoy [name]’s cooking quite a lot. they make the best almond tofu.”

chat: stress

xiao lets out a deep sigh, “[name] is too careless. and while they have such a big heart, they take too many dangerous commissions. on more than one occasion, i had to find them myself, just to see them injured. they claim they didn't call my name, because they don’t want to become a burden but, i… ah, never mind.”

chat: bonds

“hm… [name] and i have known each other for centuries. it really does make me happy seeing them and morax together. ah? he goes by zhongli now…?”

chat: flowers

“flowers? such a distraction... i pay no mind to them. but, i have heard from many mortals that, people in relationships do cherish such gifts. should i pick some for [name]?”

♡

ITTO

about [name]:

“[name]?! you’ve met [name]? they’re so cool right? they’re my best bro, my everything, my one and only! tell me, has [name] said anything about me to you? they said they love me? oh! hm? my cheeks? THEY’RE NOT TURNING RED, it’s just the paint…”

chat: onikabuto

“yeah, i’m the best and number 1 at onikabuto fighting! i always win! well, except when i fight with [name]. somehow, they always win, i don’t know how! they never let me in on their secret too. one day, they will tell me.”

chat: jail

“[name] is great. they bail me out all the time. really, i’m so grateful to have them! they’re fit to be the leader of the arataki gang but, nobody can be the leader except me, arataki itto.”

chat: picnics

“[name] and i always go out for picnics, and then we have an onikabuto fight. even though they always win, i’m happy to be spending time with them. but, you gotta be careful, last time, i spilled some of the juice and [name] got a bit angry. huh? what do you mean i don’t seem like a picnic guy?”

chat: horns

“yeah these babies are painted! i usually paint them but sometimes, [name] helps me cover the spots i can’t. they’re so good at it too. is there anything they’re not good at?”

♡

TIGHNARI

about [name]:

“you’ve met my wonderful lover, i see. yes, [name] often helps around gandharva ville. they do visit frequently, even though they reside in sumeru city.”

chat: sadness

tighnari sighs, “i do miss [name] a lot. i know they come often but, with them being busy working for the akademiya, it does get a little lonely without their presence during the night.”

chat: views

“hm, i’d say gandharva ville has some of the best views in all of sumeru! i take [name] to some of these places and, it lights a smile every time! a lot of beautiful flowers and mushrooms grow here. i do make sure to pick the non-poisonous ones though!”

chat: jealousy

“[name] has such a kind soul, all the forest rangers admire them. how could they not? i’ve never seen them do a bad thing in my entire life! though, it does get frustrating when they stare at them too long… i do admit, i get a little jealous.”

chat: petting

“ah? you want to pet my ears? well… i usually only allow [name] to pet me but, i’m sure they wouldn’t mind either. my tail? hah, now you’re going too far!”

♡

AYATO

about [name]:

“hm? [name]? yes, that is the future head of the kamisato clan. ah, don’t tell them just yet but, i do plan on placing this lovely ring where it rightfully belongs.”

chat: family

“well, with only my sister left of our family, i do cherish her very much. [name] gets along with ayaka quite well. hm, speaking of which, they’re probably spending time together, at this hour.”

chat: work

“aside from being the head of the kamisato clan, my role as a commissioner does get in the way of a lot of things, including spending time with my lover. it’s such a shame. yet, they’re so patient with me. say, traveler, do you think i’m undeserving of [name]?”

chat: bubble tea

“haha, i am quite fond of bubble tea. i request for thoma to get it for me often. somehow, [name] always gets wind of it and steals a couple sips. they probably think they’re sneaky but, i know thoma is always telling them. they’re adorable so, i suppose i can’t be complaining.”

chat: safety

“during the vision hunt decree, [name] was really busy working and it worried me to death. i barely saw them and, unfortunately, i had to ask their close friend, kujou sara. both her and i share concerns over them so, she helped me even though, she was a little reluctant.”

♡

NINGGUANG

about [name]:

“apologies, traveler, i’m a little busy right now. [name]? ah, my lover. well, i suppose i can sit down and have a chat about them for a bit.”

chat: danger

“although i’ve had a couple discussions with the adventure guild about [name]’s dangerous commissions, nothing seems to stop them. of course, they’re very passionate about helping others but, i’m worried they’ll put themselves in danger and i won’t be there to save them. traveler, maybe you can talk to them?”

chat: lunch

“hm yes, [name] and i go out to liuli pavilion a lot. i hear many people of liyue mutter about how jealous they are of them, how easy it is gain my attention and time. though, that does strike up my worry about their safety…”

chat: shopping

“although my job, as the protector of liyue, tends to get me busy, you might find it shocking that i do spend a lot of my time with my lover. we go shopping every week. not that i’d ever let you see but, my closet is filled with clothes that match theirs.”

weather: rain

“agh, the rain is such a bother. on the other hand, [name] is fond of the rain, they often venture during this weather. although i despise it, i suppose i can tolerate it for them. will you be a dear and fetch me an umbrella?"

♡

SARA

about [name]:

"so, you want to know about [name]? i hope for your sake, that you don't have any malicious intentions, but other than that, i'll be happy to talk about them."

chat: loyalty

"yes, i am rather extremely loyal to the shogun. [name]? i assure you that this topic doesn't affect our relationship. despite the fact that i'm not shy to talk about it, i'd rather keep our affairs private."

chat: knitting (ooc? hc)

"huh? knitting... so, [name] told you about that. well, i suppose i can tell you, i do enjoy the simple hobby with them. it tends to release a lot of stress. although, i'm not sure why they spoke about it..."

weather: thunder

"the lightning and thunder is a sign of the shogun's will. i do often announce my loyalty to the shogun but, more times than none, i get aggravated by it. the only other thing that allows me to tolerate it is [name]. they love to huddle up to me and i find it adorable, it really takes my mind off the weather. don't tell them... or you might have to start sleeping with one eye open."

chat: onigiri

"as a warrior in inazuma, it's hard to carry heavy foods with me when i am not home, which is why i ask [name] to make me onigiri. they make it so well, it's packed with flavor and it's easy to carry. i always miss their specialty dishes though."

♡

YANFEI

about [name]:

"have you met [name] yet? you have! hm, the expression on your face tells me the meeting with them was delightful. i'll tell you, being a legal adviser is not easy but seeing their bright face every time i come home, makes it a ton easier. they make me forget about all the civil cases."

chat: comfort

"sometimes, i think i'm good at hiding my facial expressions but the moment i come home and see [name], they know exactly how my day went, or more so what type of day i had. they're exceedingly perceptive and, having a lover like them makes my life a whole lot worthwhile."

chat: late night work

"like i said, being a legal adviser isn't necessarily easy, especially when you have a big case. i spend a lot of nights reading into boring cases, like that will i've recently encountered, however, [name] tends to bring me tea and sit in my home office to comfort me. it often distracts me but, i don't mind."

chat: cooking

"i'm sure i've mentioned how much i love tofu, right? well, [name] makes it ten times better. they spoil me too much, often rewarding me with tofu. i can't cook the way they can. archons, i wonder what i did to deserve such a lover like them."

chat: legal knowledge

"though it may come off as a shock, [name] knew quite a lot about laws before i met them. it wasn't until we got into a relationship, did i know about that. you bet i fell even more in love with them."

♡

CHILDE

about [name]:

"good evening comrade! ah, what am i doing? picking flowers for my darling of course. i see, so you have met [name]. haha, they are truly wonderful aren't they? the more deserving they are of my time to be picking glaze lilies for them then, huh?"

weather: snow

"are you shivering, comrade? this weather is nothing compared to snezhnaya! you really remind of [name]. when i brought them to dragonspine, they were sniffling and whatnot. scared me half to death when a hue of blue took over their face, which is what convinced me to halt my vacation to snezhnaya with them."

chat: sparring

"everything in this world pales in comparison to the thrill of sparring. well, aside from spending time with my lover, of course. speaking of which; they're truly strong. [name] has beaten me every time we've sparred throughout our entire relationship, and they think i'm going easy on them but truth is, i really struggle against them..."

chat: spending

"[name] often scolds me for pampering them with expensive gifts but, i see it as a harmless gesture. of course i'm going to spoil my darling, how could i not?! ah, don't tell them about this one. do you think they'll like it? should i get another ring? i am getting sweaty thinking about their reaction. hm, thank you for the reassurance, comrade."

chat: family

"apart from teucer, [name] hasn't met any of my family yet. i'm fully convinced they'll love them though. they get along really well with teucer, he's even went on to call them an older sibling. it makes my heart swell. nothing brings me more joy than seeing my family and lover getting along."

♡

DILUC

about [name]:

"[name]? of course i've met them, they are my lover after all. so you've heard...? they're a wonderful, kind, and passionate soul. what truly delayed our love was that they're a knight of favonius, a captain no less. but, i've grown to love that part of them as well."

chat: job (slightly ooc?)

"[name] looks wonderful under the dim light of angel's share, don't you think? even though we've been in a relationship for a long time, i will never get used to the way they're always so beautiful. ah, pardon me, i'm being unprofessional."

chat: brother

"tch, kaeya can be quite a bother, honestly. but, [name] always encourages me to reconcile with him. i'm not sure what there is to reconcile... though, i understand they do have only pure intentions."

weather: breeze

"usually, i pay no mind to the weather but, as of late, [name] has taken a keen interest in taking me out to cider lake during the night. it's often windy, sometimes a light breeze will cross us. like usual, they look wonderful under the night's light."

chat: art

"i'm not one to be into art but, it's one of [name]'s hobbies. they spend quite a lot of time indulging in this. everything they've made has been, how do i say this... a masterpiece."

♡

ZHONGLI

about [name]:

"i'm not too understanding of human emotions but, one thing i've grown to recognize is my love for [name]. if you haven't met them, i'd be more than happy to introduce them to you. oh? so, you already have. enlighten me on what you think of them."

chat: gifts

"yet again, i've never quite understood the concept of this human tradition; gifting. [name] has informed me on it and i'd like to get them a present too. what do you think, traveler? something sentimental would suffice."

chat: familial bonds (based off hc, might be a little ooc)

"throughout the millennia i've lived, death has swept past me time and time again. aside from [name], that i met a couple hundred years ago, i've gotten a little attached to xiao, which in turn caused me to keep him closer than i intended. no matter, it fills me with joy to watch xiao open up to someone beside me. [name] tends to have that effect."

chat: tea

"tea is arguably one of the only human invented drinks i can tolerate. it's far better than wine. hm, speaking of which, i often send packages of tea i've acquired to [name]. they seem to love it so, i'd be more than delighted to grace a smile on their lovely face."

chat: painting

"quite like the art of tea, painting is... calming. [name] has been painting for centuries and yet, they have not grown bored of it. i find it astonishing, the way they're easily inspired by the changes of liyue. hm, i do enjoy watching them. sometimes, they would ask me to help them, and who am i to say no to my lover?"

♡

KAEYA

about [name]:

"you're surprised i have a lover? haha, well a lot of people fall for my charm, and it's no different for [name]. though, i was also a little shocked, that somebody could have me wrapped around their finger like they do."

chat: drinking

"often times than not, [name] has dragged me home from angel's share, quite literally. yet, they haven't grown tired of me. i suppose i should stop, for their sake."

chat: intimacy

"[name] and i both work long hours, and even though we pass by each other a lot in the halls of the knights of favonius headquarters, i do miss their touch. recently, [name] has suggested late night dates. that's when we started going out to cider lake to go swimming. the water's cold but, it's nothing either of us can't handle."

chat: secrets

"you want to know my secrets? haha, if i told you then, they wouldn't be secrets anymore, would they? [name]...? well, it's best they don't know about my secrets... for their safety of course."

chat: spare time

"what i do in my free time...? well, i spend it with [name] of course! life would be dull without their presence. i'm often busy, and i drink a lot but, without them, i'd be nothing but a shell of a man. i have [name] to thank for making me a happy person."

♡

BEIDOU

about [name]:

"what do you want to know about [name]? i'm the official [name] guide! they easily make my life like a boat on calm waters. though, i'm always adventuring on the sea, and they're associated with the qixing, we always make time for each other."

chat: souvenirs

"am i that easy to read? well, anyone with the right mind would bring back gifts for their lover, especially if their lover is [name]. they've told me about how much they enjoy the portrait i ordered to be painted for us, even though it's not a souvenir."

chat: sailing

"of course, [name] has been on my boat! it took a lot of convincing and arguing with ningguang to allow her subordinate to take a couple days off... i'd love to take them sailing again one day, but, i suppose i'll have to wait a while before that opportunity comes by again."

chat: occupation

"being a pirate did not make it any less intriguing for [name] to start a relationship with me. initially, it was platonic but, during my time on the sea, i began really feeling the absence of their voice and touch. that's when i really understood my feelings."

chat: drinking

"regardless of the fact that i do hold my alcohol well, i'm afraid [name] has seen me drunk on multiple occasions. they gave me an earful the mornings after. i understand their worries over me so, i drink less now."

♡

CYNO

about [name]:

"you are not the first to be shocked that i have a lover. what? is it because i'm the general mahamatra? my career doesn't often get in the way of our rela- what? it's because of my appearance? what's wrong with it...? ah, i see. i can assure you, [name] is a person who's almost never afraid. they're mostly fascinated by things that seem thrilling, though i advise them to keep themself safe. not like they listen to me..."

chat: desert

"while [name] hadn't originated from the desert, they adapt quite well. occasionally, they have complained about the heat, not that i blame them but, they adjust rather quickly."

chat: rivalry

"hmph, that al-haitham... he doesn't get along with many people, probably because of that awful attitude of his but, unsurprisingly, he and [name] are close. i'm not afraid to lose them to him, no, but rather cautious of him. you can never trust a man like him."

chat: star watching (slightly ooc?)

"i was never a big fan of the stars but, ever since my first encounter with [name], they've always encouraged me to go star watching with them. the sky has hardly any affect on me and even though i agree to tag along, i always spend my time staring at them. they are truly mesmerizing..."

chat: concerns

"i'm confident in [name]'s ability to protect themself but, my title as general mahamatra does worry me regarding their safety. sometimes, i follow them during their adventures to make sure they're alright. what? they've noticed? i- never mind..."

♡

AL-HAITHAM

about [name]:

"apologies traveler but, i am on a time crunch at the moment. [name]? did something happen to them- ah, never mind. your expression is too relaxed for anything bad to have happened to them while i was away. you want to talk about them...? well, ask away, i suppose."

chat: academic

"yes, [name] and i both studied at the akademiya. we were rivals at one point but, somewhere along the way, they had me hooked. looking at it from a much different perspective, i see now, that it was the best thing to have ever happened to me."

chat: knowledge

"nothing halts me from my thirst for knowledge. but, if anything comes close to it, it would be [name]. hm... no, i'd say they're the only one who could. nonetheless, they would never, seeing as they always praise and encourage me."

chat: rivalry

"general mahamatra? i wouldn't be surprised if he wanted [name]. first, after a position he was second best at, and now my lover? i'd like to see that fool try."

chat: reading

"comprehending every aspect of this world and it's secrets is a passion both [name] and i share. i'd have to admit, they're more into the pleasure of sparring over knowledge but, we do often spend our time reading together."

[bitterchocoo]

A Blessing or A Curse?

Jing Yuan | M. Reader as Baizhu [Genshin Impact]

----------

"The doctor will see you now~"

----------

For centuries, immortality has been seen as a curse by the Xianzhou natives. An abomination.

How could they not? When they saw it with their own eyes, what immortality had brought to those who wished for it. How it changed them. Twist their minds until they're merely a shadow of their former self. What had become of those who got Mara-struck.

But...

Amongst those who look down on immortality with disdain. There's one who sees immortality as a blessing rather than a curse.

.

.

.

.

.

Hey, have you heard? There's a Doctor that could cure any illness! It's like a miracle! He works in a Pharmacy in the Alchemy Commission called, Bubu Pharmacy. The Doctor's name is—

"Doctor [Name]?"

"This new prescription, though not as fast-acting. Will allow gradual recovery and build-up of strength making it well suited to someone who's been suffering from a long illness. The needed ingredients can also be found around the Exalting Sanctum."

"Thank you, Doctor!"

The man thanked the doctor for the new prescription with a smile on hie face. The previous prescription used ingredients are hard to get in the district and now with the new prescription, finding the ingredients for the medicine would be a lot more easier.

He then left the pharmacy with the prescription in hand, leaving the doctor alone with his...

Snake.

"You actually found replacements for those ingredients." She says as she watched the man leave. "Of course, what kind of Doctor would I be if I couldn't?" He replied softly, his eyes scanning the documents in his hand.

----------

One day, Doctor [Name] have an unexpected visit.

"Ah, General! To what do I owe the honor of your visit? Are you perhaps injured?" The doctor greeted him with a faint smile on his face. Jing Yuan laugh at [Name]'s words. "No, Doctor. I'm perfectly healthy."

"That's good to hear." "He better be, or else our work would have been for nothing!!"

"Good to see you too Changsheng." The General chuckles. The snake huffs as she rested her body around [Name]'s shoulders. The two old friends sat at a nearby table, chatting away and catching up with one another.

For as long as he could remember, [Name] had always been a kind soul, ready to help at any given time despite being a short-life species. That didn't concern him at all as he studies medicine and the art of healing.

The day [Name] retuned with a white snake around his shoulder was the day that changed everything. For the Luofu and for his friends. Almost like a miracle, the people began to heal ad recover in a rapid pace. Thanks to the Doctor's treatment. They've began to wonder as to how that could be? A short-life species? Having an ability akin to a Vidyadhara? Impossible! And yet..

As [Name] continues to heal and treat his patients... the sicker he became..

It wasn't that it's noticeable, no.. far from it..

He appears as healthy as ever, although a few coughs and wheeze here and there but as an old friend of his, Jing Yuan can't help but show concern for the Doctor.

.

.

.

.

.

"Life, death... and the world around us all follow a set of laws... Hehe, but if you never test the limits, how can anyone know where the boundaries of these laws are?"

He should have known..

He should have known that.. his friend was..

..Researching on something forbidden..

How could this be...?

A kind and gentle man.. wanting nothing but to help and treat others.. began searching for the thing his motherland sought to destroy..? And he's been doing this from the starts..?

Why..? Why must he..

He felt betrayed. Betrayed by an old friend.

Immortality is a curse! Can't the Doctor see that! All of those soldiers, all of those people that were lost from it! Is he blind!! Why!? Why must he search for such abomination!!

And yet.. and yet...

His reason.. the Doctor's reason... [Name]'s reason...

..It's still pure..

He wanted to help.. to treat and heal others..

Changsheng.. her ability to heal is simply out of this world.. but the price.. the price that needs to be paid to do such an act.. isn't that just prove how terrible the power of Abundance is? And yet..

[Name] saw this as a blessing.

It's a gift.

A gift he'll accept with open arms.

Once he received immortality.. he could continue on to help others and.. he won't have to pass down the contract to anyone ever again..

His objective is simple...

To prevent suffering.

But.. is immortality truly the only way? To him, yes. As it would prevent any more people from dying young thanks to the contract. But to someone like Jing Yuan? The General of the Luofu? The man who had seen what immortality had done to others?

Is Immortality a blessing..? Or.. a curse..?

He doesn't know anymore.

[luxurychristmaspudding]

watch

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It doesn’t happen. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘Where you goin’, pretty girl?’

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

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

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

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

‘Words, baby.’ He reminds you.

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

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

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

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

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

Joel chuckles.

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

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

‘Does daddy feel good, sweet girl?’

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fuck, okay. Okay -

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Watch, touch. 

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

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

Joel puffs out a laugh to the ceiling.

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

You laugh and nudge his side with your fist.

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

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

'You know - that night.'

‘Mm?’ Tease.

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

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

‘Baby, I’d love to.’

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘Y’didn’t. You ain’t.’ 

You stroke your thumb along the patches of his beard.

‘Do you… want to talk about it?’

Joel closes his eyes again, takes a deep breath. 

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

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

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

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

It makes sense.

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

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

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

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

He swallows.

‘You sure?’

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

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

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

‘Very brave -’ he chuckles.

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

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

And plenty you want to help him with.

———

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘I tried my best.’ He grins.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘You’re sure Joel’s home?’ he asks. 

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

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

‘Obviously.’ You smirk.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But then, you realise, it is. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘Please -’

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘Swallow.’

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

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

‘Desperate for more.’ 

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

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

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

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

‘Why do you have so many fucking buttons?’

He laughs, breathy, exasperated into your hair.

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

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

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

‘You okay?’

‘One sec -’

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

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

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

Frankie relaxes, exhales.

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

Joel chuckles, lands a hand on his shoulder.

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

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

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

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

‘Are you sure?’ You ask.

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

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

‘Okay,’ you say, ‘Okay.’

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

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

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

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

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

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

You can’t sleep.

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

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

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

Then -

Thank you

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

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

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

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

You’ll send him the audio in the morning.

———

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

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

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

You got plans tonight?

No? You shoot back.

Good. Stay free, baby

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

———

When you get home from work, Joel is waiting. 

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

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

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

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

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

‘What are you doing?’ 

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

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

‘Open your eyes, baby.’

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘We’re going on a date.’

‘A date?’

Mhm, he hums against your mouth. 

‘Surprise date.’

‘You bought this for a date?’

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

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

You frown a little. 

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

Joel bites his lip. 

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

‘All?’

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

‘Joel. All?’

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

‘I had some help choosing the dress.’

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

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

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

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

‘Are - are they coming back here?’

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

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

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

———

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘We - what?’ You ask, confused.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your hand pauses only briefly on Joel’s thigh.

‘He was arrested?’

Frankie grins.

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

You chuckle along with Joel and Santi.

‘Was he okay?’

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

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

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

You raise an eyebrow at him.

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

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

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

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

Joel chuckles.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘Good enough to eat.’

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

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

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

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

‘Whenever you’re ready, sweetheart.’

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

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

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

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

But, god, your throat is so dry.

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

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

‘Almost.’ Joel whispers in your ear.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

———

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

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

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

‘Any other rules I should know about?’

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

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

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

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

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

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

Joel raises his eyebrows.

‘What do you mean?’ 

You falter.

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

‘Weird?’

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

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

‘’N what did you say?’

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

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

‘It something you’re interested in?’

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

‘Is it something you’re interested in?’

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

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

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

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

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

‘I love you.’ You say, softly.

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

I love you.

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

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

He grips your hands tight.

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

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

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

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

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

You shake your head slowly.

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

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

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

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

But he shakes his head.

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

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

His eyes open, so full of warmth, love.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘I love you.’ He says.

‘Love you too.’ You whisper.

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

———

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘You know I can’t do that.’

You nod, eyes finding the skyline again.

‘I know. But I still wish you would.’

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

‘They wouldn’t know. If we kissed.’

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

‘I know.’

‘Then let me kiss you.’

‘No, hermosa.’

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

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

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

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

‘Frankie -’

He shakes his head, grip tightening on the wheel.

‘Please, Frankie, I’ll be so good -’

‘Enough.’

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

He never stood a chance.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘There, hermosa?’

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

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

‘Show me.’

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

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

He lurches back like he’s been shocked.

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

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

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

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

He stares at you, something working behind his eyes.

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

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

‘You, too. Wanna watch you, too.’

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘Look at you, Frankie. So pretty.’

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He laughs, pressing a sweet kiss to your head.

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

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

‘Home?’ he asks.

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

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

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

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

‘Will you call me if you need anything?’

‘Yeah,’ you breathe, ‘Will you?’

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

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

———

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

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

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

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

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

‘Just me?’

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

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

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

‘A pillow, daddy.’

‘Mhm. Just a pillow?’

You whine.

‘Fingers, too.’

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

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

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

‘Sorry baby.’ He apologises, so disingenuous. 

‘What’s the question?’

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

You bite your lip.

‘Hmmm. Depends. What is it?’

You hear Joel fumble with something before he speaks again.

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

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

He laughs.

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

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

‘My bad. Must have been me, then.’

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

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

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

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

‘Ain’t need it when I’ve got you.’

‘Even when you’re far away?’

There’s a pause as Joel considers his reply.

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘Better ‘n my hand?’

‘Yeah, daddy.’

‘Is it better than you, babygirl?’

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

‘No, daddy.’

He hums down the line.

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

You sigh again, louder this time.

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

Joel chuckles at you properly this time.

‘You sound disappointed, baby.’

‘I am.’

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

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

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

Mmhm.

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

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

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

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

Joel laughs again.

‘You’re goddamn right, angel.’ 

You smile, smug. Hum in agreement.

Joel sighs.

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

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

‘Yes, daddy.’

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘Yes, daddy.’ 

‘Good girl.’

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

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

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

You hum low in your throat and lick your lips.

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

‘Oh?’

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

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

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

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

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

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

Joel huffs.

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

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

‘Yeah, daddy.’

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

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

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

Joel chuckles darkly. 

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

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

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

God, yes you do. You moan breathlessly, cunt twitching and throbbing, and you wonder whether this is enough to just come hands free. If you concentrate hard enough, if you bear down enough -

‘Maybe I’d film it,’ he muses, ‘Film it so Santiago and Francisco could watch. See how you really like to be used, how cock dumb I can make you. Would you like that, angel?’

‘Fuck, daddy, yes -’

‘Mmm. So they can see how good you look when you beg, when you’re dripping with my cum, huh, baby girl? See how good you look when you cry, when you just take it for me?’

You can tell he’s getting closer, his breathing heavier and more ragged, longer pauses between his thoughts. You wriggle on the pillow, feeling yourself flutter around nothing at the pathetic stimulation. He moans again, broken and loud, and you puff against the speaker, seeing your opportunity -

‘Come for me, daddy,’ you pant, ‘Please - come for me. Need to hear you daddy, please -’

Joel’s breath catches raggedly, once, twice, before it cuts off with a deep growl. With every resounding moan you hear, you can imagine the spurts of cum bursting from his tip. You wriggle even more, cunt burning. 

‘Atta girl,’ Joel gasps, ‘Atta girl, helping your daddy out.’

‘Please,’ you moan, breathless, ‘Please, daddy, my turn, is it -’

‘Your turn,’ he says, so warm, so sweet, ‘Go ahead, baby. Long as it’s only yourself you’re touchin’.’ 

Your fingers flutter to your clit, swiping it gently, so sensitive, and you grit your teeth.

‘Only me.’ You repeat, and you can picture Joel’s answering smile. All teeth.

‘Just you, baby girl. No touchin’ no one else. Not even Frankie.’

You stay silent, moving your hips now to drag your soaked folds against the pillow. Your head falls to your shoulder, and you moan long and loud, wondering whether you can convince Frankie, whether you’ve got enough time together to film the two of you - watching each other, then Frankie stretching you out, filling you with his cum. Something you could send to Joel and Santi, a little treat, a little teaser. 

You’ve been quiet for too long. And Joel knows. He always knows.

‘You gonna break the rules, baby girl?’ He coos. 

You smile, as though he’s read your mind.

‘How much trouble will I be in if I do?’ You ask through a moan, biting your lip.

He chuckles down the line at you. 

‘I don’t know, sugar,’ he drawls, ‘But you could always find out.’

The line clicks and beeps as he hangs up, and you stare down at your phone in disbelief. The signal must have dropped. 

Just as you fumble to press the call button again, a text flies through.

Night, babygirl x

And then another - 

Try to be good. I know it’s hard for you

You huff a laugh as you drop the phone into your lap, hips curling again over the pillow beneath you. Sonofabitch. 

You’ll behave as badly as you damn well please.

———

You and Frankie make quick work of dinner the next evening. Your hands are clammy at the dinner table, pulse fast in your neck, a flush passing high over Frankie’s collar the whole time.

He makes even faster work of the drive back to yours, scraping through red lights as you pull your skirt higher, as you skate your fingers over your thighs, over your panties, watching him the whole time. There’s a wonderful thrill when you catch him looking, when his eyes meet yours and then drift to your hands, how dark they are in the passing streetlights, the white-knuckle grip of his hands on the wheel.

You can feel the heat of him behind you as you unlock the front door, the hunger of wanting his hands on you, pushing you through the doorway, the press of his chest against your back. But you can wait. You can be good.

You move through to your kitchen with him trailing behind you, and you’re grabbing two beers from your fridge before the question of do you want a drink? is even out. When you turn to face him again, Frankie is dangerously, dangerously close. You can smell the musk of his skin, see every changing fleck of colour in his eyes, and it’s too much. You’re pressing the bottle into his chest at the same time as you’re tipping your head for a kiss, eyelids fluttering closed. He takes both bottles from your hands and places then somewhere behind you before caging you in with his thick arms, his mouth in a tight, serious line. You arch your back subconsciously, but he seems to anticipate every movement of your body; somehow still always millimetres away, like the ghost of a man pressed up against you, a layer of film between you.

He leans in so close that you can taste the hot breath he’s pouring into your mouth, so close you can feel the air moving when he tells you, so softly -

‘Take your clothes off. And sit on the couch.’

You strip yourself as you watch him do the same, eyes blown wide by every stretch of bare skin that’s revealed to you. And it is not fair. So unfair that Frankie is finally naked in front of you - so gorgeous - long-limbed and tan, beautiful cock hard and heavy between his thick thighs - and you are unable to touch him.

You clench your jaw, sat back and stretched out like a cat at one end of the sofa, petting yourself as you watch him come towards you and lower himself onto the cushion next to you. 

It doesn’t take long for the two of you to fall back into the rhythm you found last night. It’s hypnotic. The movements, the sounds, the words. Watching Frankie is heady, intoxicating. It feels like you’re watching something happen outside of your own body, and you find yourself surprised as you move to kneel beside him, as you swing a leg over his legs so you’re straddling him. You’re so wet, so warm that you’re sure the night could pass for a summer’s day. Your skin is glimmering with sweat, same as Frankie’s. You search his eyes to find him staring back at you, just as fucked out, just as woozy. You moan, hot little pants dripping past your lips. He echoes you.

You sit back on his thighs, your fingers diving in and out of you as you watch his fist work furiously around his cock. Something warm and hot, greedy and possessive swells inside of you. He looks delicious like this, spread out in front of you, wanting and needy. His cock thick, swollen, dribbling. It twitches as you watch him, and you moan somewhere beyond your consciousness. Need, your body whispers. Need. You inch forwards, lifting your hips higher, higher, Frankie watching you like he’s somewhere outside his body. You take his hand from his cock, fingers slippery with his precum, and place it at your hip. You grind into your hand at the slick feeling, pulling your fingers out with a wet sound and hovering above him, gripping his cock so you can brush the swollen head of it against your clit. Frankie shudders, his body going slack, and you almost come from the sensation alone. You lower your hips just a little, bracing the mushroom of his tip at the tight ring of your entrance. 

You gonna break the rules, babygirl?

‘Hermosa -’ he breathes, suddenly unsure.

You huff against him, everything too tight, too heady. Need.

‘Shhh, it’s okay,’ you whisper. ‘It’s okay, just a little bit. Just wanna feel you a little bit.’

‘But -’ he’s cut off by his own loud whine, unable to protest as you fit his head just inside your pussy. You throb around him, at the stimulation it brings. You clutch at his shoulder, head falling forwards at the stretch. Fuck, you could absolutely come like this. You need him deeper, need him to to fill you, but -

Oh, he is so good. 

His hands are like steel at your hips, keeping you in place. Frankie doesn’t want to disobey, doesn’t want to get in trouble. His grip speaks to that, his wide eyes, the sweat at his temple. But you can see on his face as you drip down him, the clutch of Joel’s control doesn’t hold nearly enough power when faced with what he truly wants.

You move back and forth a little, still with his tip just inside, moaning brokenly at the feel of it, and his eyelids flutter closed as something like a prayer brushes past his lips.

Frankie is good, but you are so, so bad. 

You drop your hips down further, and his fingers flex against your skin as he gasps, a high, keening noise reverberating from his chest.

‘Jesus Christ -’ he groans.

‘Fucking - hell, Frankie -’

He’s a lot. You can feel yourself adjusting as you slide down his length, your promise quickly forgotten. Greedy fuckin’ girl. But you can’t help yourself, brain short circuiting, body molten as you take him in inch by inch. It’s too much, all consuming. There’s no space for another thought, any more consideration as he fills you, as you take what you need. 

He whimpers as you bottom out, grinding against the curls at his base, breathing heavily.

‘So good,’ you whisper, ‘So good, you know that?’

Your head hangs forward against his shoulder as you gulp down air, as you feel yourself clench and leak around him, as he twitches inside you. After moments in almost silence, you lean back to look down at him.

His eyes are glassy, fucked out as he looks back at you.

You lift your hips, and the moan he lets out is pained. Your skin is on fire, and you want his hands everywhere.

‘Frankie, touch me.’

‘I can’t -’

‘You can,’ you grit, ‘You can, because I told you to.’

He moans again, and suddenly he’s everywhere. He knows where you need to be touched like you’ve done this before, his fingertips scorching and cooling as he strokes your thighs, your neck, as he grips your ass. Encouraged, you continue to move, slowly rocking up and down on his cock, breathing raggedly. Every noise that escapes the two of you seems to come without being registered, something primal, starved. Already, the coil is tightening, your body racing towards where it needs to be, and you know it will be intense, all-consuming to come around him, so thick inside of you. You lean further forwards, and he takes the opportunity to press his mouth to your sternum, licking the skin before turning his head to take a nipple in his mouth - hot and wet and sucking, lathing it with his tongue.

‘Fuck,’ you hiss, moving faster, chasing, chasing what is so close. You grip the hair at the back of his head, tugging and keeping him close to your breast, keening against him.

‘Like that,’ you gasp, ‘Yeah, like that baby, god, so good, you’re so good for me, feel so good baby boy, you have no idea -’

You can feel yourself tighten and tighten, and Frankie holds you harder, force that feels so delicious you don’t even care about the hurt, not until it turns to iron, not until he rips his mouth away from you -

‘I’m gonna come -’ he whimpers, gripping your hips so tight you couldn’t move if you wanted to. ‘Please, baby, please - stop - I can’t - I’ll come -’

Hot desperation claws up your chest. You are so close, so close, but he looks so wildly at you that you stop trying to move, try to force back tears of frustration as you lean forwards to kiss him as sweetly as you can. Spit-slick and swollen, you pull back and rest your forehead to his. Try to think straight, tell him what he needs to hear.

‘No you won’t,’ you coo, taking his face in your hands, thumbs stroking his cheekbones. You put everything into your gaze, all your warmth, all your care for him, try to make him see how good this is. He stares up at you, eyes wide, dark. Panicked. Panicked at the thought of disappointing you. ‘You won’t, Frankie. It’s okay, you’re not gonna come.’ You try to shift a little so you can settle on your thighs to soothe him, but he clenches his eyes shut at your movement and whimpers louder, his mouth screwing up. 

‘Please don’t move,’ he whispers, ‘Just wait, - just -’

You lean forward and press a kiss to his hairline, feeling his tip move slowly to a shallower part of you. Fuck.

‘Relax, baby boy,’ you murmur, and he sucks in a breath. ‘Concentrate. I’m gonna sit down, and you are not going to come, okay?’

You wait, but Frankie still has his eyes screwed shut, nostrils flaring, fingers bruising against your skin. The tense feeling in your chest swells again. 

‘Frankie.’ You say sharply, and he jumps out of himself, eyes flashing open to yours. ‘I’m gonna sit back down. Take a deep breath.’

Frankie watches you as he breathes in through his nose, and you move at the sound of his airflow. His hands slacken at your hips, and he moans, low and long. 

‘That’s it,’ you say, sinking all the way down, writhing helplessly at his base. You’re already both so close. ‘Good boy. How are you doing?’

Frankie breathes shallowly as you adjust around his cock. His cheeks are red, hair sweaty. His lips are bitten, bleeding through one crack of skin, eyes almost entirely black. You scratch at the curls at the nape of his neck, massaging the tendons there.

‘Okay,’ he croaks. You try not to think of how he feels inside you. How full you feel, how stretched out. He’s thick and nestled in deep - not as far as Joel - but the ache you feel around his girth is delicious. Fuck, this was a bad idea. You should have just hopped off him, let him slide out so you could both catch your breath. And now, instead, you’re managing to edge the two of you even further. 

You know you can’t last long, and you know, from the desperate look on Frankie’s face, that he won’t either, no matter what you do. It feels crueller to stop now than it does to keep going, to watch him deny himself like this, to feel you deny yourself, too. You can feel your pussy tightening and leaking around him at the thought, the ache, the need that’s just there -

‘I have to move, baby -’

‘No -’ he chokes, ‘Please, hermosa, just a minute -’

‘I have to, Frankie, I - you feel too good, baby, I need to move. Wanna come, wanna see you come, too -’

Frankie’s iron grip returns to your hips as they lift of their own accord, and he hisses, head bowed, at the movement. You moan hoarsely.

‘It’s okay,’ you pant, gripping his chin in one hand, lifting his face to yours. ‘Listen to me, it’s okay. Focus now.’ You begin to move up and down him again, the slow drag of his cock tightening your grip on his face but loosening the hold you have on your body. You whimper, pussy fluttering around him. Frankie groans, breathlessly whispers your name, a pleasepleaseplease -

‘I know you can last as long as I need you to, baby,’ you whisper. ‘You’ve done it before, haven’t you?’ Frankie whines, his eyes rolling back, mouth falling slightly open. You can’t stop the moan that bubbles up your throat - him edging himself as he watched you the night before, eyes stuck on your fingers, your pulses, your wetness. You feel him throb inside you as he nods drunkenly. ‘That’s it, good boy. I know it feels good, but you can last a little longer. I know you can, Frankie. You’re doing so well.’

His fingers clutch at the swell of your hips, weak, sweaty, and you clench so hard around him that it’s a challenge to drag his cock through your walls. You breathe shallowly, slowing the pace again, and Frankie watches you through heavy lidded eyes. He licks his bottom lip.

‘Come,’ he breathes, a hand leaving your hip so he can thumb your clit. You hiss, hips stuttering so hard you sink all the way down onto him, grinding his tip into your womb. Frankie grits his teeth. ‘Come, hermosa,’ he tells you again, and you can feel the savage heat, pussy winding tighter and tighter, your body about to burst. Quietly, with a command he’s not had in his voice until now, Frankie says your name. Come. Now.

Your orgasm is blinding. You cease to exist in the corporeal world for an indeterminate time, coming to only when Frankie pulls you to his chest, his hips pressing up into you as you milk him. You’re achingly aware of the way his cock jumps inside of you as he pumps you full of cum, of the way his fingers grip and bruise your body, of the way you sink your teeth into his shoulder as you continue to throb around him.

‘Fuck.’ you bite out, resting your forehead against his as you pant into each other’s mouths. Minutes tick by, Frankie’s harsh grip turning to soft caresses, and you press chaste kisses to his nose, his forehead, his lips, before you rest your head against his collar bone. He takes a deep breath.

‘Baby,’ he starts. You watch his throat bob as he swallows, searching for what he’s about to say. You squeeze his middle gently. ‘Joel -’

‘Is my problem,’ you breathe, ‘I did this. It’s on me. He knew I’d break the rules.’

He swallows, nods.

‘Okay.’

You press a kiss to his neck, and he visibly relaxes.

‘It’s okay,’ you murmur. ‘No one’s gonna be mad at you. No one’s gonna be mad, full stop.’ He makes a noise of appreciation somewhere in his throat. 

You bite your lip and lean back, fixing him with a wicked grin.

‘Besides, this is all part of the foreplay.’

‘The foreplay?’ He whispers, brow furrowing.

You nod, humming at the feeling of his cum slipping from the warmth of your cunt.

‘You really thought he’d just come in your mouth?’

His eyes darken, a huff slipping from his kiss-bitten lips. He brings your hand from his neck to his mouth and bites down on the flesh of your palm. You giggle again.

‘Mm, you like that, baby boy? Like the idea of daddy playing with you, too?’

‘Stop.’ He groans, ‘You keep talking like that, and -’

‘There’ll be a round two?’ you tease. ‘Doesn’t sound like a bad thing to me,’ you smile, feeling him twitch inside you. ‘In fact,’ you continue, ‘That sounds like something a very good boy would do.’

‘Stop talking,’ he growls, ‘And take me upstairs. I remember something about you promising to let me taste you.’

The smile that grows across your lips is impossible to hide.

—���—

Pope wasn’t fucking around when he told you Frankie was good with his mouth.

He wakes you the next morning with more of what he gave you last night, his tongue warm and wet against your cunt, lapping and kissing and sucking until you’re sweating and writhing above him, hands fisted in his hair.

He likes that.

Likes biting marks into your thighs, making you moan and cry and come again and again. Likes when you’re a little mean, when you tell him what to do, when you hold him afterwards, when you let him fill you and fuck you until you’re both whimpering and covered in cum and slick.

The three days that follow pass in a blur of not touching and definitely touching. Frankie quickly becomes accustomed to waking wrapped up in your bed, your arm thrown over his side, and you quickly become accustomed to the sweet praises that drip from his lips as he slots himself inside you - how tight and sweet you are, how he can’t believe he fits in so well. How he can’t wait to share you, properly this time.

He bends you over the kitchen table after you’ve finished eating dinner, licking into you before splitting you open, and you take him in your mouth on your knees in the shower, making sure to remind him of how pretty he is, how good he feels in your mouth. You work him open with your fingers, your tongue, curling them inside him just to watch him struggle not to come so fast. It’s gorgeous. And when you’re too sore and swollen to have each other again, you find yourself cradled between his thighs, your back to his chest as he circles your clit gently with two fingers, kissing your neck and grinding himself against you as you moan, as you remind him how you need to get to work.

‘I know, baby,’ he murmurs, ‘Just wanna watch you come again.’

It’s feverish, it’s risky. You try to be a good liar, but you’re sure Joel knows. Knows you well enough, anyway, to guess that it would happen at some point. Which just means he must have been planning what he’d do to you after finding out for some time, too. You try to be careful as the week goes on - planning to wash your sheets, to not have Frankie in the house when Pope or Joel return. To just try and make it look like you succeeded, that you listened. That you were good.

You’re on your elbows and knees, body weak, pussy swollen and dripping as Frankie spears you from behind when the text comes. It’s Santi.

I’ll be home 2morrow. Look forward to seeing u 2.

One more time, Frankie gasps. Once more like this, and then you can wait. 

The two of you can wait until tomorrow.

———

You wait all day for Santi.

And you try to be good, you really do. But Frankie’s mouth is just so convincing.

He’s not allowed to bite, not allowed to leave any marks. He has permission to make you come, and then he has to clean you up again like nothing ever happened. You’re not going to touch him, and he’s not going to touch himself. He’ll have to save it for when Pope gets here. Which, as it’s turned out, is much later than he said. But not late enough to miss the show.

‘Am I interrupting?’

Frankie lurches away from between your thighs like he’s been scorched, backing up towards the end of the bed. He looks so surprised, so worried, that you snort at him, still so caught up in the throes of pleasure to not be too worried about Pope’s reappearance.

He looks good. A healthy glow to his skin, tight black top, his curls perfectly framing his face. His mouth is twisted into its most alluring smirk, and you watch it deepen at the flush of Frankie’s cheeks and the way you snake a hand between your legs.

‘Not at all, baby,’ you coo, and his eyes darken, following the path of your hand. It’s ingrained into you now, how Pope touched you last. The memory rushes through you, and you moan softly, the noises your hand is making against your wet folds so obscene. Still watching, he peels his belt from its loops, curling it in his fist.

He jerks his chin at Frankie.

‘You at least make her beg for it?’

You huff a small laugh, thinking back on how not thirty minutes ago Frankie had been on his knees in front of you, begging for a taste, begging to lick your cunt. 

Santi’s eyes shoot to you and the amusement on your face, and he steps forward with a smile.

‘Should have known,’ he says gently, through a smile. His palm cups your cheek, and you nestle into his touch, forgetting that whatever punishment Joel might have thought up, Santi might share. He traces your skin down your jaw, your neck, across your clavicles and down the arm closest to him. He holds your wrist, and pulls it up to his mouth where he can kiss your knuckles in greeting. ‘Hello, querida.’

You look back at him with wide, lust-blown eyes. ‘Hey, Santiago.’ 

He takes you in greedily, eyes scouring over your bare body, scrutinising so intensely that you almost feel self-conscious. 

‘What do we have here?’ he purrs, his spare hand reaching over you, thumbing your nipple. You whine and arch against his touch, fingers moving faster, and he tuts, shaking his head. ‘This will never do, cielo.’ He squeezes your breast firmly before running his fingers down the length of your arm, gripping your other wrist to bring your wet fingers to his mouth. He parts his lips and presses them in gently, and you mewl, hips bucking, as he works his tongue over the digits. His eyes are dark, boring into you, only distracted by the heavy breath Frankie takes from the other end of the mattress. He releases your fingers quickly.

‘No.’ he barks at the other man, and you swing your head to look at Frankie, a hand frozen mid-pull on his cock, face flushing an even deeper shade of red. ‘Did I tell you you could touch yourself?’

Frankie shakes his head frantically, hands moving to his sides.

‘Did I?’

‘No.’ he whispers, breathless, apologetic. Pope jerks his head again, over his shoulder. 

‘Off the bed.’

Frankie unfurls his limbs to stand at the bedside, cock heavy and bobbing against his stomach as Santi easily joins your wrists with one hand. It takes you too long to work out what he’s doing - his belt already curled around your hands before you make a noise of protest, silenced by a hard look from him. He twists the leather around your hands twice before tying them to the bedframe above you, giving a sharp pull to test the give. Your chest heaves, something sparking inside you as he cups your cheek gently.

‘Good?’

‘Yes, Santi.’ You murmur, taking your cue from how he admonished Frankie.

He steps back, admiring his handiwork, looking pleased.

‘Maybe that’ll help you keep your hands to yourself.’ He says, half-turning to Frankie.

‘Down.’

Frankie drops to his knees at the command, and you moan, thighs clenching, arms straining above your head, tight to your eyes. Santi says something to you, muffled, and you try to relax again to hear him, a quiet hm? the only sound you can make.

He cocks his head at you, lips curled.

‘Lube, querida,’ he says, ‘Where do you keep it?’

You inhale sharply, mind buzzing. 

‘U-under the bed.’

Pope drops to his knees beside you, rifling around until he finds and pulls out a green box, ripping off the lid. His face splits in a dangerous, thrilled grin.

‘Now, what have we got in here?’

You watch with bated breath as Pope rummages through the box, your chest heaving, arms straining against the belt again. He throws the bottle of lube onto the bed before turning his attention back to your toys. He brings your wand into your line of sight, and you squeeze your eyes closed as he presses the button, the room filling with its buzzing sound. 

You flinch when he brings the vibrator into contact with your skin, tracing your nipples. Your eyes fly open to find him and Frankie watching you intently. 

‘Had a lot of time to think about this while I was away,’ Santi says, almost to himself, ‘But I’ve got much better ideas now.’

Pope licks his lips as he dips the wand lower, teasing it around the soft flesh of your thighs before resting it against your clit.

You yelp at the contact, body juddering.

‘Please, Santi,’ you cry, ‘Please -’ but he shushes you gently, stroking your hair as he lays the wand between your thighs, nestled in to where the feeling is most intense, most overwhelming. 

‘It’s okay, baby,’ he coos, ‘Just need you to hold that there, be a good girl.’ 

You whimper brokenly up at him, and he pouts at you, teasingly.

‘Listen to me,’ he says, and you hold your breath, ‘That’s gonna stay right there, against your pretty little pussy, and you’re not gonna come, are you, querida?’

Your brain buffers, jaw clenching against the heat rising through you, and Santi frowns at you.

‘Are you?’

The air bursts from your lungs as you moan out a no, rewarded with a smile.

‘Good girl.’ he says, dipping to pick something up from the floor. Your panties from where Frankie had stripped you of them earlier.

He taps your chin.

‘Open,’ your mouth falls open of its own accord, and Santi stuffs the lace in. ‘Something for you to bite down on.’

You huff, brow furrowing in concentration, desire, as Pope steps away again and moves towards Frankie.

Frankie, still on his knees, watching open mouthed, cock jumping as he takes you in - stretched out, bound and desperate. His eyes leave yours to watch Santi begin to strip himself of his clothes, and you join him, groaning at the slow show he gives you both. His smooth, tan skin, the muscles that ripple beneath. He unbuttons his jeans before stilling, eyes falling on Frankie.

‘Come here,’ Santi says, and Frankie shuffles forward instantly. ‘Good boy. Now take me out, and show our girl what else you can do with that mouth.’

Your eyes roll back into your skull, and your wrists tug at Santi’s belt. From behind the fabric in your mouth, Pope can hear your muffled fuck. He smirks down at Frankie.

‘Before she comes, hermano.’

‘Pope,’ Frankie breathes, shocked through his haze of arousal, confused, warning.

‘What?’ Santi says, cupping his cheek gently. ‘You don’t think I checked with Joel? Didn’t ask what you got up to before he left? Don’t worry, baby, I did. He just wants to know she’s being taken care of. The sooner you put me in your mouth, the sooner we can do just that.’

Frankie swallows visibly, flustered, eyes flicking to you before he reaches out to tug Santi’s jeans and boxers down, taking the other man’s hard cock in his hand, squeezing and pumping gently. He takes care to thumb over the precum that gathers at his tip, using it to ease the movement. Pope breathes out slowly before touching Frankie’s bottom lip with his thumb, parting his mouth. He joins Frankie’s hand at his base and taps the head of his cock where his thumb had just been, and Frankie opens wider, allowing space for Pope to slide in. He takes lazy thrusts as you watch with wide eyes, hips canting against the toy, cunt pulsing, body on fire - acutely aware that Frankie has a gag reflex to rival your own. The thought makes you giggle, a kind of pride blooming in your chest. So easy. Frankie stares up at his best friend with glassy eyes, cock leaking and untouched between his legs, palms resting, unflexed, atop his thighs. 

‘He’s a good toy, isn’t he, cielo?’ Pope hums, slowing the rhythm of his thrusts. ‘So good at just - taking it. Barely any fight in you, is there, baby boy?’

With his mouth full of Santi’s cock, Frankie can barely shake his head. The corners of Pope’s lips curl.

‘No. I’ll bet she hardly even had to ask you. Just a little while longer watching her and you’d have begged to feel her milk you yourself. Isn’t that right, Fish?’

Frankie moans beneath him, his cock dribbling and straining. You want so badly to have it on your tongue, in your hand, inside your pussy, that you whine again, louder. Santi’s eyes slide to you, mouth wide in a smirk. 

‘Quit whining, querida. We’ll be with you in a moment.’

You groan again as Pope twists his fingers in Frankie’s hair, cooing at him. 

‘Yeah, seems that you both thought to tell us how’d you’d watched, hm? It’s a pity you couldn’t wait to touch, though. Could have made this so much easier for yourselves.’ You wriggle your hips a little more, finding just the right angle, the right pressure. Oh, it’s so good. Too good. Your noises come louder, faster, and though Frankie’s eyes don’t leave Santi, his body twitches, finely attuned now, to how you sound before you come. As though he’s read Frankie’s mind, Pope’s eyes snap back to you.

‘Not yet.’ He bites. 

You breathe jagged, harsh breaths through your nose, eyes scrunching shut against the coil that’s tightening in your core. You’re so wet you can feel it dripping through your folds, straight onto the sheets, and you try to think of anything but the sound of Santi’s cock moving in Frankie’s throat. What groceries you need to buy, the post you need to hand to your neighbour, what you’ll wear to meet Sarah. Joel. Joel. Fuck, no. That makes it even worse.

You moan again, dangerously close to the edge, cracking open your eyes to see Frankie bobbing up and down Santi’s length, drool escaping the corners of his mouth. How his cheeks hollow, how he sinks down to the wiry hairs at the bottom, eyes fixed on Santi’s face, unwavering, swallowing; moving back up to kiss the tip, the spit that trails from his lips to Pope’s head, how Pope rocks his hips forward, chasing the sensation. How Santi groans for him, tomalo, mírame, tu boca, tan bonito -

Your hips stutter, now trying to move away from the vibrator as Pope’s hand finally grips Frankie’s curls, pulling him in closer, holding him still as he fucks his throat, and you try to get out a please, please, trying to back yourself down, trying so hard even though it would be so easy -

Santi’s gaze finds you, lost to the feeling of the other man’s mouth, and he smiles kindly.

‘Casi ahí, bebita.’

You shake your head, eyes pleading, desperate, teary, and he seems to take pity on you. He uses his grip on Frankie’s curls to ease him off slowly, marvelling at the way his cock emerges, glistening; at the way Frankies mouth still hangs open for him to fill. 

‘Should we help her out, baby?’ He asks softy.

Frankie looks to you, eyes glassy, cheeks flushed. Please, you try to moan again.

‘Yes.’ He says, voice hoarse.

Pope holds a hand out to him to help him off the floor, and Frankie stands on shaky legs. You try to will them to move faster, teetering on the edge, breath leaving you in great puffs, your body straining away from the toy, arms aching with the effort of trying to pull yourself away.

‘You ready to come, princesa?’ Santi murmurs.

You gurgle an mhm, sniffling as his hand moves low, hovering over the vibrator. Frankie bends, his cock angry and red still, to press a kiss to your temple.

‘Did so well,’ he whispers, ‘It’s okay, hermosa.’

Pope takes that as his cue to take hold of the wand.

Your back arches as he presses it down, harder against you, roving it back and forth for extra friction. You start to beg through your panties, knowing you can’t hold back anymore as your pussy turns traitor, beginning to flutter. Tears spill from the corners of your eyes, and Santi smiles.

‘Now.’ he whispers.

Your body pulls impossibly tight, giving in to the rush of fire that has been simmering, your muscles clenching painfully as sound and sight evade you. You can feel your lungs working, feel the choked gasps leaving you, feel your arms pulling at Santi’s belt, but you are somewhere outside your body. A rush courses through your body, and you feel yourself gushing between your thighs.

When you come to, blinking, body slick with sweat and your cum seeping down your legs, Pope is untying your hands. You drop them above your head, and Frankie takes your wrists, massaging them soothingly with his thumbs. Santi presses a tender kiss to your stomach, moving the vibrator away as you shiver and jerk with overstimulation.

‘So good, bebita,’ he says, ‘Atta girl. Look how well you behaved there.’

He presses his fingers into your mouth to remove the lace, and your tongue works around your gums to alleviate the dryness the fabric left.

‘Can you move?’ He asks gently, and you nod weakly, cinching at the waist to haul yourself up. He brings his palms to your shoulder, rubbing your skin as Frankie sits behind you, pressing kisses to the nape of your neck. ‘Well done, princesa.’

He brings you further forward, cradling you to his chest as he tells Frankie to lay back behind you, then angles your shoulder to turn and face him. Frankie looks fucked. His bare skin untouched, his cock dribbling precum, pooling at his stomach as you watch. His jaw is clenched like he’s trying to stop himself from begging, and you reach out to touch his thigh, trying to offer comfort in any way you can. He whimpers at the warmth of your skin.

‘Should we help him, querida?’ Pope whispers in your ear, your back still to his chest.

‘Yes.’ You answer, throat dry. He kisses your cheek, and you feel his smile.

‘Use your mouth, bonita.’

You move from Pope to settle yourself between Frankie’s legs on all fours, breathing kisses into his inner thighs before touching him, trailing a finger down his soft shaft. He hisses at the sensation, and you pause, meeting his eye. He swallows, nods.

‘Keep going.’ He rasps.

You pull yourself further up, mouthing at his underside, pressing kisses to his leaking tip before laving your tongue up and down his length. When his hips buck at the sensation, you move a palm to cup his balls and take him fully into your mouth, sucking and hollowing your cheeks, humming with the salty taste of him. His hands quickly find the side of your head, and you move back up towards his tip, licking into his slit to drink down more, playing with his frenulum in a way you know drives him insane. He moans, deep and needy, puffing out a soft fuck as you take him down to the base again, nuzzling the hair there, breathing him in. His cock jumps in your throat, and he looses a needy whine, pulling on your hair, but you don’t budge.

‘Hermosa -’ he breathes, voice tight, and Santi speaks again from behind you.

‘Are you gonna last, hermano?’

Frankie looks up from watching you, unfocused, swaying his head. Pope makes an amused sound, and you feel his hands on you, positioning you, then the press of his tip against your slick hole.

‘Just a little longer, Fish. So much to do with you two.’

Santi glides inside of you easily, but it’s still enough to knock the breath from your lungs. You moan around Frankie’s sensitive dick, and he gasps, hands tightening in your hair.

‘Please -’ he warns, ‘Please -’ as Pope pulls out and thrusts back in again. You cry out, moving back up to Frankie’s tip, moving up and down the best you can as Pope dives in and out of your pussy, knocking you forward to take Frankie deeper with each thrust. ‘Santi -’ Frankie grits, and the other man chuckles behind you. 

‘Alright,’ he says, ‘Don’t want to spoil the fun.’ 

You whine and pout at the loss as he withdraws from you completely, turning your head to find that he’s stripped himself of his jeans and underwear. He winks at you before giving you a little push.

‘Ride it, querida.’

You push yourself up eagerly, coming to straddle Frankie’s hips before positioning him at your entrance. He looks up at you with blown, lust filled eyes, absolutely ruined. 

Despite the stretch, you sink down onto him without stopping. 

He feels so good. Just like the first time.

You writhe down at his base as his hands shoot out to grip your hips, his beautiful neck straining as his grits his teeth, his abs flexing as he attempts to hold you still. But it didn’t work the first time, and it won’t work now.

You take yourself slowly up, smiling at the wet sound of the movement before sinking down again, feeling him stretch you out, feeling him in your stomach. It’s a delicious ache. You wonder what Joel would say right now, watching you take him so easily, watching how he fills you. Bet you can’t wait to know what his cock feels like inside you, huh? Can’t wait to be droolin’ and comin’ over him like you do me, hm? You clench tight around Frankie at the thought, at the same time as a little ache settles in your chest. You miss him. You miss him, and you wonder what he’d be doing with his hands, his mouth, his cock -

‘Que cosita mas linda.'

Santi’s voice brings you back as you bounce on Frankie’s lap, and you lift your head to look at the younger man, his eyes heavy-lidded, lip nipped between his teeth.

‘She gonna make you come like this, Francisco?’

At the use of his full name, all of the sounds Frankie has been trying to hold back break free from him. All of his pretty little gasps and moans, his whimpers, the way he pants your name as he clings to you, eyes never leaving where you’re joined as he pleads -

‘Can I? Can I come?’ 

You clench around him again, the knot in your belly snapping at his words, your orgasm blinding as it comes at you sideways. Frankie moans loudly, repeating your name. You gasp, high little pants of uh- uh- as you jolt on him, pain mixing with pleasure as you call his name, Santi’s name, Joel’s name -

‘Up. Off.’

Santi presses a palm to your backside to move you off of Frankie’s length, even as you still clench around him. 

‘Fuck,’ Frankie heaves, ‘Fuck, please, no -’ 

‘Quiet.’ Santi bites at him, and Frankie whines, his cock jumping between your folds at his tone. You close your eyes. 

‘Let him,’ you plead, ‘Please, let him, Pope.’

You wanted him to come, he deserved to come. You move your lips up and down his length, and Frankie chokes a moan, his body moving higher up the bed as Santi moves behind you, but you can’t work out why behind the darkness of your eyelids. Your eyes are still closed, body still quaking as Santi leans forward to press a kiss to the centre of your spine. You arch your back against his mouth and he chases you, pressing another slightly higher, scraping his teeth against your skin.

‘Querida,’ he says. You can only moan in response. You know it’s not what he wants, but your brain is so fuzzy it can’t comprehend anything beyond it.

‘Turn around,’ he says, and you whimper, eyelids fluttering as you scratch gently at Frankie’s chest. The man beneath you writhes at the feeling, head rolling, eyes closing, fingers flexing bruisingly on your hips. ‘Turn. Around.’ Santi grits, this time taking Frankie’s hands so he can prise them off you, gripping your waist in an effort to turn your body. 

There’s no graceful way to do it, but Frankie handles your limbs with gentle hands as you swing your legs around him. 

When you face Pope, the sight that greets you is even better than you could have imagined. 

He eyes you hungrily, carnally, his brow dark and hair curled more than you've ever seen. But your eyes are taken to where his fingers are sunk knuckle-deep into Frankie, pumping them slowly. You moan as he digs them in deeper before curling them, repeating the beckoning motion until Frankie’s belly twitches. At the tells of his orgasm, Pope removes the digits slowly, deaf to Frankie’s desperate begging. You watch, mute, as Pope then takes the bottle of lube from beside him, pouring it onto his cock with a quiet moan, jacking himself before pressing his tip to Frankie’s hole. You feel the man below you tense slightly, and you stroke his thighs, fallen open on either side of Santi, with soothing fingers. When he relaxes, one of Pope’s hands meets yours on his flesh, the other helping to guide himself in. You watch as his length is swallowed, breathing shallow, listening to any noise the pair make. Frankie’s ragged groan, the way he chants Pope, Jesus, fuck, his bruising grip back on your hips, Pope’s answering growl as his eyes roll to the ceiling before fluttering shut. When he bottoms out, you watch as his stomach flexes, eyes then drifting lower, where you can only see the coarse hair at the base of his cock, the rest of it buried inside Frankie. You feel your face crease as your stomach turns molten.

Your hips drop to the swell of Frankie’s stomach, searching for any kind of friction. It should be impossible to be this constantly turned on. You move your hips as Pope drags his cock in and out of Frankie once, twice, murmuring how tight he is, how pretty, how good, before his eyes find yours.

‘You want her to sit on your face, pretty boy?’ Santiago purrs at the man over your shoulder.

‘Oh, fuck, please.’ Frankie moans.

Pope jerks his chin at you, sending you shuffling clumsily backwards, blinded by how badly you need to feel something, eyes fixed again to where he thrusts in and out of the younger man, angling your hips above Frankie’s face. You only see his mouth open, tongue already out to lick a fat stripe through your folds, before he pulls you roughly down, moaning against you.

‘Jesus - fuck -’ you hiss, trying to jerk away. It’s too much, too soon, but Frankie is too strong, too desperate to taste you. Your hand flies out Santi’s chest, scratching his skin before trying to find purchase higher up. You take his neck between your thumb and fingers as Frankie eats at you, his mouth harsh and hungry as it sucks and licks. Santi stutters out a groan as you tilt his head at you and squeeze.

‘Make him come,’ you murmur, ‘Make him come, baby, and then you can show me what else you wanna do with us.’

Santi grins and pants against you, his hips faltering for a moment as he leans his neck further into the cradle of your hand. He nods quickly, eyes glazing and soft. You smile back at him, squeezing again, pleased.

‘Frankie always said you were a good soldier, Santiago,’ you coo. ‘Should have known what you really needed was to be told what to do.’

‘Fuck you.’ He grins against your lips.

You answer it with a pathetic, needy little whine.

‘Mm, yes please, baby.’

Frankie takes the moment to suck particularly hard at your clit, and you feel your face crumple - one hand scrabbling at the younger man’s belly, the one at Santi’s neck now gripping the shoulder of the man fucking him. Frankie works diligently at your cunt, anchoring your hips to him as he devours you ravenously, letting the tip of his nose rest just inside your entrance as he flicks your bud with his tongue, swirling it in circles as you grind against him. 

This orgasm comes slow, like wading through treacle. It drips down your spine as you curve over Frankie, gasping and shuddering, so breathless that even Pope slows down. Frankie must feel you jolt and twitch above him, lapping up the last of your cum before he releases you from his grip. You lift your hips quickly, needing reprieve, aftershocks still knocking through you as you pant against Santi’s chest.

‘So good,’ you breathe, loud enough for Frankie to hear, ‘So good to me, baby boy, aren’t you?’

Pope presses a kiss to your hair as you work a fist around Frankie’s cock, squeezing his base. He jumps beneath you, a heady, keening noise wailing from his now unoccupied mouth, and you squeeze him tighter, pumping him once, twice, his shaft slick with your juices and his precum.

‘You’ll make him come.’ Pope warns, and you hum against him, forehead just above his sternum. You’re too lost in the way his cock looks as it disappears into Frankie.

The door opens so quietly you don’t hear it, but Santi does. How he keeps his wits about him despite what’s happening is beyond you. He stills his movements inside Frankie, and you feel his damp breath against your forehead, head dipping as he nudges your cheek with his jaw, turning your face towards it. 

‘Look who’s home.’ He murmurs into your ear. 

Your stomach swoops.

Joel stands in the doorway. His nose and brow rosy from working in the sun, your favourite flannel draped over his broad shoulders, a grin twisting his lips as he takes the scene in. His eyes dip from yours to your tits, to the way your body curls over Frankie’s. He takes in the man laying beneath you - his face shining with your cum, blissed and fucked out. The rise and fall of his tummy, the way his thighs are splayed to make room for Pope. The way Santi can’t help but flex inside him, earning a ragged groan from both of them, up the other man’s torso, his neck, to the dark eyes watching him back. It’s breathtaking. 

Joel cocks his head.

‘Don’t stop on my account,’ he drawls, ‘Y’all make such a pretty picture.’

You swallow loudly, letting your head fall back to Santi’s warm shoulder, panting before looking back at him. Something swirls in your gut, and you speak before even realising.

‘Come here,’ you whisper, voice cracking. ‘Come here and make it even prettier, daddy.’

The three of you watch as Joel steps towards you, letting the door fall shut behind him.

help with spanish translations from @/urmomsgnocchi's invaluable post here. if there are inaccuracies, please drop me a message <3

[shadykazama]

Hello! Your headcanons on Wukong/Destined One had me giggling so much 😊 they're so great, couldn't stop rereading.

Um, if it's alright, can I ask for some Wukong/Destined One x Reader with their baby? Feral daddy monkey in his nesting phase with his mate and baby is so— 🤭

Absolutely! I have a lot of thoughts and the people demand more monkey business- so let's get down to it.

❤ Wukong

Starting with the pregnancy~

He is ELATED.

The idea of a proper heir had never crossed his mind because well- he's immortal. He doesn't need one. But that doesn't mean the idea of his own flesh and blood isn't positively exciting.

There's a chance he knows you're pregnant before you do. What with all of his special powers and heightened senses.

Celebrates privately with you of course but it becomes a mountain-wide event very quickly.

You are showered with praise and blessings by all the monkeys.

He will never miss a chance to brag that he's going to have a baby. And he's definitely smug about it too, thinks your child is going to surpass even his power.

When you start showing he gets more smothering.

Don't forget our king's fatal flaw! He thinks he knows what's best.

Will limit how much you travel and makes sure you always have at least two attendants by your side while he's gone.

Which, once you get further along, isn't often. There were plenty of superstitions about pregnancy in ancient China, as well as a high infant mortality rate- and that's not even counting what complications could happen due to the magical nature of your child. So he'd be stressed.

He expresses stress through aggression (canon), though it's never pointed at you. He'd be fiercely protective over the mountain, but especially any of the areas you regularly stay in. He'd be very snappy at everyone for the entire second half of the pregnancy, except you of course, who he'd be showering with praise and reverence.

Likes holding your stomach while you rest and tells your baby about the great lineage they're being born into, recounting his titles and strength and promising them they'd be greater.

He's hoping for a boy, but he's assured his child will be spectacular regardless of the gender.

When you give birth he will be extremely focused. He can't afford to be weak in a moment when you need him most. (Though your cries of pain and effort will certainly make his heart ache.)

As you're holding your baby for the first time, his teasing, smug attitude is nowhere to be seen. He just looks at you as if you'd given him the universe itself.

Cutest baby ever might I add 👆.

It's a Chinese tradition that only immediate family is allowed to meet the baby for the first 100 days after it's born, so it'd just be you and him for a majority of three months unless you invite your family to meet them.

In traditional fashion, on the 100th day a banquet is held to officially introduce the baby to everyone. And MY GOD would it be an event...

Besides all of the monkeys on the mountain who want to celebrate their new prince/princess, I can't even imagine how many celestials and demons would come to pay their respects and blessings- be it out of fear or respect.

Either way, expect a very long day and a LOT of gifts.

^ Wukong doesn't leave your side for the entire day. I dare someone to try and pull something.

You'd expect with his trickster personality that he'd be a very lenient dad, but Wukong is surprisingly dutiful in making sure your child doesn't turn out lazy or ignorant.

That by no means is to say he wouldn't be a wonderfully playful father. He'd have a wonderful connection with his child, and his most important lesson to them would be to respect their mother ;)

More of a one kid kind of guy, so he'd probably stop after the first, unless you had twins or triplets.

As protective as he was with you when you were pregnant, he's pretty chill with the actual kid. He knows they're durable and will let them get roughed up doing dumb stuff.

Carries them around hanging off his tail and will pretend like he doesn't know where they went.

It's like how cats will let their babies 'sneak up on them' to encourage them to keep trying. He does the same thing with your kid when they try to trick him.

Your baby would be the most respectful little shit ever. A little shit nonetheless, but would do anything for you or their father.

All the monkeys on the mountain help keep an eye on the little sage so you'll never feel lost or alone in parenting. It's very much a joined effort and your baby will see the other monkeys as their family as well!

This wonderful piece of Sun Wukong was done by @kanade-howl here on tumblr! They post their work on Twitter as well at @kanaade_ and @_liehuzuo please support them!

💙 The Destined One

Give him a bunch of babies I beg you.

He'd get addicted, he wants a big family for SURE.

When you first tell him you're pregnant he'll probably take some time to fully soak it in.

You'll be used to being patient with him at this point, but I imagine something like this is really nerve wracking so don't feel bad if you rush him for a response.

He'll put a hand on your stomach as if he's checking for himself before picking you up and smothering you with love.

He's not a chatty guy but he'll let you know how happy he is!

^ That being said, during your pregnancies is the most talkative he'll ever be.

He doesn't want you to stress about communicating and knows your body is going through a lot so he pushes himself to talk more to make sure you get everything you need.

That doesn't mean he'll be a chatterbox by any means. More than nothing is still very slim :')

Expect a lot of one word questions.

Trusts you more than he trusts his own instincts. His instincts tell him you shouldn't be climbing or moving around much- but if you want to, who's he to tell you what to do? He's not the one pregnant 🤷‍♀️

Follows you around like a guard dog when you do though, doesn't matter what you're doing.

Somehow even more physically affectionate than normal. Will insist on holding your hand when you walk so you can lean your weight on him.

When you start showing he'll be amazed. It's not that he's never seen a pregnant person before but like... That's his baby in there and he can't believe it.

His favorite thing to do is lay his head against your stomach while you're resting. Will kiss your skin and adore the life you're making.

You can catch him whispering things to your baby while he's resting his head on your stomach.

Your body is going to ache and he is more than happy to massage it for you. He doesn't even need an excuse to touch you, but he'll find them anyway.

Once you get further along and it gets harder for you to get around, he'll pick you up and take your wherever you want to go- within reasonable distance from your home of course. Not because he can't take you further, he just doesn't want to in case something happens.

But he wants to make sure you get fresh air and still see the beauty outside of your bed.

Doesn't trust anyone to watch you. It's him or nothing.

Makes offerings and prays to the goddess of childbirth. He does this a few times before you catch him and start helping.

He's a bundle of nerves when you're giving birth. If you weren't preoccupied, it'd probably be painfully obvious how nervous he was.

Holds you while you hold your baby and will not stop telling you how much he loves you and how perfect the baby is.

Gets baby fever bad.

Baby will be spoiled, and so will any other baby after that.

Huge advocate for carrying the baby. If you're not opposed to it, he probably carries them more than you.

Has the most deadpan look on his face as he looks at this baby but he has so much adoration for his little miracle.

Stressing over your baby crying in the middle of the night? Not with him! He's at that babies beck and call.

Watching a nearly mute man deal with a curious child is definitely amusing and you get a front row seat.

Your children kind of just accept that their dad doesn't talk much, but he'll always tell them he loves them if they say it to him.

Takes them everywhere with him so he can teach them. Is SO proud when the oldest starts helping teach the younger ones.

He's proud of them in general honestly.

Your kids are going to be super loving and curious. I think he'd foster really healthy relationships between all of them.

You'd have a whole team taking care of you if you ever got sick.

[strawbellyx3]

Some thoughts on JinMao in The Apothecary Diaries LN (spoilers)

I love how Maomao's love for Jinshi is written in the Light Novel. She's an unreliable narrator and can't put a name on what she feels for a long time and heck, for the most time she doesn't even want to. The beginning of volume 6 showing this perfectly when she didn't want to leave Jinshi's hair stick behind, carried it with her and when she slept, she kept it near her chest because she didn't want to have it anywhere where she could see it. The symbolism *chef kiss* (she doesn't want to face her feelings but also still carries them close to her chest)

She purposely chooses to avoid thinking about any potential feelings for Jinshi and at the end of the same volume it's also stated that she does have some kind of affection for him that she can't yet put into words.

For readers, it's easy to view Maomao's avoidant attitude as disinterest. Even more so paired with how she doesn't seem to ever be nervous around Jinshi. But really, we don't need blushy nervous Maomao to understand what she's feeling. Her feelings come to show everytime she worries about Jinshi's well being and goes out of her way to get him to eat and rest, takes time of her own day to make sure that he's well.

When at the beginning, she always considered him bringing all these tasks to her as bothersome. Maomao just wanted to experiment with poison and make medicine, she didn't want to spend time on anything else, really.

Then, in volume 9 she's even willing to give up her agency if it meant helping ease his burdens.

Maomao, miss "I don't want to have anything to do with this, this is bothersome" tells him to use all of her. Use her until she falls apart. (while kabedoning him, love Maomao being an absolute girlboss even when she tells him to use her)

She's worried by his selflessness. How he's unable to use other people to reach his goals and shoulders everything on his own, wanting to save everyone. Maomao gets upset by it and worries he'd never get anything in return and become as luckless in life as her adoptive father. Who carries the same selflessness and kindness.

I don't think we talk enough about how much it means for Maomao to get to a point where she would rather get used by Jinshi than to see him exhaust himself.

This whole scene afterwards is just..generally really heartwarming honestly.

(Volume 9 Chapter 20)

Her hands went to Jinshi’s cheek. “You’re only human, Master Jinshi. You’re not some mythical immortal who can save everyone.” She held his face in her hands, the fingers of her left hand brushing his scar. “You can be wounded, scarred, brought low. Only human.”

Who was she talking to? She knew Jinshi was standing in front of her, but for some reason she kept seeing Luomen’s face.

No wonder I’m so upset. The principle that drove Jinshi’s behavior seemed very similar to Luomen’s. She was afraid that if he went on like this, he would end up just as luckless in life as her old man. Just like Pops... He’d spent himself trying to rescue everyone and everything. Like a fool. He should have wanted more, been greedier, but instead he’d suffered his fate patiently. Suffered and suffered, and for what? To become an old man resigned to his empty hands. This was, it was fair to say, Maomao’s one criticism of her father. She’d felt it keenly in the affair with the Shaonese shrine maiden. She respected Luomen immensely. A man who never lost his kindness no matter what unhappiness he encountered was like a miracle. The price, though, was that his body and his heart were both battered. In time he became so that everything he did, he did in the expectation of defeat. Would Jinshi end up like him one day? Or— “Please, please don’t go doing anything else like burning a brand into your skin,” Maomao said. “I heard you...the first several times,” Jinshi replied. “Are you sure?” A smile flitted across Maomao’s face, and she slowly pulled her hands away.

[theeoriginals]

klaus or elijah (your choice) x former flame!reader 👀

all i want | elijah mikaelson

+ Ohhh I loved your cat and mouse one! Could you please make a calm housewife/mom of the friend group type of girl and Elijah falling for her in a kind of best friend to lovers situation? Idk I just think it would fit cause elijah’s very family oriented and I see him falling for a dear old time friend too? Idk so uhm yeah. Feel free to refuse ofc!

elijah mikaelson x vampire!reader (no y/n)

author's notes; combining these requests :) hope that's ok!!

warnings; vague references to past violence but nothing insane. exes to friends to lovers, just plotless fluff, with an extra side of fluff. yes elijah is extremely charming, yes he can't make eye contact with a pretty girl. duality of man.

It’s an unspoken thing, what lingers between them still. Unspoken in the sense that they don’t talk about it, but everyone else does. 

It always shocks people to learn that the oldest vampires on Earth are ridiculous, catty gossips. Elijah doesn’t know why it’s such a surprise. Living as long as they all have, you’ve got to keep things interesting, otherwise immortality becomes mind-numbing. He supposes that it just doesn’t measure up to their reputation for being ruthless animals, which isn’t unfounded. It’s just not the only thing they could be classified as. 

Ruthless monsters that defend each other to the death at the end of the day, no matter how many times they’ve stabbed each other in the backs, certainly. Childish gossips that like to start rumors and rewrite history when they get a little bored, definitely. The two identifiers can coexist, and very much do.

And this thing, this unspoken thing that is unspoken for a multitude of reasons but none more so than the simple fact that even as long as they’ve known each other it’s still fragile, and something could break it with ease, is only unspoken to Elijah. 

His brothers and sisters, however, like to do nothing but talk about it. 

“Well, she’s almost here,” Rebekah rolls her eyes, but it’s just for the fact that her older brother is going to be a lovesick idiot the entire time the girl is here, and it really takes away from Rebekah’s own quality time with her. “No wonder Elijah’s been bumbling around like a fool all day.” 

Klaus chuckles, and the two of them dutifully ignore the glare their brother sends them. “Do you think she sent him a letter to announce her arrival? Elijah always loves things like that,” 

Rebekah’s blue eyes light up. “Oh, yes! I wonder if she sprayed it with her perfume– us ladies used to do that with a suitor back in the day,” She fans a hand towards her face, closing her eyes at the small breeze it creates. “They don’t text or call, of course, it takes all of the personality out of it. And god knows Elijah’s all personality,” 

Klaus laughs again, and the two finally glance across the room to where Elijah’s leaning against a wall, glaring at them with his arms crossed over his chest. 

“I hate you both,” He says, earning another round of laughter from them. “And stop going through my things, Rebekah. Those letters are none of your business.” 

The blonde girl pushes her lips out in a pout. “But I get so bored, Elijah. You can’t be mad at me for entertaining myself,” 

“I fear he just hates fun, dear sister,” Klaus says, feigning a wistful tone. “He doesn’t approve of my methods of entertainment either.” 

“That’s because your methods of entertainment always end in a bloodbath,” Elijah says accusingly, earning a shrug from the hybrid. “You’re both immature. A thousand years old, still acting like children.” 

Their faces twist in offense in unison, and Elijah distantly thinks that even though they’re not even fully related, let alone the same age even in their vampiric years, they were twins put on this Earth to terrorize him and ensure that he never knew peace. 

Before they can begin their outcries of dramatized offense, and Elijah can continue to lightheartedly mock them, a voice comes from the hall, echoing fondly. 

“Must you two always tease your brother?” The smile is obvious in her voice as she walks into the room, and the three of them snap their gazes towards the woman in surprise. “He’s a delicate soul, you know. His poor heart can’t handle too many jokes,” 

Elijah recovers quickly, rolling his eyes, though he can’t (and won’t) stop the smile from growing on his face as she meets Rebekah for a hug. “Oh, wonderful. That’s just what they need. Encouragement.” 

She chuckles at his poorly-feigned exasperation, and the sound settles in his ears like a morning dove’s song. She releases Rebekah from the hug and leans down to where Klaus is stretched out in a chair with his feet kicked up on the table, pressing a kiss to his cheek. 

Glancing around at the vaulted ceilings of the compound, she sighs wistfully. “I can’t believe this place looks the same as when you bought it,” She shakes her head in slight disbelief. 

Klaus shrugs, crossing his arms over his chest. “When we first returned, there was some… cleaning up to do, but it’s maintained its shape wonderfully.” 

If she catches onto his double entendre, she doesn’t say anything, just nods in understanding. That’s something Elijah has always liked about her– she lets things go unsaid. She’s always had the ability to connect with him and his siblings in a way that most others can’t, and even when Elijah is at his worst, she’s been that olive branch that he can grab onto to bring him back to himself. Always so understanding and level. It’s a wonder that she still associates with any of them, given their penchant for chaos. 

Finally, she turns her attention onto him, and in its entirety he feels breathless. Even after decades of knowing one another, it’s never gotten easier to hide his ardor for her. He knows she can still read him as easily as she could thirty years ago, too.

“Elijah,” She says his name better than he’s ever heard it, with a tilt to her head and a fondness in her voice that makes him feel more alive than anything else he’s found in his centuries on this planet. 

She crosses the room to where he’s at, because he froze in his spot as soon as he heard her voice, and wraps her arms around him like she’s never been more relieved to see him. 

It’s another thing he’s always liked about her. She’s never stopped loving him. He knows that. Lives with it everyday. 

Regrets a lot of things, too. 

He says her name back as gently as he can, like she’ll break in his arms. He wonders if she thinks of all the times she has broken in his arms, and then he tells himself there’s no way she’s forgotten it, because he hasn’t. And that is something that is theirs and theirs alone. 

She pulls away and he misses her touch the moment she goes because it feels rarer and rarer with each day that passes. Every time she leaves, he fears it’s the last time he’ll see her. 

He doesn’t want to ruin her visit with these thoughts. Even though he knows she’d offer him endless comfort, he doesn’t want her to worry about him for a second. 

She turns to face them, clapping her hands together with a smile. “Well, then. What’s first on the agenda?” 

────── 

Something that comes with living as long as Elijah has is learning that some things about yourself you’ll just never be able to change. Such things like being a vampire in itself, having a firm hand when it comes to doing business with people. He’s been told he’s somewhat of a snake, and he’s well aware of his silver tongued ways, and it’s something he knows he can’t change, and hasn’t ever wanted to. 

One thing that has yet to fall under that category of acceptance is his jealousy. 

In his defense, he’s never jealous when he thinks he should be. He’s never been jealous of his siblings, spare for a few embarrassing months spent around the doppelgängers, but Elijah has never had to envy someone for something they had because if he wanted it that bad, he could just take it. 

But this. This he knows is jealousy, pure and unbridled, and nauseating, if he’s feeling that correctly. 

This is the jealousy that he’s seen destroy entire regimes. This is the jealousy that has driven his family to madness at times. 

And of course, she’s at the center of it all. Of course she is. There would be no other way he could feel this so strongly if she was not involved in it somehow. 

She’s the source of a lot of jealousy, he knows. He’s jealous of the carefree relationships his siblings get to have with her because they don’t have to be burdened with the feelings of the past that are most definitely still there. They don’t have to worry if they looked at her lips for too long, or if they held her a little too gentle to be considered entirely friendly. They don’t have to worry about saying the wrong thing, stepping past that line they so carefully drew in the sand for everyone’s sake. 

These are the consequences of his actions, he knows. It doesn’t make it any easier to deal with, though. It might make it worse. 

Watching his siblings drink freely as the band played on was nothing unfamiliar. Patrons had long since joined in on the fun, and he’s sure there’s a crowd outside looking in on the celebration of unknown origins. 

At the center of it all, she is there, standing on a table with a crowd of adoring admirers surrounding her as she swayed and moved to the music. He would swear there’s a light shining on her, just for her, projecting her shadow above everyone like some sort of angel. He thinks she has every right to be worshiped. 

And the reason he’s so maddeningly, bitingly jealous is because he is the reason that he’s not the one dancing with her. He can’t be the one to dance with her, and he can’t be the one that makes her laugh like she is because he’s the one that said they shouldn’t be together. He is the one who broke her heart, and he doesn’t deserve an ounce of the kindness she still shows. 

So all he can do is sip his drink at the bar and watch as she pulls his sister, sweet, dangerous, devastatingly insecure Rebekah, up onto the table with her and shares her spotlight with her. Making his sister light up like she does with no one else. Earning another round of cheers from Klaus and Kol as they watch on, demanding another round of drinks for everyone in an odd show of generosity. 

She brings out the best in his siblings. In him. 

It makes him burn bright inside. Boiling, hot to the touch. He knows then and there that there’s a reason he’s seen something as trivial as jealousy take down the most powerful of men. Love is such a dangerous thing to get involved in in the first place, but finding someone, finding the woman who makes you feel like you could conquer the world is something else entirely. It bypasses dangerous and heads straight into fatal. 

Because she makes you feel like you could conquer the whole world, but the second you lose her, it all means nothing. You’ll tear it all down if it means she won’t be there, too. 

And the worst part of it all is the only reason he feels like this is because he is the one that ruined it. Blamed his family, blamed his parents, blamed everything else but his own fears for the reason they couldn’t be together. The distance, the timing. Whatever he could grasp, he pulled it out of his pocket and gave it to her on a silver platter, served with a distant coldness he’d long since perfect, and never wanted to use on her in the first place. 

He had so much time under his belt, but he was such a child. So helpless it bordered on criminal, all because he fell in love and he didn’t know what to do with it. 

It’s embarrassing more than anything else. 

He hasn’t taken his eyes off of her since she started dancing. Hadn’t stopped listening since he heard her first laugh. Didn’t want to miss a single second, just in case. 

For the first time all night, he blinked and turned his head away from her and threw the rest of his drink back like it was water. 

He could allow himself a bit more wallowing. Just a bit. 

────── 

“Well, Rebekah’s safe in bed. I even got her in pajamas, believe it or not,” Her voice carries even in its whisper, and he looks up from his lap as she enters the small living space, hands clasped in front of her as she takes a seat in the chair beside him. “Original vampire or not, I doubt she’ll feel very good in the morning.” 

Elijah hummed, thinking of his dear sister and how even if she’d healed a thousand times over, she’d still find a way to complain. He adored it. 

“What about you?” 

He raises a brow, lips twisting confusedly. “What about me?” 

She gestures towards his slightly slumped form on the couch pointedly. He follows her direction, looking at his rumpled suit, and the white button up he’d undone the top four buttons off, at least. He feels momentarily embarrassed at his state of disarray but he simply huffs out a laugh, lifting his gaze to meet hers again. 

“I’m a mess,” He shrugs, earning a quiet laugh out of her. “But I don’t think that has anything to do with our drinking tonight.” 

“I can’t disagree, unfortunately,” 

He hides the way his grin threatens to split his face behind his face, rubbing along his scruffy jawline as he looks at her. The longer he lingers, the more she avoids his gaze. 

“What?” 

He shakes his head. 

“Elijah,” She intones, such a familiar adoration in her voice that it nearly makes him sick. He doesn’t deserve it. “You’ve been so quiet tonight. What’s on your mind?” 

“You,” 

Her eyes widen in shock at his quick, candid answer, and he has to hide his own surprise at how quick the word had shot out of his mouth. 

“Me? What about me?” 

“Everything,” He sighs, shifting his long legs so he could turn towards her and give her his full attention. “I’ve missed you.” 

“Oh,” She breathes out, looking slightly bashful. “Well, I always miss you. I wouldn’t ever leave if I didn’t–” 

She stops herself, covering her mouth with her hand as a sheepish look crosses her face. He knows she wants him to move past her slip up, but he doesn’t. Can’t. 

“If you didn’t, what?” He leans forward, looking at her imploringly. “Why do you stay away so long?” 

She takes a moment to collect herself, picking at the skin around her nails half-heartedly, like it’s not really bothering her, she just doesn’t want to be so open right now. He’d feel worse about pushing her if he didn’t feel like his heart was leaping out of his throat. 

“Well, I didn’t think you wanted me around that much,” She says quietly, gesturing towards him. 

He rears back like she’s slapped him. 

“How could you ever think such a thing?” He whispers her name, a distant veil of horror laced in his tone. Fear, really. 

“You said,” She says, face furrowing in confusion. “All those years ago– you said that there was no reason for me to stay here with you in New Orleans. So, I– I left. And I travel all the time until I come back here for as long as you’ll let me.” 

Elijah feels something gripping his chest and it feels remarkably like his heart is breaking. 

His voice breaks on her name and he leans forward again, reaching into her space to grab her hands in his. Allowing himself this piece of her that he simply doesn’t deserve. 

“I never,” He stops, breathing out harshly. “I never wanted you to leave. I just–” 

He stops again, squeezes her hands, and then steels himself because this is the least he owes her. 

“You deserved more than to be stuck here with my family,” He starts slowly. “I never– I never wanted you to leave. Every time you walk out of those doors, I want to chase you down and make you stay. You have to believe me when I say that I only ever wanted you to be happy, and you wouldn’t have found that stuck here in the mess we had made back then.” 

There’s a poignant silence that settles as she processes his words, and he holds the ragged breath that builds in his chest when she begins to drag her thumbs along the backs of his hands, smoothing at the skin there. Ever so gentle. 

“All I’ve ever wanted was to be here with you and your family,” She says, shaking her head like she’s scolding him, even though her tone is anything but. “Being here makes me happier than any place I’ve traveled to. And I’m– I’m truly grateful that you had my best interest in mind, Elijah, but you have to understand,” 

She trails off and an incredulous laugh leaves her lips as she smiles at him. “I’ve loved you my entire life. And my heart used to break every day knowing that I’d only have a short time with you. When I turned, I was so– I was so happy because I suddenly had the rest of time to be with you. And you… you broke my heart, Elijah. You truly did,” 

She presses her thumbs into his skin firmly, just a pressure point to punctuate her words. “But I have never stopped loving you. And every time I walked out of those doors and left you behind, my heart broke again. You wouldn’t have ever had to make me stay. That’s all I’ve ever wanted to do.” 

Elijah’s breath stalls in his chest, and lets it out slowly, shakily. There’s a distant string of hope he lets himself pull on, just this once. Because she let him. 

He meets her gaze and smiles softly, just for her. “Will you stay, then? I’m– I’m asking you, truly. Will you stay?” 

She nods before he even finishes speaking and laughs quietly, the sound just for him. “Of course I will, Elijah. I’ll stay as long as you want me to,” 

“Forever,” 

“Forever, then. I’ll stay forever.” 

[thescrapwitch]

Bilbo is sitting on a bench in the afternoon sunshine, enjoying the quiet peace of Elrond’s garden, when he sees her: a tall, dark skinned woman with curly black hair and a warm smile. The fact that someone who looks neither elf nor Maiar is in Valinor startles him. Makes him sit up straighter, drop the book he was reading to the ground. All in black, wearing a dress not unlike a Gondorian noble with a peculiar pendant dangling from her neck, she makes for a strange sight. But her smile is so kind, so gentle, and it makes him smile back.

Bilbo debates, briefly, about getting up to shake her hand, but his legs have been very weak the past few days. He does not want to rise only to crash face-first into the dirt by her feet. That would be rude. So he stays sitting on the bench and gives her a friendly nod.

“Good afternoon,” he says.

“Good afternoon, Bilbo Baggins,” she says. Bilbo is not surprised that she knows his name. As he is one of the three hobbits in the blessed lands, it would be more strange if she didn’t. But she says it with such familiarity that it makes him frown.

“Forgive me, my dear,” he says, “but have we met before?” He knows her. Bilbo knows he knows her, but he can’t quite put his finger on it. Like he sent her an invitation long ago and, now that she’s come as promised, completely forgot about their plans. “Were you a guest at one of my birthday parties?”

She laughs. “No. I don’t normally get invited to those. But I heard your eleventy-first one was quite the event! ”

A shame. She seems like she would have been a wonderful guest. “Could you tell me where we met, then? I know we must have met somewhere, but my brain is not as nimble as it once was, and the memory is escaping me.”

“It was less a formal meeting,” she says, “and more like having crossed paths many times.” Her eyes, which do not carry light the same way an elf’s would, are very, very dark. “I watched as you avoided becoming troll food, as you stumbled in the dark and traded riddles with Gollum, as you crept into Smog’s lair and fumbled as the Battle of the Five Armies tore at each other. But you escaped all of that unharmed, and so we never had a chance to be properly introduced. Until now.”

The answer hits him then, the knowledge rising up from his heart. Oh. Of course he knows her. He’s always known her. It was just easy to forget these past years in Valinor. “Death.”

“Yes.”

“Is it time then?” Bilbo feels, suddenly, very self-conscious. He’s wearing his second-best waistcoat today and wishes he’d worn his first-best one instead. He would have, certainly, if he knew such an important guest was coming to visit him. “I am dying?”

“You are dead,” she says, taking a seat on the bench beside him. Death does not appear to be in any hurry, no grabbing or pulling him along to wherever mortal souls go. Instead, she tips her head back to bask in the sunshine. “Mind if I rest my feet? I don’t normally have to travel this far for work, you know. Still, a change of scenery is always nice. Have they been good to you, these immortals?”

“Yes,” he says, because they have. Elrond and dear Gandalf and all the other friends he’s made in this land. He will miss them all, and hopes they will not be too upset to find him gone. He hopes that they will take care of Frodo and Sam, and that they will not waste a long time grieving. Then, because he cannot help but be curious, even at the end, he says, “Do you mind if I ask you a question?”

“Not at all,” she says. “Take your time. The dying part is already over with. You don’t have to go on until you’re ready.”

She really is so very polite. A shame Bilbo never had the chance to invite her over for tea. He is certain that Death would have had lovely stories to share and impeccable manners. “From what the elves have told me, the Vala Mandos is in charge of death. How is it that you are here for me and not him?”

“Mandos manages death for the elves,” she corrects, not at all upset with the question, “and Aulë the dwarves. But mortals, humans and hobbits, you come with me to receive my gift.”

“You’re a much different god than him.”

“Oh, don’t call me a god.” Death gives him a grin, a flash of bright humor. “That’s too fancy a title. I’m less a divine being and more…more someone with an endless task to do. That’s all.”

“My nephew, Frodo, and his Sam, will you come for them too?”

“Someday,” she promises. “But not yet.”

“Good.” Not that he wants Frodo or Sam to die, but all mortal things must, and he’d rather they had a friendly face for such a journey. Let this one be much kinder to them than the road to Mordor was.

They sit in silence for a moment longer. Bilbo takes one last look at the garden, at the bluebells and primroses that Celebrian planted, at the robins searching for worms, at the book which has fallen from his hands and landed half-open on the ground.

It was a good life, he thinks, and a long one. But all stories have to come to an end eventually, and this will be as best an ending as I could ever have hoped to earn. He stands up, straightens his waistcoat, and looks Death in the eye. “All right. I’m ready.”

Death stands up as well. There is a softness in the way she looks at him that erases any fear or dread Bilbo expected to have when his time was up. It feels more as though he is going on a long walk with a dear friend.

“What is it like, this place of endings beyond the circles of the world? Is it…nice?”

“You will see when you get there,” she says, and holds out her hand. “Think of it as one last adventure.”

“Oh, I do like the sound of that,” says Bilbo. He takes Death’s hand. “Well then, lead the way.”

[recreationalfanfics]

Hello sweetcheeks If you don't mind whether I can request Shiva, Hades, Hercules and Tesla with the very beautiful goddess S/O whose beauty even exceeds Aphrodite, S/O is very elegant and friendly to humans on earth. S/O also really loves immortals. You can freely ignore my request, don't forget to take care of your health and always drink water

Again, I only really follow the anime so I'm only writing for Shiva and Hercules but either way, I hope you like it!

Shiva (+ Wives):

- He loves you and all his wives equally, and while you were recently added into the relationship BUT TRUST ME WHEN I SAY THAT YOU NEVER FEEL LEFT OUT, not when Shiva himself has to keep all four of his arms wrapped around you just because Parvati, Kali, and Durga HAVE BEEN HOGGING YOUR ATTENTION ALL DAY.

- Shiva is so proud to show you off to the other gods, honestly. Making them all jealous and inflating his own ego a bit more.

- He doesn't just show you off, he likes to show off for you. When he's playfully fighting another God then he'll be sure to really flex his muscles and put on a show for you and wink, making you all shy and flustered which is ADORABLE in his eyes.

- He also doesn't just love you for your looks of course, your heart is so incredibly kind and loving. Which contrasts very nicely to his recklessness and sometimes violent side. He smiles seeing you with his son because you always uplift him and treat him like any mother would with their child.

- HE ALSO LOVES TO DANCE WITH YOU AND SO DO HIS WIVES. Like, they invite you and you stun them with your gracefulness and elegance, such poise and control in your steps.

- You were absolutely enchanting, even by a God's standards and everyday, Shiva is just in awe of you. When he's bored and lazy, he asks you if you can dance with him and gives you big puppy eyes to convince you so you roll your eyes and stand up and he gets all happy.

- Your love for humans can lead to...conflicts. Like, he already knew it and he found it odd but endearing but he still has his own opinions about them and they're not very good until Ragnarok happens.

- But, like, when the God's vote for humanity's execution and you're horrified at how they could all be so cruel, Shiva just genuinely can't wrap his head around it but he'll comfort you, a bit guiltily.

- So there is a gap in which you need space from them because its an important topic and while all couples fight, it feels colder in his home because he and everyone else misses you so much.

- NO BUT ALSO, LIKE, AFTER HIS FIGHT, HE STARTS TO SEE WHY YOU LIKE THEM AND HE APOLOGIZES and you're just concerned because HIS ARMS ARE LITERALLY FUCKED UP and you just dote on him.

- Ngl, his wives kinda hate him for a bit now (not actually) because while you help him recover, he acts like a big baby just so you can comfort him and coddle him and give him all your attention and shooting his wives a smug smirk as they roll their eyes but smile as you take care of him because it feels so nice to have you back.

Hercules:

- PLEASE YOU TWO ARE LITERALLY A MATCH MADE IN HEAVEN, LIKE, YOU GUYS ARE LEGIT THE SWEETEST COUPLE EVER😭

- The fact that he used to be human was what drew you to him, like, Ares and the other Greek gods were celebrating and Ares is all: "Woah, (Y/n)'s been looking at you the entire time." and Loki bitterly pouts: "Ugh, of course the human turned God caught her attention right off the bat."

- Hercules doesn't understand why they were making a big deal and turned around to see you...only to make direct eye contact with you and immediately getting all shy and flustered. You greeted him with such warmness and you talked about what it was like for him to become a God, then he started to talk about his life as a human.

- And unlike other gods who side eyed him or looked down on him, your eyes were filled with such wonder and awe at him. You had so many questions for humanity and the way you seemed to be fascinated with them makes it so clear to Hercules that you truly do have a passion for humanity just like him.

- THE OTHER GODS THINK YOU'RE SO WEIRD FOR IT BUT YOU GUYS DON'T CARE, he answers your questions about humanity and even takes you back to his home when he visits his friends and they're ALL STUNNED BY YOU.

- "I-Is that Aphrodite!?" and you just look at them and smile and their hearts beat 10x faster as you're all: "Aw, you humans truly are too kind. I am not the Goddess of Love, I am the Goddess of (insert what you want to be the Goddess of)."

- Your elegance also compliments his strength and almost brutish build, one thing you absolutely adore about Hercules is despite his strength, he always treats you so gently and is always mindful of his strength when he's with you.

- PLEASE HE ABSOLUTELY LOVES TO CARRY YOU ADMIRE YOUR BEAUTIFUL FORM, NO MATTER YOUR BODY TYPE, YOU ARE THE MOST PERFECT THING HE HAS EVER SEEN.

- No because when he volunteers to fight for the God's, you were confused but he explains why he's doing it and you just supporting him and having nothing more than the utmost confidence that he can guide the God's into seeing their wrongs.

[buryustogether]

the end of forever (god’s day)

aziraphale x reader x crowley

summary: the end of forever comes on god’s day.

word count: 2.6k

warnings/tags: angst, mentions of blood

author’s note: dedicated to @avocado-writing , with whom i did a fic trade and this was my piece!! this fic is part of their good omens original timeline, and i highly recommend reading it!!! <333

The end of forever started on a Saturday evening.

Granted, it was not the Saturday evening that dominates the beginning to every weekend, fitted with gentle rainfall pattering against the windows, and a book propped in your lap, and the comfortable ambiance of your lovers on either side as you let yourself be lulled into peace. Instead it was a dark, thrashing kind of Saturday, filled with panicked whispers over dances, and demons busting down the bookshop windows in hails of twinkling glass. It was blinding, seared into the forefront of your mind with traces of a halo detached from its angel and a pair of souls running away, bound for opposite sides of the universe and forever vanished into one corner together.

And, of course, it was snapped up in the jaws of the Metatron. He had taken Aziraphale for a stroll around the block once or twice, leaving you and Crowley to stare down the mess of what had become the bookshop and wonder if perhaps this had all been a dream.

“Fancy breakfast at the Ritz, love?” Crowley had said as the pair of you began to pluck cracked books from the floor and stack them to be restored and reshelved. With a wave of his slender fingers, he had sent the shards of glass cascading through the air like a silent breeze back to where they belonged in the window frames. “Reckon we deserve it, after a night like that.”

“Sure you’ll be able to handle the drive?” you had said and handed him the empty fire extinguisher, which had fallen down the winding iron staircase. “I’m sure you’re exhausted, Crowley. Spending all that time in Heaven? Must have been awfully straining on you.”

Though he would never admit it, Crowley rather enjoyed it when you fussed over him. He relished in the worry threading your voice together, craved the inevitable babying that accompanied your measures of protection. His chest had puffed slightly, and if you could have seen them, you were sure his wings had ruffled a bit.

“I’ll be alright,” he’d assured, then dropped into the chair he had long ago claimed as his beside Aziraphale’s desk. “Wouldn’t say no to a nap when we come back, though. Could sleep for a few decades, I think. Skip all the garish drama that’s sure to follow something like this. Care to join, nightingale?”

You had smiled at him, eyes full of exhaustion and yet at the same time, the restlessness that came with the knowledge part of your trio was still missing from the picture. “Afraid I can only keep you company a few hours,” you mused. “Immortal as I am, I don’t think I can lie still long enough until you decide to wake up.” Despite your teasing, you reached out your hand to caress his jaw, and he leaned into your warm touch. He knew it like he knew his own breath in his throat at this point, but he still nuzzled into your palm like an animal seeking warmth. Funny enough creature as he was, he was still, deep down, a demon searching your soul for any glimpse of love you might spare him. “I’m glad you’re okay, Crowley,” you said, letting your voice lower in volume so he understood you had dropped your jokes and cracks. “I don’t think I could bear losing you. Either of you.”

He had leaned up to kiss you then, lips and tongue seeking yours like, in spite of your words, one side or the other might tear you away from him. He tasted like cinnamon - an odd enough musk for him, but he had just returned from Heaven, after all. You were sure he hated it. But you had drank it in like it was the last thing you’d taste before you fell.

You found yourself some time later amongst the back shelves of the shop, knees and the heels of your hands aching as you painstakingly wiped away and polished the spots on the floor upon which unholy blood had been spilt and spattered. Aziraphale would not care to have those on his tile, thank you. A voice in the back of your head told you that one of your boys could simply miracle the mess away, but this seemed a bit more intimate - cleaning up the mess for your lover. This was your shop, too, in a way. And you wanted to rid it of any trace of what had happened here last night.

You only realized it was Sunday morning - God’s day - when you heard the bell above the front door jingle with its familiar chime, and the low rumble of your lover’s voices filled the empty space between the air. You couldn’t hear what they were saying, not over the sound of your brush against the floor and the dull ache in your lower back. After a long few minutes, you sat back and inspected your work.

Like the demon invasion of Fell and Co. had never even happened.

You were just about to call out to your boys when you heard a sharp hiss to Crowley’s voice that caused your heart to skip a beat. You twisted your head around to face the front of the store. Crowley only ever hissed when he let his disguise slip and his tongue split. And he only ever let his tongue split when he was so distraught not even a raging thunderstorm could comfort him.

Wiping your hands on your legs, you cautiously made your way through the organized maze of shelves toward the front entrance of the bookshop. There stood your lovers, the angel and the demon, staring one another down like they had never met, like their love had vaporized, like they had never met in that garden at the beginning.

“What’s happened?” you said and made your presence known as you stepped down into the threshold. “What’s wrong?”

Aziraphale turned to face you, obviously making an effort to brighten his features, but it was Crowley who faced away. Dropped his weight onto his arm against the desk. Reached up to tug off his shades, toss them aside hard enough that the lens cracked in its frame. The air crackled with a kind of tension that reared its head so rarely it was almost foreign to you. Or, perhaps, was that divine energy rippling the air, stirred and upset by the creatures standing before you?

“Darling,” said Aziraphale, then reached out to take your hands and placed kisses upon your knuckles. His lips were plump and soft, and when they made contact with the skin of your hand, a tiny sense of ease washed over your veins. “You needn’t worry about this. Just a… little dispute.”

“Oh, don’t lie to her like a child,” seethed Crowley from across the room, and whatever ease had settled your nerves disappeared in the blink of an eye. You felt your blood turn to ice beneath your skin when you heard a wobble, a shake, in his voice. Was your demon… holding back tears? He bared his teeth, which he’d allowed to sharpen like blades, and jutted out an accusatory finger toward his husband. “Tell them, or I bloody will,” he snapped, then lifted a deadly brow. “And you won’t like the way I phrase things, angel.”

Alarm blared like a siren in your head, flashed like lights that burned your eyes even through your lids. You knew at once this surely had something to do with last night, with the Metatron, and you were unable to stop yourself from snapping around to stare at Aziraphale expectantly. Where you searched for comfort and reassurance, you found only irritation and exasperation.

“Aziraphale,” you said, gripping his hands tighter as you gently shook your head with confusion. You only barely managed to keep your voice from shaking; something was very, very wrong. This was not like the time two hundred years ago when they had stopped talking to one another for a decade. This was far more serious, far more dangerous. “Aziraphale, what’s happening?”

Your angel stared into your eyes - or, perhaps, he was staring at his own reflection in your irises - and he let out a breath you had not heard him take in. “The Metatron,” he began slowly, softly, like you were a spooked animal who would run if he talked too loud, “has given me a generous, generous offer.”

From across the room, Crowley scoffed over his shoulder and gave another hiss from between his teeth.

“Based on a few of the…” Aziraphale seemed to struggle with the words. “Good deeds that have been performed the last six thousand years, Heaven has agreed to allow me back into its order - as the Supreme Archangel, now that Gab… Jim has vacated his position.” Despite the slow, sinking feeling growing like a black hole in your gut as he went on, the beginnings of an excited smile played upon the corners of his lips. “And they’ve even offered to redeem Crowley - as an angel again!”

The bookshop was a deadly kind of quiet, the kind that filled empty spaces with fear, and dread, and horror until there was nothing left but a rotting mess. Your mouth hung agape as you tried to process your angel’s words, tried to swallow down what he’s just said. Heaven wanted him back - would take Crowley back. That would be it. Their time on Earth would come to a close, a thunderous applause, a devastating end.

Yet there was a single question that hung tight in the air, one that waited like a dagger above each of your heads, waiting to see who would speak of it first.

Could you handle the sting when it planted itself in your back? “Aziraphale,” you heard yourself whisper as your brows knitted together and tears puddled in the corners of your eyes, “what about me?”

Though you could not see it, Crowley shut his eyes and pursed his lips, still attempting to stop the tears from falling down the gaunt planes of his cheeks. He knew the answer already, knew his angel far too well to pretend it could be anything different. He wanted to protect you from it, clasp his hands over your ears and snarl and snap at the world until he’d frightened everything that could hurt you far, far away. But you had to hear this.

Aziraphale swallows thick, holding your hands a bit tighter, like you might bolt from his grasp any moment. Even when you shift, he grips you in an iron grasp. “Well,” he drawls slowly, hesitation creeping into the corners of his voice, “of course, Heaven can’t grant holy status to… ah… humans. Immortal or not, I’m afraid, my love. But do you know angels hold the ability to possess human souls within themselves? Keep them safe and sound - isn’t that lovely? Why, I’m not the first angel in history to find a human they can’t let go of.” His hold tightens again, turning your skin pale where he grips you. “I - we could bring you with us. Your soul, darling.”

Every ounce of curiosity, of worry and fear, has morphed into a single sickening, dripping, venomous sensation that floods your systems, encases your body like a cocoon swallowing you whole; horror.

“You want to take my soul to Heaven,” you said quietly, so terribly softly that it was barely above a whisper. “Like a pet.” With this, you yanked your hands from Aziraphale’s and forced yourself to take three steps back. It stung like knives between your ribs to do so, to bear the expression painting itself across your husband’s face, but there was no other choice. “Aziraphale, you would trade us - trade this - to go back to them? After what they’ve done to you?” You took another step back, and you felt yourself bump into the chest of your demon. “After what they did to Crowley?”

You had always heard betrayal hurt worse from a lover than anyone else. Was this what betrayal felt like? Like stones in your pocket with a river pulling you under? Like venom slowly sucking your life from your very veins.

“No, of course not,” your angel tried, raising his hands. He opened his mouth to go on, then threw up a palm and sniffed out an exasperated huff. “If you both would just try and understand…”

“Oh, we understand plenty.” There came no term of endearment at the end of Crowley’s statement, no playful lilt or head nod. Only the cold, piercing gaze of those yellow eyes, and the slow wrapping of his hands around your arms, pulling you closer against him.

The movement caught Aziraphale’s eye, and hellfire flashed within them. “Oh, I should have known it would go this way,” he chided, pacing forward. “Here I thought you could, for once, Crowley, suppress your demonic ways of swaying her to your side. For once! Are you satisfied, you old serpent? Are you content with what’s happening?”

“How dare you!” The shout came from deep within your chest, an explosive rage nothing short of a scream that leaves the angel frozen where he stands. Those ocean eyes flicker to yours as you at last allow yourself to cry, to feel the sobs wrack your body like earthquakes and feel the tears gathering at the point of your chin. “How dare you let them come between us, Aziraphale! Between us!” You choked a bit and your angel visibly fought a battle within himself, wanting to pull away and surge forward all at once. “After everything… after everything we’ve been through, everything we’ve built, and you want to leave it to play God.”

“Of course I’m not leaving us,” your angel murmured, the crows feet against his eyes making themselves known as he knits his brows. Tears brim the edges of his vision. “I - I would be taking us with me. To somewhere safe… for all of us.”

“No,” you exhaled shakily, feeling Crowley’s fingers tighten around your upper arms. You shook your head at Aziraphale, your ears ringing and heart shattered. “Not safe for us. Better for you.” You peered into his eyes, into those watery blue eyes you could have drowned in, and saw your reflection staring back as he searched for something he could not find. “You miss Heaven, Aziraphale. You always have - and we know that. We all do.” There came a terrible, horrible, dreadful pause. “But we can’t go with you. We won’t.”

Your angel seemed at a loss for words. He simply stood there, staring you and his husband down. He gaped. Tried to form words. Took a step back.

Above you, his fingers now digging so tightly, so fiercely, so protectively, into your skin that his nails left marks, Crowley sneered and hissed in a voice filled with the desolation of a fallen angel, “You idiot.” You turned your face and tucked it into his shirt. “We could have been… us.”

Aziraphale said nothing for a very, very long time. Then he murmured, “I forgive you both.”

The bell over the door jingled, and he was gone, without leaving so much as a feather behind.

You sobbed loudly, awfully, horribly into Crowley’s chest, and you felt his own unholy, burning tears fall against your hairline as he stroked your tresses and kept you standing.

The end of forever started on a Saturday evening, and ended on a Sunday morning.

It was God’s day, after all.

[lostbetweenvampiresandmusic]

Changes

Series masterlist

On the edge of Santa Carla, at the other end of town, was a small wooden cottage. Inside the cottage, you wouldn't find much. Just the absolute necessities. An old, rather uncomfortable bed. A table with a large crack in it, with two chairs surrounding it. An old stove that was only held together by hope and wishes, a small bathroom where it wasn't a question if there was warm water but if there was water at all. It didn't sound like much, and it truly wasn't, but for Miss Johnson, it was exactly what she needed. She didn't have time of luxuries. Ever since her husband died, she had felt a new freedom growing inside her. She had used it to learn the things she had never dared to learn before. Magic.

Every single night, she became better. Every time she practised, she became stronger. But still, to actually see something when laying out the tarot cards - that was new. As she sat at her broken table, placing the shiny new cards in front of her, she couldn't focus on the true meaning of the cards. Instead, she saw flashes. Flashes of horrors she wouldn't dare mention to anyone. She saw how her beloved Santa Carla would burn, how everything in this town would be destroyed. And she also saw - and this terrified her the most - how most of the citizens lost hope.

On the other side of town, at the end of an old road, was an old, white house. It had a porch, a white picket fence, beautiful flowers growing in the garden - everything about this house seemed to say 'the person living here is very normal, I promise'. And yet, if you took your time and stopped to look, you would notice weird things. There were scratches on the wood holding the porch roof up. Deep scratches as if someone had hold on for dear life. Then, by one of the windows, you could see the faintest light pink streak going down to the ground. Someone had done their best to scrub it clean, but still on must wonder: had that been blood? And what about the small white flowers growing in the garden - why did some of them have brown spots on them? Yes, if you truly looked, you'd conclude that this house wasn't that normal. It just tried really hard to be.

Inside the house, there lived a man. No one had ever seen him during the day, but most people didn't question it. He was rich, and yet he had still chosen to move to Santa Carla. He had chosen to set up a videostore here, giving the people something they didn't have before. No, pretty much everyone in town knew of him, had spoken with him, and had decided that they liked the man. Max had always enjoyed that facade. Let people trust him, let them complain to him about how bad the town is getting with all those tourists, and let them think he's just a kind gentleman. The more they believed he was totally normal, the longer the killings of him and his boys would go unnoticed.

As he went into the kitchen, grabbing a flash with blood out of the fridge, his eyes fell on the old yellowed calendar hanging on the wall next to it. March second. A small smile appeared on his face. Even though he didn't remember exactly how old he was, he did remember the day he became what he was now. The change had been painful and could only be described as bad - but he was grateful for it. He certainly made the most of his undead life. As he sat down with his cup of blood, contemplating whether he should mix it with coffee again but deciding against it, he couldn't help but think about the strange yet wonderful thing it was to become a vampire.

Getting changed into a vampire was something unique for everyone. Sometimes, a change went smoothly, the newborn embracing their immortality as if it had always been a part of them. Often, this happened between mates, when the former human knew what they were getting into - and more importantly why. Love was a powerful motivator to turn someone into a successful vampire.

Sometimes, the person changed had some issues, often of the moral kind. It meant they didn't mind being a vampire per se, but they didn't necessarily like to deal with the side effect - they did not want to kill. This happened when they were lured into the change, tricked and frightened - or when they were only promised the gloriousness of immortality and not shown the harsh reality of the price one needed to pay for it.

Those kinds of changes were rather usual. Often, when someone was changed, they responded to it by one of those two ways. But, sometimes, a change brought more challenges along. He himself had not had an easy change, being forced to do so after almost being killed. The lack of life left in him had meant that the change was torturous for him and that when he awoke as a vampire, he was more bloodthirsty than anyone could have predicted. He needed to make up for the blood he lost, so to speak.

The same thing happened with his boys, one of them almost dying of an accidental overdose. It had been in the early sixties, and some malintended drug dealer had sold his boy some bad stuff. He'd taken the drugs, and he quickly realised something was wrong - but as a human, he couldn't do anything about it. Luckily, Max had saved him just in time, but the change had not been easy. Far from. There was a reason Santa Carla was known as the murder capital of California, and this was why. A bad change. It always happened when someone was in a stressful, hurtful, and dangerous situation, being forced into a dark unknown.

Yes, Max knew all about changing. He knew the best ways to do it, the worst ways. Above all, he knew how to deal with freshly changed vampires who had a difficult transition. In one way or another none of his boys had faced an easy change, and he had helped all of them through it.

He looked up as he finished his cup, seeing Thron enter the house, his tail wagging lazily. In his mouth, he held a letter. Max smiled, stroking the dogs head.

"Thank you, Thorn."

Putting his cup down, he decided to go upstairs to the study so he could truly focus on the letter. He had recognised the handwriting, and he assumed it wasn't a friendly check-up. The study was different from the rest of his house. It was a dark room adorned in an old-fashioned victorian wallpaper. Where his downstairs floor was modern and filled with modern curiosities, upstairs, he focused more on the times that had passed. Times he had lived through, and times he could still appreciate - style wise anyways. He was staring at the letter in front of him. An old friend of his, a man named Lucien whom he had helped through the change, had written him. He opened the letter, his eyes scanning the page.

She's in need of help. Help I can't give her. I'm not even sure you can, seeing how horribly she was forced into this. It was different for her. She couldn't fight it. She couldn't even try to resist. As little choice as we had, she had none.

He sighed. His friend had not given him the full details, but it sounded serious. The words played over and over in his mind. As little choice as we had, she had none. He didn't know what it meant. Was she tricked more horribly than his boys had tried to trick Michael Emerson? Was she force-fed the blood? If he allowed himself to think about it, he could come up with horrible scenarios, none of which would be helpful. He thought for a moment before sighing deeply. Yes, this girl, whomever she was, absolutely needed some help. He picked up the phone, dialled the number of his friend, and waited for it to ring.

"Yes?" A gruff voice spoke from the other side.

"Is she with you?"

"Yes."

"Bring her here. I'll see what I can do for her."

He hung up the phone, not waiting for a response from the man on the other side. He looked at the clock, noticing the time. He had to go to work, tell his boys about the new arrival in town, and make sure the new girl would have a room to comfortably call her own.

The night passed by slowly. The store was a little distraction for the task he would have later on. He had talked with customers and talked with his employees - telling them all that he'd adopted a girl and that they wouldn't be seeing as much of him as they did now. It was not really the truth, but it was close enough. It would erase any questions anyone would have when they'd see him with a new girl. The word would spread around town, and hopefully, no one would bother them and give them time to deal with their own personal affairs.

As he closed the shop, at one in the morning, he felt the presence of his boys. As much as they despised each other and could literally drink each others blood at times, there was an understanding between them. The boys didn't like control and commands, but they understood the value of a facade. Max allowed them to do what they liked and didn't use his powers as a sire on them unless it was absolutely necessary. Besides, they knew that if Max was serious about something, it was bad. Even though they would never consider Max as their father - a subject that was a little touchy for the older vampire - the boys would realise at times that his seniority also came with wisdom and knowledge, causing them to sometimes ask him for advise. In turn, Max would help them get out of legal trouble - and more often than not, prevent it from happening in the first place.

"What girl?" David stood beside his car, smoking a cigarette. Paul was dangerously balancing on his bike, and Marko and Dwayne just looked at him, probably waiting for him to fall. Max knew it was all an act. In reality, they were listening. They too wanted to know more. Apparently, the boys had been close enough to the store to hear Max explain to Maria or a customer that there was a new girl coming to town,

"She's a fresh one and had a bad change. I've been asked to help."

"When does she arrive?" Marko asked. Even though he looked bored, Max sensed a certain exitedness in his voice.

"Either today or tomorrow. I'll leave it up to you if you want to get involved or not, but-"

"We'll give her a chance to settle." David nodded. He looked at the boys, who agreed with him. A bad change also meant that one would be dealing with intense fears. Every single sense was heightened, and to be overwhelmed while in such a state wasn't pleasant. They'd all experienced that.

"Good. Make sure to stock up on some blood. If she happens to stop by, she can feed without endangering herself or us."

"One time," Marko mumbled under his breath, earning him a friendly shove from Paul. "A guy goes on a killing spree one time-"

"We all did that, just not in this town."

Max chuckled at Paul's answer, before cutting in. "It's just better to be careful."

With that, the vampires went their own way. The boys back to the cave, and Max back to the house. He had to make sure he had a sunproof room ready.

"I found someone who could help you."

The young girl, who couldn't be older than nineteen, looked at him. Her hair was on the wavy side but tangled. There were some dark bruises on her skin that were now turning a dark green mixed with a near, invisible yellow. Her dress was covered in dirt, and some of the fabric around the hem had been ripped. The man in front of her, Lucien, had saved her. Or at least, got her out. That was two days ago now, and in that time, he had tried to get her to talk to him. She didnt, talk that is. She didn't know why she didn't. All she remembered was a voice commanding her not to ever use her voice. Still, even if she could speak, she didn't know what had happened to her or why. She didn't know why she felt different, why everything hurt, why the sun had burned her hand, and why she could hear everything now. It was frightening.

"Did you hear me? I found someone who can help you."

Her gaze was questioning. If he had found someone, it meant she had to go away. What if that someone would also hurt her? What if it didn't help? What if he couldn't explain to her what was happening and -

"He's a good friend of mine and lives two hours from here. You will still be able to see me if you want. If you don't, that's also okay. You need to feel safe, alright? But he can help you, help you understand, and help you come to terms with what you are. I know it scares you, but it will help you."

The girl nodded, biting her inner cheek.

"I know you don't like the idea."

She sighed, turning away from him. She grabbed the things she owned - a leather-bound notebook and a pen he had gotten her - and looked at him as she scribbled something down on the pages. He refused to listen to her if she just motioned toward something.

Can we go?

The man nodded, leading her out of the crypt they'd been staying in. "Yeah, let's go."

Next chapter >

[kaleb-is-definitely-sane]

Okay but am I the only one with a special love for declarations of love that border on religious/sacrilegious?

I mean i just love that “my future husband becoming to me my whole world; and more then the world: almost my hope for heaven. he stood between me and every thought of religion… i could not, in those days, see god for his creature: of whom i had made an idol” "heaven did not seem to be my home and I broke my heart with weeping to come back to earth" "heaven and hell were words to me" "do not swear at all. or, if thou wilt, swear by thy gracious self, which is the god of my idolatry, and I'll believe thee" "he knows himself to be equal to the gods" "that man seems to me to be equal to the gods who is sitting opposite you" "if love is a religion, i'll worship you morning and evening" "i love you so much my heart names you after gods" "she's a goddess. my muse, my lover - i worship her devotedly and sacrifices daily and she loves me back with a savage barbarism only the greek goddesses could" "she's a myth, she's a legend. one look at her is sure to lock you out of heaven" "i want to devour you. you want to devour me. so let's consume each other. it's communion - though it sure doesn't look like church" "in the crooks of your body i find my religion" "if the heavens ever did speak, she's the last true mouthpiece" "we were like gods at the dawning of the world, & our joy was so bright we could see nothing else but the other" "my love is not idolatrous, okay? that’s bullshit. it’s not. i’m just saying it’s theological perfection, that’s all. like the Holy Trinity, but a hundred times better" "take me to church: i'll worship like a dog at the shrine of your lies. i'll tell you my sins, and you can sharpen your knife. offer me that deathless death. oh good God, let me give you my life" "you built me palaces out of paragraphs. you built cathedrals" "women were to me a cathedral. beautiful and religious even. their ability to make worshipers… worth writing a poem for" "i would have come out of eden to open the door for you if i had known you were there" "i slithered out from eden just to outside your door" "my church offers no absolutes; she tells me, 'worship in the bedroom.' the only heaven I'll be sent to is when I'm alone with you" "and if the devil were to see you he would kiss your eyes and repent" "love, for you, is larger than the usual romantic love. it's like religion. it's terrifying" "i wanted to know what I looked like to you. a sin committed and a prayer answered, you said" "she'll give you all your desires but her demands are sacrificial" "there is no sweeter innocence than our gentle sin" "he thought her body gave him his first name. he thought her thighs could tell him who he was. he thought lust and love had the same hands" "it's more then love she feels for him... it's more like worship" "to fall in love is to create a religion that has a fallible god" "unholy. killer of men. makes you wonder how much longer till you give in" "if my love is blasphemous, then may i burn i hell" "her beauty is so great that heaven is flawed for the lack of her" "if I'm a pagan of the good times, my lover's the sunlight. to keep the goddess on my side, she demands a sacrifice" "i would put off meeting god in paradise, to meet you one last time" "she is heaven's light" "she is hellfire" "you remember church as a boy. the fear and the passion. that's what she makes me feel" "when he leaves the room, he bows and acts precisely as if he were before a shrine" "we are one person in two bodies" "i am not whole without you" "i need my other half. you are me, and i am you" "o that it were not in religion sin to make our love a god, and worship it" "unable are the loved to die for love is immortality, nay it is deity - unable they that love to die for love reforms vitality into divinity" kind of love

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

OH MY GOODNESS GRACIOUS I ADORE YOUR WRITING!!!

“I need you, why do you always leave me?” With Narinder from Cotl with a reincarnated mortal s/o who always dies young? I’m such a sucker for this kind of troupe oh my lawd

Thank you so much and have a wonderful day/night!

Ong this trope is so good it hurts </3

Request more angst/horror prompts here!

.......

"Lamb, you must perform the resurrection ritual again."

"Narinder, it's barely been two days.." With a weary sigh, the sheep closed their gospel book, already becoming irritated with their former master's blunt request. "I may have taken your role as death, but even I have my limits. I can't just do that ritual whenev-"

"I had to bury my spouse yet again."

".....oh." A small pit in formed in their stomach, knowing exactly who he was talking about. "Again? What happened this time?"

"Some fool thought it would be funny to dare [y/n] to eat a deadly dish...and they accepted it, only to die puking their guts out." Narinder huffed, although deep inside it killed him to know that your death this time around was entirely avoidable.

He never thought he'd ever care for a mortal..much less one of Lamb's first followers, who somehow kept dying young and became the first one they resurrected.

Your existence has become a never-ending cycle of death and rebirth, and he wondered when they'll finally accept that you're simply not meant to live a prolonged life.

However, now that he himself was in the cult and wedded to you...he saw things differently. From a new perspective.

After you died once right before his very eyes--and not through the Red Crown--he suddenly understood that same grief Lamb endured ugh after they killed one of their spouses, who became mind-controlled by Shamura.

He thought of them as weak.

But not anymore.

Not when it became his turn to suffer in a similar fashion, counting the hours (or days, even) until Lamb could resurrect you.

He lost count of how many times you've died since then, although he knows you aren't trying to kill yourself on purpose. You were very "accident-prone" and sometimes did stupid things that you shouldn't have---such as accepting a dare to eat a "deadly dish" stew.

You might've been a fool for that, but he still loved you.

Unfortunately, not even the golden skull necklace Lamb gifted you provided any protection from death....besides old age, of course.

At least Narinder knew you'd never pass away naturally, but knowing it couldn't spare you from other causes didn't make him feel any better.

"Fine..I will do the resurrection at dawn." Lamb finally caved, understanding how much you truly meant to him. "But you must talk to [y/n] about this. With each rebirth, they slowly forget more and more of their past lives."

"....is that so?" The black feline raised an eyebrow, surprised.

This was new information to him--although he never exactly had the chance to revive somebody over and over, except for his former vessel whenever they foolishly perished during a crusade.

But they were very different.

They were nigh-immortal...you weren't.

"First they forgot how they previously died, then they forgot which shelter they slept it, and then they forgot how to cook their favorite meal...you see where I'm going with this?"

He didn't speak, afraid that his former vessel was correct. But it's not something he wanted to think about at all...even though it's certainly possible.

Suddenly he was beginning to realize the repercussions of the same doctrine that got him exiled over a millennia ago..

"I can't watch over them all the time..as their spouse you're gonna have to step it up, or else...they might-"

"Just do the ritual, please.."

Lamb's ears flicked up with surprise, never expecting Narinder to grovel at their podium. The only other time he acted this way was when he begged them to kill him instead of sparing his life, although it didn't do him much good as they chose mercy.

But this time, they felt a bit of pity for him.

He must truly care about you.

They simply nodded. "I will need more bones."

.........

You found yourself back in a familiar place:

Floating over a glowing red sigil, followers in hoods kneeling all around you, Lamb's eyes glowing with a powerful energy....and you expelling ichor from your body in a rather disgusting display.

You never did get used to puking out this black magical goop.

But once you landed on the floorboards of the temple, you sighed in relief, wiping your mouth on your sleeve before gazing at everyone surrounding you.

"So...what have I missed?"

A few of them uncovered their hoods and greeted you, happy to see you return to the land of the living. Others kept their distance, looking rather annoyed that Lamb decided to resurrect you for the umpteenth time.

One, however, stood there motionless, refusing to remove his own hood.

You looked to him, watching as he approached you, being unsure of his intentions. Although judging from the way other followers hastily moved out of his way...this person must have held great influence over them.

The fact that he had three glowing red eyes was most alluring.

Have you met him before?

Before you could ask him who he was, he suddenly grabbed you by the wrist. "H-Hey! Ouch!" You winced, feeling his claws slightly digging into you as he began dragging you out of the temple.

"Where are you taking me??"

"....stop talking."

His voice was low and quiet, and also....sad?

You were immensely confused by this mystery follower's behavior, especially as he led you to his hut--one that was more decorative than the standard shelters on the other side of the cult grounds.

While you remained silent, you couldn't help being bedazzled by the outside of it, although you didn't have time to really get a good look around the inside.

Because the next thing you knew...

You were pushed onto the bed, with him crawling onto it and laying beside you. Then he uncovered his hood, two long cat ears flicking upwards as his eyes met yours for a brief moment.

And in that split second, you swore they were filled to the brim with tears.

You blinked, afraid to speak considering how angry he sounded just moments ago, but you were even more perplexed when he flopped onto your chest. From his throat, a purring sound rumbled, and you could feel it throughout your entire body....and in your very soul.

"Please..don't do this to me..." His ears flattened.

"Do....what?" Reaching down, you awkwardly placed a hand on his head, slowly petting his fur and hoping it provided him some comfort. "I don't know what's wrong, but..I hope this is okay."

Your uncertain tone only further devastated Narinder. This was exactly how you'd comfort him after his nightmares. He only ever allowed you to see him in such moments of vulnerability, so you never needed to ask for his permission. You would simply do it.

Had you forgotten that, too?

Was that damned Lamb right after all?

Were you forgetting.....him?

"I need you, why do you always leave me?" He mumbled, heartbroken as the tears slid down his cheeks, droplets splattering onto the symbol adorning your ragged shirt. "With each new life, I-I'm...losing more and more of you, [y/n]. I don't know if you are cursed or if it's fate deciding to test me....o-or maybe Lamb's followers wish to see me suffer....but...I'm so tired of watching you die and being unable to do anything about it. I've taken you for granted.."

"................."

".....forget it. You don't even know what day of the week it is..why do I bother trying?" With a sniffle, he reluctantly removed himself from your arms, believing he blew his last chance to save your memories..

Now you were acting like a total stranger to him, and it honestly felt as though you had already died before you even left the temple.

Maybe this was a sign that he needed to stop and move on.

Maybe he simply wasn't destined for love.

Maybe this was karma for all the atrocities committed in his name.

Maybe the next time you perished, no matter the reason, he'll-

"It's easy to forget things like that, Nari...but how could I ever forget the love of my life?"

Blinking through his tears, Narinder felt his breath hitch when your hand gently grasped his own. He looked back at you with astonishment, before glancing down at the matching rings that still adorned your fingers.

Then he gazed into your eyes, seeing your smile.

"You..remember me?"

"Of course I do, you silly kit---woah!!" You were suddenly tackled back onto the bed by your husband, feeling him nuzzling up to you and purring even louder than before.

But you simply giggled and held him closely, petting his fur in a comforting way. "I'm sorry for scaring you...it takes a while for all my memories to come back. D-Did I do anything dumb last time?"

"Just...promise me you'll never accept a dare from anybody again." He huffed, trying to hide the fact he was still sniveling like a helpless kitten.

"Alright." You sighed. "I promise to be more careful. I'll try harder to watch my back, too."

"Do you swear it?"

"...I swear it."

"Good."