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holy-puckslibrary · 3 months

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━ 𝐁𝐋𝐔𝐄 𝐇𝐀𝐖𝐀𝐈𝐈𝐀𝐍.

main masterlist

pairing(s) — MITCH MARNER x reader (est. relationship) wc — 4.5k synopsis — think hilary duff’s balcony engagement circa 2007

note — this belongs to the i don't remember this bar collection

specific content warnings below the cut.

cw — profanity and other vulgar language, taking the lord’s name in vain + other religious-ish imagery, oral sex (m receiving), unprotected PIV intercourse (multiple) + creampie/breeding kink, discussion/thoughts of cum play, outdoor sex and mention of previous exhibitionism, mention of previous choking + breath play (f!reader receiving), pain kink situation (both), one line of blood play (f!reader receiving), justified violence (not directed at reader!!!), slight d/s dynamics, and possessive!mitch being a domestic little horndog

“Before we talk about that beautiful, game-tying goal in the tail-end of the second and your overall command of the offensive zone throughout tonight’s game, I first want to congratulate you on some major life news. A few weeks belated; my apologies.

For those who don’t know, you came back from the All-Star break with more than just a tan; you came back with—and as—a fiancé.”

Mitch does nothing to dim his megawatt smile or to dull the sparkle in his eyes. The mere mention of you coaxes out an impossibly giddier version of himself, unencumbered by the stress and pressure of a waning season. It’s always been that way.

It's difficult to remember a time before you. He doesn't want to.

Despite of meeting on arguably one of the worst nights of his life, somehow, all he feels when the memory rises to the surface of his mind is joy.

He remembers your laughter, warm and buoyant, and the way the low light painted flattering shadows across your kind face as you spoke animatedly about your passions and dreams. He remembers being treated like a person before anything else, not some character in a video game or a pawn in someone else’s fantasy league, and he recalls your fervent, genuine interest in his off-ice hobbies. Not once did you ask anything invasive or demand he share more than he was willing.

Nor did you fish for tickets.

For Mitch, privacy was paramount, and the sentiment echoed throughout your lengthy relationship. It was your through-line, and it should’ve blanketed the intimate proposal in safety.

He gets hot under the collar just thinking about it.

Mitch will entertain the host’s questions to an extent. Because, despite his insistence on privacy, he will never pass up an opportunity to sing your praises or brag about his luck.

“Did you bring anything else back? Any special souvenir to commemorate such a momentous occasion?”

Mitch is instantly hard, his pale cheeks ablaze, eternally grateful that the camera is filming from the chest up.

Carried in on a warm evening breeze, the evocation is so palpable he can taste the blue curaçao on his tongue and feel its muted burn in the back of his throat. The air smells of pineapple and your fragrant shampoo, a comforting scent that clings to him like a second skin. The phantom of your touch sends a shiver down the expanse of his sore, sweat-drenched back.

“—holy fuck.”

The crinkled, two-word curse tumbles from Mitch’s mouth with little effort.

Every modicum of tact was either battling against the warm rum coursing through his body or fighting to keep his guttural, damning moans at bay.

They are getting hot and heavy on a patio, after all.

Mitch knows this isn’t smart. He knows he should’ve moved the celebration indoors, that he should've waited until you were curtained in safety to give in to his desire and your wandering hands.

He knows, he knows, he knows.

The problem is he just doesn’t care.

Mitch wasn’t about to delay the appreciative mouth of the woman he was going to make his wife, not even for a second.

Even if she dropped to her knees with only a hedge to play look-out. A line of decorative foliage is their first and final defense, the leaves carelessly swaying between them and the rest of the luxury resort he booked for All-Star weekend.

It’s difficult to make sound decisions when the hand wrapped around your cock is newly weighed down by five carats.

The dazzling rock shines proudly in the concluding rays of a setting sun. Glittery and perfect, like the woman who wears it.

Mitch hisses when the tip taps the back of your throat for the first time that night. The sensitive skin melts into your tongue like an ice cube, the creamy droplets of anticipation swallowed greedily by your ravenous mouth. He sees stars in the cotton candy sky peeking through the palm trees.

It hasn’t been that long; his day began with your nose nuzzled against his pelvis, his head limp against the cool tile of the shower a few feet away.

When it comes to you, nothing is ever enough to curb his appetite.

Always needy, never satiated—a pair of perverted peas in a pod.

Your tongue repeats the delicious motion it had previously, too, lazily tracing along the underside of his length until he’s whimpering with no regard for anything besides spilling himself down your throat. He feels you smile around his thickness, pleased by the ease of his undoing. You were damn good; you deserved to be proud.

In all honesty, it took very little effort on your part to make him weak in both his knees and in his resolve.

However, there was a special kind of magic in your pretty face, now dusted by a salty sheen, nestled against his taut abdomen, his cock engulfed by the vice-grip of your throat.

Mitch is close already.

White-hot sparks descend through his quads and calves to zap his sandy toes. Electrified, his hips sputter of their own volition, but like the godsend you are, you accommodate every jolt and tilt in stride.

With one hand braced against his hip and the other gently massaging the heavy weight of his balls cradled in your palm, you peer up at him through a fan of fluttering lashes.

He whines—at the mischievous glint in your glassy eyes or the bite of your manicure as you sink your nails into his burnt skin, he can’t be sure.

Some of your fingers curl into the nasty bruise eating up his lower back, the by-product of a gruesome communion with the ice a few days prior. Sharp nails nip at the fragile skin. Mitch doesn’t know if the twinge of pain was intentional on your part, but he loves it either way. Perhaps a little too much, he thinks to himself as he twitches violently in your grasp.

And perhaps you aren't the only one with a masochistic streak. It's clear from the heaviness of your lids the converse applies to you.

His sweetheart's sick and sadistic. He's never been prouder.

“Get off,” he husks. Abruptly, he steps out from your embrace.

In retrospect, Mitch could’ve been nicer about it. At that moment, however, he was far too desperate for chivalry.

Staring down at your wide, despondent eyes—a pup deprived of her favorite bone—your fiancé amends, “Calm down, sweetheart. I’ll give it back soon. There’s no way in hell I’m wasting a load in your mouth when I know how good your pussy feels around my cock.”

Heat scales Mitch’s spine as he spreads you wide open against the chaise. Your folds glow brighter than the jewelry on your left hand.

With the tip of his finger, he tests the waters. Gingerly, at first, like he's still unsure you'll be able to take him. That charade hardly lasts, but tonight, it's barely a blip.

Your body eagerly welcomes the attention, mouthing at him before sucking the touch past the taut, elastic ring of your entrance. Your faint groans elicited by the intrusion harmonize so sweetly, so perfectly, that Mitch’s eyes fall shut in tranquil bliss.

When your hips rock against his palm, they snap open.

Blinking at him hard and fast, your teeth sink into your bottom lip, turning the plushness a sickly shade of pink—of desperation. Tears crowd your lash line but never cascade down your shiny cheeks; they, like you, are impatiently waiting for reprimand.

Mitch almost laughs. You did jump the gun, so he can't fault you for expecting the corresponding punishment. But it's a special occasion—you're celebrating, so it never manifests.

And Mitch wants to do more than just spank you silly. Plenty of time for that later. A lifetime's worth of it.

Instead, with the flick of his wrist, Mitch encourages you to take your pleasure.

The subtle, tantalizing movements, building in speed and ferocity with each pass, beckon him forward until his sunburnt skin is close enough to burn yours. Feeling you beneath him, feeling his weight rest against your body, feels better than heaven, and he’s barely started.

Like before, Mitch is painfully aware he won’t be able to last long. Judging by how silky-slick you are against his palm, you won’t be either.

With his free hand, he catches your jaw and, with little resistance, tilts your head to keep your gaze from straying. Your mouth falls open when he slips another finger inside. Mitch grins down at your lust-blown pupils and the feel of your hot breath against his lips. He leans down and licks into your idle mouth. A third finger causes your bottom lip to tremble between his and your forehead to ease, every little muscle going soft and pliant between the cushion and his chest.

“Atta girl,” Mitch praises. His lips press briefly to your cheek before beginning their descent along your throat. The touch is featherlight and sends a shiver down your spine, coaxing your chest further into his. “—love seeing you like this, all beautiful and open. And all fucking mine.”

Mitch wouldn't necessarily consider himself a territorial person, and he can't recall ever feeling possessive of a partner. Until he met you.

It had nothing to do with trust or a lack thereof; you were his the minute your eyes met through the crowd, and you reassured him of that fact constantly. It was never you that needed a reminder—it was everybody else.

The men who openly leer at you from every corner of Scotiabank Arena. The NHL hopefuls in your Instagram comments shamelessly flirting as if he didn’t exist or wasn’t in the photo, too. The unprofessional commentators who found ways to sneak in a lecherous comment or two under the guise of camaraderie whenever they spoke about his prowess.

You weren’t some object to be won or bought. You made a choice, and he’d make sure they knew and respected it.

Sure, the engagement ring will aid in this up-hill endeavor, but a little due diligence never hurt either.

“Tonight, it's gonna take. I’m making damn sure of that, sweetheart.”

Your walls squeeze his digits in recognition. Mitch chuckles, dark and dry, against your shoulder. You might like the implication more than he does.

You two weren’t trying, but you weren’t not trying either. Seeing you wearing his ring—the one he picked and purchased—kicked him down a perverted spiral. Flipped the last switch, cut the final cord. He wanted to complete the picture. He wanted to give those good-for-nothing losers one more reason to keep their mouths shut and their eyes to themselves.

“You’d love that, wouldn’t you? Love for me to fill you in a way that’ll last? C’mon, sweetheart, tell me what you want. Tell me how badly you want to be stuffed full of me, how much your pussy needs it—how badly you want to be heavy and swollen with my kid."

Mitch tends to your clit, keeping you borderline incoherent as he tickles your ears with more filth before you can reply to the first goading.

Your eventual responses are muffled by a long, primal whine.

When he has you swaying on the brink of collapse, he’s painfully hard against your inner thigh. There's an iridescent river pearling from the weeping head, freely flowing down to pool beneath your ass. It beams in the dim light like a beacon.

Transfixed and desperately in love, Mitch could cum right now. Just like this.

But staining a stupid fucking cushion would be more of a waste than shooting himself your throat. So, much to your chagrin, he, once again, retreats back onto his knees.

“C-come back,” you whimper with a loud hiccup. The choked sound is as pitiful as your attempts to reach for him. “Please, please, please—”

Satisfaction spreads over the bridge of his nose, leaving him rosy from one cheek to the other. He pins you with a heated, half-lid stare as he strokes himself.

His palm doesn’t feel as good as yours, but Mitch is grateful for that. He wants to drag this out. Instead of rutting into you like a teenager in the backseat of a car, or like himself after a long stint away.

That can’t—and won’t—happen if he keeps touching you. He has to back off before he loses his ever-loving mind.

“Stop being a tease,” you chide. Irritation weighs heavily on your voice. “Haven’t I waited long enough?”

“There’s something I want you to see first, you little brat,” he replies, adopting your sharp tone as he brings his open palm down on your inner thigh.

You shriek, but your eyes beg for another. Maybe he shouldn't have cut you any slack earlier...

He grants your silent wish with a matching blow to the other side before guiding his rigid cock to rest over your body.

And it was better than Mitch ever imagined.

He groans at the sight, “Can you see it? Can you, sweetheart?”

Mitch waits patiently for it to click in your mind, but the confusion that swiftly overtook your fucked-out features never dissipates. Eyes rolling, he shifts forward. Hand still wrapped around the base, Mitch leans over until the full length of him sits against your bare stomach.

Your body quivers over the contact, so he has to hold your hips down to keep you from wiggling and ruining everything.

“I know you can feel it, but I want you to see it. I want you to see how deep I get inside of you, sweetheart. All the way up…” Mitch trails off as his hands glide from your outer hips to the center of your abdomen.

His voice is so deep. So hungry. Your whole being—mind and body—goes weak at the foreign richness.

With tender thumbs, he applies pressure beneath his swollen tip. “—here.”

Mitch moves slowly at first, as if he'd just been sheathed inside of you. With each careful thrust, his stones caress your aching clit, all puffy and pouting.

It feels wonderful to be touched again, even if only in short bursts. But it's not enough friction or force to do much more than aggravate you further. Even when he picks up speed, it’s more hurtful than helpful.

Still, you cannot tear your eyes away from the angry, ruddy head dribbling out ropes of arousal or voice a shred of discontent. The opaque beads form a nonsensical pattern, but it's mesmerizing nonetheless.

If you were any less needy, you’d take your time running your fingers through the milky mess. Swirling around in the evidence of Mitch’s desire until you had enough to lick clean.

As if privy to your thoughts, he pins your wrists at your sides again.

Mitch isn’t faring much better than you. His eyes are trained on the shadow bisecting your middle. Locked, laser-focused. This little…exercise was as much for his amusement as it is for your education. He knows how far he can reach inside of you—knows how fucking fantastic it feels to be buried at the root, but seeing just how deeply he can fuck you is something else entirely.

It's enough to make him question why and how he ever stops fucking you. He’s an idiot for depriving himself. For neglecting you. An exercise in frustration as much as his fruitless effort to shun the rose-colored perversions dancing wild in his mind, Mitch has wasted so much time.

Fuck penance and fuck propriety—it would be a sin to do anything other than worship at your altar as a devoted acolyte. Cardinal, even.

His stomach tightens as he considers how empty you must feel in his absence—and how deliciously whole you must feel when he drives home. He wonders how forlorn your folds must look right now as he keeps what you covet just out of bounds. His body obstructs the view, but Mitch knows you’re open and fluttering around nothing, pleading for mercy.

If he were a cruel man, he’d ignore your begging and continue on like this until his balls were empty and your chest was covered in ivory threads. Lucky for you, your future husband is of the clement variety.

Before you can get another babble, his mouth is back on yours. He keeps your arms tight to your sides, so you’re incentivized to convey your fervent need for more—of anything, really—through your lips and tongue.

Mitch is greedy when he kisses you and needy while lapping up your fire—happily, and without pause. His head pounds like he finished a handle in a single sip, but he doesn’t want it to stop. Ever. It’s disorienting, and yet, he can’t seem to get enough no matter how much of you he drinks down. Mitch wants to spend the rest of his life drunk on your lips.

Begrudgingly, he tears his mouth from yours. Then, tanned chest heaving, he positions himself between your glistening southern lips. Mitch looks down at you, and when your vision finally focuses, his eyes have been shadowed in darkness by his hulking brow.

His prior impatience dwindles ever so slightly even though he's on the precipice of complete satisfaction. Mitch hasn’t gotten a good look at you since your nimble hands relieved him of his shorts some twenty minutes ago, and you are glorious. A celestial nymph with dominion over his heart, devastatingly beautiful and all-consuming in every conceivable way. The hold you have over him is dangerous, verging on obsession. There isn’t a thing he wouldn’t do or say if it appeased you so.

He isn’t fearful. He’s honored. The gratitude he feels knowing that you were, and remain, receptive to his devotion is overwhelming. And now, watching the lucid waters of lust ebb and flow in your glazed eyes, he’s never felt luckier.

Mitch thumbs the gem resting atop your finger, and you shudder as if it were the one tucked between your thighs.

His other hand lingers around your right wrist, though not as tightly as before. With his pulsing head shallow in your heat, he knows you’ll behave. Disrupting him now would only prolong his teasing. A lesson you learned—and were often reminded of—the hard way.

As his fingers trace the metallic band, warmed by the tropical sun and his furnace-like touch, Mitch pushes his hips forward, slow and steady, until he’s fully enveloped by your wanting walls. With your snug, pillowy softness stretching and constricting to accommodate his generous blessing, his grip on reality slips.

“You’re a fucking dream,” your fiancé rasps.

His hands are now splayed wide on either side of your head, effectively caging you beneath him as he builds a faithful rhythm. Teeth clenched, he works diligently to fashion a tribute worthy of your ethereal beauty and power.

“—always so warm and wet for me, just begging to be split open on my thick fuckin' cock. How long have you been this needy, sweetheart? Since I bent you over on the boat? Right over the railing where anyone could’ve seen you?”

You nod, bruised bottom lip pinched between your teeth. Tears well in your eyes.

Your afternoon tryst had been as quick as it’d been rough. Sundress bunched high, the fragile fabric wrinkled between your hips and the cool metal railing as Mitch’s right hand wrapped around your throat. His talented fingers pressed firmly into your sun-kissed skin, relentless in their torment, as he pawed at the pathetic knot struggling to hold your bathing suit in place. His mouth curled into a smirk as it whispered a heady mix of degradation and praise. All while you preened for him, a large crowd just steps away.

That wasn't the first orgasm you were robbed of today.

The hem of the thin material that clung to your anguished body floated demurely above your ankles, landing just shy of the bone. The sullied garment hid the incriminating evidence that inched down your sore thighs with every step you took. The irony was not lost on you as you walked back to your room.

“D’you know how hard it was to stop myself from fucking you in front of all those people? To hold back like that—to not bend you over and take in broad daylight? Of course you do, you sweet, sadistic minx. You always know how to rile me up—and you always find a reason to.”

Mitch grins against your lips before his teeth momentarily replace yours. They nestle into the grooves as if that was the expressed purpose of the faint indentations.

“With the way you’ve been behaving, I’m willing to bet you want a better souvenir than a gift shop tchotchke, hm? Y'gotta be patient for me, though—good girls wait for their rewards. Jus' wait… Oh, I don’t know, nine months? Give or take? Think you can do that for me?"

He’s being cheeky on purpose. He likes the way gentle irritation plays out between your legs—always has and always will.

Mitch releases your lower lip again, but only after he’s nicked it with his canines. A dainty bead of crimson materializes. Covetous, his tongue laps it up without pause. Painted lips kiss from cheek to cheek.

Your back arches. Your hips lift to rock in time with his thrusts.

“God, I can’t wait till we get those fuckin’ keys,” Mitch mumbles, almost absentmindedly.

The lean muscles of his upper body ripple as he sits up to grab ahold of your jaw, a calloused hand on either side. He has an unimpeded view of your dazed, saccharine countenance. His hips slow until they match the thumbs stroking escaped tears into your cheeks.

“—m'gonna take you in every room, against every surface. That way, there won’t be a single thing in our home that—fuck—that doesn’t remind you of me and how well I take care of you—you and your tight cunt.”

With little fanfare, he threads his arms under your dewy legs. Mitch uses the newfound leverage to tug your body even closer.

A shriek rips through the firm seam of your lips as his length traverses an unexplored depth. Your knees snuggle against the pit of his elbows, pleased to be so close in spite of the pain.

Mitch holds your gaze, reveling in your silent screams. He winks, then slowly lowers himself down until your body is folded squarely beneath his. Your muscles burn with the fury of budding resentment, which you’ll surely feel towards him in the morning after this unprompted foray into acrobatics, but the new angle is too good to do more than just... take it.

His hands are glad to have been relieved of their duty and, eager to take advantage of their newfound freedom, palm your chest as his mouth descends on your poor neck. The delicate skin is utterly defenseless against the desire thumping deep within his chest and spilling over his ribs.

Mitch wants to stake his claim—to mark his territory. A stammer of expletives accompanies the vulgar jut of your hips when he rolls your sensitive nipples, swollen and begging for attention, between thumb and forefinger. Bracketed by his forearms, you surrender completely.

Mitch hums at the lewd, sucking sound made by your arousal. Wet squelches ricochet off the adjacent wall with each and every thrust.

“I’ve really made a mess out of you, haven’t I?”

You nod, eyes pinched in concentration.

You’re close. He can feel your body trying to milk him dry. Fortunately, Mitch isn’t far behind. You feel too fucking good to prolong the inevitable.

He brings a hand to your clit, and it moves in messsy circles as he speaks, “Not done yet, though. Gonna flood this pretty cunt—gonna leave you all sticky and hot. I know you want it, but I need you to cum for me first. Go on, sweetheart, I’ve got you.”

You unravel on command, your chin falling to the side in ecstasy. Mitch’s firm hand is quick to wrench it back; he needs to watch your face contort as you crumble like he needs air to breathe. Mitch won't be able to think straight until he reaps the rewards of fucking and rubbing you through it.

The sob that wrecks your body is high-pitched and perforated by little gasps, and the rush of wetness is more pathetic than any noise you could and would make in your lifetime. More than you ever thought your body was capable of, more than your new fiancé expected, more than either of you anticipated.

He's soaked in a matter of seconds—as are you and the cushion dripping onto the concrete.

Mitch's climax comes in quick succession but, unlike yours, without warning. Undoubtedly, his peak was triggered by the gush of your undeniable satisfaction.

Drained dry, Mitch hunches over to capture your lips once more, determined to distract you from the inevitable bodily ache on the come-down. Delicately, he places your trembling legs onto the chaise and nestles into the space they vacated. He feels every little muscle twitch and spasm when he hugs you tightly to his body.

The world is muted, fuzzy around the edges, and drowned out by the aftershocks, so you miss most of his sweet-nothing rambling, but the relief and contentment that flood your spent body is reply enough.

He isn’t sure how long you stay like that—tangled together in paradise. You doze off, dipping in and out of consciousness, and wake just after the buttery sun slips entirely behind the horizon. Through the darkness surrounding your bare bodies, silvery moonlight replaces the golden rays of sunshine, but you—and your ring—shine as if nothing's changed.

You keep up a quiet conversation. Nothing of importance is spoken; it's carried on purely for the enjoyment of one another’s voice. Mitch peppers your skin, sticky from humidity and exertion, with tender lips, and you return the favor tenfold. You’re both smiling so wide, so happily.

And you keep grinning into the night, even when your cheeks begin to ache. It’s only when the light breeze ghosts over your bare skin that either of you consider relocating. In no rush and reluctant to leave your deep warmth, he’s leisurely about moving into the dim suite.

Mitch freezes abruptly. His stomach splatters at his feet when his mind catches up to his instincts. Murmuring. He hears murmuring. Terror races down his spine like an ice-cold chill. It's quiet at first. Almost as if the evening wind picked up a distant conversation yards away and softly settled it in his paranoid eardrums. He can’t make out any particular words—except his last name.

His mood sours beyond repair with the realization that the juvenile whispering is much too close, the giggles muffled only by the permeable wall of greenery bordering the suite’s ground-floor patio.

“We just wanted to be the first to say congratulations!” A teenage voice devoid of tact and respect calls out above a chorus of snorts and giggles.

Mortified, you bury your head into the crook of his neck. His chain is cold in comparison to your shame.

Mitch growls and reaches beside the chaise. He shouts something that would’ve made even the most shameless of shit-talkers blush, then sends a half-empty bottle of Dom Pérignon clear through the leaves. It shatters, and the crisp bubbles spill out on the concrete, sending the herd of inconsiderate assholes scattering like mice.

“I’ll go pick up the glass,” he sighs, knowing you’ll chastise him for the mess. "—later."

Mitch couldn’t be honest with the journalist.

He wouldn’t even if he could.

He shares so much of himself and his life with the world already—a hazard of the flashy, public-facing occupation he chose—and you’ve offered up far more of your world than he’d ever ask of you. He doesn’t mind a photo here or a video there, sometimes a press junket or two in a philanthropic context, but Mitch won’t bring the media into your private moments beyond where they’ve already encroached.

Especially not for a leading question intended to bait him into saying something stupid. Or to prematurely announce the impending arrival of your first child.

So, instead, he simply says, “Towels. But if the Four Seasons—or my future wife—asks, I’m totally joking, and I definitely put them all back.”

⤑ to my inbox💌

⬸ back to the catalog (writing masterlist)

⬸ back to the main blog

All of the stories and fantasies written or discussed on this blog by the owner or by followers are purely fictional and are not intended to offend any parties.

©2024 holy-pucks, all rights reserved. I do not give consent for any of my work to be copied, re-posted, or translated here, on Tumblr, or on any other platform. Reproduction of any content from this blog is considered plagiarism.

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iiotic · 3 months

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hello!! how are you? :D i hope your doing well! i have a request for you if that’s cool with you! here I go (:

Could I request Alastor, Angel Dust and (Maybe?) Vox with a GN! Reader who’s like Qi Rong from Heavens Official Blessing?

The idea being that their a very attractive person who’s very emotionally immature and uses very vulgar language? but later they’ll turn a tiny bit softer perhaps? Also maybe this video will explain the most silliest language LOL

Thank you!

(A/N) - first of all i wanted to apologise that this took so long but i've been really busy lately!! Anyways I hope it isn't too bad.

‧꒰ა Alastor, Angel dust and Vox with a gn! Reader who acts like Qi Rong (from Heavens official Blessing)

TW - cursing??

‧꒰ა Angel Dust:

When he heard the news that someone new joined the hotel he didn't really care. He thought that it would be another boring person, a goody two shoes who would try to lecture him every second.

But oh boy was he wrong..

You're attractive? And NOT boring? Well pheraps he's slowly going to heaven.

Flirts with you 24/7. It would definitely piss you off so much.

"Hey there, sugar. You know I'm started to get really bored.. all alone.. in my room.. Maybe-"

"Not respectfully shut up. You smell like a fucking fish who didn't have the access to water for a month."

It may seem like you hate him but you really don't.

He did caught some soft gazes at his direction.

༻༉Alastor:

When you joined the hotel seeking redemption, i have to say you intrigued him.

You reminded him of Angel Dust. Such a vulgar mouth but such a pretty face? Well that's not how it's suppose to be. At least not for him

He remembers oh so clearly when things didn't go the way you wanted. You were in a bad mood for the rest of the day. Someone approached you? Cursed him off. Accidentally tripped over a thing? Well it's a perfect occasion to say that its parents doesnt love it.

When Alastor's friend, Rosie decided to take a visit. She was absolutely mesmerised by your beauty but quickly lost interest after she heard how you behaved.

As long as you won't insult him and his precious jambalaya you're good!

༉‧ა°. Vox:

I have absolutely no idea how y'all met. Pheraps you met at a local bar? Or you just bumped into him at the streets? Or are you Valentinos new doll to play with?

Doesn't matter.

I think that he wouldn't love you but he wouldn't hate you too..?Sometimes it just really annoys him how immature you are. (but he is so capitalised by your beauty too)

I can imagine him coming back to the studio, overworked and tired after a fight with alastor and you'd be just throwing those comments at him:

"You should've cut his dick off"

"You could've smashed his precious radio"

"why didn't you cut his legs off?"

And he would be just staring at you. Respectfully shut the fuck up.

Other then the fact that you're annoying him a bit. You're good!

#Alastor #Vox #angel dust #Hazbin hotel #alastor x reader #angel dust x reader #vox x reader #Rosie #valentino #X reader #qi rong #heaven official's blessing

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thatdeadaquarius · 4 months

Text

@goldensunsetchild Asked:

Hello there! I know that you might be busy right now but I wanted to let you know an idea that I have, greatly inspired by your post: spanish reader who gets homesick but instead of getting depressed by it starts to do things they used to do back on their world. Dancing to their traditional dances while singing their accompanying songs, teaching the children the games they used to play when they were younger and also telling folktales to everyone who is interested in listening to. If you decide to do this idea and want to incorporate things from Costa Rica, please let me know and I'll help you with anything you need (⁠◍⁠•⁠ᴗ⁠•⁠◍⁠)⁠✧⁠*⁠。

(Content under cut)

HELLO YES SORRY IT TOOK ME SO DAMN LONG TO GET TO THIS!! 😭 /gen

I went to Costa Rica back in highschool in 2018? I think, and when I tell you I FELL IN LOVEEEE <3333

Costa Rica is a beautiful country and everyone was really nice, vibes were immaculate 🤌 ✨

☆

Sun: Costa Rican Reader! (you/they/them)

Stars: Sumeru cast

Comets & Meteors: Content Warnings: None known & Trigger Warnings: alcohol usage/drinking game.

Orbit: Headcanons-ish

☆

when u first crash landed in Teyvat, people luckily recognized you from when u were a player!

and u took in whatever culture and traditions everyone was so excited to show you as they were kind enough to give u clothes/food/shelter etc.

butttt… it did get overwhelming after a few months, and u got homesick more and more often :(

after all there wasn’t really an equivalent country to Costa Rica, and you couldn’t just take a plane back home, you were stuck here for… however long it takes someone to leave a video game universe??

You decided to actually do smth abt the crippling depression and “outsider” feelings instead of just rotting away, and went to Sumeru to get closer to the greenery of your home,

it made you feel a little better, but it could be the best, so u decide to lowkey force everyone in Sumeru to convert to Costa Rican LMAO

so ofc u did the most logical thing to convert ppl to a culture, the food!

u helped fund a small restaurant full of classic Costa Rican foods (coughandsoyoucaneatitwheneveryouwantcough)

(u still have the insane mora leftover from what u had in game so ur basically one of the richest ppl in Teyvat ngl 💀)

u recreated just the basic gallo pinto/casado with what was available (some beans from Natlan and rice from Inazuma/Liyue, the Ajilenakh nut from Sumeru acc kinda acts like plantains :0 and local fish/greens for salad)

Needless to say Sumeru is fascinated by the new cuisine and esp since its not a secret that you’ve funded it/made the menu from your homeworld

Alhaitham orders the casado most of the time bc he “admires the exact proportions, its all the nutrients you need, perfectly balanced” NERDDD

Tighnari likes barbudos bc there's not a lot of egg dishes in Sumeru but there are a lot of greens, so he “likes the familiar in unique combinations!”

unsurprisingly, Cyno likes Chancelta bc he can pick it up, eat it quickly, and go on with his patrol

Collei, Kaveh (and secretly Dehya lol) really like being able to munch and snack on sugar cane, (and the plantain imitation desserts!)

(u found sugarcane deep in sumeru forests, it was like on ur world, but sweet flowers sprouted out of the stalks too!)

You decide the next phase was to introduce dances and other fun stuff!!

Nilou was literally shaking with excitement to learn the traditional dances <3 (and also getting ur permission to add fun twists or Sumeru elements to them)

the kids that like to hang around and watch the troupe practice (and join) absolutely got obsessed with swing criollo, it was so cute to watch them all pair up and kinda trip over their own feet trying the footwork out

(u may or may not have teared up bc the band learned how to play a Spanish song for u guys to dance to, just for you)

teaching the theater troupes musicians how to adapt upbeat songs like Caballito Nicoyano or Ticas Lindas

omg getting Nilou Kaveh Faruzan Cyno Dehya (and Dunyazard!) to do the calipso limonense always cheers you up, (which is why they are so eager to do it when ur feeling homesick ❤️‍🩹)

Kaveh steps on too many people’s toes, Dehya gets dizzy from the spins/turns easily, Faruzan keeps spinning for too long, Nilou and Dunyazard are actually secretly latina bc they're so good at it (did they outdo you?? no, no they couldn't possibly-)

and Cyno just really likes the little dance line everyone makes lol

speaking of the General Mahamatra

FOR THE LOVE OF GOD

u CANNOT teach Cyno a new game from your home country, and expect him to NOT be the most competitive mf in Teyvat abt it

that's actually how u spread any games from back home, Cyno just does all the work for you and challenges ppl to things like jackses and no one knows what it is

which he then proceeds to strong arm them into learning and beat their asses at it

(yes Cyno wins against you a lot, sorry lmao)

You definitely had a drinking game centered around it one time and the consequences changed with each person who lost

like Cyno had to learn how to cook tamales that were edible, and more importantly..

Alhaitham had to at least attempt the swing criollo lol

(was it unfairly attractive? maybe. was watching Nilou, who was teaching him, and Alhaitham both do swing criollo 2x as attractive?? that's just for u and the Sumeru vision users to know)

SPEAKING OF ALHAITHAM

absolutely hilarious, yet also impressive?? how quickly he picked up ur slang

smug bastard picked it up based off sheer context/vibes too, u didn't even explain it to him, just u trying to go sit down in ur Costa Rican restaurant and he pulls u back before someone mows u down saying “hey, suave un toque-”

YOUR NECK FUCKING CRACKING BC U WHIPPED AROUND TO LOOK AT HIM SO FAST LMAOOO

(ngl u scared the fuck out of the poor scholar before he got all smug abt knowing slang)

accidentally spread this knowledge to other vision users bc he got in the habit of casually using it, tbh more often when ur not around lol (Alhaitham being caught having habits bc he's fond of other ppl?? never)

his favorite is “qué chante…😒 ” obv lol

so now the forest rangers use stuff like pura vida and tuanis sending each other off on patrols! Collei so cutely excited to explain to other Sumeru ppl or tourists where the words come from and what they mean, spreading ur Costa Rica agenda very well 👌

and the mahamatra like to use “Jale pa’la choza” when coming back from the desert to Sumeru city homebase! :)

ALSO bonus:

u absolutely got leyendas into the bedtime warning/ghost stories of the entirety of Sumeru children lmao

u start spooking kids like Dori (Nahida finds them fascinating)

and after awhile u notice Cyno and Dehya mentioning watching out at night for La Llorona or los cadejos 💀??

like you've genuinely made them paranoid, bc they wanna be sweethearts and protect you from them, like even if they don't believe they exist, they're worried you do and are trying to make u feel better lol <3

☆

an iced coffee? for me?? :O

Blessed be Costa Rica, such a lovely country when I went, and as soon as I got off the plane coming back the first thing I did was make a Costa Rican meal the best I could

like got my mom to prep from dry black beans and rice etc. as fresh as we could get (nowhere near costa rica level btw) and made fresh guac and fried plantain chips and salmon I think? literally cooked the first night back bc I knew I missed the food already/knew id get sick

and I was RIGHT, that food I made was fine, but any other American food so bad I got nauseous

I literally got sick COMING BACK TO THE U.S like 😨???!!! I knew it was bad but not THAT bad lmao

and the first meal I had after that was still a homecooked meal, like my mom made it💀

love the coffee from there too, we even ordered coffee from the farm we visited when I got back to US it was so good (10x better than American obv)

THANK YOU BTW GOLDEN!! FOR BEING SO PATIENT AND LOVELY TELLING ME ALL ABT COSTA RICA <3333

I hope this did some amount of justice to ur beautiful home! :)

Safe Travels Golden Child,

💀♒

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♡my beloveds♡

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#genshin sagau #sagau #genshin isekai #genshin imagines #my asks #aqua asks #fuck i cant remember my tags #genshin impact #genshin impact sagau #genshin x reader #genshin x costa rican reader #costa rican reader #poc reader #gender neutral reader

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harrysmimi · 1 year

Text

Sweet Memories

Synopsis: Harry walks in on YN jamming to his songs whilst making lunch

CW: A fuck ton of fluff

Series Masterlist | More of my work

A usually Saturday afternoon at home it was.

Harry was working away and answering a few email interviews in the bedroom whilst YN offered to make them a nice lunch at home. He didn't like it when she was doing all the work by herself so he tried to finish up everything as soon as he could.

YN didn't mind doing everything on her own, especially when he's in London he's home most of the time with her does all the house chores whilst she's at work. Now he's working and it's only fair she does the same for him. This morning he had a few online interviews now he's got a few emails to answer to, get on a little online meeting with his Pleasing team for the new collection.

He still tailed her around the house in between, helping her fold the laundry in the living room as he was working in the bedroom to make a mess in there. He helped loading the dishwasher from breakfast. Fed the fish. That's all he could do today.

He was on the last call with Jeffery for the day when he got to know his fans have been making a huge deal of the video from YN's cafe online. Especially on Twitter. The media was making their own narratives because no one knew the whole story, him calling the girls out was nowhere to be seen. False narrative of Harry being pissed by his girlfriend's behaviour was being spread around, everyone even went as far as to make up their breakup rumours.

"Harry, don't worry about it. We'll take care of this." Jeffery assured him once Harry went silent on the line.

"Yeah, yeah I'm not." He spoke up finally, "I'll figure something out and let you know."

"I'll get the PR team on it, okay? Now go enjoy your weekend." Jeffery said before he bid him by and hung up.

When Harry finally walked to hear his debut album playing in the background in a very low voice, YN swaying to the the music as she chopped up the veggies for something she was making. Dressed in one of his black hoodie which was almost drowning her and her sweats, her hair tucked neatly in a braid on the back like always and her glasses perched up on the bridge of her nose. It was a new pair she got last week for herself and has been obsessed with it since.

"You have a great music taste baby!" He complimented her, dropping his phone on the counter. He went on to connect her phone to the little speak she had perched on one of the display shelves next to the fancy dinner set. To his surprise, Sweet Creature started playing.

She seemed too lost in her work, as she put some rice to cook in the electric cooker and got back to prepping for rest of the lunch. But she caught him perching up his phone on the coffee machine with the front camera on.

"What are you doing?" She chuckled. It wasn't unusual for him to take pictures of her or film their funny and goofy moments, especially when she's fangirling over her favourite celebrities. She knew he was about to do something goofy or cheeky.

He walked upto her, took the knife out of grip and placed it on the cutting board carefully before he pulled her closer to him. His arm wrapped around her waist whilst his palm was placed on her hip to keep her as humanly close as possible, he carefully took off her glasses and held onto her right hand with his fingers intertwined between her own after placing the pair on the counter next to them. He smirked watching the apples of her cheek grow crimson as she tried not to smile and give into his teasing by reacting, very well known of what he's doing. He started swaying both of them side to side delicately.

He sang to along his own self to her.

"Sweet creature

Had another talk about where it's going wrong

But we're still young

We don't know where we're going

But we know where we belong

And oh we started

Two hearts in one home

It's hard when we argue

We're both stubborn I know, but oh!"

She mumbled a little, "no we're not!" looking up at him. Because they're not. Yes they just had an argument last night and Harry ended up being kicked out to the living room because he was messy pants and leaving his stuff all around the house. But they made up an hour later. They're not stubborn, but understanding. He chuckled nudging the tip of his nose against her in a puppy kiss.

"Sweet creature, sweet creature

Wherever I go, you bring me home

Sweet creature, sweet creature

When I run out of road, you bring me home!"

He whispered the last word to her as if it were his secret. She could see each little pattern in his eyes, hints of blue and hazel dominated by shades of green and his pupils dilated through a gentle gaze which never moved from her eyes.

"Sweet creature

We're running through the garden

Oh, where nothing bothered us

But we're still young

I always think about you and how we don't speak enough

And oh we started

Two hearts in one home

I know, it's hard when we argue

We're both not stubborn

I know, but oh!"

She chuckled at the little change. It reminded her of their little picnics Harry used to take her to randomly to the Hyde Park, they'd eat junk food and laugh at funny videos on Instagram. They had to stop because his fans had picked on their pattern and they were bombarded by them twice. She disliked that, but there's nothing that can be done.

His lips brushed against hers as he sang to her, moving back when she tried to kiss him. He brought her hand to his mouth to place a smear his lips on the ring on her finger, making her grin sheepishly. He loves to play with her ring for some reason. He's fiddling with it when they're cuddled up on the sofa watching a movie or in bed getting ready to get a good nights sleep. He draped her hand over his shoulder so he could cradle her prettiest face in his hand singing along.

"Sweet creature, sweet creature

Wherever I go, you bring me home

Sweet creature, sweet creature

When I run out of road, you bring me home

You're my home."

That little change earned a soft gasp from her, enough to make her tear up. She finally got her kiss, before she pulled away enough to hug him. Her face having found a home in his chest.

"I love you so much!" She mumbled.

"No, I love you more." He play argued, making her lift her head up to look at him. Taking the advantage he stole another kiss from her.

Only Angel started playing in the background making both of them burst into fit of laughs.

"Ruined my own moment." He sighed dramatically, he grabbed his phone and turned off the recording and placed it back on the counter and turned off the music. He carefully placed her on the counter making room for himself in between her thighs and earning a squeal from her.

"Oh, it's getting hot in here!" She said in a sing-sang voice. No, that really make butterflies have a field day in her tummy. "Why did you do that?"

"Why not?" He shrugged. "Feel like loving on my Fiancé today."

"You don't feel like that everyday, how sad?" She pouted with her faux-concern.

"I do," he confessed, "but today I feel more like it."

"How lucky am I, that I get free, personal shows from you." She booped his nose with her pointer finger, making him blush, "you look cute when you blush!"

"Stop!" He shied away.

"Do you want to get started with wedding planning soon?" She asked.

"Yeah, we can." He agreed, "do you have any idea about you want it all to be? We can try to merge our ideas!"

She beamed at the thought, "yes, yes, yes! We can make a Pinterest board?"

"You want to do this just so you can Pinterest board, don't you?" He giggled. "But anything you wish for, my love."

"Yay!"

"You're adorable!" He planted a firm kiss on her cheek. "Do you mind if I post about our engagement online?" That caught her off guard.

"What happened to my private Harry?" She gasped.

"I'm serious, baby, I do want to share this so people stop talking." He breathed out, "please, can I?"

"Of course you can!" She exclaimed, "I don't mind, Haz. It's your account post whatever you want."

"Will you show me how to post it on the reels?"

She guided him through the steps of how to post on reels, he wanted to post the video he just took and used one of their engagement photos which Sophia sent just yesterday as the cover for the reel. He captioned with two ring emojis before he pressed the post button.

"Your fans are going to go crazy." She commented, feeling the hint of anxiety in her chest as the video was posted. She watched him limite the comments to just the people who he follows immediately, but about a hundred of his fans managed to comment on it very fast.

"They are." He agreed. "What were you making by the way?"

"Just some usual, Okra and Roti." She shared.

"Hmm, sounds delicious, baby." He helped her off the counter. "Looks like you're done with everything but do you still any help?"

"No, I'm almost done here." She said.

"Dinner is on me then."

"If you're not going to burn down our kitchen."

"Come on, that was one time!" He fake cried, whining like a toddler. "I burnt a piece of bread."

"And your fingers." She added.

......................................................................

N O T E:

I FUCKING LOVE THEM!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

......................................................................

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qveerthe0ry · 2 months

Text

If You're Crazy Too

Summary: It isn’t the weirdest thing that’s ever happened to you, helping your friend with benefits confess his love for his longtime friend and roommate. But it’s definitely in the top ten. Word Count: 8,600 Pairing: Santi x m!amab!reader x Frankie Rating: 18+ Explicit Warnings: 18+ mdni, mutual masturbation, watching porn together, threesome, handjobs, ass eating, oral sex (m receiving), anal fingering, anal sex, unprotected sex (pls wrap it up), dirty talk, dom/sub undertones, polyamory Betas: @for-a-longlongtime and @perotovar thank you both so much, you're angels for helping me through this <3 A/N: Special thanks to the author of this post for making an excellent resource for writing Spanish in fics, it came SO in handy. Also thanks to @triplefrontier-anniversary for inspiring me to finish getting this brainworm all written down before the deadline!

Santi is an incredible fuck. Also, he’s a fairly sweet guy.

You met him at your favorite club. He’d been dancing with men and women all night long, graceful and respectful, and you itched to get your turn with him.

When you finally got the chance, his body was solid and sweaty and sure against your own.

You could barely hear him over the music when he told you, lips brushing over your ear, that he was hoping you’d seek him out.

He kissed you, after a few songs, and you met it with an eagerness you didn’t even know you had in you. It wasn’t long before he asked you to come back to his place, and he made you fall apart underneath him.

The morning after wouldn’t have been awkward, either, if his roommate hadn’t been cooking breakfast for the both of you.

Santi introduced him as “Frankie, or Catfish, or Fish.” He was gorgeous, too, in a softer way than Santi. His brown eyes were wider and less menacing than Santi’s, and his curls peeked out under a well-worn trucker’s cap.

He said it was nice to meet you, and asked how you liked your eggs, and if you were way too loud the night before with Santi, he didn’t mention it. You did, however, catch him sneaking glances at Santi while the three of you ate, and wondered what they meant.

It didn’t matter much at the time when you thought you’d never see Santi again. But he walked you to your Uber after breakfast, and asked if you maybe wanted to do this again, no pressure, no strings attached. And you did. So you exchanged numbers and he kissed you on the cheek before sending you off.

You’ve met up with him a few times now. Each time Frankie makes himself scarce. You either hear the TV in his room, or you pass him on your way in, telling you he’s got errands to run. What errands he’s running at 10pm, you’re not sure you want to know, but you don’t think much of it.

Until now. You knock on the front door of their apartment and hear voices, too muffled to make anything out clearly.

Santi answers before too long with a smile, and you follow, intent to trail him to his bedroom like you usually do.

This time, though, Frankie’s sat on the couch in the living room, a beer in his hand, and he looks like someone just kicked his puppy.

“Am I, uh, interrupting something? We can rain check.”

Frankie looks to you, and then to Santi, and you feel like you have your answer before either of them speak.

“No, no, you haven’t interrupted anything,” Santi starts, “it’s just our favorite OnlyFans guy released a new video a few days ago and we haven’t had the chance to watch it yet. Fish is a little eager.”

“Fuck you, I’m not. Just thought we were watching it today is all. No big deal.”

It’s a lot of information to process, that these two not only share a favorite OnlyFans creator, but watch his videos together. And— not to assume, but you’re sure they probably do other things together too.

“Oh… I mean, I don’t want to ruin your plans.”

“It’s fine—“

Frankie’s reassurance is cut off by Santi though, something that seems like a common occurrence by the way he settles back into his seat and closes his lips when Santi begins to speak.

“You wanna watch with us? First orgasm of the night, but I promise I’ll make it up to you after.”

And fuck it, you think. It isn’t quite what you imagined when you left your place, but it doesn’t sound like a terrible way to spend your Friday night.

“I’m down,” you shrug, and Santi’s eyes crinkle when he smiles and winks at you.

He turns the lights off while Frankie casts the video to the TV. You settle in the armchair, as Fish looks a little uncomfortable, but he assures you he isn’t when you check in with him.

Santi takes the opposite side of the couch as Frankie, and then he’s ordering him to start the video.

The bar on the bottom reads 45:06. Longer than you expected. The video is well-edited with soft royalty-free music over a logo that fades when the man appears on screen.

You chance a small glance at the couch. You aren’t really sure what the etiquette is here, but neither of them seem to be making any moves yet, hands resting on their own thighs. You mirror them, subtly shifting to do so, and avert your eyes to the television once more.

The man on the screen is a wicked dirty talker. He spends a good five minutes telling the viewer what he wants done to him. He’s also quite submissive by the sounds of it, which shouldn’t come as a surprise to you. Santi loves the way you submit to him, tells you so every time you hook up.

You find yourself wondering what Frankie likes in the bedroom, if he’s also just as dominant as Santi, if he’s more sweet or hardened, if he would be vocal like Santi or more reserved like he seems to be in his daily life.

Before you realize it, the man on the screen is stripping down into a skimpy, lacy set of underthings. His cock is on the smaller side but rock hard and leaking, tenting his little lacy briefs in a deliciously obscene display. Your cock stirs at the sight, and you peek over at the couch again.

Frankie’s palming the bulge in his sweatpants, eyes glued to the screen so diligently that you think it’s calculated. Santi, in contrast, has his hand under the waistband of his gym shorts already.

But you don’t miss the way his eyes flicker from the screen, and not to you, but to Frankie, flitting up and down quickly from his face to his lap.

You try not to sigh too loudly as you cradle your own package, half-hard in your own skimpy briefs you wore just for Santi. You watch as the man on the screen turns his back to the camera and bends over, allows the camera to get a full view of the outline of the plug nestled between his juicy ass cheeks.

The air in the room feels humid, almost too hot as the video goes on. You definitely get why this guy is their favorite OnlyFans creator. He’s gorgeous, first of all, all lithe muscle, soft in the perfect places. And he’s an incredible performer. He talks to the camera like he’s talking to you, desperate and breathy. It doesn’t take long for your prick to fully fill out in your briefs.

The camera angle changes on screen. It cuts to him on all fours on the bed, his hole gaping from removing the plug, his pretty pink cock leaking between his legs. A rough grunt from your left has your eyes wandering to the couch again.

Santi’s cock is out, and the sight alone makes your mouth water. Thick and glistening in his big hand, his balls sat atop the waistband of his shorts. Your own throbs under the pressure of your palm, and you let yourself sneak a look at Frankie, too.

He’s finally got his hand down his pants, and you almost feel bad for wondering what his cock is like, too. If it would mirror the differences between he and Santi’s bodies, longer but thinner. You wonder if he’s uncut like Santi is, and you wonder what he’d taste like.

A loud whimper makes you peel your eyes away from the couch and look back at the TV. The guy is three fingers deep in himself, fucking them in along with the messy amount of lube he’s used. It’s fucking hot, and you throw all caution to the wind to unzip your jeans and pull your cock free from its confines.

“He’s fucking hot right?”

You turn your head to Santi at the sound of his voice. Your heart picks up at the sight of him, one hand stroking his balls while the other works slowly up and down his shaft.

You squeeze your own in response.

“Yeah, not exactly my type but he’s still doing it for me.”

Santi chuckles, nods his head back to the screen. But before you turn back yourself, you see Fish glance at Santi out of the corner of his eye. He starts to shuffle his waistband down his hips, but you turn away before you see anything you think you shouldn’t.

The guy on the screen is limber. On his back now, knees pressed to his chest, he’s whining and whimpering while he fucks himself with a big, realistic dildo.

It’s massive, much bigger than any real cock you’ve taken, but you guess that’s some of the appeal. You try to quietly spit in your hand, then spread it up and down as you lazily stroke yourself off to the video.

It’s loud. The obscene squelching and consequential moans fill the living room, but not enough that you can’t hear the strokes from both Santi and Frankie on the couch next to you. Occasionally you hear a muffled curse, or a stilted gasp, and you can’t be sure which man they’re coming from but you want to hear more.

You glance over again. Your eyes land on Santi first, of course, who’s almost shamelessly staring at Frankie’s crotch, the way he lifts his hips to fuck into his fist every few thrusts.

Frankie’s cock is longer, and thinner, and you’re delighted to find that he isn’t circumcised either, the fat head of his cock disappearing and reappearing from under his foreskin.

He turns his head, and you stop stroking your cock all together, afraid of Fish’s reaction to you sneaking a peek. Only, when you meet his eyes to shoot him an apologetic look, he’s not looking at you.

He’s looking at Santi, staring, eyes roaming up and down his body, lingering where he fists his prick, then back up again. You’re stunned still at how intimate it feels, the heat in Frankie’s gaze as he licks his plush lips.

You turn your eyes back to the video with a pounding heartbeat. Your erection begins to wane as you stare through the TV. You can’t get it out of your mind, the way they look at each other. You’re surprised they haven’t caught each other looking yet. The heat from both of their gazes looked tangible, hungry and yearning. It’s as plain as day to you, on the outside looking in.

“Ah fuck—”

The curse is not from Santi. Your eyes trail over just in time to see Frankie pull his shirt up and spill across his stomach. His eyes are closed, head thrown back against the wall behind the couch, and you see Santi’s fist speed up, a blur of tan skin.

You watch him watch Frankie, unabashed now as Fish’s eyes are shut in bliss, and Santi comes too with a deep hum, closing his own eyes just in time for Frankie to open his and look at the both of you.

He quickly averts his gaze when he sees you staring, reaches for the tissue box on the coffee table in front of him. In a move that looks so familiar, he pulls out two for himself, and then two for Santi, handing them over with practiced ease.

Santi pants out a gruff gracias and uses one to clean up with, then holds out his hand to offer you the other.

“Oh— no thanks, I’m good. Didn’t quite get there.”

Santi hums, uses the extra tissue to finish wiping himself up.

“What’s wrong, hermoso? Have I ruined you for all other men?”

His grin is cocky when he asks, tucking himself back into his shorts.

“Yeah Santi, that’s it.”

You roll your eyes and look over to Fish as if to say this fuckin’ guy, but he’s busy boring a hole into the paused TV screen like his life depends on it.

Your dick is hanging fairly limp out of your underwear, so you stow it away, pull your jeans back up.

“Don’t bother,” Santi tells you, nodding his head toward his bedroom, “let me make it up to you now.”

So with your fly undone, you stand on weary legs and follow Santi to his room. When you make it, you turn back to Frankie, to say thank you or sorry, you can’t be sure, because he’s already closing his own bedroom door behind him.

Santi makes good on his promise, though. He eats your ass for what feels like hours, until you’re shaking and begging for him to fuck you. And then he does, somehow riding the perfect line between rough and tender, holding your back against his front with one big hand on your chest as you both kneel on the bed. His other hand works your cock so perfectly that you come unglued in a grand way, like you always do with him.

He cleans you up after, gentle. He’s a huge cuddler, so it doesn’t phase you anymore when he spoons you close and presses his mouth along the little love bites he’s left.

“You really aren’t into subs, are you? Not even a little bit?”

You know he’s referencing your lack of interest in the video. You could agree with him, or you could tell him the truth. You’re not sure what to do, and so you sit in silence for some time before you decide to bite the bullet.

“It isn’t that. I mean, I am more into doms but— that wasn’t it.”

You feel him go stiff behind you.

“Shit, was that too weird for you? I didn’t mean to force you into—“

“No! No, Santi, it was fine. I just— you’re into Frankie, right?”

Air escapes his lungs in something akin to a sob.

“What!? Why would you say that?”

He’s not denying it, which is a good step.

“C’mon man, you were watching him more than you were watching the TV.”

“Pendejo, no I wasn’t.”

“Pendejo” you mock him, “don’t gaslight me. I don’t care. This isn’t, we’re no strings, right? I’m just saying, I don’t wanna come between this thing.”

“There’s no thing to come between. Even if you were right, which you’re not, Fish isn’t into me like that.”

You laugh.

“O-kay.”

“Don’t ‘okay’ me. How would you know? You’ve known him for a grand total of an hour and a half.”

“He was looking at you, too. You know that, right? You’re just in denial?”

“I would’ve seen if he was looking at me.”

“Because you were looking at him.”

“Fine! Okay, I was looking at him. He wasn’t looking at me so what’s it even matter?”

“He was, Santi. He was looking at your cock and licking his lips like he was starved. I saw it.”

Santi huffs behind you, and it tickles your neck.

“I’m not lying to you. I’m not in love with you or anything but I care about you a little bit.”

His arm around you tightens for a beat.

“Awww, so sweet, querido.”

“Shut up,” you huff, “you’re changing the subject. He was looking at you, like he’s always looking at you. I’ve watched him moon over you every single breakfast I’ve eaten here. You know how bad that makes me feel, eating the breakfast he made me while your cum drips out of me?”

“Fuck, why’d you say it like that? That’s so hot.”

“Because it’s true. If you guys have feelings for each other you need to figure that out before I die of a guilty conscience.”

You can practically feel Santi’s eyes roll behind you.

“Dramático,” he groans.

“You do have feelings for him. It seems like he does too. Get your poop in a group about it, man.”

“Will you still stay over? I’ll need a morning fuck if this is the way my weekend’s gonna go.”

——

I can’t do it. Frankie’s visiting his kid this weekend

The text comes a few hours after you shared your now routine, dysfunctional family breakfast, where Fish was indeed making googly eyes at Santi, and Santi’s cum was indeed leaking out into your underwear.

Likely story

No really. I don’t want to mess with his vibes, his kid is super important to him. It’s cute.

Oh my god just fuck him already

I’m TRYING okay? Can you help? I need moral support.

And look, it isn’t the weirdest thing that’s ever happened to you, helping your friend with benefits confess his love for his longtime friend and roommate. But it’s definitely in the top ten.

So the two of you devise a plan. It’s convoluted as all hell, but also fairly simple. The next time their OnlyFans guy posts a video, Santi invites you over to watch again. Conveniently, just before you arrive, he spills a glass of red wine all over the seat of the armchair, and soaks the cushion trying to get the stain out of the beige fabric.

You show up, ‘none the wiser.’ Still, the vibes are absolutely weird in their two bedroom apartment. Frankie’s fidgeting on the couch, and Santi misses your cheek and plants a kiss to your eyelid. You have to get these boys together.

The plan goes off without a hitch from there. Santi flicks off the lights, and Frankie casts the video to the TV, just like they did last time, just like they’ve probably done dozens of times before. But now, the armchair is out of commission, so you all squeeze together on the couch. Santi’s in the middle, of course, his thick thigh pressing against your own as you all point your attention to the flatscreen.

You’re kind of excited. It’s a weird thing for you to be excited about, but you weren’t lying all those days ago. You do care for Santi. And Fish too, really, if only for the delicious breakfasts he makes, and for making Santi happy.

This time, you don’t wait for any of their cues. You pull your cock out as soon as the OnlyFans guy starts stripping his clothes. Santi grabs your hand, and for a second you think you’ve ruined the plan. But then spits into it, and Frankie groans from Santi’s other side as he watches the display. You moan a little too, partly for show, partly for the way Santi never fails to make your dick rock hard in record time.

You stroke yourself, and it goads the boys into pulling their pants down, too. The guy on the screen is doing things a little differently this time, fingering a see-through fleshlight as he lubes it up. This is hotter to you, anyway. It doesn’t take long at all for pre-cum to gather at your slit and slick your strokes even more.

By the time the guy is fucking into it with timid strokes, whimpering through the speakers, Santi still hasn’t made a move. You elbow him in the side, and he flinches, then elbows you right back.

You turn your head toward him, make like you’re kissing his neck, because Frankie’s eyes are about to pop out of his skull with the way he’s got them trained on Santi.

“Go on. You already have an audience,” you whisper.

Santi shudders, and Frankie looks away. Just in time, too. Santi eyes the way Fish is stroking himself, and then you hold your breath as Santi lifts his hand and wraps it around the base of Frankie’s cock.

“Ohmyfuckinggod.”

Frankie’s head thunks against the wall behind him, and his hips jolt up into the touch. You’re watching without any hesitation now, and Fish’s eyes are closed anyway. Santi squeezes and Frankie whimpers and scrambles to find Santi’s cock without looking.

“Fuck, Fish. Yeah?”

Santi’s voice is dripping with arousal, low and gruff, his cock twitching in Frankie’s grasp.

“Please, please.”

Frankie finally opens his eyes, lets his head loll to the side to look at Santi. But his eyes quickly flutter to you, his expression twisting up in confusion.

“Santi, what—“

“Shhh, hermano, s’okay.”

You lean forward, and for a moment you’re having an out-of-body experience, watching yourself cradle into Santi’s side, not knowing if you’re helping or hurting their cause, but wanting to reassure them both that this is a good thing.

Frankie takes the encouragement for what it is, allowing himself to fuck up into Santi’s fist and look at him with hooded eyes, mouth gaping open.

Like a fish, you think, and chuckle against Santi’s neck.

“What’s happening? Why?”

Frankie looks between the two of you for an answer, and you bite down on Santi’s earlobe to goad him to answer.

“He caught you looking, last time. Caught me looking at you, too. Put two and two together for me. This okay?”

Frankie shudders and closes his eyes, but nods his head.

You watch both of them, their hands on each other’s pricks, their hips meeting the thrust of foreign fists.

“Waited so long,” Frankie whispers.

“Lo sé, me too.”

Their faces inch toward each other, and you nuzzle the curls at the nape of Santi’s neck. To encourage him, or maybe to shield your eyes from the intimate moment, or probably both.

You feel the kiss, the way Santi’s neck cranes and flexes, and you hear the ragged moans from their lungs, and you are rock hard.

But your work here is done. You may need to jerk off in Santi’s bathroom before you leave, lest you tumble down the apartment stairs since there’s hardly any blood flow to anywhere other than your dick.

But as you make to get up, Santi’s free hand plants firmly on your thigh. You still behind him, a rush of awkwardness flushes through your system.

His head leans back when he pulls away from the kiss, and you watch the way Frankie physically recovers from it, takes a big lungful of air and slowly opens his eyes, licks the taste of Santi from his lips.

“What do you think, Fish? Should we thank him?”

Your cock throbs where it’s pressed against Santi, and you feel him chuckle, but Frankie’s nodding his head fast and looking straight at you.

“Yeah, yes,” he answers, breathless.

“My bedroom or yours, hermano?”

“I couldn’t give any less of a shit.”

They both laugh, and you find it in you to huff, but it’s anything but authentic when all you can think about is having these two men in bed with you, thanking you.

“Go get comfy, yeah? We’ll be there in a minute,” Santi tells you.

You’ve never moved more swiftly in your life, and you’re sure it looks so graceful, walking to Santi’s room with your hard prick swaying in the wind. But you, like Frankie, couldn’t give any less of a shit.

You undress in the now familiar bedroom, lie back on freshly washed sheets as you hear Santi and Frankie mumble, incoherent all the way out in the living room. Your heart rate picks up when you hear footsteps, but only one pair, and Santi struts in. You can hear rustling from beyond the door, a kitchen cabinet opening and closing.

“He‘a grabbing us some waters. I wanted to check in, make sure this is all okay? I know it wasn’t the plan.”

Now you laugh.

“Is it okay? Do I want two gorgeous men thanking me for squishing their heads together like Barbie dolls? It’s more than okay.”

Santi clicks his tongue at you.

“No need for the sass.”

Your blood runs cold at his tone shift, even as his lips quirk up just the tiniest bit at each corner.

Frankie walks in, then, and almost looks startled by the staring match happening. Still, he wades further into the room, sets a few glasses of water down on the nightstand.

You’re suddenly feeling self-conscious, naked and spread out on the bed in front of these two men, fully clothed and practically leering at you. Frankie’s not so shy now; you can feel his eyes on you as they roam across every inch of exposed skin. It’s a heated, tense moment that only breaks when Santi tugs Frankie to him by the hem of his shirt.

Christ, is it hot to watch, the way Fish’s body goes lax as Santi’s tenses, grabbing the back of his neck. His strong arm flexes as his hand gets lost in Frankie’s curls. They share a kiss that looks like less lips and more teeth. Then Santi’s sliding his hands under Frankie’s shirt, along his flanks, exposing smooth, tan skin.

They part to fling their shirts off, and you can’t help it, you reach down to touch yourself. You’re watching something beautiful. Their dance is stilted with novelty but still looks so easy, familiar in an unfamiliar way.

Their noses bump together awkwardly at times, but their hands map out patterns across each other’s bodies that look practiced, like they’ve done this thousands of times before, if only in their dreams.

And they look incredible together. Santi’s thick and bulky, skin so taught over his frame. And Frankie is leaner, corded muscle covered in softer flesh. It looks so squeezable. It is, you find out, second-hand, by the way Santi grabs him by the hips and pulls him closer, just to push him away to get his pants down.

They don’t part for long, and you’re stuck in this haze, a participant only by the way you’re sliding your hand lazily up and down your shaft while you watch them. Santi hasn’t waxed since you first met him, and now all that chest hair is growing in, a stark contrast to Fish’s hairless one. And you know it feels incredible, to be in Frankie’s position, getting scratched by all that wiry hair. You know his own hairless chest will be red and splotchy by the time the night ends, like yours has been countless nights before.

Finally, they come up for air, naked and heaving breaths across each other’s faces as they share a look. Santi raises his strong brow, tilts his head in your direction, and you’re snapped out of your voyeuristic state.

“Let’s show some gratitude, yeah?”

His voice is all low and hoarse, and you watch it affect Frankie in the same way it affects you, cocks jumping. And fuck, Fish does exactly as he’s told once Santi coaxes him with a playful slap to his ass. He crawls up between your legs, and his full lips are even more so now, bitten and slick and deep red. Glancing up at you with those long, pretty, fluttery lashes, his sweet brown eyes are all heavy-lidded and hesitant.

“This is okay?”

His voice is small, and he’s so goddamn perfect.

“Yes, Frankie. Please.”

You both exhale at the same time, and then he gets to it, immediately. His tongue hangs out of his mouth when he opens it wide, and he wastes no time sinking down on your prick.

“Jesus Christ, Fish.”

You damn near give yourself whiplash to look over to Santi, frozen in place next to the bed, eyes glued to where you and Frankie connect. The latter moans around your cock, encouraged to bob his head faster already, take you deeper.

“Knew you’d be such a good little cocksucker with those pretty lips. Fuck.”

It’s so hot, it’s too hot. You’re going to blow in record time with the warmth of Frankie’s mouth and the filth Santi is reciting.

He must see it in your face, the panic of this all being over way quicker than you want it to be. He kneels on the bed beside you both, gets a hand in Fish’s silky curls and you see the shudder that cascades down his body.

“Not a race, hermano,” Santi says, tugging at his hair to get him to lift off of your leaking prick.

Fish stares, wide-eyes and ragged breathing, as Santi arranges himself to lie beside him, both of their faces now inches from your throbbing cock.

“Control freak,” Frankie mumbles, but the smile on his face makes any heat from his words dissipate.

Santi punishes him with a bruising kiss anyway. Your hips jolt as Frankie’s hair brushes across your dick, so on-edge that even that whisper of a touch sends you reeling.

Santi chuckles around Fish’s bottom lip that he’s got between his teeth.

“He so sensitive, Fish. Gotta take it slow, alright?”

It makes your entire body burn, the way he’s talking about you like you’re not even there. The way he’s been guiding Frankie through everything so far, and the way Frankie follows so obediently.

Santi shuffles a bit, and Fish does too, so in-sync that you almost laugh. Their unplanned choreography has them both straddling one of your legs respectively, arms in between, their hands finding each other just close enough to your heavy sac that you can feel the heat coming off of them.

They both look up at you, and for a moment everything is so eerily perfect that it feels like you’re in some sick, twisted Truman Show remake, and this was all a ploy to get you into bed with them.

But then Santi looks at Frankie, a soft bueno? uttered toward him, and Frankie nods. Santi leans in, for what you assume is to kiss him more, but his nose brushes the base of your shaft. And then Fish leans in too, his own strong nose nuzzling just under your head.

Your hands find purchase on the backs of their necks, a light touch to ground yourself as you watch. It’s so fucking intimate, and you’re the catalyst for their exploration, and it’s driving you up the goddamn wall. Your curse and watch twin grins break out on their faces.

Shitheads, both of them.

They continue on with this dance, breathing in your scent as they nose up and down your cock. Their eyes open and close, but their gazes always seem to land on each other at the same time.

And then Santi leads, licking a long stripe up the side of you. Frankie follows eagerly once he catches on, meeting him for a sloppy dance of tongues all over the head of your dick, your frenulum, lapping up the pre-cum that’s been steadily leaking from your slit.

It jerks wildly under their loose attention, and Frankie chuckles deep and low as he chases your cock and Santi’s mouth at the same time. Your nails start to bite into their napes, the burning in your gut becoming far too intense.

“Guys,” you gasp, “I— fuck. I can’t.”

Santi hums, leaves a playful nip at the base of your prick that nearly sends you over the edge. Fish lets up, intent to lick up every last drop of your taste from Santi’s mouth, and groans when he succeeds.

You’re all left panting for a minute. You can’t decide who to look at. Santi’s head has fallen onto your thigh, and Frankie’s propped up on an elbow, staring down at him, all along the dips and curves of his tan skin. Santi gets a hand around Fish’s cock, thumbing under the head in slow circles, soothing and relaxed.

“Everyone still having a good time?”

Santi’s tone implies he already knows the answer. A weak Jesus, yes huffs out of your vocal chords, just as Frankie nods his head eagerly where it rests in his palm.

Santi cranes his neck to look up at you, and already you know you’re in for it, a wicked glint in his eyes.

“You want Fish to fuck you?”

Your cock throbs near their heads, and Frankie snorts.

“Think that’s a yes, huh?”

You answer Fish with a nod. It’s been a while since you’ve taken anyone but Santi. The thought shorts out all the wires in your system as you realize you get to learn him this way, what he’s into, what he’ll want to do to you, and how different it is from his counterpart.

“All fours, both of you. He’ll let you eat his ass for hours, Fish,” Santi instructs.

“Jesus.”

If it weren’t for the way Frankie scrambles to get into position, you’d ask if he was alright with it. But once he’s hovering on his hands and knees between your legs, he’s manhandling you to do the same, and you love it.

Your cock sways and leaks between your thighs, and Fish pulls and tugs to get you exactly how he wants you. You feel even more exposed than usual like this, with these two men behind you. He spreads you open for him, and you feel your hole clench and relax as it’s exposed to the humid air of the bedroom.

Then he spits, perfectly aimed, and you feel his saliva trickle all the way down your taint, tickling your balls as it drips onto the sheets.

A puff of hot air is all the warning you get before his tongue is following that same trail in reverse, all the way up to where your crack meets your back, and then back down, and your elbows buckle and so does your resolve.

You moan a mix of curses and Frankie’s name, and it only eggs him on, gets him to zero in on your rim with his tongue, circling then flicking, over and over.

You try to crane your neck enough to see Santi when you hear him swear.

“You really fuckin’ like this. Don’t you, Fish?”

All you can see is his tight curls behind Frankie’s own arched back, and his big hands wrapped around Frankie’s slender hips.

You feel Frankie answer him, an incoherent groan into your asshole as the tip of his tongue breaches you.

You’re on fire. Your cock is leaking a really pathetic stream onto Santi’s bedding, neglected, and you know you won’t come without any friction, but you also don’t want to. Not for a while, not until you get to feel Frankie’s cock inside you, get to see Santi watch him fuck you.

You’re anything but impatient, though. Santi was right, the smug asshole. You could keep Fish here for eternity, especially with how fucking diligent his tongue is, lapping you up and pressing inside of you, over and over. It’s dizzying, especially when he begins making desperate noises against you.

You know he’s in for the time of his life. Santi, as smug as he is, loves eating your ass ‘for hours.’ He’s fucking sloppy with it, and he does this thing with his thumbs that drives you—

“Fuck! Ay dios, Pope, what the fuck?”

Frankie falls lax into you, his nose against your hole and his lips brushing your taint as he curses.

“Yeah, you like that? Want me inside this cute little ass?”

Fish whines, shifts his face so he can bite the tender flesh where your thigh and ass meet, and all you can do is groan and push back into him as he gives Santi his answer.

“Damelo, need you, please.”

Santi hums, and you can tell by how it’s muffled that his mouth is once again occupied. Frankie recovers, though his tongue is much less coordinated now, a messy flurry of licks as he prods at your entrance.

Then you hear it, the click of a bottle opening, bouncing off the bedroom walls in a familiar way. You clench around Frankie’s tongue, a Pavlovian response, and he groans and fits his lips around your hole and sucks.

You’re babbling now, strings of nonsense, begging, and praise in the otherwise silent bedroom. You know the exact moment Santi sinks his thick finger inside of Frankie, because you feel him stiffen and shake against you, feel his nails dig into the meat of your cheeks where he’s spreading you open.

His mouth retreats, and you whine, but he’s tugging on you again to get you to lie on your back.

It’s a fucking sight when you’re finally able to watch. Fish has his back arched like a goddamn cat, presenting his ass to Santi, mouth gaping open at his skilled fingers.

Santi’s looking over him, one large hand splayed out on his back to keep him still as he fucks into him with what you assume is at least three fingers, the way Frankie’s drool is dripping from the corner of his mouth. Santi’s eyes are glued to his ministrations, where he’s slowly thrusting in and out, his big bicep flexing as he goes.

He manages to tear his eyes away, though, to look at you and wink.

“How’d he do? Think he deserves to fuck you, papi?”

You whimper at the mere thought of it, finally feeling him inside you.

You shake your head, but Santi tuts.

“Yeah— Yes, Santi. He did so good.”

Santi’s lips tilt up into a wicked smirk.

“There he is, that’s it, tell Francisco how good he is for us, huh?”

You see Frankie’s cock throb between his legs, hear a pathetic little noise fall from his lips. You and Santi both get a curious but delighted look on your faces at his reaction.

“Did so good, Francisco.”

He shivers, hides his face in the bedding between your thighs for a hot minute. A lungful of air escapes him, slow and methodical, before he tilts his head back to Santi.

“Lube?”

Santi huffs, tosses the bottle next to Fish’s head.

“Doesn’t take long for him. He likes the stretch, don’t you bebito?”

You huff, and your face feels hot and prickly as both men look at you. You squirm, and you don’t want to answer, you want at least a tiny bit of pride going into this, because you know you’re bound to come out the other side with absolutely none.

“He asked you a question,” Frankie says.

His gruff voice makes your breath catch.

Santi hums his approval behind him.

“Yeah, yeah, just— just two, give me two and I’ll be good.”

“What do you say, papi?”

And Jesus, this is the most Frankie’s said all night and it has your toes curling.

“Please, Frankie.”

He makes a patronizing, satisfied noise that makes you want to hide but also expose yourself even more. You want to give him everything, him and Santi, let them use you to get their pleasure however they want.

But then Fish groans, and you see Santi’s arm twisting behind him, reaching for that perfect spot. He makes a mess squirting lube out onto his fingers, and you at least have enough control of your faculties to lift your sac out of the way so Frankie can spread it across your hole.

It twitches under his fingers, begging, and so are you, just incoherent babbles as he teases you, toys with you. You think you maybe could wait him out, knowing he doesn’t get his until his cock is pressed inside you, but you don’t want to.

“Fuck,” you whimper, “please fuck me.”

“Yeah, good boy, there you are.”

You open your eyes at Santi’s voice.

“Give him what he wants, Fish. Give it to him so I can fuck you.”

Two fingers, right off the bat, pressed in slowly but surely in one swoop to the knuckle. You cry out, reaching for purchase and finding the bedsheets to twist into your clenched fists.

“You’re okay, you can take it, right?”

And it’s so goddamn mind-blowing, Santi talking you through it with Frankie’s fingers deep inside you.

You nod, opening your eyes again to look up at him. His eyes are so dark, and he’s stroking his thick cock as he continues stretching Fish out, and he looks hungry. He licks his lips and watches where Frankie’s fucking into you, boring holes where you’re connected. You have to reach down with your free hand and squeeze the base of your prick to get yourself together.

It doesn’t take long for you to adjust, to relax around his digits with a few deep breaths. He praises you, that’s it, take ‘em so well, wanna be fucked so bad don’t you? Your head spins with it as he works you open. Little by little your legs spread wider for him, hips canting up to direct him to the spot inside you that you want him to reach so desperately.

But he doesn’t. Once it’s obvious you’re ready to take him, he slips his fingers out and wipes the residue on the inside of your thigh.

“Gonna take me now?”

It’s a rhetorical question, obviously, as he grips behind your knees and pushes them to your chest. You answer anyway, your own voice so foreign to your ears as you plead for him.

Santi shushes you, and that familiar noise is calming enough to bring you back down to Earth, where he’s resting behind Frankie, one hand caressing his chest while the other grips his waist.

“Wanna be inside you, Fish,” he mumbles, nose pressed behind his ear, lips teasing his earlobe.

Fish’s eyes close, but he guides the head of his dick to your entrance and sinks in, blinding pressure as the head of him stretches you wide. When it slips past, you both gasp, and Santi groans into Frankie’s neck as he watches.

It feels like years, waiting for him to seat himself all the way inside you. It burns in the best way, friction that has goosebumps dotting every square inch of skin.

But then his thighs reach the backs of yours. He curses, moves your legs out of the way so he can cover your body with his own. Santi’s gaze is heavy where it falls, the place you and Frankie are fused together, as he spreads a healthy dollop of lube over his prick.

“Ready for me, baby?”

It’s palpable, the way the energy of the room shifts when Santi presses closer behind Frankie. Like he’s about to step off a ledge, Fish’s eyes widen and he looks at you with his brows drawn up tight. You reach for his curls, run your fingers through them, scrape your nails across his scalp in hopes that it evens out his breathing a bit.

Past Frankie’s shaking form, Santi’s expression is nearly identical. His bottom lip is caged between his teeth, brow furrowed, shoulders squared. His eyes flicker to you, and his features soften just a fraction before his hips begin to press forward.

Frankie sobs at first contact. His sweaty forehead falls to your chest. His cock is jerking inside you, rhythmic pulses as you watch Santi’s hips slowly inch forward.

“Relax for me, Fish. Deep breaths, baby. I’ve got you, take it for me.”

Santi sounds so wrecked. His voice is wispy, and so deep you can hardly hear from the bass in it. He’s never really sounded this way before, and the reality of this entire situation makes you clench around Frankie’s throbbing cock.

Santi curses in whispers, and you watch the sweat from his forehead drip down, between his eyes, down his nose, and drip onto Frankie’s heated skin. And then Frankie shifts, pulling out of you. And then, you realize, pressing Santi’s cock deeper inside himself.

You groan at the revelation, chase Fish’s hips with your own, a domino effect that sets both of them off as well. It doesn’t take much at all for them to find the right pace, like this is just as natural as everything else they do together. For a while you just take it in, let Frankie get his pleasure from you, let them discover the feeling of being so close to each other after a long while of only imagining.

Santi’s signature filthy mouth doesn’t make an appearance. Instead, he looks stunned silent above the both of you. His mouth hangs open like he wants to say something, but all that leaves his lips are grunts and groans that Frankie echoes into your sternum. His eyes don’t know where to look, so they float between where he’s fucking Frankie, and your own roaming eyes, and finally land where your hand grips Frankie’s hair.

He lets go of one of Fish’s hips to tangle his fingers with your own, tugging on those chestnut curls. Frankie slams his hips into you at the sensation, bites down on the meat of your pec and keens before he lets Santi’s grip pull his head back.

His eyes are completely fucking black, no iris to be found when his heavy eyelids open to look at you. And it’s a very strange thing, when you watch him look right through you and call out Santi’s name.

Strange, but fucking hot.

“Let it happen, Fish.”

“No. I– I can’t.”

“You can, fuck, don’t hold it. Come inside so I can fuck it out of him.”

Frankie crumbles. You watch it happen, his eyes snapping shut as he chokes on a high-pitched sound. His face twists up, and you feel his hips stutter against you as he starts chanting Santi’s name, over and over. His cock jerks with every wave of his release, and he’s shaking, collapsing dead-weight on top of you.

“That’s it, did so good. Feel so fucking good squeezing me Fish.”

You’re momentarily squished by the weight of two grown men when Santi rests against Frankie’s back. He kisses where he can reach, soothing the place on his scalp where he was tugging at the hairs.

“Mierda, Santi, get off you fucking oaf.”

And it’s cute, the way Frankie gets so grumpy even after he’s just come his brains out. You ruffle his hair, when he’s finally not sandwiched between you two, let him collapse beside you instead with a sweaty arm draped across your middle.

You only have a few moments to appreciate the tenderness before Santi’s lifting your leg onto his shoulder pressing his thick fingers inside you. The noise is obscene, and Santi swears as Frankie’s cum trickles out of you.

You know you’re in for it now. Santi sets his jaw and arranges your hips so he can slide right into you. You moan at the feeling, and the knowledge of where his cock has just been, noises tumbling out of you as he picks up the pace where Frankie left off.

And you almost forget about Fish, caught up in the pleasure of Santi railing you just how he knows you like. But then a warm, trembling hand wraps around your cock, even though Santi’s own are gripping onto you tight, and it’s heaven.

“Let me see you come,” Frankie says, voice all hoarse and worn out.

You whine, loll your head to the side to look at him.

But this time Santi’s hand is grabbing you, just shy of too rough when he takes your chin in his hand.

“You look at me. Look at me when I make you come, papi.”

And you take it as an order, because Frankie’s hand speeds up and squeezes tighter, and Santi’s fucking into you deep and fast like he does when he’s about to come.

You shake with it when it finally happens. Your spend splashes down Fish’s knuckles, up your stomach, your chest, christ some of it even lands on your chin. And you know you’re babbling but you don’t know what words you’re using, only know that they come from high in your throat as you gasp for air.

Santi follows you so closely, burying himself impossibly deep as he releases. You hear Frankie encouraging him, but the sound is miles away as your head swims in that familiar, blissful place.

When the ringing in your ears settles, and your vision unblurs, and all your nerve endings don’t feel like they’re on fire anymore, Santi’s cock has been replaced by his tongue. You give a weak protest at the overstimulation as his greedy mouth licks the mess out of you. It doesn’t matter, he comes up for air just as soon as you realize where he’s at.

Your bleary eyes watch as Santi leans over you, grabs Fish’s face in his hands and tugs at his bottom lip with one of his thumbs. Frankie opens his mouth, obedient as ever, and then a mix of Santi’s cum and his own is tumbling from Santi’s lips into Fish’s mouth.

Once the damage has been done, an image that will forever be burned into your mind, Santi lets his lips press against Frankie’s. He kisses him deep but slow, savoring the concoction of tastes, until Frankie has to lean back for air.

And then it’s silent, and still, and a pit of dread makes itself known in your gut in record time.

“I’ll grab us some towels. Don’t either of you move a muscle.”

Frankie huffs but stays put. You shake out some of the tensed-up muscles in your legs, grasping for something to say to break the tension.

Turns out you don’t have to.

“Bossy little prick,” Frankie mumbles.

It makes a giggle bubble up out of you, even though it’s not even that funny. You suppose the nervous energy needed out somehow.

“Don’t know what you see in him,” you agree.

Frankie hums, tilts his head like he’s contemplating it.

“I’m kidding. He’s sweet. You’re a lucky guy, so is he.”

You’re interrupted when Santi reenters, two fluffy towels in hand. You tidy up as best you can, then sigh when you no longer have anything to occupy your hands with.

“Stay the night?”

And this time, those familiar words are uttered by Frankie. It surprises you. For a moment you think he’s just being nice, appeasing you. But his brown eyes do that same thing that Santi’s do, where they get all wide and watery and it’s impossible to say no.

So you snuggle under the covers, and it’s a bit awkward at first with an extra set of limbs. Santi takes his coveted position as big spoon, but this time behind Fish. Then Frankie coaxes you closer, a hand at your back to urge you to rest your head on his outstretched arm.

The three of you talk about how hard you’re all going to sleep, and you close your eyes and listen to two other sets of breaths. You let it lull you to the edge of consciousness. Just before you slip under, Santi’s voice is deep and smooth.

“Te amo.”

And Frankie’s whisper is just as silky.

“Te amo.”

—

In the morning, you all wake up slow, and take care of business, and mosey out into the kitchen. It’s natural to watch Frankie make eyes at Santi over his eggs, but you know that Santi’s routine walk to your Uber will be anything but.

Their apartment door slams heavy behind you two as you head to the normal pick-up spot.

“So this is probably it, huh?”

You have to force yourself to look at Santi’s face, squinting in the mid-morning sun.

His brows draw up, and you really hope he doesn’t make this anymore awkward than it needs to be.

“It doesn’t have to be, no.”

His head shakes back and forth with his declaration, and you almost flinch when he reaches for your hand.

“Listen. Give us some time, you know? Let us… figure… this out. Once we settle, I wanna see you again. Fish does too.”

You’re sure your face is doing something funny, because Santi laughs and pushes you.

“Not gonna get rid of us that easy, cabrón.”

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antisocialbunnysims · 4 months

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got a lot of requests to upload this and wanted to get it up asap as a ~happy new year~ gift. More info, more pics and download under the cut! You can see all the elements of the lot and how it works in action by checking out my most recent yt video.

Here are some screenshots/floorplan taken in an empty downloads folder with no other cc:

Read this before installing:

If u have trouble placing this lot, use the neighborhood terrain cheat that catherintcjd shows how to use in the pics of this MTS post. If you use shaders like dreadpirate's no blue snow, remove them first or you might not be able to see the green square cursor that you use to adjust the terrain. This beach lot terrain was slightly adjusted to fit my map, so if it doesn't place easily in your hood you're gonna have to do this im sorry.

Beach terrain adjustments under the water revert when you share a lot, for this reason the floating garden underneath the glass floor is a bit jankier but you can move things around if you want. The koi fish are on omsp’s so you might want to use an omsp controller to make them visible if you want to move them around. In my version of the houseboat there is the green neon maxis disc lamp that i have underwater on a backwards omsp so it points up at the glass floor. I removed it in this version b/c since the terrain reverted, the light was trapped way under the terrain but still filling the house with a green glow, so i deleted it since it would be a bit tricky for others to remove without having to use CFE.

Snow comes through the hot tub roof onto the bed lmao just know that this happens. You can use simnopke’s time and weather controller to stop snow or stop snow accumulation. I’m not sure if this problem will stop if the hot tub is removed, haven’t tried it. Not sure if rain comes through, i assume it does butttt i haven't noticed. 😇

CC is included, there are two subfolders in the zip: one is maxis recolors and one is meshes or recolors that I either couldn't/forgot to place on the lot before packaging. ** You NEED to install Numenor's no cutaway wall if you do not already have it, otherwise walls will be missing.**

DOWNLOAD SFS <<<<< cleaned with chris hatch's lot compressor, built in sims 2 UC, lot costs 77k tysm to everyone who's cc i used! <3

#ts2 lots #ts2 residential lot #sims 2 lots #ts2 download #my lots

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originalbasementmaker · 1 year

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Minar Carp Fish Cleaning and Cutting Video | Fish Cutting In The Market

youtube

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basu-shokikita · 6 months

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Thinking about Toki's character arc in Metalocalypse...

Now that Metalocalypse is officially over, or so it seems, I wanted to go over what Army of the Doomstar means for Toki's growth.

Warnings for spoilers for, well, the entirety of Metalocalypse.

So, over the course of the show, we see Toki repeatedly trying (and failing) to form a meaningful bond with several living beings, people and animals included.

Analysis under the cut ⬇️

Season 1

It starts with a dying little girl called Juliette Sarmangsadandle in Dethkids (S1E16). Toki is upset over being misunderstood aka his public image being associated with kids and vehemently fights the idea by adopting an edgy personality.

When he watches Juliette's video, about being a child that longs for violence, it speaks to him and his childhood. Toki feels seen by this little girl and imagines his child self singing with her.

Sadly, when he goes out to meet her, she's already dead. Here goes Toki's first attempt at connection, utterly butchered.

In the following episode, we're introduced to Rockzo in Dethclown (S1E17). Toki brings his clown friend over and everyone pretty much almost instantly dislikes him. Not to mention Rockzo tries to betray Dethklok for drugs. Still, he sticks around for the remainder of the show as Toki's friend.

Though it's important to mention how much of that friendship involves Rockzo abusing Toki's kindness and generally being a shitty person. He's not exactly someone Toki can rely on.

It is not that significant but I'd also like to give a shout out to Dethwater (S1E02), where Toki is locked in an oxygen chamber and sings to the fishes and creatures in the sea. It's an early episode, but already portrays Toki's friendly nature and colorful life outlook.

Season 2

In season 2, we have Dethlessons (S2E02). After having a disagreement with Skwisgaar's teaching method, Toki meets Dimneld Selftcark. Though initially wanting him as guitar teacher, it's clear Toki doesn't actually intend to perfect his craft and more than anything appreciates his company. Toki even refers to him as 'a father friend'.

However, as luck would have it, Selftcark is ill and dies in Toki's arms after Toki gave his first recital.

Then there's Dethdad (S2E15), where Toki learns that his dad is dying of cancer. Toki is very much visibly affected by his parents' abuse towards him, though he still decides to pay his father a visit. When Toki finally gains the courage to see him and bond one last time, his father requests to see the cottage he was born at before dying.

Unfortunately, Toki steps and slips on his way there, dropping his father into the ice. Toki watches his father die and is unable to do anything about it.

This boy is really just collecting traumas all the way, huh?

Season 3

Dethhealth (S3E03) has Toki adopting a cat he found at a concert. Although he is not the best caretaker of the animal, Toki is very obviously fond of his new pet.

But, of course, the cat was dying, solving the mystery of who was the person dying within Dethklok. Toki is so devastated that he faints and then proceeds to have an elaborate dream sequence for closure.

Fertilityklok comes three episodes later (S3E06) and we find a Toki jaded with casual sex encounters. He decides he wants to meet a partner whom he can have children with. Though initially facing Dethklok's indignation, Toki goes forward with the idea and lands in a dating agency.

They find the perfect partner for Toki but nothing ever goes well with this guy and the lady in question disappoints Toki both in looks and personality. To make things worse, the agency wants to force him in a relationship with her and for Toki to impregnate her, even.

Toki manages to escape the whole charade and decides he's better off with sluts. This one is not so tragic as much as it's just another total failure at forming the connection Toki so desperately craves.

Season 4

Diversityklok (S4E04) and Bookklok (S4E05) feature Toki's interpersonal problems within the band so I figured they were mentioning as well.

In Diversityklok, Toki complains about feeling constantly left out by the band, so he forms a 'special persons invite club' to gain agency over his friends. He still ends up being forgotten by them at the end of the episode.

In Bookklok, Toki has a fallout with Skwisgaar after being denied a solo and writes a book denouncing his behavior towards him. In modern lingo, he essentially cancelled Skwisgaar. He fails to consistently maintain the fans' approval as he flunks the solo he so desperately wanted. His fight with Skwisgaar is not resolved (at least, not on screen).

Finally we get to Dethcamp (S4E07), where Toki's erratic behavior conflates with the mainline plot. In the search for friends, Toki goes to the Rock-a-Rooni Fantasy Camp, where he's almost killed by one of the campers. He's saved by Dethklok's former rhythm guitarist, Magnus Hammersmith and they subsequently become friends.

Good ending? No, Magnus stabs and kidnaps Toki over Roy Cornickleson's funeral, his fate being unknown as the season ends.

Doomstar Requiem

We finally learn how Toki joined the band. He showed up late to Dethklok's auditions and had a guitar duel with Skwisgaar, where he eventually lost. Defeated, he was abandoning the premises when Skwisgaar says that nobody made him play as well as Toki did, inviting him to join the band.

From then on, it's all rainbows and happiness for Toki as his life finally takes a turn for the better. He has found a family and a home. He loves his brothers and his life. Current Toki is on the brink of death and thinking about Dethklok is his only solace.

I might be biased in saying this but the sequence from 'I Believe' feels like the peak of the movie, and I don't think this is incidental.

While Toki is rescued at the end of the movie, we don't get to see a proper reunion.

Army of the Doomstar

Cut to 10 years later, Army of the Doomstar releases and while the plot is much about the end of the world, we get to see post-DSR Toki.

First of all, at the start of AOTD it is stated that Toki (as well as the rest of the band besides Nathan) has forgotten about what happened during Doomstar Requiem. However, his attitude towards the band is very loving, stating he's happy to be back with them.

He's especially fond towards Skwisgaar, attempting to hug him multiple times, worrying and being generally attentive of him. Toki shows both verbal and physical affection towards Skwisgaar over the course of the movie, finalizing in the bridal carry during the before last scene. Compared to the show, it's a huge contrast to their relationship, where Skwisgaar and Toki behaved as rivals, with Toki feeling simultaneously admiration and envy towards Skwisgaar.

But what are you trying to say with all of this, Basu? Well, essentially it's the following:

At some point, Toki started feeling neglected by the band and began seeking love from outside sources. The childhood companion he never had (Juliette), a father figure (Selftcark), his actual father, a pet, a girlfriend and finally...an actual friend he could rely on (Magnus). All of the aforementioned failed, eventually landing him in an even worst situation where he started.

However, being stuck there, wounded, malnourished and dying is what reminded him of the best time of his life. Of the people most important to him. And even if those memories were seemingly gone, the feeling prevailed.

Sure, Dethklok is massively flawed and there's lot of work they have to do with regards to interpersonal relationships, but they're his family and his life. Perhaps the lifestyle or his need for ego/power (Skwisgaar plays a big hand in this) made him forget about it for a second, but he knows it now. He doesn't need to look for love from strangers, he already has it in them. They're everything he's always wanted and he's going to cherish them for the rest of his life.

And if you're wondering why the special emphasis on Skwisgaar, my theory has to do with the age regressing that was confirmed in the movie. While it mostly happened over the Ishnifus funeral, I think Toki has generally gone back to the emotional state he was in when he joined Dethklok. A young, easily impressionable man happy to finally have found a family.

Which means he holds Skwisgaar in special regard, considering he is the guy that accepted him into the band. Not Nathan, Pickles or Murderface, it was Skwisgaar.

You could almost say that Toki might view Skwisgaar as his hero, given that he is the reason Toki has everything he has right now. So I think Toki's gratefulness is expressing in that almost overwhelming affection. Just like Toki's not going to let himself forget his feelings for the band, he's not going to let them forget about his feelings, either. It might not be easy, but Toki's priorities are clear now. His heart is with Dethklok.

In short, even if Army of the Doomstar didn't address Toki's issues the way we would've wanted, it's still a happy outcome for him and I fully believe he'll have more than enough to work on them. Metalocalypse is, at its core, a story about found family. This is specially true for Toki.

So, I really believe that Toki is eventually going to heal and be happy with the band. :)

#metalocalypse #toki wartooth #dethklok #doomstar requiem #army of the doomstar #basu post #analysis #sorry for the corniness at the end fdjhsdjkfdj #sometimes a bitch loves her blorbo too much #ive been wanting to write this for months i finally got my shit together and did it

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artificial-transmutations · 1 year

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Two sides of the same coin - Officer

Buck and Tony were the perfect gay couple. They lived together since years, almost never argued and, most importantly, loved each other unconditionally. Their relationship was so close that they often said they were practically married anyway. In fact, their parents even got along quite well with each other!

They shared the same interests including a love for video games, so today, as usual on a Saturday evening, they were lying on the couch together, playing and played some relaxing video game. They had ordered pizza before and were happy they didn't need to leave the house anymore today. It could have been an evening like any other Saturday evening, but it wasn't.

Tony felt a bit uncomfortable and shifted around in his seat before he reached under himself, fishing out a small sparkling coin.

"Ha! Thought I was sitting on something! Look at that." He showed Buck the shiny piece of metal.

"What is it?" asked Buck curiously.

"I don't know, it just appeared out of nowhere," Tony answered. As he took a closer look however, the coin just vanished into thin air. "Huh, weird!"

"Maybe it was just some cookie and it crumbled apart when you picked it up", suggested Buck.

"Perhaps...", Tony said, not really convinced and tried to get back to his game. However, he was finding the video game increasingly boring. He glanced over to see if Buck was still concentrating on the screen, but Buck's eyes were focused on him instead.

"What?" he asked, feeling embarrassed.

"Nothing," Buck replied quickly.

"No, tell me what you're looking at."

"You," Buck said simply.

"Me? Why?"

"Because you are sexy," Buck admitted shyly.

It seemed like Buck was in the mood today. Well, why not. "How about we watch some porn", suggested Tony.

Since a few minutes ago, Buck was feeling increasingly horny. He was rarely in the mood for sex, but today was different. So, when Tony suggested to put on some porn, Buck agreed quickly. After all, watching two men fuck each other was pretty hot stuff after all.

When they turned on the TV and found a nice gay movie, they settled down onto the couch again and watched the scene unfold. It was about a cop controlling traffic who forced a speeding man to suck his cock instead of paying. The guy obviously liked sucking cock and sucked on the officer's hard dick while getting fucked from behind by his partner.

Buck was already rubbing his own cock through his jeans when he saw how the two guys kissed passionately.

Tony also found concentrating on the porn movie much easier than the game before. Somehow, he had found the game a bit too difficult to follow today. His eyes were glued to the police officer on the screen, and he also massaged his cock in his sweatpants.

Without looking to his boyfriend, he asked: "Do you think a police uniform would suit me?"

"Sure," Buck responded at once, picturing his boyfriend in a police uniform. Both of them weren't exactly fit, so he had to use a bit of fantasy to imagine Tony as a burly policeman, but yeah, it could definitely work.

"And then there's my hair," continued Tony, stroking his medium black hair. "I should cut it shorter, right?"

"Yeah," Buck nodded enthusiastically, thinking about Tony as a cop with a short buzz cut. It would certainly make him look more intimidating.

While they were both fantasizing, the movie had come to an end. Tony immediately started a new one and discarded his shirt and pants. Now only in his boxers, he fished out his cock and started stroking it slowly.

"And if I were a cop, what would my uniform look like", he asked.

Buck found this whole conversation oddly erotic, so he answered without hesitation: "I think it would be blue."

"With golden buttons", added Tony, imagining himself being dressed in a tight uniform. He couldn't help but feel excited at the thought of having a big bulge in his pants. He imagined how people would react if he walked past them in such clothes.

Buck was so into the conversation that he didn't even notice that on the tv screen, the scene had turned into a mmf threesome. Tony was still watching it but found it oddly exciting. How had he never noticed that bouncing boobs excited him?

Buck was feeling light-headed. The mental images of Tony in a police uniform didn't seem so far off, actually. He had a good fit build and wore his hair in a short buzz cut already. He just needed a bit more muscle, and of course, a uniform. He briefly imagined how it must feel to be his uniform? To cling to that muscular body, to cover that firm ass.

"You would go commando of course", Buck fantasized, "Nothing between your dick and me..."

"You?" asked Tony and switched the porn channel. Straight porn. A busty blonde being fucked by a cop. Why not? "You want to be my uniform?"

Buck didn't mean to say it out loud, but the question alone made him stroke his cock even harder. "Yes! Think about it! I could be your vest, and your pants, and even your boots!"

Tony wasn't sure what to think of that idea of being this intimate with another man, he was no fag, after all. On the other hand, that wasn't a man he was talking about, but a mere object, a bit of fabric, leather and metal.

Buck didn't know what hit him. He was a human being, but right now, nothing felt righter than being just a set of clothing, wrapped around this man’s chiseled physique. The large muscles that danced when he stroked his cock to each moan of the girl on tv, the heavy balls that made a sweaty slapping sound, the muscular butt. With a cry of ecstasy, Buck came, shooting cum all over his body. At the same time, he deflated, like a balloon losing air. His feet were the first to change, becoming black combat boots. His legs followed suit and turned into a pair of blue police pants, while his cock and balls elongated into a black leather belt with a weapon holster. The cum quickly dried into his chest, as it turned into a blue vest with badges on them and a white undershirt. Finally, his head turned into a black leather police cap, as the last remains of his human mind faded away.

The last thing he sensed was that the police office on the couch finally came, spewing cum all over himself. A big strong hand grabbed his undershirt body and wiped away the cum with it. The uniform part gladly absorbed all of it, adding one more stain to the numerous ones that were already there.

Tony, the police officer sighed. He needed that break. There hadn't been any hot woman speeding today and he had felt blue-balled. Perhaps he should just start stopping hot babes for no reason. Yeah, he grinned. That sounded like a great idea. He quickly got dressed, not caring about the wet cum stains on his undershirt. Of course, he went commando. He always did, he just loved the thought of not having anything between his large cock and his uniform pants. And the bulge was a real eye-catcher for the ladies, too.

If you enjoyed this story, you might like my other ones in this theme. Also be sure to check out this cool blog!

#inanimate tf #inanimate transformation #male transformation #cop #gay to straight #two sides of the same coin

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harry-sussex · 1 year

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This was, no joke, the best moment of my entire life. I have been waiting so long for this. I never thought it would happen.

I had originally planned to volunteer with the UK branch of my job today, but when I saw the announcement, I knew I had to do this instead. I decided to get dinner at the pub, Dog and Duck, last night to look inside and try it out - I got bangers and mash and some fish (sans chips) as an appetizer, and it was legitimately so good. I also tried the Timothy Taylor’s Landlord Beer – you can see William in the photos from today right behind the tap. My server’s name was Bernie, and you can see her in some photos with William and Kate today too – tiny woman, short gray hair cut into a bob.

I set earlier alarms this morning but due to the time difference / jet lag, I didn’t make it here until 10am. I popped into a Tesco Express on the way to grab some flowers at @avidroyalfan’s advice – yellow of course, the brightest bunch I could find.

I made it over to the area around the pub and there were barricades and policemen everywhere. There was also a black Range Rover parked at the far end of Frith Street – the street they mentioned in the press release yesterday. It thought it was mildly crowded when I got there, but it didn’t even begin to compare to the crowd that had gathered closer to their arrival.

I really had trouble picking where I was going to stand – I didn’t want to be behind anyone, I just wanted to be up against the barricade, but given that the crowd was so relatively sparse on Frith Street (as opposed to right across from the pub on Dean Street) when I got there, I wasn’t sure they were going to come my way. I was also praying that I’d be on Kate’s side of the road if they came by – you guys know I love William, but if I had a chance, this once in a lifetime chance, I needed Kate. I went with my gut, a little further down the road than where the crowd at the time had started to assemble, so I could be right against the barricades. From the moment I got to the barricade, I was literally shaking, and I am not exaggerating – you can see it in one of the videos.

I passed the time talking to some lovely people – some of whom planned to be there and some of whom happened to stroll by. I met a lovely woman, Cath, who took tons of photos without me even asking – she just saw how excited I was and took the photos to send to me. Another woman named Teri did the same – just out of the kindness of their own hearts. Those are most of the photos you guys are going to see – I took a bunch while Kate was walking around, but I didn’t want to put my own camera in her face if she was standing right in front of me.

I stood for more than four hours start to finish and I do not regret it in the slightest. I thought a lot about what I was going to say to her if I had the chance – I’ve thought about it so many times over the years, but what could I really say that would summarize more than 10 years of pure admiration and adoration in 30 seconds or less? What could I – an American in London all the way from New York – possibly say to the UK’s next queen to tell her how much she’s meant to me for all these years?

There was a policeman right in front of me – his name was Thompson – who was subtly dropping hints about what was going on. He couldn’t say much but he did hint at the time we could expect them to arrive – about 12:45pm. He ended up pretty close – he told me that he got randomly assigned to the event today and that he (and basically the entire police force) would also be at the coronation. He also confirmed that they would be walking down Frith Street, where I was, though he wouldn’t hint at which of them was going to be on my side of the street.

By the time they arrived, the crowd had literally quadrupled – maybe even more. People were on the rooftops and hanging out of windows. Very few of them had flowers. Businesses let people go on their steps to get a closer view. A helicopter was circling above for security. There were policemen and RPOs everywhere. I thought William and Kate were going to drive right up to the pub but instead they walked from the far end of the street – I suppose because they took the tube. Speaking of the tube, that’s the exact line I took this morning. That’s also where the (absolutely enormous) press pack was assembled.

I could tell when they arrived, even though I couldn’t see them right away, because the roar of the crowd and the sound of dozens of cameras clicking said everything I needed to know. As I was a bit further down the street, I didn’t get the greatest view, but it didn’t matter – you could see Kate from a mile away. That jacket was bright in and of itself but she literally glows. There’s just an inherent radiance about her that cannot be explained unless you see it in real life – she’s ethereal in photos, but they don’t even begin to do her justice. She’s radiant. Also, you can see that her hair is perfect no matter how far away you are. As they turned the corner to get to the pub, I was able to crane my neck a little bit to see them get closer to the door, and I saw The Hand with my own two eyes. William placed his hand on Kate’s lower back to guide her inside – we’ve seen photos millions of times, but seeing it with my own two eyes was unreal. Completely surreal.

They spent far less time inside the pub than I would’ve thought (unless time was flying because I knew they were coming), but again, you could hear them come out the door just by virtue of the roar of the crowd. Thompson the policeman then told me that Kate was coming to my side of the street. I thought I was shaking before – nope, not even remotely compared to how I was when I heard that she was coming my way. I saw William first across the street – he went through relatively quickly but I could somewhat hear him saying “nice to meet you” over and over, shaking hands, laughing, the usual. He’s huge – I always knew he was tall but he’s massive, tall and broad. You could tell from twenty feet away - he’s huge. At one point, I literally blurted out “he’s not wearing blue!” once I saw the brown coat. He was on the side of the road that had more people, and he moved along at a solid pace - it’s definitely true that Kate is a chatter, no wonder they gave her the side of the street with fewer people. She would’ve been outside for 3 hours if she was greeting the amount of people on William’s side. He’s honestly such a good sport – he was shaking hands, standing on his tip toes and craning over the barricades to greet as many people as possible. I could very clearly see the faces of the people looking directly at him – you can tell they absolutely love him. Such genuine smiles. The pure adoration and happiness in their eyes said everything one needs to know – those people absolutely love him like their own.

When Kate turned the corner from the pub towards where I was standing, I swear to god my heart jumped right into my throat and my stomach dropped. God, she’s beautiful. Like I knew this, it isn’t news, the entire world is perfectly aware that she’s one of the most beautiful women on the face of the earth…. but she still managed to stun me anyway. She’s radiant. Absolutely gorgeous.

Somewhere along the way, as she moved down the line of people in my direction, it occurred to me that I was legitimately going to meet, or at the very least greet, Her Royal Highness The Princess of Wales, after all this time, after so many years… I am not exaggerating when I say I was physically shaking. You can see it on my face in the photos even as she approached, before she came near me – I wasn’t panicking, I was just in awe. I’ve always known she was real of course, but she’s… actually real? Do you know what I mean?

She was moving so slowly compared to William – I swear he was already 75% of the way through his side of the crowd by the time Kate got to me. That’s when I really noticed that she is just so chatty – I didn’t notice her just greeting someone and then moving on quickly. She was so engaged. Every single person I could see was like entranced by her very presence - she’s literally such a vision. It’s not just me, it’s not just us – people are completely fascinated by her.

And then.

She came closer and closer – as I was on her left, I could see the ring. It’s huge – like, it’s big on camera, but the thing is enormous. I could not believe for the life of me that she was right there. I made sure to stick the flowers out enough and stand up straight and believe me when I say I didn’t have to remind myself to smile or make eye contact – I could literally feel myself beaming (right before she got to me):

When she came over, I couldn’t believe my eyes. Before I knew it, Kate was reaching to shake my hand and saying “nice to meet you” and I literally still cannot believe it. I handed over the flowers and I said to her:

“It’s nice to meet you, I just wanted to tell you that I have admired you for so long and that I also studied Italian Renaissance art history just like you did.”

When I said that I admired her, she said “oh, thank you!” as I continued to ramble about the art. She was still holding the flowers. I cannot believe that there are so many pictures of Her Royal Highness The Princess of Wales holding bright yellow flowers that I got for her while smiling ear to ear – she handed them off before she moved onto the next person, so she is definitely smiling at me in those photos.

She then asked me if I liked studying art, and I said of course – she responded “me too!” After that, she asked me if I used it in my career, and I said no (which I don’t) but my master’s was a passion project. She then asked where I flew from (the accent, I guess) and I told her that I came from New York. She said that it was such a long way to come and that she was surprised at how many people have traveled so far for the big weekend. She touched my arm so sweetly for like the quickest second; she then said that it was going to be such a big event and that she was looking forward to joining the celebrations and that it was going to be good for everyone.

The last thing I said to her was “also, I ate in the pub last night because I heard you were coming!” and she responded with “oh that’s great, how was the food?” It was legitimately fantastic – I told her so – and she said that they would have to come back and try it when there were fewer people around.

It was then time for her to get moving so I just said “it was so nice to meet you” again and she said “nice to meet you, have a nice day!” Right before she moved on and as she was saying goodbye, she handed off the flowers and went on her way.

The whole thing lasted maybe two minutes, but I will remember it for the rest of my life. Her eyes are so green and she’s just so stunning up close and I just cannot believe she was that close to me and that we were able to talk and she is everything I have ever dreamed she would be and more. Just so sweet and gorgeous and engaged in what we were talking about – she didn’t just say “hi” and “bye,” you know? She listened to what I said and responded back without generalities… everything I ever dreamed of and more. I thought I couldn’t love her more – I do now. She has made my entire day and my entire life and I will literally never forget the vision of Her Royal Highness The Princess of Wales, Catherine Elizabeth, someone I have adored for more than a decade, standing in front of me.

I am so happy I could cry. I was stunned after - literally could not believe what just happened to me. Take a look at the video below - you can see part of our conversation and then just the pure shock at the end. My hands were literally shaking.

Once the shock wore off, I did in fact cry. They say never to meet your heroes – why not? How could you go wrong meeting someone you have idolized when that someone is Kate?

#my post #katie goes to london pt. 2 #prince william #prince of wales #kate middleton #princess of wales #I’m sorry for the shitty quality I did this from my phone in a Starbucks lol #also thank you all for being so sweet I literally could not ask for anything more #I love you all so much #Kate and Katie

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meowmeowmeowmeow4x · 17 days

Text

Dark Blue Moon and the Suffering Sun Chapter 5

I hope ya'll enjoy :D please comment and reblog, it really helps out (i just want that juicy feedback babyyy)

Two pristine white suits stood in the doorway. The laboratory's glaring white light bared down from behind the two men, framing them in an uneasy, uncertain shadow. Despite being indoors, the agents wore cold sunglasses, and one would be forgiven for assuming they were permanent fixtures on their heads.

"Our deepest condolences, Mr Wayne." The so-called Agent K said. Bruce Wayne noted not the slightest hint of condolence or sympathy.

He considered himself an effortlessly logical person. Someone who got what needed to be done, done. Someone who push away fear and stress in order to chip through the walls and find a path to victory in any situation.

But now, as he stared at the pile of bloody and torn clothes laid on the examination table, a DNA test on the side showing MATCH in bold letters, Bruce found himself blanking for the first time in years.

The first time since Jason...

Damian's tracker had blinked its last only hours before, and Bruce hopped on the first boat he could procure and organised a search part, recruiting the help of the local and governmental siren hunters, not that he was not still suspicious, but man power was man power, and his son was on borrowed time.

Time that had to be paid back.

"We could not find a body, sir. Your son has likely been consumed by the sirens."

No body. None. And that was not for a lack of trying. Divers had scoured the ocean floor underneath vigilant patrols. Sonars echoed across the bay and surrounding reefs. Nothing, not hide or hair or even a bone.

Bruce needed to stay calm, to stay effortlessly logical. There was no way to confirm a death just by some bloody clothes and a lack of a body. He needed to find a way, the only way.

"Thank, gentlemen. I'm gonna need a moment alone. I'll be returning to my room." The crack in "Brucie's" voice was not fake.

When Bruce got back to his hotel room, its emptiness like poison to his eyes, he beelined to his laptop. There he opened the staticky and blurry video showing the moment of disaster.

Damian was on the boardwalk, taking a moment for himself to get away from the hustle and bustle of yet another vapid party. All he wanted out of this trip was to see the fish...

An explosion rocked the boardwalk, sending splinters flying. The camera blurred into static. All that could be made out was a hand grabbing onto Damian's foot and pulling him under. The feed cut out.

Bruce played the recording again, and again, and again. Just like he had been doing all day. It was so blurry he couldn't even identify the colour of the hand.

Each time, his heart broke a little more. A tear came closer and closer to tearing its way out behind the barrier he'd put around his heart. The barrier these damn kids have wormed through over time.

Bruce dialed the phone. It answered on the first ring. "Dick, gather the family. I have some bad news..."

Danny buckled the last belt in his collection around his tail. Funny thing about belts, is that they're still useful even if you aren't wearing pants. The Fenton waterproof torch, the Fenton Stinger, Fenton Lipstick Laser among several other greatest hits slotted neatly into the loops of his belts along his tail. All he needed was a jacket and he might have a biker aesthetic to rival Johnny's.

Damian had spent the past hour or so pacing back and forth, trying to get a hang of his fins and occasionally bumping into a wall. Kid was itching to go out, and had taken to waving the Fenton Anti-Creep Stick around at imaginary enemies, despite having complained about the "inelegance of such a crude weapon."

"You will know suffering." He muttered. "I will make you beg for deliverance." He scowled.

Maybe Danny should introduce him to Sam. He feels like they'd get on like a house on fire.

Damian clung to his shoulder again, little arms wrapped around his neck for purchase as he swam out the cave. The Anti-Creep stick sat comfortably in a holster wrapped round the kid's waist with a knot Danny had to retie six times because he was so small. It was mid afternoon and the sun bathed the reef in bright colours like a warm blanket.

"We should keep an eye out for any other weapons. Our current stock is not enough."

Danny snorted. "You sound like a serial killer talking like that, you know?"

"I am more dangerous than a serial killer." Damian huffed. Danny could feel the offence radiating off him. To think that a himbo like Bruce Wayne could spawn someone with this many sticks up his ass. "And more intimidating."

"Please threaten me more. I'm shaking in my non-existent boots."

Damian growled. A deep guttural sound that rumbled his chest and tickled Danny's scales. Well, it would've been deep if Damian weren't half Danny's size.

"Where is your map and compass? How are we to get to Panama without navigation equipment?"

"Relaaax! We don't need a map because I've got a little something called celestial navigation." See Sam and Tuck? His space obsession was useful in his siren life!

The smaller siren head sank and banged on Danny's. "It is broad daylight."

Danny grinned over his shoulder. "Yeah that was a joke."

Damian screeched.

Danny laughed as he surfaced and got himself some fresh air. Calm waters for miles around them. Slowly he kicked off the swim, building up speed. "Relaaaax. It doesn't take a genius to figure out we need to go south."

"The only reason I have allowed you to live is because you are my only way home."

"As if I couldn't literally sit on you and you'd be helpless."

"I should invite you to try!"

Thousands of miles of blue ocean stretched on in every direction Damian looked. Below the two of them, the ocean floor lay deep enough that all Damian could see was a blur. Just above, the surface of the water rippling from slow winds blazes past. Phantom's strength lets them cut through the water at breakneck pace. The water rushing past his ears and fins reminds him of flying with Jon, if only much thicker than air in the upper-atmosphere.

Light from above, and unending darkness below. It was the darkness that Damian focused on. Occasionally, a tingle spread down his back and through his tail, like a warning, only for nothing to be visible underneath. The first few times, he shivered from surprise. Then it just unnerved him.

He'd read about lateral lines on sharks and other fish before, as a curiosity. Never had he imagined he would come to possess one himself, and never that it would feel so natural that it was difficult to parse it out from all his other sensations. The idea of not feeling this new sensation felt foreign, and unnerving, even though this form was the foreign one.

He would never admit this to anyone, but he didn't know much longer he could deny the creeping feeling on his neck. For all Phantom appeared friendly, Damian knew nothing of his motivations, or even his true character. If Phantom decided he didn't want anything to do with Damian, then what? With no weapons save a measly baseball bat, no contact with the outside world, no armour, no legs, no support and no knowledge of how to survive, he would be good as shark meat.

Damian tightened his grip on Phantom's neck. He was supposed to be above fear, and yet why was his heart pounding so hard?

A series of fast clicking echoed from the distance. Damian jerked his head to the left. Through squinted eyes hie made out long slender forms swimming parallel, their tails undulating up and down.

"Are those dolphins?" Damian muttered.

Phantom turned to the same sight, and raised his eyebrows. "Huh, I guess they are-" Damian jerked Phantom to their direction.

"We must approach them immediately!"

Phantom's body almost tumbled out of his normal swimming rhythm from the shock. "What? What for?"

"We must! The only reason I agreed to come to Amity Island was to see the sea creatures."

"Dude, you know dolphins can be total assho-" But Damian was having none of it. To solidify his point, he clamped his teeth into Phantom's shoulder, focusing them on the part where bone jutted out. Even if they couldn't penetrate, the blunt force against bone would be very painful.

"YOUCH Alright alright alright alright can you please stop biting me!"

Phantom rerouted their course, and Damian chittered in satisfaction. "Excellent."

The dolphins were as beautiful and majestic as he could have ever imagined. It was a small pod, comprising of about five adults, all swimming together in stunning synchrony. Phantom swam at a cautious distance, close enough to admire but too far to touch. How he longed to pet a dolphin... Even Damian slapping him with his tail could only move him an inch closer.

"Dude, I've dealt with dolphins before, and they're literally the most evil beings on the planet, right next to toast and Vlad."

Damian huffed. If only he had a camera on him. To swim alongside dolphins at top speed, out in the wild... He was pretty sure he was drooling, or would have been.

He'd just have to commit the scene to memory, and paint it when he got home.

The thought of home made his fins droop a little.

He felt a finger poking at his cheek. "Hey Damian, you ok? Fine, I'll give like two inches, but that's it."

Damian snappes teeth at him. "I am perfectly fine. Just thinking."

Before Phantom could get closer, Damian saw one member of the pod swerve right for them. Instinctively, he ducked, only for the dolphin to somersault overhead, twirling three times before 'landing' right of them. Two more of its podmates followed suit as they danced in circles around them. One of them came so close he could even catch its scent. It smelled tangy, like freedom and excitement.

Seeing dolphins performing manoeuvres at aquariums was one thing, sitting in dries seats what felt like half a world away from the water, but here? Damian felt the water stolen from right out of his gills.

And the best part was rubbing it in to Phantom. "What was that you said while disparaging these beautiful creatures?"

"Dude, don't these guys smell weird to you?" Even now he was suspicious? The dolphins smelled perfectly fine.

"Not in the slightest. I believe you are just trying to save face."

"Dude, I've seen dolphins before. Plenty of them, but none of them smelled this.. familiar."

Then again, now that Phantom mentions it, those moves seemed just a bit too disciplined for a wild animal. Just a bit too measured...

Damian's hackles spiked up. They were surrounded.

"Phantom, get us out of-"

Deafening squeals blasted from every direction. The noise was so horrible Damian could barely see. His ear fins felt like cracked glass. His field of view was getting darker. They were sinking.

Phantom moved Damian so he was flat against his chest and curled up. The boys crash landed into the barren sea floor. Pain erupted from every surface as debris and particles tore scales and broke fins. Phantom's screaming mixed into the water with teal blood. He held onto Damian like a vice the entire time.

They finally came to a stop. Damian's head spun and spun and his ears rang. He dimly noted the criss-crossing ropes of a fishing net entrapping them. Above him, the blasted dolphins loomed over them in circles like they were sharks, and in the centre floated a man in a large metal suit, a metal suit sporting a malicious, leopardlike grin, a grin that for a moment he could not place, until his mind cleared.

That was the last thing he ever had ever seen as a human.

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