#have a wonderful sunday and stay safe as always!!!

[bwabys-scenarios]

Sweet Sunday NSFW

Obanai x Fem!Reader

!!REBLOGS APPRECIATED!!

A/N: this is an AO3 request :3 gonna try to prioritize requests sent on AO3 since I plan on being more active there. This is short but sweet :) also I don’t know Obanai too well(it’s been forever since I read the manga) so sorry if he’s a little out of character… or if this just sucks. LMAO

warnings: pussy eating, very soft and sweet sex, Obanai worships your body, breeding, mostly nsfw, fluffy

You never did quite like waking up early in the morning, and thankfully your boyfriend didn’t either. Even when he was supposed to be off fighting demons, Obanai hated getting up before 10 am.

So that’s why on his day off, the two of you stayed curled up together the entire morning, sharing kisses and soft words of love. It had taken him so long to open up to you, and now that he had, it was almost like he was making up for lost time.

“You’re just radiant…” he purred, brushing back your hair from your sleepy face. “My love, my angel… my everything.”

It was enough to get your cheeks feeling hot to the touch, your heart beating out of your chest. “And you’re so handsome it makes me nervous…”

Although Obanai still struggled to accept compliments, he knew you would never lie to him. His own pale cheeks flushed pink as he looked away. The bandages that usually covered his mouth lay on the nightstand by your shared bed.

You traced the scars on the corners of his mouth, your eyes full of love and adoration. He could have never thought that anyone would look at his mmm in such a way, especially without his bandages to cover up his biggest insecurity.

“You’re too kind, my love. Sometimes I wonder if this is all a dream, that I’ll wake up back in my childhood home.”

You paused, your heart twisting in pain. Obanai often suffered from nightmares, waking up screaming and clutching onto you for dear life. It left him trembling, tears pouring down his cheeks as he struggled to soothe himself.

But how he didn’t have to face it alone, he had you.

“You’re safe now, Obanai. You never have to hide away when you’re with me…”

His eyes softened, and he couldn’t help but pull you close. You smelled so sweet, like sunshine and vanilla, with hints of something sweet he couldn’t quite place. Whenever he inhaled your scent, he knew that he was right where he needed to be.

Home.

It didn’t help that your scent also stimulated other feelings… other desires… before he knew it his hands hand wondered along your hips and to your thighs, lightly pushing them open. “O-Obanai…”

You whined softly as his nimble fingers danced across your closed cunt, stopping right above your clit. He pressed down, causing you to squirm lightly as he began rubbing gentle circles into it. “Shh, princess. Let me make you feel good.”

If Obanai was anything, he was devoted to you body and soul. Every little sound and movement you made was enough to get his pants tight and his body ready to please you.

He slid off your soaked panties, giving your pussy a soft kiss. “Gorgeous, taste so sweet, princess…”

Eating you out was one of his favorite activities, and he enjoyed pinching your pretty nipples as he did. Obanai loved to overstimulate you until you were pushing his head away, begging for his cock instead.

But this morning, he decided to let you off with only three orgasms with his tongue. “Okay, okay…”

He lined up his hips with yours, peppering your neck in kisses. “Do you want me?”

“Y-yes please!”

No hesitation, just pure desire for him. It felt good to be wanted, to be so desperately desired by you.

And so Obanai complied, snapping his hips forward to plunge his cock into you, groaning at the feeling if your tight cunt. Despite him not being huge, you always needed a moment to adjust, and he was more than fine with your pretty pussy cockwarming him as you got used to his cock.

“There you go…” he said, moving his hips at a slow and steady pace as your arousal pooled on the bedsheets below. “That’s my girl… that’s my love.”

His fingertips dig into your plump hips as he fucked info you, his warm breath tickling your neck. Obanai wasn’t really the type to moan, but he started getting talkative when he was close.

“S-so good, my love. So fucking good for me…”

The two of you came together, and he didn’t bother to pull out. He planned on marrying you after all, and getting you pregnant was the goal. “G-gonna… gonna knock you up, okay? My love, my beautiful wife, so pretty for me…”

The two of you laid together, your naked bodies glistening with a sheen of sweat of you snuggled. Soon, you’d have to leave the comfort of your bed to bathe and eat something to replenish your strength…

But for now, you’d need to comfort your lover. He always got a bit shy after sex, embarrassed of the things he said while pussy drunk. You didn’t mind though… you wanted to be his wife after all.

[deathbxnny]

May I request a HSR men (Boothill, Adventurine, Sunday, Gallagher, Dan Heng more or less if you want) with a reader who is a certified napper? She’s always so sleepy and will be grumpy if she doesn’t get at least one nap in. Their favorite place to sleep is on them wether it be their shoulder, chest, lap, etc. And they have a special nap hoodie they stole borrowed from their bf because their scent helps them sleep? No worries if it’s too much

Hey there, Anon!! Since I have a limit of 3 characters, I decided to choose Gallagher, Boothill, and Sunday for this one! Hope you like this, and thank you for the request!<33

Content: romantic relationship, naps, just fluff really, sfw

Reader has no set pronouns!!

((Not proofread))

》GALLAGHER

Gallagher loves taking naps with you and often invites you to hang out with him in the bar during his breaks for a relaxing cuddle session. He'll practically drape you over his chest like a blanket, whilst he leans back in one of the soft cushion couches with a drink in hand. If heaven exists, then it must've been moments like those with you.

He doesn't even mind that you sleep alot and even encourages it as long as you stay in his line of sight. He'd let you take a shirt of his to wear as well whilst you sleep, something about you wearing his clothes whilst you do so warming his heart. It makes him happy to know that he makes you feel so safe and peaceful even subconsciously.

》SUNDAY

He is concerned by the amount of time you spend sleeping at first and wonders if it may be a sickness of some sort. But after you're cleared by a visit to a doctor, one he definitely forced you to go to, he decided that it may just be a part of your personality and decided to leave it at that. Sunday doesn't mind joining you whenever he has time for it, even if he never falls asleep himself. He's just too worried about your safety to do so.

He'll make sure your bed and room in general are as comfortable as possible for you. The man will let you borrow some of his clothes whenever he's away for business, especially if it keeps you in a good mood and happy. He may not understand your need for so much sleep, but as long as your safe, then that's all that matters to him.

》BOOTHILL

Boothill used to get a little annoyed for a while whenever you just napped all day instead of hanging out with him or completing work. It often ended in small arguments caused by him trying to wake you up whilst you whined for 5 more minutes... for the 50th time. So eventually, he just decided to accept your sleepiness and learn to adapt to it by resting with you. He can't necessarily sleep, but he'll let you cuddle up to him as much as you want.

With that said, if you want to wear his cape or steal his hat for a nap, he'll oblige gladly. He finds it cute to see you hold onto his clothes whilst you sleep.

[risuola]

▶ COCOONED — one of those lazy mornings when you wake up trapped in a tangle of hands and legs.

contents: college+roommates!au, fluff — wc. 655

a/n: very short one, i'm still painting a little background to the friendship dynamics of our trio, but I wanna take this opportunity to thank you guys for supporting this little story I'm building here and also I wanna encourage you to help me out with it! if you have any ideas for entries, please let me know through ask box!

𝙇𝙊𝙑𝙀 𝙈𝙀𝘿𝙇𝙀𝙔 | series masterlist

Taking care of your friends came easy for you. You were always like this, affectionate and protective. It was a way of showing love, through those subtle acts of tenderness and both Satoru and Suguru always thanked you for it, despite occasional teasing from their side. They were grateful for your selfless and kindhearted nature, just as you were grateful for the boundless protection you were granted ever since you got to know them. Any bully you ever stumbled upon quickly turned tail when met with the sight of your two guardians – always taller than others, always stronger and very ready to resolve issues (in more or less civilized ways).

It wasn’t a surprise that living together brought you even closer than before. It became a routine for you to help Satoru with his eyedrops first thing in the morning – because the boy has eyes of an angel but needs to protect them from harsh sunlight and environment. Then, you always make sure that a jar of Suguru’s favorite candy is full for him, so that he can pop one right after he takes his daily medicine – the one that he swears tastes like a rug somebody used to wipe up shit and vomit. They, on the other hand, never fail to help you at home or bring you sweets from the store.

One thing you were slightly uncertain about at the beginning of the one-bedroom journey was sleeping with them. You wondered if one day you’ll wake up to a black eye because of some random muscle twitch of either of them or they’ll squish you in the middle of the bed because of course you slept between them, but none of those things happened and it’s been months already. What took place, on the other hand, was evolvement of your friendship to a much more touchy one. It always came natural to you three to cuddle; you never minded their hands on your waist or legs and they never complained about you draping over them, but in one bed, it became much more intense. A progression of friendly intimacy that all three of you grew to love. A comfortable tangle of bodies that became a safe space to you and the boys, something that happened naturally and you wouldn’t have it any other way. And they wouldn’t change it either, but–

“Satoruu–! Suguuu–”

–but there were mornings like this one. You woke up trapped in a death grip of both boys, stuck against Suguru’s muscular chest and with Satoru’s strong arm wrapped around you. The white-haired head was nuzzled against your shoulder blades and as you tried to loosen up the cocoon, you ended up twisting your upper body unnaturally while your legs stayed lodged between four, much larger male ones. Your butt was pressed against Gojo’s stomach and his hand was resting below your ribs, long gone underneath the fabric of your stolen t-shirt. Long, black hair was tickling your face whenever you tried to move away from brunette’s bare pecks. Immobilized and resigned, you let out a deep exhale.

Thanks god it’s Sunday and you have nowhere to be – otherwise you’d be very late, as none of your friends seemed to be bothered by the sound of your voice calling them.

“Get back to sleep,” Toru mumbled sleepily against your back and somehow pulled you even closer to his chest and you could tell that as soon as he finished speaking, he was back in his slumber. His muffled voice did something to Suguru though, because the man hummed lowly, a sound akin to a purr. You felt his lips pressing to the top of your head and he was gone too, with his large hand resting on your hip and his bicep underneath your cheek. Helpless and surrendered, you tweaked your position to get comfortable and allowed your eyelids to drop, slowly succumbing back into the dreamland.

taglist: @kibananya, @r0ckst4rjk, @rixo-19, @soraya-daydreams, @hyun0200, @ilykii, @roscpctals99, @mushkasstuff, @siimp4youu

[if-whats-new]

Passings and Hiatus

Hi everyone!

Bex here. We have a very very sad message from the rest of the group which needed to shared.

Hi Everyone, This was not an easy post to write, but something that still should be communicated.

During the night of Sunday to Monday, Marjorie suffered an aneurysm. Unfortunately, she passed away before anything could be done.

Marjorie had been sick for a very long time, but her state deteriorated this year, and worsened during this summer. She had felt for a while she would probably not see many more milestones or even get to the end of the year, but she did her best to stay with us for as long as she could.

Marjorie strived to fill her days with happy moments and do things that made her happy, especially at the end. She wanted others to feel loved, appreciated, and seen, with her actions. In recent years, Interactive Fiction brought her a lot of joy (and sadness, and anger, etc...), and through it, she could connect with others - others who didn't see her in pain or sickly. IF had become her safe heaven when things were rough.

What's New in IF? would not have existed without Marjorie. Truly. She was the one who came up with the idea. She wanted to do something special, she told us, to bring some positive into the world, however she could. Marjorie was the one who hyped us up, and brought us on board. It was an electric time, and we stayed up deep into the night messing around to make... something with the idea. It wasn't well thought out, and we didn't realize what we were getting into, but she'd never been this excited about something in recent time.

So, she became the captain who steered this little ship of friends, connected through our appreciation of and love for the medium. But she wasn't just the idea person, she was down in the trenches, organizing it all, spearheading us on the right path, turned words into actions. When we needed some time, she would take over without a second's notice. She was always there, no matter what, at the ready.

She hoped, by her little idea and couple of hours of afflicting efforts, she was doing at least a little good for the community. She worried, often, that she wasn't doing enough, or doing it well enough, to give back the last of herself to the community who made those past years enjoyable for her. But not once did she want to pull that string publicly: she never wanted to take attention away from those who worked hard on their craft (her words). It mattered so much to her.

Through her and thanks to her, we learned so much. About ourselves and each other. And we shared with each other our appreciation for others, what we were passionate about, what we hoped for ourselves. She made us such better people, and we could never thank her enough for it.

Marjorie was first and foremost a loving daughter, a kind and attentive friend, and a passionate woman. Even with her failing health, she advocated for all who needed even a tiny bit support. She was a wonderful and compassionate soul, who always tried to see the best in people, but was never afraid to confront those who needed to face their mistakes. She forgave easily and loved even more.

Marjorie, you left behind a very quiet and empty space, and already are and always will be sorely missed.

- Noi, Axelle, and the rest of FMoDF Gang (Erika, Joss, Olive, Derek, Chaz)

As I'm sure you can all understand that this was a surprise for us and everyone who was close to Mrajorie, I think we can all say she was an amazing woman who invited me (Bex), Brij and Dion to help and create this wonderful Zine. We do wish to continue this on but we will be pausing this until at least the end of September until we can get our bearings and talk about future plans.

Let me assure you, this tumblr will stay and be available to keep a trace of her, the memories and support she gave everyone in the IF community.

If anyone is willing to help keep this zine and Marjorie's hard work alive please contact us here, COG, or in the comments

Until then RIP Marjorie, you were a shining star gone too soon.

[luxurychristmaspudding]

watch

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It doesn’t happen. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘Where you goin’, pretty girl?’

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

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

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

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

‘Words, baby.’ He reminds you.

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

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

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

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

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

Joel chuckles.

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

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

‘Does daddy feel good, sweet girl?’

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fuck, okay. Okay -

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Watch, touch. 

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

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

Joel puffs out a laugh to the ceiling.

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

You laugh and nudge his side with your fist.

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

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

'You know - that night.'

‘Mm?’ Tease.

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

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

‘Baby, I’d love to.’

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘Y’didn’t. You ain’t.’ 

You stroke your thumb along the patches of his beard.

‘Do you… want to talk about it?’

Joel closes his eyes again, takes a deep breath. 

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

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

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

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

It makes sense.

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

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

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

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

He swallows.

‘You sure?’

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

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

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

‘Very brave -’ he chuckles.

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

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

And plenty you want to help him with.

———

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘I tried my best.’ He grins.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘You’re sure Joel’s home?’ he asks. 

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

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

‘Obviously.’ You smirk.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But then, you realise, it is. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘Please -’

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘Swallow.’

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

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

‘Desperate for more.’ 

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

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

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

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

‘Why do you have so many fucking buttons?’

He laughs, breathy, exasperated into your hair.

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

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

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

‘You okay?’

‘One sec -’

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

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

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

Frankie relaxes, exhales.

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

Joel chuckles, lands a hand on his shoulder.

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

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

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

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

‘Are you sure?’ You ask.

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

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

‘Okay,’ you say, ‘Okay.’

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

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

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

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

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

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

You can’t sleep.

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

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

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

Then -

Thank you

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

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

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

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

You’ll send him the audio in the morning.

———

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

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

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

You got plans tonight?

No? You shoot back.

Good. Stay free, baby

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

———

When you get home from work, Joel is waiting. 

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

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

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

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

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

‘What are you doing?’ 

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

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

‘Open your eyes, baby.’

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘We’re going on a date.’

‘A date?’

Mhm, he hums against your mouth. 

‘Surprise date.’

‘You bought this for a date?’

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

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

You frown a little. 

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

Joel bites his lip. 

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

‘All?’

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

‘Joel. All?’

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

‘I had some help choosing the dress.’

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

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

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

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

‘Are - are they coming back here?’

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

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

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

———

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘We - what?’ You ask, confused.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your hand pauses only briefly on Joel’s thigh.

‘He was arrested?’

Frankie grins.

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

You chuckle along with Joel and Santi.

‘Was he okay?’

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

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

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

You raise an eyebrow at him.

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

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

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

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

Joel chuckles.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘Good enough to eat.’

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

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

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

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

‘Whenever you’re ready, sweetheart.’

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

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

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

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

But, god, your throat is so dry.

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

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

‘Almost.’ Joel whispers in your ear.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

———

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

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

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

‘Any other rules I should know about?’

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

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

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

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

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

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

Joel raises his eyebrows.

‘What do you mean?’ 

You falter.

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

‘Weird?’

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

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

‘’N what did you say?’

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

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

‘It something you’re interested in?’

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

‘Is it something you’re interested in?’

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

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

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

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

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

‘I love you.’ You say, softly.

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

I love you.

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

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

He grips your hands tight.

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

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

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

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

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

You shake your head slowly.

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

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

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

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

But he shakes his head.

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

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

His eyes open, so full of warmth, love.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘I love you.’ He says.

‘Love you too.’ You whisper.

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

———

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘You know I can’t do that.’

You nod, eyes finding the skyline again.

‘I know. But I still wish you would.’

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

‘They wouldn’t know. If we kissed.’

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

‘I know.’

‘Then let me kiss you.’

‘No, hermosa.’

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

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

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

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

‘Frankie -’

He shakes his head, grip tightening on the wheel.

‘Please, Frankie, I’ll be so good -’

‘Enough.’

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

He never stood a chance.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘There, hermosa?’

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

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

‘Show me.’

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

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

He lurches back like he’s been shocked.

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

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

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

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

He stares at you, something working behind his eyes.

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

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

‘You, too. Wanna watch you, too.’

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘Look at you, Frankie. So pretty.’

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He laughs, pressing a sweet kiss to your head.

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

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

‘Home?’ he asks.

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

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

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

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

‘Will you call me if you need anything?’

‘Yeah,’ you breathe, ‘Will you?’

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

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

———

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

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

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

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

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

‘Just me?’

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

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

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

‘A pillow, daddy.’

‘Mhm. Just a pillow?’

You whine.

‘Fingers, too.’

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

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

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

‘Sorry baby.’ He apologises, so disingenuous. 

‘What’s the question?’

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

You bite your lip.

‘Hmmm. Depends. What is it?’

You hear Joel fumble with something before he speaks again.

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

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

He laughs.

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

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

‘My bad. Must have been me, then.’

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

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

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

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

‘Ain’t need it when I’ve got you.’

‘Even when you’re far away?’

There’s a pause as Joel considers his reply.

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘Better ‘n my hand?’

‘Yeah, daddy.’

‘Is it better than you, babygirl?’

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

‘No, daddy.’

He hums down the line.

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

You sigh again, louder this time.

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

Joel chuckles at you properly this time.

‘You sound disappointed, baby.’

‘I am.’

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

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

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

Mmhm.

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

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

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

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

Joel laughs again.

‘You’re goddamn right, angel.’ 

You smile, smug. Hum in agreement.

Joel sighs.

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

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

‘Yes, daddy.’

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘Yes, daddy.’ 

‘Good girl.’

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

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

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

You hum low in your throat and lick your lips.

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

‘Oh?’

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

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

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

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

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

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

Joel huffs.

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

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

‘Yeah, daddy.’

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

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

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

Joel chuckles darkly. 

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

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

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

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

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

‘Fuck, daddy, yes -’

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He chuckles down the line at you. 

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

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

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

Night, babygirl x

And then another - 

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

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

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

———

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You gonna break the rules, babygirl?

‘Hermosa -’ he breathes, suddenly unsure.

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

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

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

Oh, he is so good. 

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

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

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

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

‘Jesus Christ -’ he groans.

‘Fucking - hell, Frankie -’

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘Frankie, touch me.’

‘I can’t -’

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘I have to move, baby -’

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He swallows, nods.

‘Okay.’

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

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

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

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

‘The foreplay?’ He whispers, brow furrowing.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

———

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

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

He likes that.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The two of you can wait until tomorrow.

———

You wait all day for Santi.

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

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

‘Am I interrupting?’

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

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

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

He jerks his chin at Frankie.

‘You at least make her beg for it?’

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘Did I?’

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

‘Off the bed.’

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

‘Good?’

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

He steps back, admiring his handiwork, looking pleased.

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

‘Down.’

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

He cocks his head at you, lips curled.

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

You inhale sharply, mind buzzing. 

‘U-under the bed.’

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

‘Now, what have we got in here?’

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

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

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

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

You yelp at the contact, body juddering.

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

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

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

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

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

‘Are you?’

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

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

He taps your chin.

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

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

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

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

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

‘Before she comes, hermano.’

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘Not yet.’ He bites. 

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

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

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

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

‘Casi ahí, bebita.’

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

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

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

‘Yes.’ He says, voice hoarse.

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘Now.’ he whispers.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘Yes.’ You answer, throat dry. He kisses your cheek, and you feel his smile.

‘Use your mouth, bonita.’

You move from Pope to settle yourself between Frankie’s legs on all fours, breathing kisses into his inner thighs before touching him, trailing a finger down his soft shaft. He hisses at the sensation, and you pause, meeting his eye. He swallows, nods.

‘Keep going.’ He rasps.

You pull yourself further up, mouthing at his underside, pressing kisses to his leaking tip before laving your tongue up and down his length. When his hips buck at the sensation, you move a palm to cup his balls and take him fully into your mouth, sucking and hollowing your cheeks, humming with the salty taste of him. His hands quickly find the side of your head, and you move back up towards his tip, licking into his slit to drink down more, playing with his frenulum in a way you know drives him insane. He moans, deep and needy, puffing out a soft fuck as you take him down to the base again, nuzzling the hair there, breathing him in. His cock jumps in your throat, and he looses a needy whine, pulling on your hair, but you don’t budge.

‘Hermosa -’ he breathes, voice tight, and Santi speaks again from behind you.

‘Are you gonna last, hermano?’

Frankie looks up from watching you, unfocused, swaying his head. Pope makes an amused sound, and you feel his hands on you, positioning you, then the press of his tip against your slick hole.

‘Just a little longer, Fish. So much to do with you two.’

Santi glides inside of you easily, but it’s still enough to knock the breath from your lungs. You moan around Frankie’s sensitive dick, and he gasps, hands tightening in your hair.

‘Please -’ he warns, ‘Please -’ as Pope pulls out and thrusts back in again. You cry out, moving back up to Frankie’s tip, moving up and down the best you can as Pope dives in and out of your pussy, knocking you forward to take Frankie deeper with each thrust. ‘Santi -’ Frankie grits, and the other man chuckles behind you. 

‘Alright,’ he says, ‘Don’t want to spoil the fun.’ 

You whine and pout at the loss as he withdraws from you completely, turning your head to find that he’s stripped himself of his jeans and underwear. He winks at you before giving you a little push.

‘Ride it, querida.’

You push yourself up eagerly, coming to straddle Frankie’s hips before positioning him at your entrance. He looks up at you with blown, lust filled eyes, absolutely ruined. 

Despite the stretch, you sink down onto him without stopping. 

He feels so good. Just like the first time.

You writhe down at his base as his hands shoot out to grip your hips, his beautiful neck straining as his grits his teeth, his abs flexing as he attempts to hold you still. But it didn’t work the first time, and it won’t work now.

You take yourself slowly up, smiling at the wet sound of the movement before sinking down again, feeling him stretch you out, feeling him in your stomach. It’s a delicious ache. You wonder what Joel would say right now, watching you take him so easily, watching how he fills you. Bet you can’t wait to know what his cock feels like inside you, huh? Can’t wait to be droolin’ and comin’ over him like you do me, hm? You clench tight around Frankie at the thought, at the same time as a little ache settles in your chest. You miss him. You miss him, and you wonder what he’d be doing with his hands, his mouth, his cock -

‘Que cosita mas linda.'

Santi’s voice brings you back as you bounce on Frankie’s lap, and you lift your head to look at the younger man, his eyes heavy-lidded, lip nipped between his teeth.

‘She gonna make you come like this, Francisco?’

At the use of his full name, all of the sounds Frankie has been trying to hold back break free from him. All of his pretty little gasps and moans, his whimpers, the way he pants your name as he clings to you, eyes never leaving where you’re joined as he pleads -

‘Can I? Can I come?’ 

You clench around him again, the knot in your belly snapping at his words, your orgasm blinding as it comes at you sideways. Frankie moans loudly, repeating your name. You gasp, high little pants of uh- uh- as you jolt on him, pain mixing with pleasure as you call his name, Santi’s name, Joel’s name -

‘Up. Off.’

Santi presses a palm to your backside to move you off of Frankie’s length, even as you still clench around him. 

‘Fuck,’ Frankie heaves, ‘Fuck, please, no -’ 

‘Quiet.’ Santi bites at him, and Frankie whines, his cock jumping between your folds at his tone. You close your eyes. 

‘Let him,’ you plead, ‘Please, let him, Pope.’

You wanted him to come, he deserved to come. You move your lips up and down his length, and Frankie chokes a moan, his body moving higher up the bed as Santi moves behind you, but you can’t work out why behind the darkness of your eyelids. Your eyes are still closed, body still quaking as Santi leans forward to press a kiss to the centre of your spine. You arch your back against his mouth and he chases you, pressing another slightly higher, scraping his teeth against your skin.

‘Querida,’ he says. You can only moan in response. You know it’s not what he wants, but your brain is so fuzzy it can’t comprehend anything beyond it.

‘Turn around,’ he says, and you whimper, eyelids fluttering as you scratch gently at Frankie’s chest. The man beneath you writhes at the feeling, head rolling, eyes closing, fingers flexing bruisingly on your hips. ‘Turn. Around.’ Santi grits, this time taking Frankie’s hands so he can prise them off you, gripping your waist in an effort to turn your body. 

There’s no graceful way to do it, but Frankie handles your limbs with gentle hands as you swing your legs around him. 

When you face Pope, the sight that greets you is even better than you could have imagined. 

He eyes you hungrily, carnally, his brow dark and hair curled more than you've ever seen. But your eyes are taken to where his fingers are sunk knuckle-deep into Frankie, pumping them slowly. You moan as he digs them in deeper before curling them, repeating the beckoning motion until Frankie’s belly twitches. At the tells of his orgasm, Pope removes the digits slowly, deaf to Frankie’s desperate begging. You watch, mute, as Pope then takes the bottle of lube from beside him, pouring it onto his cock with a quiet moan, jacking himself before pressing his tip to Frankie’s hole. You feel the man below you tense slightly, and you stroke his thighs, fallen open on either side of Santi, with soothing fingers. When he relaxes, one of Pope’s hands meets yours on his flesh, the other helping to guide himself in. You watch as his length is swallowed, breathing shallow, listening to any noise the pair make. Frankie’s ragged groan, the way he chants Pope, Jesus, fuck, his bruising grip back on your hips, Pope’s answering growl as his eyes roll to the ceiling before fluttering shut. When he bottoms out, you watch as his stomach flexes, eyes then drifting lower, where you can only see the coarse hair at the base of his cock, the rest of it buried inside Frankie. You feel your face crease as your stomach turns molten.

Your hips drop to the swell of Frankie’s stomach, searching for any kind of friction. It should be impossible to be this constantly turned on. You move your hips as Pope drags his cock in and out of Frankie once, twice, murmuring how tight he is, how pretty, how good, before his eyes find yours.

‘You want her to sit on your face, pretty boy?’ Santiago purrs at the man over your shoulder.

‘Oh, fuck, please.’ Frankie moans.

Pope jerks his chin at you, sending you shuffling clumsily backwards, blinded by how badly you need to feel something, eyes fixed again to where he thrusts in and out of the younger man, angling your hips above Frankie’s face. You only see his mouth open, tongue already out to lick a fat stripe through your folds, before he pulls you roughly down, moaning against you.

‘Jesus - fuck -’ you hiss, trying to jerk away. It’s too much, too soon, but Frankie is too strong, too desperate to taste you. Your hand flies out Santi’s chest, scratching his skin before trying to find purchase higher up. You take his neck between your thumb and fingers as Frankie eats at you, his mouth harsh and hungry as it sucks and licks. Santi stutters out a groan as you tilt his head at you and squeeze.

‘Make him come,’ you murmur, ‘Make him come, baby, and then you can show me what else you wanna do with us.’

Santi grins and pants against you, his hips faltering for a moment as he leans his neck further into the cradle of your hand. He nods quickly, eyes glazing and soft. You smile back at him, squeezing again, pleased.

‘Frankie always said you were a good soldier, Santiago,’ you coo. ‘Should have known what you really needed was to be told what to do.’

‘Fuck you.’ He grins against your lips.

You answer it with a pathetic, needy little whine.

‘Mm, yes please, baby.’

Frankie takes the moment to suck particularly hard at your clit, and you feel your face crumple - one hand scrabbling at the younger man’s belly, the one at Santi’s neck now gripping the shoulder of the man fucking him. Frankie works diligently at your cunt, anchoring your hips to him as he devours you ravenously, letting the tip of his nose rest just inside your entrance as he flicks your bud with his tongue, swirling it in circles as you grind against him. 

This orgasm comes slow, like wading through treacle. It drips down your spine as you curve over Frankie, gasping and shuddering, so breathless that even Pope slows down. Frankie must feel you jolt and twitch above him, lapping up the last of your cum before he releases you from his grip. You lift your hips quickly, needing reprieve, aftershocks still knocking through you as you pant against Santi’s chest.

‘So good,’ you breathe, loud enough for Frankie to hear, ‘So good to me, baby boy, aren’t you?’

Pope presses a kiss to your hair as you work a fist around Frankie’s cock, squeezing his base. He jumps beneath you, a heady, keening noise wailing from his now unoccupied mouth, and you squeeze him tighter, pumping him once, twice, his shaft slick with your juices and his precum.

‘You’ll make him come.’ Pope warns, and you hum against him, forehead just above his sternum. You’re too lost in the way his cock looks as it disappears into Frankie.

The door opens so quietly you don’t hear it, but Santi does. How he keeps his wits about him despite what’s happening is beyond you. He stills his movements inside Frankie, and you feel his damp breath against your forehead, head dipping as he nudges your cheek with his jaw, turning your face towards it. 

‘Look who’s home.’ He murmurs into your ear. 

Your stomach swoops.

Joel stands in the doorway. His nose and brow rosy from working in the sun, your favourite flannel draped over his broad shoulders, a grin twisting his lips as he takes the scene in. His eyes dip from yours to your tits, to the way your body curls over Frankie’s. He takes in the man laying beneath you - his face shining with your cum, blissed and fucked out. The rise and fall of his tummy, the way his thighs are splayed to make room for Pope. The way Santi can’t help but flex inside him, earning a ragged groan from both of them, up the other man’s torso, his neck, to the dark eyes watching him back. It’s breathtaking. 

Joel cocks his head.

‘Don’t stop on my account,’ he drawls, ‘Y’all make such a pretty picture.’

You swallow loudly, letting your head fall back to Santi’s warm shoulder, panting before looking back at him. Something swirls in your gut, and you speak before even realising.

‘Come here,’ you whisper, voice cracking. ‘Come here and make it even prettier, daddy.’

The three of you watch as Joel steps towards you, letting the door fall shut behind him.

help with spanish translations from @/urmomsgnocchi's invaluable post here. if there are inaccuracies, please drop me a message <3

[honeyboylovee]

endearing

Pairing: Idol!Mingyu x gn!reader

Word count: 1.1k

Genre: fluff, established relationship!AU, implied friends to lovers

Warnings: mentions of overthinking

A/N: Long time no see… I am finally done with my end semester exams and I can now post this one which has been in my drafts for agessss. But here you go besties, a cute and fluffy Mingyu blurb.

To say that there were a few instances where you were endeared by Mingyu would be an understatement.

Mingyu always had this effect on you. No matter what he’d be doing, you’d always find it cute and oh so lovely!

It started when you were still friends and you were at a party thrown by a mutual friend. Other than them, you only knew Mingyu at the party. And so you stayed next to him…You stayed from when you saw him at the makeshift bar sipping his drink, till the time he walked you to your car. He said it wasn’t safe to enter a parking lot alone, late at night.

That day, you drove home with a lingering feeling of guilt inside yourself. Sure, you liked Mingyu’s company but you didn’t want to hold him back from socialising just ‘cause you weren’t the best at talking to new people.

Months later, you shared this concern of yours to him. His reply was instant and short but it did wonders in calming you down.

‘That’s something I wanted to do for you, lovie. And if I’m doing it for you, it won’t hold me back.’

That’s when you realised that Mingyu always had a way with his words. And the way he would comfort you with just a few sentences was so endearing to you.

———————————————————————————

Another instance was on one of your initial dates. He suggested you both visit the street food market in your city.

While you stopped at various stalls to try the delicacies, you couldn’t resist looking at Mingyu’s face. He looked so content with all the dishes you both tried, the ones that you loved, and even the ones that you didn’t like so much.

‘Hmff! I don’t think I can eat anything more.’, he exclaimed as you relaxed on a bench. The cool breeze left behind a soothing effect on your face.

‘Oh…I thought we’d go have some ice cream at your favourite dessert store.’

‘Ofcourse we will.’, he said eagerly.

‘Didn’t you just say you won’t be eating anything else?’

‘Ice cream is always an exception, baby.’, he said immediately, winking at you.

You couldn’t argue with that.

That was when you realised…again. You found Mingyu’s habit of always being so content while eating so endearing. And maybe this is weird. But who are you kidding, you always think that he’s so adorable.

———————————————————————————

Your boyfriend had recently been to Italy with his group members. They had been ‘kidnapped’ by the staff of their own company along with Na PD. And while they were in Italy, your schedules didn’t match at all due to the different time zones.

And so you found a different way to stay in contact. Mingyu started sending voice notes summarising the occurrences of his entire day, to you. And while narrating these, he spoke oh so fast… He spoke as if he had a time limit to finish these voice messages. You’d always ask him to speak slowly in order for you to understand them.

And his response was, ‘This is how I always speak, isn’t it?…or maybe I got too excited’, he chucked and continued, ‘I’ll try to speak slowly next time, yeah? Don’t want you to miss on any of the details, lovie.’

So when you get a notification of the next voice message, you rush to listen to it. And you have two reasons to do so. One was obviously because you wanted to know about his day. And the second was to see whether he remembered his promise of speaking slowly.

After listening to the first few seconds, you were assured that he didn’t remember at all. And now you didn’t mind him speaking fast, maybe ‘cause you know that he speaks fast only when he’s very excited.

And you loved that. His habit of speaking fast when he was excited was endearing to you.

———————————————————————————

It was Sunday afternoon. You ordered burgers and fried chicken for lunch. The said lunch was done and the plates, washed. So Mingyu and you decided to watch a movie, the one that you had watched several times but never got bored of. It was your favourite ‘cause it had a happy ending(and because the male lead gave off strong Mingyu vibes). But you’d never tell him that.

You were sitting on the couch with your boyfriend’s head on your lap when you noticed that he was falling asleep.

‘Mingyu, you can go take a nap in the bedroom. That’ll be more comfortable, baby.’

‘Hmmm…no, let’s finish this movie.’

‘We know the ending, right. If you’re tired you should sleep for a while.’

‘I’m not tired, lovie. I get sleepy around you ‘cause I’m very comfortable with you.’, he said in a low voice, ‘You know, I read this somewhere that if you always feel sleepy around someone, that’s probably because you feel safe around them. And I realised that I’ve slept several times in your lap and while cuddling with you.’

You were speechless when he said that. Finally after a good minute of taking his words in, you couldn’t help but peck him on the forehead. That kiss was your response to his revelation. He simply took your hand in his and placed it on his cheek while he dozed off again.

His ability to say the most heartwarming things so casually was so endearing to you.

———————————————————————————

You were on a trip to the beach with Mingyu. Both of you loved the beach. It was your favourite place to go to even with a slight rise in the temperature. It was almost an hour later of being in the water and swimming when you caught sight of Mingyu standing at a distance where his feet would easily touch the land and he was facing the other side. You swam closer to him to see what he was up to. As you reached behind him, you could hear him chuckling softly. ‘What’re you laughing at?’, you asked him.

‘Oh baby, I’ll show you something, okay? Just do as I say.’

You nodded and looked up at him in anticipation after his instruction.

‘Okay, put your palms under the water and do a ‘thumbs up’ sign but only your thumbs should be seen outside the water.’

‘Umm, I don’t know what it’s gonna do, baby. I don’t get it.’, you said, confused.

‘Just do it for me, lovie.’

You did as he said, only keeping your thumbs out of the water. Looking at your thumbs that were now wrinkly from being in the water for too long, Mingyu burst into giggles. You watched him as he let out his cute, high-pitched giggles but you were still so confused. How was this funny to him?

Clearly he read the confused look on your face and spoke up, ‘I find silly things like this funny.’, as he continued to giggle while looking at your thumbs.

Maybe you’ll never understand the fun part in your wrinkly thumbs. And you don’t want to, as long as you can make Mingyu giggle. Even if it means doing several such silly tricks. Because Mingyu’s laughter was always so endearing.

[souliebird]

[[and then I met you || ch. 12||

Series: Daredevil || Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader || Rating: Explicit

Summary:

A one-night stand years ago gave you a daughter and you are now able to put a name to her father – Matthew Murdock. Everything is about to change again as you navigate trying to integrate your life with that of the handsome and charming blind lawyer’s and Matt realizes he needs to not only protect his new family from Hell's Kitchen, but from the world.

pt: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11

Words: 5k

banner thanks to the wonderful @theradioactivespidergwen

Even in the middle of the night, the heat of summer in Hell's Kitchen is oppressive. It doesn't help that there is a storm rolling in and it is so humid Matt feels like he's breathing in water. Sweat is pouring off of him and he's glad he opted out of wearing his red armor - he has the feeling he would have overheated within an hour.

The only good thing about it pushing eighty degrees at two am is that only people that have to be out are out. Even though it is Saturday night/ Sunday morning, the streets are empty and Matt has only encountered people on their way back home. He hasn't even needed to scare off any muggers or stop any break ins. In fact, all he has really done all night is track people to make sure they got to their destinations safely.

There was a small surge of people around midnight coming off the trains and they had been rowdy, but hadn't caused any problems. Matt quickly worked out they were part of the protesters who have been crowding outside the courthouse for the past few days and deemed they were not a threat to his beloved city.

He's spoken to a few of them while at the courthouse and he fully supports their cause and their right to protest. Admittedly, Matt is not one to stay on top of current events, but he thinks it is suspicious that the government will not reveal what caused the massive explosion in Connecticut. It's been weeks but instead of answers, it feels like everything about the incident is being shoved under the rug and Matt knows if it was closer to home, Karen would be chomping at the bit to investigate.

Over six hundred people lost their lives and no one is being brought to justice for it. They are saying it was an attack, but no one is claiming ownership or being blamed for the destruction. It makes him angry, and though this isn't his fight, he'll do his part protecting the voices in his community who demand the truth.

Tonight, it seems like his community is safe and Matt will be able to get more than two hours of sleep before he needs to go to Mass. He needs to do a final pass around the neighborhood before he turns in for the night, so he pushes himself up from where he has been crouching like a gargoyle and stretches his limbs. His knees pop and his back screams at him and he decides that despite the heat, he will take a scorching shower to soothe his muscles. He may not have gotten into any big fights the past few nights, but that doesn't matter to his body - it's always aching and throbbing in one way or another.

He pulls his mask down over his face, hating how it instantly makes his forehead sticky and wet, and starts his loop.

He starts at the top of 10th and weaves across and down until he passes Foggy and Marci’s apartment. He pauses across the street and crouches down as he tunes his ears to their bedroom. They are both in a deep sleep and there is no threat he can detect, but still he stays for a minute just to be sure. Daredevil may have complicated his best friend's life, but Foggy has never had trouble making his own enemies. He may not be a vigilante, but his sense of justice is just as strong as Matt's and that has caused people to come at him violently. Someone breaking in is not out of the question.

Marci has her own enemies but if anyone ever tries to come after her, well, Matt will pray for their soul because not even he is that self-destructive. She once made a joke about becoming a crime lord and he still has the occasional nightmare over it.

Matt scans the surrounding buildings for any problems once more before he starts off towards Karen's place. She was still awake when he last passed her building and the odds of her still being up are pretty even. He wouldn't be surprised to find her typing away at some article - stirring up the pot as always. He loves her for that personality trait, even if it mentally puts him through the ringer with worry over her - he supposes it is nothing compared to what he does to her.

But luckily, for the collective sanity of Nelson, Murdock, and Page, more people care about Karen's well-being than care about Matt's.

He knows she has Jessica's number on speed dial - letting them meet is one of his greatest regrets in life. He is well aware of the cameras set up by Frank's computer friend and while the Marine is out of town, he's left her with another layer of protection - his dog Max.

Not that Karen can't take care of herself.

If she and Marci teamed up to take over Manhattan, Matt doesn't know if he could stop them.

Maybe he'll tell her that for her birthday - it will make a better gift than anything he'd be able to think of.

Matt lands on the roof of Karen's building, relieved to find she has gone to sleep since he last checked on her. She must have let the dog get in bed with her, because it's snoring is making it hard for him to tune into her without concentration. She's safe and seemingly happy, so he lingers only a moment before resuming the last dredges of his patrol.

He heads down to the docks next. There are people there, but they are meant to be - prepping for the fish markets and early morning cargo ships. These are good, hard working men who don't dabble in things that would make the Devil hunt them. In fact, he's got a good contact in one of the fish mongers, who will let him know if there's been anything suspicious in the wee hours of the morning. He doesn't need to check in now, as there have been no whispers as of late, and he disappears back into the shadows of the city to head towards Clinton Church.

Matt's stomach turns as he gets closer to where he grew up. His feelings about the location and the people there have been a ridiculous rollercoaster since he found out he was a father.

He deeply misses Father Lantom. Despite what everyone has told him, he firmly blames himself for the man's death and does not understand why God made that choice. It hurts that he isn't here and Matt can barely bring himself to go into the church - he's only started to re-attend Mass since learning about Minnie to seek guidance from God about this new path. He'd give anything to be able to speak to the man who mentored him in life - to hear what he would say about Matt having a daughter.

It isn't that Matt dislikes the new priest - he just doesn't like him. He's resistant to change and it should be Father Lantom giving Communion and taking his Confession.

It should be Father Lantom who Baptizes Minnie, not this man Matt has never even spoken with.

Maggie is trying to get Matt to interact with the man, but his relationship with her is going through a rocky patch and he hasn't actually spoken with her in about two weeks. She hasn't done anything wrong - he is just having an internal crisis over how learning he is a parent changed him and his abandonment issues. He's spent a lot of time in reflection and understands why she left him and his father, but he now has a renewed anger at her for not telling him the truth sooner.

Did she not love him like he loves Minnie? Was it something he did wrong?

Will she love Minnie like she loved Matt? He trusts her to care for his daughter, but will she love her granddaughter the way she deserves to be loved?

Everything is made more complicated over how guilty he is over having these feelings and so, instead of talking to his mother, he's been avoiding her. He knows he needs to eventually address it, but for the moment Maggie is none the wiser about his mini-me.

He'll tell her after he tells you about her.

It is something he needs to do still - it just hasn't come up yet. Most of your conversations center around Minnie and you are still getting to know each other. You've shared few stories about your childhood - mostly about school - and Matt isn't so sure how your anxiety will handle Maggie. His mother is a good person, but she is a lot and he knows you have your own parent issues.

Like at the docks, there are people active at the Church. A few homeless patrons are seeking shelter before the rain and there is a nun tending to their needs. The kids are safely tucked into bed, and while it sounds like a few are having nightmares, there is nothing he can do for them at the moment.

If they wake and cry out, he prays their calls are answered.

Matt practically flees the sacred grounds and his anxiety only settles once he crosses into Chelsea.

As he runs, he hones his senses to the apartment building you live in. It is easy for him to lock onto - he's already spent countless hours perched on the boundaries of the two neighborhoods listening to you and Minnie sleep. He knows it is creepy, but he cannot help himself.

Minnie’s laugh is his new favorite sound, and not far behind it is your heartbeat. Much like his daughter, he's found himself focusing on it when things get too much and it is the perfect way to end patrols - winding down while you and Mouse dream.

You mumble in your sleep and it is the most endearing thing he's ever encountered. He likes to respond to your strange statements, imagining he's right there in bed with you. There has been a recurring theme of parrots and he is thinking that the bird exhibit will be off limits during Minnie’s birthday trip to the zoo, based on what he's heard.

But it isn't you mumbling in your apartment tonight - it's Minnie.

His daughter is awake and has moved from the bedroom to the living room. The television is on - playing what he thinks is Sesame Street - and she seems to be fussing with a toy. Context clues tell him she's playing with a doll or stuffed animal - dress up is one of her favorite games and he knows it is one of her Quiet Games.

“Nexts,” she says sweetly to her toy, “we gotta do your make ups.”

Matt decides to wait until he's landed on the roof before he makes her aware of his presence. He kneels and takes a moment to center himself, taking a deep breath to do so. He focuses on calming the Devil in his chest - this is the first time he's caught Minnie awake in the middle of the night and he needs to address it as Matt and not Daredevil.

He doesn't want to scare her, after all. She'll probably be very confused as to why he's there and being scared won't help anything.

“Minnie, sweetheart, can you hear me?” He asks, keeping his voice soft as possible as he does.

To her credit, she doesn't start at all. It takes her a moment to process, but then she questions, “Daddy?”

The name makes his heart soar - everytime she says it, he breaks into the biggest smile. It is the sweetest sound and the fact she switched to calling him that all on her own means the world to him.

She wants him to be her Daddy.

“Yeah, sweetheart, it's me. What are you doing awake?” he questions, smiling as he hears her get up and start to walk around. He wonders if she is looking for him and his guess is confirmed when he hears her start lifting things up to look under them.

“I'm watching Cookie Monsters,” she replies and Matt chuckles. He thinks it is so adorable she is also so direct with her answers. She always answers exactly what is asked.

“I don't think it is time for Cookie Monster, Mouse. I think it's sleep time. Mommy is sleeping.”

You are in a deep sleep, your breathing slow and even. He can tell you've been exhausted lately and probably need the sleep. More than once he's found you awake during his patrols. If Minnie tried to wake you up, you probably weren't responsive and she had left you to sleep.

She peters her way back to in front of the television and plops back down after checking under the dining table. Matt waits for her to respond, knowing sometimes it takes her time to form what she wants to say.

“I can't sleep,” she mumbles, upset clear in her voice, “there's a monster.”

The Devil flares up inside of him and he instantly scans the area for a threat. There are few people awake in the area and he focuses in on them - none of them appear to be any sort of danger to his daughter. At the moment.

But they could have been earlier. They could have woken her up by doing something horrible. A mugging. Domestic violence. Something worse.

He curls his lip into a snarl.

He'll find whoever upset his daughter and drive them from his city. The state.

It's a miracle he manages to keep his voice calm and gentle, “A monster?”

“A monster,” she confirms sadly. Her breathing becomes muffled and Matt figures she has shoved her hand into her mouth to self-comfort.

“Can you tell Daddy about the monster?”

She sucks on her fingers and with her free hand, pulls her toy into her lap. He wants to push her to tell him, but he knows he can't. She's not a witness or a suspect - she's his daughter trying her best. He can tell she wants to answer, he just needs to be patient.

“He ran really fast,” Minnie starts to say, barely taking her hand out of her mouth to do so, “and went eek-eek-eek and smelled like poopy-butt.”

The words baffle him and Matt knits his brows - this monster was close enough for Minnie to smell him? The monster in his chest snarls and he has to fight to keep his composure. He knows Minnie is locked onto him and if he lets his rage show, she will know and she will get scared.

He needs to protect his daughter. He needs to believe God will not test him in this.

“Minnie, sweetie, can you tell Daddy where the monster is?”

Her little head turns up to face exactly where he is standing, asking in a small voice, “are you gonna fight him?”

The Devil roars ‘yes’, but the Father in him says, “Do you want me to?”

“Mommy scares him away,” she advises hesitantly. He can practically feel the nerves radiating off of her and it makes him clench his fist.

Matt doesn't understand. This has happened before?

Then it beams him in the head like a baseball and Matt feels like a complete idiot.

Minnie is a toddler. Her monsters are shadows, creaky pipes, and the four legged creatures in the city. Those are things that no longer register on Matt's radar but she hasn't learned to tune them out yet. Of course she would be scared of those things - Matt was scared of those things when he first got his senses and he was much older than Minnie at the time.

He remembers his first phone call with you and how it ended - something about Monster Repellent.

“I can go scare off the monster - would you like that?” he asks, the Devil in him settling down now that he knows no one is trying to hurt his little girl.

He doesn't know if it's Minnie sensing his shift in mood or if she didn't want him to fight the monster and scaring it away is what she wants, but she untenses her shoulders and her hand comes out of her mouth.

“You'll scare him away?” She asks after hugging her toy right to her chest.

“I'll scare him away,” he quickly promises.

“He smells like poopy-butt,” she repeats and Matt wonders if she is making a stinky face. That is something you tell him he and Minnie share - a certain curl of their lips when they find something unappealing.

“That's okay, sweetie, I'll make him go smell bad somewhere else. He won't bother you,” he says. “Can you tell me where he went and I'll go chase him away.”

Finally, she points down towards the alleyway between her building and the neighboring one and adds, “He can climb walls. Like Spidey-Man.”

Matt resists the urge to huff over the mention of the other vigilante. He has met the kid twice before and his biggest take, besides it was a kid under the mask and that had been its own thing, was that he needed to learn how to throw a proper punch. It confirmed for him all that Avengers training and showboating really meant nothing and they really were better off fighting aliens and wizards than helping out real people.

“Don't worry, Mouse, I can climb the walls, too.” He's definitely letting his Pride show through, but if he can't show off for his daughter, who can he show off for?

He makes a quick map in his head, then goes to the edge of the roof. Minnie’s head is still angled up towards him and she ‘watches’ as he parkours down to street level. If he adds a few unnecessary flips, well, that is no one's business but his own.

Once he is on the pavement, he opens his senses to the things he normally blocks out. The city becomes far more lively around him - cats, raccoons, birds, dogs, all sorts of bugs and things he doesn't like to think about. There's yowling and chirps and suddenly so much more movement, most of it under his feet.

Mouse’s monster is easy to find. It is a disgustingly large rat that has built a nest of trash and grime under a dumpster. The thing has a respiratory infection, which has it wheezing and rattling and he very much understands why Minnie was scared of it. It is not a pleasant sound and the infection is not at all helping how the creature smells. Animals smell at the best of times, but this rat clearly enjoys the sewers and ‘poopy-butt’ doesn't begin to cover how rancid it is.

Matt starts to work out what he needs to do to make sure this sick rodent stays far away from his family. If it has a nest, it will come back, so he needs to destroy that - without damaging the animal. He doesn't have the heart to actually hurt the thing.

He pulls out his billy clubs and snaps them together to make a bo staff, then moves to crouch in front of the dumpster. “Okay, sir, I'm here to evict you,” he says, more for Minnie’s benefit than anything. “You gotta go.”

He jabs at the nest of wet cardboard and almost immediately, the rat scurries out and hisses at him. It snaps its jaws at him a few times instead of running away and Matt huffs at the display, turning his staff towards the creature and swatting at it. “Get out of here.” To its credit, it tries to fight him, biting at his billy clubs and screeching at him, but after a few good thwacks to its side, it realizes it has no chance against him and dashes toward a nearby grate.

He listens to it go down into some pipes and once it's out of range, he tilts his head up towards Minnie, a smile starting to form in his lips, “The monster has been vanquished, my princess.”

His words make her giggle and he can't help but chuckle as well. He hears her push up into standing and she toddles towards the window. There's a table in front of it, so he knows she can't see out of it, but he knows she's trying to find him.

“He's not gonna come back?” She questions and in response he starts to break up the nest. He spreads the trash around, knocking things down and away. It's not a big very big rat den, relying heavily on the dumpster.

“He's not, he's gonna go find a new home,” he promises as he works, and once he's satisfied with his destruction, he collapses his billy clubs and holsters them. He pushes up into standing and steps away from the trash can.

“Far away?” Minnie asks and his heart breaks for her. The stupid animal must have terrified her.

“Very, very far away.”

He locates the fire escape and starts to scale it back up to your apartment floor. As he does, he starts closing off his senses again. Things begin to fade into the background - the things he will need to start teaching Minnie. She's got a good handle on it already, having learned to function with it instead of needing to adapt.

He's so proud. So unbelievably proud.

She's such a good and pure child. She always wants to help and asks about other people. She may be shy, but she's empathetic.

You've taught her well.

Matt understands how Minnie is a mini-him in her abilities and mannerisms due to those abilities, but her sweet nature is from you.

He knows he's gone for you.

Foggy has pointed it out. Karen has pointed it out. God has smacked him in the face with signs.

His realization moment was hearing a man purchasing an engagement ring for a woman who shared your name. He had gotten so furiously jealous he had to go take it out on the punching bag.

Foggy laughed so hard at him.

He doesn't think you noticed at all. It is nothing against you, he completely understands. You are like him - you don't think you deserve love. You had been painfully shy your first night together, as well, and he had been charmed by it.

He's angry at himself for letting you be a one night stand.

He should have been there when you needed him most.

He's not going to fuck that up again.

He pulls off his mask before making a show off popping up in front of your window and Minnie dissolves into giggles.

“Hi, Daddy!” She waves at him and he can tell she is absolutely beaming. He eagerly waves back and he knows he's matching her smile.

“Hi, Mouse.”

“Why are you outside?”

He's planned for this. He has discussed this with Foggy and Karen at length. He did the unthinkable - he asked Frank - who apparently knew who Minnie was before either Foggy or Karen did. They had attacked the question from all sides. As the firm. As friends. As parents.

They couldn't lie to Minnie. Matt can see the signs she's picking up on what different heart beats mean. She's going to know and there's nothing they can do to hide it. She can hear all of Hell’s Kitchen just as well as he can. It may not happen until she's older, but she'll figure it out.

So, he's not going to lie to her. He thinks you would approve. You don't like lying to her - you soften the truth into something she can comprehend. He's going to follow your lead.

“I'm working,” Matt answers, crouching on the rails and resting his wrists on his knees. He's suddenly very glad he had a very boring night. “What are you doing inside?”

Mouse accepts the answer and hugs her toy to her chest, swaying side to side “I'm talking to you.”

He laughs at her utter sweetness. She giggles along with him.

He gives a fond shake of his lead, then leans forward so she can see him a bit better, “What should you be doing, sweetheart?”

She scrunches up her face as she thinks, then she falls into a pout, “Sleeping.”

“Yeah, you should be sleeping. You're going to be tired tomorrow. It's not going to be fun,” he gently warns. He knows it isn't her fault, but he knows it will eventually help her learn to push those noises to the background.

“Okay, I'll go bed. I gotta clean up first. Mommy says …Mommy says don't leave it until morning. You'll make morning you sad. Be nice to morning you,” she recites, patting her hands against her stuffed animal - it's not Scooby or Pig. (He doesn't know this one. His best guess is it's a Raggedy-Anne type princess doll. His little girl loves princesses - no specific one, just the concept and aesthetic.)

He loves the values you are instilling in her. He's going to steal this mantra and tell it to Foggy and Karen.

“Okay. I'll keep watch for any monsters,” he tells her. This is one of the reasons he wants her to know the truth. He wants her to know her Daddy will protect her from all of the monsters.

“Okay. Thank you. Love you!” She chants, then turns away.

“I love you, too, Mouse. So much.”

And he will tell her every chance he gets.

She carefully walks back to where she had been sitting and turns off the television, then goes to put her toys away. Like always, she's very methodical about what she does. He could spend hours watching her play. She fascinates him. She picks up one toy at a time and tells it good night as she puts it back into her toy chest.

She doesn't have much to clean up and when she finishes, she turns to face him.

“Will you tuck me in? Please? Thank you?” Minnie asks like he can say no.

“Of course, my love. Are you all ready for bed?” He questions as he hops down onto the fire escape - one of the screws holding it together shakes and he decides he'll come back another night with a wrench to tighten everything up.

“All ready!” she confirms and he can tell she's watching him with great curiosity.

He begins to run his fingers over the edges of the window, searching for a way in. You certainly don't make it easy - you invested in apartment security and it takes him a moment to disable it. He's careful as he slides the window up and pops out the screen. He slips into the apartment, then quickly closes the window behind him, leaving the screen on the floor.

Minnie has the decency to wait until that moment to run to him with open arms. Matt scoops her up, swinging her a little before putting her on his hip and once she is settled, he leans down to press his forehead to hers.

“We have to be quiet, okay? We can't wake up, Mommy,” he tells her and she quickly nods in understanding.

He doesn't know what he'll do if you wake up and find him in your home - but luckily you are still in a deep sleep. As long as Minnie keeps calm, you should stay lost in Dreamland.

He kisses her forehead then starts towards the bedroom. She returns the affection, planting a big kiss on his cheek before she gently smacks him in the face with her doll with a quiet, “mwah!” Then, she flops against his shoulder, using him as a pillow.

He has to fight back a pleased huff - his little angel is so sweet. He'll never get sick of getting kisses from her toys - it's so loving and innocent and he is greedy for any and all affection.

Your bedroom is a good twenty degrees cooler than the rest of the apartment - there's a fan going and accompanying it is a little window unit blowing in cold air. It feels like Heaven in the blistering heat that is the rest of the city. The chill seems to suck the consciousness from Mouse - she gives a big dramatic yawn, smacking her lips against his neck. Her body slumps into him and he rubs her back encouragingly.

He crosses the room carefully, hyper aware of any toys that may have found their way to the floor post-bedtime. It absolutely breaks his heart to have to pull her away from him and she does try to stay clinging to him - not fighting him just resistant - but she ends up in her bed and under her covers. He doesn't know if he would have had the strength to force her to let go if she really did want to stay in his arms.

He helps her adjust her sleeping headband so it is around her eyes and ears, then kisses her cheek one final time, “ready for sleep?”

The response is a barely there nod and Matt can't help but feel so much love for his daughter. Being able to conk right out as soon as she's comfortable shows how much she trusts him. His little girl is always so wary and subtly alert.

He's going to cherish this moment forever.

“Love you, Mouse.” He whispers.

“Luvo, Daffy,” is what it sounds like she says as she rolls to bury her face into her pillow. A moment later she is snoring.

Matt allows a few tears to fall before wiping them away and turning his attention to you. You have nested yourself under your blankets, breath hitching every so often. He's learned over time from various people this usually means bad dreams - not nightmares but things that can leave you shaken.

He doesn't dare move closer to try to soothe you with touch - that would certainly wake you up.

Instead, he promises, “I'll chase all your monsters away, too.”

tags:

@midnightreids @cloudroomblog @yeonalie @thychuvaluswife 

 @petrovafire39 @allllium

@dorothleah @mattmurdocksstarlight @mars-on-vinyl @mywellspringoflife @sleepdeprived-barelyalive @simmilarly @soupyspence @darkened-writer @akila-twt

@murc0ckmurc0ck @groovycass @sumo-b98 @just3rowsing @tongueofcat @zoom1374

@theclassicvinyldragon @aoi-targaryen @lunaticgurly @nikitawolfxo @shireentapestry @snakevyro @yondiii @echos-muses @honeybug-victoria @the-bisaster @ristare @mrs-bellingham @eugene-emt-roe @cometenthusiast @stevenknightmarc @hunnybelha @

Specialagentjackbauer @yarrystyleeza @ofmusesandsecrets 

@mayp11-blog @danzer8705 @thinking-at-dusk @remuslupinwifee @akila-twt  @mattmurdocks6thscaleapartment @dil3mma @allllium 

@

two-unbeatable-beaters @kiwwia-wiwwia @1988-fiend @xblueriddlex @loves0phelia @ninacotte @lovelyygirl8 @littlenosoul @ednaaa-04  @ astridstark13

 @lovingkryptonitehideout @moongirlgodness @soocore @bluestuesday

[merakiui]

..... Sunday + halovian darling + stepsister👀👀👀 + pregnancy kink??!?!?!

👁 👁 accidental pregnancy/(sort of) baby-trapping as well…… wondering how you managed to get pregnant when you’re certain you’re still a virgin. You have no idea that when you’re sleeping your dear stepbrother who you trust so very much is all over your unconscious body. Maybe the first time he fucked you you bled a little and he couldn’t help himself. >_< not that it was his intention to be safe about sex. As head of the Oak Family, he’ll need an heir. But more than that he desires ways to keep the two of you chained together as the couple you’re meant to be.

Sunday who is the first one to extend his help when the news reaches his ears. Maybe you confided in your stepsister Robin first and she was there to listen and offer her comfort/congratulations depending on your feelings. You’re conflicted, but Robin is there to keep you grounded. It’s nothing to panic over. She’s sure this is going to go smoothly. But she doesn’t have all the answers, so why not ask Sunday, who always knows what to do even in the most challenging situations?

He manages to convince you to keep the child. Gently combing his fingers through your wings, petting the soft feathers while he makes you look at yourself in the mirror. Standing right behind you, one hand over your belly. Do you not see how beautiful and miraculous this is—how beautiful and miraculous you are? You’re thankful he’s so supportive, but the degree to which he’s supportive is not very…platonic. Ever since then, he’s even more paranoid and controlling. You can’t go outside. You must stay near him at all times. You must eat a certain diet. So many things to do, so many rules to adhere to. He tells you it’s for the baby’s sake, but is it really when your stepbrother is making you wear thin, sheer nightgowns just to be able to see your bump or heavy tits months into your pregnancy? He’s such a pervert, but it’s all veiled under the guise of being for the baby.

You start sleeping in his room because you’ve grown attached to Sunday. Some days you can’t explain this phenomenon, and other days you think it might be because he’s such a soothing presence and you’re mistaking him for the father of the baby. And of course the attachment is difficult to shake when, in the midst of wild hormones and an intense libido, he’s helping you through it all. You’ve given up on reminding yourself that he’s your stepbrother. After all, as Sunday’s told you time and time again, who else is going to help and support you? Who else if not him? Why would you ever think of finding solace in a stranger when he knows you best? He’ll take care of you. You’ve nothing to worry about.

He dresses you himself with the wardrobe he’s curated for you, and he always spends a long time palming your belly, admiring just how much the baby’s growing. :) he’s the kind of guy to find pregnancy sex so extremely alluring. He’s always gentle every time and knows the right positions to assume to keep pressure off of your stomach. When he fucks into you, he whispers in your ear about how he’ll be careful not to disturb the baby’s room. So sugary-sweet… maybe the puzzle pieces will finally click when the baby is born and looks startlingly like a certain someone.

[deargojou]

╔══ஓ๑ 𝐊𝐎𝐀𝐋𝐀 ๑ஓ══╗

∷ 𝙿𝙰𝙸𝚁𝙸𝙽𝙶 ⋯ Gojo Satoru x F!Reader

∷ 𝙲𝙾𝙽𝚃𝙴𝙽𝚃 ⋯ 3.3K // Fluff. Tiny dirty joke.

∷ 𝚂𝚄𝙼𝙼𝙰𝚁𝚈 ⋯ Gojo is a clingy boyfriend. In twenty-four hours a day, he clings to you all day.

Gojo has always been the clingy, cuddly type. He’s practically attached to you at the hip. Not that you really mind, there’s something comforting about his strong arms constantly wrapped around you.

It starts slowly at first. He finds little excuses to embrace you―coming up behind you while you wash dishes to wrap you in a warm hug, snuggling up against you when you sit together on the couch, cradling you in his arms as you drift off to sleep. His hugs make you feel safe and loved.

Soon, he turns it up a notch. Whenever you’re preoccupied―cooking, reading, working―he’ll sneak up and envelop you in an affectionate cuddle.

As you’re washing up after dinner, you’ll suddenly feel his broad chest against your back as his arms squeeze you into an adoring hug.

Lounging on the couch engrossed in your book, you’ll feel the cushions sink as he plops down and gathers you into his lap, nuzzling into your neck.

Sitting at your desk focused on work, you’ll feel his hands slide across your shoulders as he bends to plant a kiss on your cheek, his chin tickling you. You start leaving your desk chair empty, eager for him to pull you into his lap.

You’ll be reading your book, anticipation building as you wonder when his next sneak attack will come.

In bed, he cradles you against his chest, stroking your hair as you both drift off.

Cooking together in the kitchen, he’ll come up behind you and wrap you in a warm embrace. Or you’ll intentionally let dishes pile up, hoping the chore will lure him over for a back-hug.

The longer you’ve been dating him, you find yourself craving the constant physical affection.

───✱.｡:｡✱.:｡✧*.｡✰ ───

One lazy Sunday morning, you’re lounging in bed playing on your phone. Gojo is still softly snoring beside you. Your mind wanders as you contemplate getting up to start the day, though your warm blankets beg you to stay curled up.

You feel the mattress dip as he stirs awake. Before you know it, he’s shuffled over and pulled you into a spooning cuddle under the covers, nuzzling drowsily into your neck. “Mmmm... morning,” he mumbles, his voice thick with sleep. His strong arms squeeze you affectionately.

You chuckle and pat his hand resting on your belly. “Well, good morning to you, too.”

He places a few lazy kisses along your shoulder before resting his cheek against you. You lay together in comfortable silence, content to laze in bed wrapped in each other’s arms.

After a few minutes of cuddling, you lightly pat his arm. “Alright, sleepyhead. Time to get this day started.” You make a show of trying to wiggle out of his grasp, but he only tightens his hug.

“Nooooo, not yet~” he whines. “Just a little longer.” His arms cling to you like a child clinging to their favorite stuffed animal.

“Satoru, I have to get up and make breakfast, you know?” You try to pry his hands off, but he keeps them locked around your waist.

“But you’re so warm and cuddly...” he protests, snuggling against you. “Like my own personal body pillow.”

You twist around to face him. His eyes are still heavy with sleep, his hair endearingly tousled. He gives you a lopsided grin.

Rolling your eyes in mock exasperation, you snuggle into his chest. “Fine, five more minutes!”

His arms instantly cradle you closer as he strokes your hair. You breathe in his comforting scent and melt into his embrace. Five more minutes couldn’t hurt.

Before long, five minutes turns to fifteen, then thirty. But you can’t bring yourself to leave the sanctuary of his arms.

As clingy as he’s become, you’ve come to crave it just as much. There’s no place you’d rather be than wrapped up in his strong hugs and affectionate cuddles.

So you let the morning slip away, perfectly content to be Gojo’s captive cuddle buddy. Chores can wait.

For now, you’re happily indulging in a lazy morning snuggled up with your favorite clinging koala bear of a man.

───✱.｡:｡✱.:｡✧*.｡✰ ───

You see, back in high school, Gojo had always seemed so aloof and unapproachable. With his attitude and overall reputation, most people steered clear of him. You certainly never imagined him as the touchy-feely type.

But ever since you started dating, you’ve seen a whole new side to him. Behind the tough exterior is a guy who craves physical affection.

The problem is, he doesn’t quite know how to initiate it―in a romantic context, at least. He let himself get comfortable with his close friends―Geto, Nanami, Haibara, even Shoko―just fine.

At first, he kept his hands to himself. Even holding hands makes him nervous. You can tell by the way he awkwardly takes your hand in his, holding it gently as if you might break.

On dates, he maintains a polite distance from you rather than putting his arm around you. When you sit together talking, he doesn’t reach out to stroke your hair or caress your face like you wish he would.

He remains talkative, but his gestures are distant.

You wonder if he finds you undesirable. But the way he looks at you―so tender yet timid―tells you otherwise. He yearns to get closer, but something is holding him back.

One night while sitting closely together on the couch, you broach the subject. “Satoru, can I ask you something?”

He tenses slightly. “Sure, anything.”

You snuggle closer, reassuring him with your body language. “How come you never really touch me much? I mean... romantically. Do you not want to?”

Gojo looks surprised. “What? No, no way. Of course I do!” His cheeks flush pink. “I just didn’t want to mess this up or freak you out by coming on too strong. Being in a relationship is all new to me and I don’t really know how this stuff works...”

You smile at his sincerity. You take his hand in yours. “Satoru… you don’t have to be afraid to show affection physically. I really don’t mind. In fact, I’d love it if you were more touchy with me.”

He smiles back shyly. “Yeah?”

You nod. “Just start slow and do what feels natural.”

After that conversation, he starts getting more comfortable showing physical affection. It begins gradually―his arm around your shoulders as you walk, an occasional stroke of your cheek when you talk.

Over time, he gets bolder.

Gojo starts finding excuses to hold you in his strong arms. His hands begin to wander, but always tentatively at first, watching your reaction. Light caresses along your arms and back, gentle strokes of your legs. When you sigh contentedly and melt into his touch, he takes it as permission to explore further.

Soon, he can’t keep his hands off you. Playful pats on your butt when you walk by. Smoothing his palms along your body when you embrace. Running his fingers through your hair as you snuggle.

And the kisses that were once nervous and chaste, now confident and passionate. He steals kisses whenever he can―in the kitchen, on the couch, before parting ways for missions.

You adore his newfound eagerness.

───✱.｡:｡✱.:｡✧*.｡✰ ───

One evening, you’re curled up with Gojo watching tv shows. You rest your head on his chest as he strokes your back. Turning your face up towards him, you ask with a smile, “What happened to that shy guy who was afraid to touch me?”

Gojo grins and pulls you closer. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’ve always been this clingy.” He leans in and captures your lips in a loving kiss.

And a few minutes later, he dragged you out of the blue for a food-hunting date since he claimed that today’s weather is very nice (he gets bored sometimes staying at home).

His hands have barely left your body since you stepped out the door. Not that you really mind, his warm touch makes you feel cherished.

The date starts innocently enough as you walk hand-in-hand down the bustling city streets. But when you pass the first food stall selling piping hot baked potatoes, he immediately drops your hand and darts over to buy one for you and himself.

As he waits for his potato, he sidles back to you, and slides his arm around your waist, pulling you close while watching the vendor prepare his snack.

You chuckle and shake your head. “We’re only at the first stall and you already can’t keep your hands off me.”

He grins and squeezes you tighter. “I need to stay close so I don’t lose you in this crowd.”

You roll your eyes playfully as he collects his baked potato and you continue down the street. He balances the potato in one hand, gives one to you without a word, while his other finds its way back to your hand, fingers interlacing with yours. He takes huge bites of the potato as you walk, making a satisfied “Mmm!” sounds.

“Don’t forget to chew,” you tease. He just winks and leans down to kiss the top of your head, then gulps down the rest of the potato.

Sure enough, you’ve barely walked another block before he’s pulling you towards another food stall, this one selling colorful shaved ice. He orders a gigantic rainbow one topped with mochi and condensed milk. After paying, he turns back to you, wrapping both arms around your shoulders and nuzzling into your hair while waiting for his dessert, as if he hasn’t just been holding you for the past 10 minutes.

“Babe, your food’s ready,” you say, nudging him to collect his massive shaved ice creation.

He takes it in one hand, while his other finds your back pocket, keeping you tucked against his side as you walk. “Let’s share this!” he said, but ended up eating a huge portion for himself.

He alternates between holding you and scooping huge bites of icy dessert into his mouth. You’re astonished at how quickly he’s devouring it.

Over the next few hours, the pattern continues. Gojo stops at every food stall, buying potato croquettes, yakitori skewers, takoyaki, and taiyaki filled with sweet bean paste.

Each time, he maintains physical contact with you―his arm draped over your shoulders, hands on your hips, fingers laced with yours. And somehow, he manages to inhale each snack in what seems like just a few bites as you walk, while keeping you tucked against him the whole time.

At one point, you lightheartedly ask, “Where are you even putting all this food? You have a black hole in your stomach or something?”

“Nah, I just have a separate stomach for street food. Plus I’m a fast eater, gotta savor each bite while finishing quickly so I can get back to holding you.”

After hours of nonstop eating and PDA, he finally seems satisfied, giving his stomach a pat. “Whew, that hit the spot! Did you try any of the food?”

“Of course not! I was a little preoccupied being your human teddy bear all day!”

He smiles sheepishly and pulls you into a warm embrace. “Sorry, I guess I kinda forgot about you since these foods are too distracting.” He bends down for a sweet kiss.

“Oh? So you forgot about me even though you’ve been holding onto me the whole time?” you taunt lightheartedly, looking at him with a feigned frown.

“Aww, don’t be like that, my baby~ I’ll buy anything you want this time. I’ll even carry you if you’re tired already,” he smooches your cheek, waiting for you to agree.

“Fine, fine. Just because you’re cute.”

“Yeay! We passed by some really tasty-looking okonomiyaki over there―”

Don’t worry, he might get distracted here and there, but he buys you every food that you want this time (and another portion for himself again).

───✱.｡:｡✱.:｡✧*.｡✰ ───

After lunch, he then takes you to the cinema. From the moment you settle into the plush cinema seats, his hands are on you constantly. Not that you mind. His warm caresses make you feel adored.

The previews start to roll, and he immediately lays his arm across your shoulders, pulling you close. You nestle against his broad chest as he gently strokes your upper arm with his fingertips. When he leans down to nuzzle his cheek against your head, you smile up at him.

“What? The movie hasn’t even started yet and you already need cuddles?” you tease.

“I need to get my snuggles in before the movie distracts you.” As if to emphasize his point, he squeezes you tighter.

You giggle and shake your head. His affection is over-the-top but hopelessly endearing.

As the movie begins, he moves his arm from around your shoulders to hold your hand, interlacing your fingers. He absently caresses the back of your hand with his thumb as his eyes stay glued to the screen. Each time something exciting happens in the movie, his grip instinctively tightens.

During a tender romantic scene between the main characters, you feel his eyes on you. You turn your head to find him gazing adoringly at you instead of the movie screen. Your cheeks grow warm under his affectionate stare.

“You’re way cuter than them,” he murmurs, before leaning in to steal a quick kiss. Then his attention returns to the movie, your held hands now resting on his thigh.

Sometime later, you feel him shift in his seat to lift up the armrest between you. He wraps his arm around you once more, his big palm affectionately stroking up and down your arm. Turning your head, you raise an eyebrow at him.

“What? This is more comfy,” he insists with an innocent grin. You have to stifle a laugh at his shameless need for closeness. Not wanting to disturb the other moviegoers, you let him continue cuddling you with no barriers between you.

When the film takes a suspenseful turn, you instinctively grip his knee. He responds by squeezing your shoulder reassuringly. Then his hand begins wandering again, tracing light circles and figure eights along your arm and shoulder.

During an intense action sequence, Gojo gently takes your chin and turns your face towards him to place a soft kiss on your lips. “Just wanted to do that before stuff gets crazy again,” he explains with a whisper. As the action continues onscreen, his arm stays anchored around you, his thumb idly stroking your jaw.

By the climax of the movie, his fingers are tracing delicate patterns on the nape of your neck. Shivers run down your spine at the sensual touch, making it difficult to focus on the movie’s epic conclusion.

As the credits roll, you turn to Gojo with amused exasperation. “Well, I have no idea what happened in that movie thanks to someone’s constant need for PDA.”

He just grins unapologetically and pulls you in for another lingering kiss. “Some things are more important than movies.”

To be honest, his lingering touch and clinginess comes unconsciously, like a muscle memory. He can’t help that he’s just being touchy with you.

───✱.｡:｡✱.:｡✧*.｡✰ ───

Back at home, in the privacy of your shared space, Gojo’s clingy side really comes out in full force.

Like how he always joins you in the shower under the pretense of ‘helping’ wash your back, when really he just wants an excuse to steal kisses under the spraying water.

Today is no exception.

As you lather up your hair, you feel Gojo’s strong arms wrap around you from behind. “Need me to get your back?” he asks, his deep voice right next to your ear making you shiver.

You pretend to think about it. “Hmm, I guess an extra set of hands couldn’t hurt.”

He doesn’t waste any time, his large palms sliding across your skin in smooth strokes. You close your eyes and relax into his soothing touch. But when his hands linger a little too long around your body, you splatter some bubbly shampoo at him playfully.

“Now, now, don’t get handsy there, or you’ll make us too tired tonight.”

Gojo only chuckles, stealing a quick peck on your cheek before handing you a towel as you step out of the steamy shower.

Freshly washed and dried, you head into the bedroom to get ready. As you rifle through your dresser for something to wear, you feel him come up behind you again, his arms encircling your waist. He pulls you back against his solid chest and you tilt your head up for a sweet kiss, his damp hair tickling your forehead.

“Mm~ you smell good...” he murmurs against your lips.

You smile and playfully push him towards the closet. “Alright you, get dressed before you get us all riled up again.”

Gojo gives you one more tight squeeze before grabbing clothes from his closet. You take the opportunity to get dressed yourself, throwing on a comfortable pajama.

As you look into the mirror, you catch him eyeing you hungrily as he dries his damp body. “See something you like?” you ask coyly.

He strides over and places his hands on your hips. “Yeah… You look good enough to eat for dinner instead,” he growls into your ear.

You lightly smack his arm. “Behave! We’re about to go to sleep. No more actions.”

He sighs dramatically but can’t keep the grin off his face. “Fine, fine. But tomorrow after breakfast, I’m having you for dessert.”

He trails a few soft kisses down the side of your neck.

“Let’s turn in early tonight."

You know that ‘turning in early’ means less sleeping and more cuddling and kissing with him. Not that you’re complaining. There’s something comforting about Gojo’s sheer enthusiasm for physical closeness.

You switch off the light and slide under the blankets as Gojo strips down to just his boxers and joins you under the blankets. He instantly pulls you into his arms. His bare skin is warm against yours as his strong arms wrap around you. You nuzzle your face into the crook of his neck, breathing in his familiar scent, and his large hand slowly strokes up and down your back.

“I’ve been waiting all day to hold you like this,” he murmurs.

“Huh? That’s nonsense, you’ve been holding me all day.”

Tilting your chin up, you meet his lips in a slow, tender kiss. Gojo sighs contentedly, holding you tighter against him.

When you finally break apart, you lightly poke his chest. “You’re like a big baby koala, you know that? Always clinging onto me,” you tease.

He chuckles, tightening his embrace. “Does that mean you’re my mommy koala? Or an Eucalyptus tree? Wait, I think the tree fits you better since koala bear likes to eat―”

“Hushh! That’s enough!” you clamp his lips between your thumb and index finger. You wrinkle your nose at his reply, but can’t help grinning.

As clingy and talkative as he can be, you find it hopelessly endearing. You snuggle impossibly closer, tangling your legs together.

Gojo trails tender kisses along your forehead, the tip of your nose, your cheeks. When he reaches your lips again, the kiss is unhurried and heartfelt, conveying a world of unspoken affection. Your fingers comb through his hair as the kiss deepens, losing yourself in his warmth and closeness.

The rest of the world melts away until it’s just the two of you.

When you finally pull back, he gazes at you like you’re the most precious thing on earth. “You’re especially beautiful like this, all cozy and kissable.”

Propping yourself up on an elbow, you look down at him fondly. “You know, for someone who used to be unapproachable during high school, you sure do turn into a sappy marshmallow now.”

“What can I say, you bring it out in me,” he says with a wink, making you laugh. He reaches up to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. “Now c’mere, I need more snuggles.”

You settle back into Gojo’s embrace. Your legs tangled together once more as he strokes your back, his heartbeat and breathing pulling you towards sleep.

Just before you drift off, his drowsy voice drifts to you one more time. “Love you, my teddy bear.”

“Mmm… love you too, my koala bear.”

With Gojo, even the most basic bedtime routine becomes an opportunity for touch and connection.

And you love indulging his clingy side.

[seventeencryinghorses-blog]

YOO what up!! You should def do some luffy x reader stuff. Safe for work plz I’d love angst or just some good hcs. I always wondering how he’d react when you like argue with him and you like flinch or back down and how it’d play out.

Thx pookie

Sorry for taking a bit, it's the weekday and I have school (I also stayed up watching videos on bloodborne lore on sunday). Anyway as apology I'll let you choose how this goes. Option'll be at the end.

Kindness Isn't Spineless.

Luffy x gn!reader angst. 1,088 words. Part 1.

“Again…” You look inside the fridge and sigh, the leftovers you had got eaten again. You know exactly who it was . This had been happening for a while now, the first time it happened you told yourself it was okay, the second you said it was okay again, the third you finally talked to Luffy to ask him to stop, this is now the 4th time. You don’t even know why you bother at this point. Closing the door to the fridge you leave the kitchen and see Luffy fishing with Usopp, seeing them talking happily makes you feel worse; like you’re the dumb one getting upset over some missing food while he’s unaffected. “Dammit…” You end up just leaving to go to your room, not wanting to sour their mood with your own unhappiness. After shutting the door behind you, you flop onto the bed and sigh. You keep telling yourself the same things you have before, it’s just food, Luffy is more important than some leftovers, no need to get upset over something so small… but it’s not making you feel any better. Not when something so simple as continuing to eat your leftovers shows so little respect. “Maybe.. Maybe I should try telling him again, maybe he’ll listen this time.” You mumble to yourself and get up, walking out of your room and going back to where Luffy and Usopp were fishing. “Luffy?”

“Mm?” He hums.

“Can we talk for a bit in my room?” You ask him and he’s silent for a moment before turning his head to look at you.

“Can you wait? I’m fishing right now.” Is his response, your heart sinks and you consider saying yes, but decide to steel your heart and refuse.

“No, the fish aren’t going to disappear. You can continue fishing after we’re done.” You manage to muster out. He sighs and gets up, following you to your room. Once you’re inside, closing the door, you confront him. “You ate my leftovers again.”

“Oh, yeah I did. Oops.” He says, way too casually for him to care.

“Luffy I told you it wasn’t nice to do that, I don’t want you eating my leftovers. Sanji already makes you a lot of food and those leftovers were ones I got from the last island we went to. I was really looking forward to them since it was a specialty there.” You explain.

“Yeah, they were really good.” He responds, and you frown. Luffy’s acting so uncaring about all of this, he isn’t even being stupidly happy about it. Usually when he’s caught eating something that wasn’t his he fights about it, trying to weasel his way out of getting scolded; but this is just straight up rude.

“Luffy…?” You call his name, not believing what you’re hearing.

“Yeah?” The captain yawns. “Can I go now?”

“Luffy, what's wrong with you? You’re acting weird.” This is stressing you out.

“You’re the one acting weird, it’s just food. You can just get something else, maybe ask Sanji to make you something.” His words make you scowl slightly, you’re trying to stay calm but he’s being so disrespectful it hurts. It hurts and it’s making you angry.

“Why are you being so rude, did I do something?”

“Hmm…” Luffy puts a hand to his chin. “Well I mean it doesn’t matter anyway.” You tilt your head in confusion. “Cuz you’re just gonna forgive me, even if I keep doing it. So there’s no point in being all sorry about it, yeah?” You stare at Luffy in shock, he can be selfish at times sure but not like this; and not to a crewmate, this isn’t mentioning that you too are lovers as well.

“Luffy you’re being really mean, don’t say that.” You say, your eyebrows furrowing into a pained expression. “You’re hurting me.” Black eyes look away, not even bothering to meet your gaze. “Look at me, Luf, don’t just look away. Please?” He doesn’t respond. “Luffy! Please don’t do this to me. I’m sorry for getting mad at you, don't just ignore me like this…”

“You’re so spineless.” He finally responds with a frown and your heart sinks. “I don’t like it, you’re not even trying. It’s kinda um…” Luffy looks for a word in his head before it pops into his mind. “You’re really pathetic!” A smile forms on his face.

“Luffy!” You yell

“It’s true though. I liked you because you never backed down for what you believed in, but now that we’re dating you don’t even do anything to me. It’s annoying seeing you so much of a coward where you back down at any argument with me. I don’t like it.” Once he’s done there’s silence for a bit, Luffy’s about to try and continue when you stop him.

“You’re right, I’m sorry.” You apologize and he perks up, but you don’t end it there. “I should’ve known, you don’t like cowards or crybabies. I don’t blame you, so we don’t have to be together anymore.”

“Wait, you-” He’s interrupted.

“No Luffy, I get it. You’ve made it clear enough that you don’t like me.” You talk as you start to move him out of your room. He tries to reach for you when you go to shut the door on him but you flinch away like he’s lashing out. It shocks him to freeze, giving you the chance to shut the door and lock it.

The captain stares at the door, spaced out before he snaps out of it. ‘...I think I messed up.’ Luffy thinks to himself and knocks on the door, but you don’t answer. He continues this for a while and considers breaking the door down but the image of you flinching away from him like he’d do something as horrible as hitting you is shaking his resolve. ‘I don’t want to see them do that again.’ He frowns, unhappy. His plan was to make you mad enough that you would gain confidence and grow a spine, but this went wrong. He made a mistake, or maybe this is really just you? Luffy doesn’t know, he hasn’t been in a relationship before, but he wants to know; and he wants you to tell him. You did so well when you didn’t back down and told him to follow you to talk, even when he was fishing. He was so relieved he even sighed, but now it’s all messed up and he’s stuck outside this door wondering if breaking it down will make things worse.

_____

The options are if he breaks down the door or not and whether you want this to have a happy or bittersweet ending (asker only). You dont have to say if you dont want tonyou can also just tell me to continue if you dont want the choice.

[fisshbones]

Sunday’s little bird 🪶

A/n: first and probably only attempt at yandere, blurb, likely ooc, not proofread, tbh i hate how fhis came out, written before I finished 2.1 or started 2.2 Gn! Reader

(set in an already established relationship)

Cw: yandere, kidnapping, toxic relationship, manipulation, lowkey naive reader, drugs, birds, hinted animal death.

Sunday had a pretty little pet bird that he named after you. The bird’s feathers are the same color as your hair. The bird is treated like royalty. A big beautiful white cage, for when it’s misbehaving or sleeping. But if you ask for the bird’s name he’d just say some random name. He fears he’ll weird you out knowing that he named an animal after you.

Somewhere down the road Sunday starts to wonder about the possibility of keeping you in the cage instead of the bird. After all if you were caged you would be safe. He couldn’t stand the thought of losing you, not after he lost his sister too. Locking you up just seems like the safest option. Would you forgive him for locking you up? He hopes you will because it’s his only option..

He starts having you come over and help him take care of his little birdy-you. It’s his tactic on helping you acclimate to your future home. You’ve been to his home many times, the only thing that’s different is taking care of his little bird. While you’re getting acclimated with your future roommate, Sunday is out making arrangements for people to ‘attack’ you. He knows you won’t willingly stay caged, so he needs to scare you. Every time you’ve gone out for the last few weeks you’ve been threatened, attacked, or robbed. Without fail Sunday is always there to comfort you, like the sweet loving boyfriend that he is.

After a particularly bad attack he brought you home and patched you up. He gave you some pain killers and helped you to bed so you’d feel better in the morning. The following day you would awake to a chain around your ankle, locked in the big beautiful white cage, with your feathery roommate in your food dish. After you’re done eating your breakfast, he’ll help you bathe and get you dressed in some pretty white clothes. You will forever be Sunday’s pretty little dove now.

As always likes, comments, & reblogs are appreciated <3 Also please send in inspo :((

Song that i listen to while writing this -> Bernadette (post romanian storm) iamx

[lexirosewrites]

Long time Listener, First time caller here when it comes to Slick Sunday, Here's an AU I've been playing with. Basically the thought process for this one was "Wow, S3 Steve is a bit of a bimbo --> I wonder why he's like that --> the Russians must have put something in the mall water" and then making that "something" ABO bitching juice (STAY WITH ME I PROMISE IT MAKES SENSE). So, here's how it goes:

Alpha!Steve gets the job at Scoops Ahoy, normal setup all that, and while he's there he's making ample use of the sink in the back of the shop to hydrate throughout his shifts, even though there's a sign that clearly says "hey man don't drink this". Robin thinks he's being an idiot but Steve says that it'll be fine, its not like its contaminated with anything. Over the course of the summer though, Steve gradually notices something is up. His scent is all fucky, he's tired, and omegas aren't responding to him the way they used to. But he brushes it off and thinks "ok its just because I'm tired" and carries on. This comes to a head when the Scoops Troop gets caught in the Russian base. During the interrogation one of them notices Steve's predicament and laughs about it before dumping him in the room with Robin. Steve doesn't catch much other than the word "omega" and "сука" (Which is Russian for Bitch). He sort of puts together what they mean, but it doesn't click until after the fight with the Mind Flayer (One notable mention about that, Billy survives with major injuries, this is a surprise tool that will help us later). Steve goes home, and basically the moment he feels even a tiny bit safe, his body launches itself into a presentation heat. Which obviously scares the fuck out of him because what the fuck, it's impossible for bitching to happen without another alpha, but here he is, with a brand spanking new cunt and a whole new set of problems to deal with. He and Robin work out that the forbidden sink water was probably laced with something meant to keep the people in the mall from noticing the weird shit that was happening, and by drinking it Steve may have ingested enough to make his dynamic shift. And not just shift, but shift HARD. See, Steve is now something of a super omega, he has stronger, more frequent heats, he's basically always in pre-heat, and according to the doctor who takes a look at him, they're not going to get any better. Oh and suppressants now do less than jack shit for him. So Steve is stuck like this, with no solution except the exceedingly notable exception of having a baby. The doctor says that if he's pupped, he may be able to control future heats better, and potentially return to normal baseline omega levels (returning to being an alpha isn't possible but Steve is not worried about that). After much deliberation, he decides that having a whole ass baby is better than the constant nightmare that is his heats, and so he hits up someone he thinks will be willing to hit it and quit it.

Eddie Munson does not want to hit it and quit it but the very pretty boy is basically begging him to help so he does, with the knowledge that Steve explicitly is not looking to be mated and will basically want nothing to do with him after, which is heartbreaking a little bit because Eddie wants to be a father SO BAD MAN. And if Steve had ASKED he would KNOW that but they're both idiots. So Steve is pupped, he's probably gonna get kicked out if he's unmated and he thinks Eddie wants nothing to do with him. He's not sure what to do about that until he's approached by Billy (Who in this au, despite being an asshole, is a morally okay guy who doesn't want to see Steve in trouble) Billy essentially offers to pose as the pups father, so Steve can have his damn baby in peace and get on with his life. Of course, he doesn't mean to catch feelings but we all know how this goes. Cut to a few months after Steve delivers twin pups, and who arrives at his door but Eddie, begging to see the pups and be present in their lives. What happens next is up to you, personally I am partial to Harringroveson (Metalsandwich) raising the pups together but there are opportunities for angst galore if you're down with that.

Happy Slick Sunday! Hope this is enjoyable lol :>

woohoo! accidentally bitching steve!🥳🥳🥳

[fire-lizard-ro]

I am furiously chewing and gnawing on the idea of an arranged marriage with sunday hlep

Thank you for the ask, anon! And yesssss thank you so, so much for sending in a Sunday request!!! My boy!!! I am also brainrotting over this man at all times he lives rent free in my mind and I love him-

Hope you're doing well and enjoy what I wrote.

But also- This is not my expertise, so I'm going to say my piece and then direct you to my friendo @pix3lplays - This is like. Her thing. So I'm sure you'll get a more interesting response please go follow her hehehehe- <333

Writing under the cut (it’s all SFW):

Sunday is the picture of gentlemanly grace. Perhaps it is by the order of the family that he is to wed you for the good of the family and Penacony. Perhaps it is to strengthen their relations with the IPC as you are an important member. Or perhaps it is for other reasons that will help secure the safety or wellbeing of Penacony and its members. And of course, Sunday is a man who wishes only the best for his beloved home and he will do what he can to follow the path the Aeon of Harmony has laid out for their followers. So he takes it in stride, setting up an appointment to meet you. He would like to get to know his future spouse before the wedding no matter how willing he is to do this for his family.

The first time you meet, you immediately find yourself encapsulated by the gorgeous man who has come to meet you- At a place of your choosing, no less. He extended this favor in hopes of putting the right foot forward with you. Sunday wants things to go smoothly and for the marriage to go through to achieve whatever goal it is the family had in setting this up. He may be a busy man, but he can make time for important matters such as this.

He himself is surprised at you. You're far more than he was expecting, having been ready to deal with anything. But you're actually quite wonderful and he finds your appearance more than appealing. A pleasant surprise. He is sure to pull your seat out, hold the door for you, ask you before doing things- He even gives you a kiss to the back of your hand in greeting after asking politely if he could.

Sunday enjoys his time with you and so discusses more times in which the two of you can get to know each other. When you both are done with your little date of sorts, he gives you another kiss to the back of your hand and makes sure you have a safe way to get back home or to wherever you are staying. As he watches you leave first to make sure you get to your mode of transport safely, he asks gently that you let him know when you make it to your destination and raises a hand in farewell.

Each subsequent date brings the two of you closer and closer. One time, he brings flowers. Another, he brings you a snack from Penacony which could be considered a staple for them.

I, personally, think that Sunday would be someone who is easy to love and even easier to like. So by the time you both are walking down the isle, you're smitten with him. I'm sure he would also have a fondness for you. The both of you had already discussed the matter as Sunday is a thorough an who plans things out. You two had already talked and you both want to be amicable with one another and make this marriage work for the both of you. At the very least, the two of you would be companions and friends. But the two of you have also admitted that it would be nice if there was more beyond just that in your marriage.

Sunday is a man who always does right by you because you are now his spouse. But also because he likes you as a person. Days in which he brings back snacks and nicknacks he thinks you'd like. Calling you when he think he may be late at work. Picking up groceries on the way home when he can, calling to ask if you need or want anything. Making sure your favorites are always stocked even if you don't ask.

I imagine that for the two of you, after marriage the time you spend together most often is in the evening at dinner and then the time leading up to bedtime. He does lead a people and is always in high demand for his services, expertise, and leadership. But of course, he's very sweet on you during this time as a result. Nights of being laid up in bed, his back against the pillows placed against the headboard whilst he reads and you lean into his side, doing your own thing. Sunday will wrap an arm around you and occasionally rub your side or arm.

Slowly, over time, I think you both could become a real couple.

Yayyyy~ Sunday~ I love this man so much. <333

I might write an NSFW part to this. But as of right now, I'm happy with just this. If you want one, you can always send in another ask and I'll be sure to get right on it!

[ohtobeleah]

Bruises // Jake Seresin

Chapter One: [Happily Ever Afters Don’t Exist]

Summary: A certain naval aviator shows up on your front doorstep right on cue. Because when the nightmares are too hard to handle on their own? You and Jake find solace in one another’s presence.

Word Count: 2.5k

Series Warnings: Heavy themes of violence, sexual assault, torture. 18+ content. Minors DNI. Mature themes. Being held in captivity. Hostage style situation. Main character death! Whump, Angst. Conversations that discuss antisocial & antisemitism views.

Author Note: THIS SERIES IS CONFRONTING, FICTIONAL, AND DEPICTS IMAGES OF TORTURE. DO NOT READ PAST THIS POINT IF YOU BELIEVE THAT THIS SERIES WILL BE DETRIMENTAL TO YOUR MENTAL STABILITY. CURATE YOUR OWN TIMELINE.

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

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Sunday- August 13th 2023. Present Day 

We all remember the bedtime stories of our childhoods. The shoe that fits Cinderella, the frog that turns into a prince, Sleeping Beauty is awakened with a kiss. Once upon a time and then they lived happily ever after. 

Fairy tales—the stuff of dreams. The problem is, fairy tales don’t come true. It’s the other stories, the ones that begin with dark and stormy nights, and end in the unspeakable. It’s the nightmares that always seem to become reality. 

You shot up from your spot in your bed trying to regulate your breathing from yet another nightmare, the nightmares you already lived through that your mind, body and soul couldn’t let go of, the overwhelming fear had triggered yet another panic induced asthma attack. Your inhaler sat close by on your bedside table. 

You came to quickly realise after all that you’d been through that the person that invented the phrase ‘Happily Ever After’ Should have his ass kicked and kicked hard. Because ‘Happily Ever After’ Didn’t exist. 

Sleep didn't come easy anymore, especially at night. Since you’d been on mandated medical leave you did your best to sleep during the day and stay awake all night, just to keep the voices in your head silent. It did little to curve the nightmares though, the sounds of tortuous screams that would send you into a dizzying fit of terrors until you realised you were safe. That you were home and that you were in your own bed, not on some dirty cell floor a million miles away with no hope of ever seeing your loved ones again. 

A knock at your front door in the middle of the night would usually have your heart racing. People don't knock on peoples doors in the middle of the night, and if they do? Your mother always taught you not to answer unless you were expecting company. 

As you padded over to your front door with a warm cup of peppermint tea in your hand, you had to wonder what one it was this time that brought the wounded soul to your doorstep. You opened your front door to reveal the very person you had actually been expecting for all the wrong reasons. He stood with his shoulders slumped in his grey sweats and an old longhorns T-shirt that looked worse than he did. Sad emerald green eyes met yours as he ran a nervous hand through his sandy locks, hell, this never got any easier. 

Jake Seresin showing up on your doorstep at one in the morning had become a thing. On the nights he wasn't dragging his tail up your three porch steps, you were banging against his courtyard gate. Both as desperate for company as each other. Yet neither of you would admit you were struggling. But the unspoken was as loud as silence could ever be. 

You’d both witnessed and experienced the unthinkable, unspeakable acts of violence that should have killed you both. But yet here you were, making him peppermint tea at one in the morning, trying to hide the fact whenever you looked at him all you saw was the way his body bled and bruised. 

“What one was it this time?” You asked as you handed Jake the tea you'd made for him, having expected him any minute now. He still had bruises that littered his cheeks and eye socket. Doctors had reassured you that his broken jaw would heal in time, for someone with the gift of the gap not talking though was a difficult task. But being in an induced coma for the first week since being admitted helped the swelling a lot. He looked more like himself now. 

Lieutenant Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin. The very embodiment of a human ken doll. He looked like the Jake you knew before the mission that nearly killed you both. Everyday that passed he looked less and less like the version of himself that would have said or done anything to keep you alive. That had done everything he could have. 

“The one where they made me hurt you.” Jake mumbled as he stepped past the threshold of your humble abode and accepted the cup of warm peppermint tea you had made for him. He appreciated the warm sensation, it grounded him. “I get that one alot, whenever I close my eyes–” Jake paused as he drank in the sight of you. You looked healthier now. Brighter. Your eyes weren't so full of fear and your lip wasn't as split anymore. “All I see is you and how I couldn’t save you.” 

You and Jake had shared all your darkest nightmares with one another, he was the only person who understood what you were going through, what you sounded like while your skin was cut and your bones were broken. He was the only one who understood when you told him your body didn’t feel like yours anymore. And you were the only one who understood what it was like to want to die just to feel peace. To escape hell. You’d seen the limits each other could tolerate, and you'd seen each other's breaking points. Neither of you could escape the burning guilt you held for each other. It was a bond that you wouldn’t wish on your worst enemy. 

With all the love you held for each other you’d both agreed now just wasn’t the right time. A relationship seemed like the worst thing to jump head first into after experiencing hell on earth. But with that mutual understanding came a deep hesitation to believe any of it was ever real to begin with. 

“Well, you did.” You reminded Jake as his eyes wandered down to where your hand and wrist still remained in a cast. He could still remember the way you screamed out in utter agony when the hammer smashed your bones, how you looked when infection took over. “I’m here because of you.” He didn’t reply straight away as he took a sip of the warm peppermint tea you’d made for him. He watched silently as you closed your front door—making sure to lock it and switch off the patio light. It was the middle of the night after all. 

Jake Seresin was a wreck, you knew that much. The people who knew him better than most would often tell you he was a shell of his former cocky, egomaniacal self. They all missed that version of Jake—the one who could give anyone a headache just by his charm alone, but was present and aware. 

But the Jake you knew was just as scared and bruised as you. Even if he wouldn’t admit it, the mutual midnight visits were enough of an explanation, and you didn’t push. He didn’t push either. The two of you just existed, trying to navigate through the trauma of the situation the two of you found yourselves in. Marked confidential and sealed indefinitely. Plagued with the sounds of each other’s tortuous screams. 

“You were there because of me too.” Jake finally replied, his voice was soft and barely audible. “You were my responsibility.” He bowed his head in shame, regret had followed him everywhere since the two of you had gone down. “I failed you.” 

It was your turn to listen and take in the heaviness of Jake's admission. An admission you’d heard a hundred times before and would surely hear a thousand times more. It was Jake's truth, his version of reality. 

“You didn’t fail me, Seresin.” You sighed softly as you walked your way around to stand before him. Jake looked at you with so much guilt, so much anguish in his eyes. Those deep green emerald eyes. “Because we’re home, we’re safe, you’re standing here drinking my peppermint tea and I’m about to reach up and kiss you—“ You placed your hand on the back of Jake's neck, slowly, tentatively. “Because you didn’t fail me, you saved me.” Jake knew that was true to some extent, you were holding on for dear life when rescue came. Without them, without Jake begging you to stay, you probably wouldn’t have. 

“Please—“ Jake whispered as tears fell from his lash line. “Just one.” You did. It wasn’t hard touching Jake, or loving him or kissing him or doing anything that made you feel connected. If it were anyone else you’d struggle. But not with Hangman. 

It was the softest of kisses, the most fleeting of things, but you did what you said you were going to do and reached up to kiss Jake's lips. 

Jake raised his eyebrows in reaction to your softness but soon closed his eyes knowing he was safe and pulled you closer by the small of your waist with just one hand. He still held the peppermint tea in the other. Savouring every single moment, every fleeting touch you were willing to give him. 

“You didn’t fail me Jake, I’m standing right here, because you kept me going—you kept me alive.” You knew exactly what Jake needed to hear as he let his forehead rest against yours. You cupped his cheeks to catch the tears that had begun to fall down his slightly bruised cheeks. You caught Jake's tears with the pads of your thumbs, just like you’d done when he was covered in his own blood. 

“You gave me hope and we’re okay Jake, we’re okay.” All Jake did was nod with closed eyes. He needed your gentle touch to ground him, keep him from falling into the dark depths of the hole he was standing on the edge of. 

“We’re okay.” The same hole that you had teetered on the edge of. “We’re okay.” Jake repeated a few times as he kept his eyes closed. He was afraid that when he opened his eyes you’d be gone. “We’re okay.” He whispered just one more time before he opened his eyes, you were still there, his weapon’s system office, his responsibility, his one and only guiding light. “Thanks.” 

“Not a problem.” You pressed your lips together in a fine line before you stepped away. Heading towards the kitchen where you’d left your own cup of tea. “I’m glad you’re here actually.” You sheepishly admitted. “I was going to try and get some rest but couldn’t fall asleep alone.” Jake knew what you were asking of him—he’d asked you a fair few times himself. But again, it was all coded. 

“I’m pretty tired, could use an hour or two.” He replied with half a smile that only graced half his face. Jake followed you over to the hallway he knew led down to your bedroom. Completely lit so that not an ounce of darkness could shroud your recovery process. “I’ll stay.” 

“Thanks.” You looked up at Jake as he looked at you, both as broken as each other. He still saw the uncertainty in your eyes, the fear that your time had left you with. Jake could argue you had it worse than he did, but you’d say it wasn’t a competition. “I think I sleep easier with you here than when you’re not.” 

“If I wasn’t so haunted by your screams Hollywood, I’d be flattered.” Jake teased as he took a sip of his tea. The tea you’d made just for him in the mug you knew he liked. It was easy to joke about small details, it’s how you and Jake got by, but the sad reality was it was all true. There was a time where Jake Seresin would have taken that compliment and turned it into something more sexually explicit. But now? Even when the two of you did embark on showing one another what it was like to touch the stars and all Jake saw was you in that cell screaming for those men to stop. In his nightmares as he’d lay beside you he felt like one of them. 

Jake caught himself falling into a k-hole of thoughts as he took another sip of his tea to bring him back down to earth. “But yeah, I sleep better with you by my side too.” 

It was weird going from being so sure of every word Jake spoke in the time you were held together, to all these ‘Thinks’ and ‘Pretty Sures.’ But you knew the ‘I love yous’ shared and the admiration admitted were all just tactics to keep each other alive. At least on Jake’s behalf you assumed. For you? Every word of it was real. Every plea for Jake to keep his eyes open was real. Every cry of mercy for them to stop beating him was real. Every ‘take me’ every ‘I love you’ every ‘don’t you dare die on me, not now.’ Was real. Every ‘when we make it home, I’ll never let you go.’ Was real. 

“Good.” You yawned, exhausted from all the sleepless nights and half ass attempts during the day. “Because I’m exhausted.” 

“Feels like we’re on a train that’s going like two hundred miles an hour without any breaks.” Jake began walking with you towards your bedroom. A bedroom he’d become so familiar in he knew where you kept your socks and what corner you favoured for dirty laundry. “And as much as you wanna stop that train we can’t get off, for some fucking reason we just can’t get off.” He continued as you pushed your door open, still lit from almost every light you owned. “Wouldn’t it though—wouldn’t it just be so nice to step off onto the platform for a minute?” Jake asked as you took his tea and placed it up on the dresser beside yours. Coaxing him forward and towards your bed by his hand. 

“It would be nice.” You tried not to cry.” “It would be so nice.” You knew what Jake meant, what the platform was a metaphor for. You couldn’t say you hadn’t thought about it—the sweet release death would bring. “But I’m not quitting on you now Hangman.” You held back tears as you kissed Jake again, this time with more passion and fire in your intention and this time he kissed you back. 

The back of your knees hit the side of your bed and you were down, with Jake falling with you. It was the closest to love the pair of you would get. Relearning what gentle romance was. Relearning to understand that not every touch was rough. 

“So you don’t get to quit on me.” You reminded him sternly. It was just the trauma talking. You’d give anything to go back to the way things were before, when the two of you hardly spoke. When the pair of you bickered and argued and didn’t engage in pity sex out of an existential obligation to one another just to feel something besides hopelessness and pain. “Because we made it out, we got out and we survived—“ You cried into his mouth as tears of his own dripped off his cheeks down onto yours. “And we’ll survive whatever else is left to come, okay, you and me?” 

Jake didn’t give you an answer, but he nodded silently before he took your lips hostage again. His hands were gentle against you—afraid that he’d hurt healing wounds. But he could never. He could never hurt you as much as they did. 

“Just you and me Hollywood."

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Tags 🏷️ @americaarse @blindedbythelightt @tayl0rhuynh @athenabarnes @imaginecrushes @whyareallnamesgone @mjmaximoffbarnes @amiets2 @mads-weasley @gabbyella @ephemeralninon @xoxabs88xox @pedrohoe04 @starkleila @je-suis-prest-rachel @clancycucumber230 @maisie-rebloging-blog @callsign-barbell @obiwankenobis-lap @some-lovely-day @paperbag333 @callsign-magnolia @jhiddles03 @hardballoonlove @shanimallina87 @seitmai @abaker74 @missemrose @starset21 @kmc1989

[professorcalculusstanaccount]

"when strangers mistake me for his father i don't correct them" just break my goddamn heart why don't you. i love this and the rest of your art so so SO much and i'm dying to hear more of your thoughts on tintin and haddock's father-son/chaotic uncle-nephew dynamic, because it's one thing i wish had been developed further in canon, especially with tintin's move to marlinspike hall

Haddock and Tintin invented the found family trope! Their dynamic means so much to me, while my post canon series seems to be about Tintin and Chang's relationship it's actually more about Tintin and Haddock's found family bond and how it changes as Tintin grows older.

My thoughts on their dynamic are under the cut. It's Fathers' Day in the UK this Sunday, so happy Fathers' Day!

Haddock had a terrible childhood and has low self esteem, but values his ability as a sailor. Even that is shaken when his crew mutinies and kidnaps a teenager. As a result Haddock feels an enormous sense of guilt and responsibility for Tintin

He looks up to Tintin a lot, he inspires Haddock to always strive to be better!

He doesn't understand what Tintin sees in him but Tintin's positivity easily outshines any doubts about their friendship. Tintin brings that childlike wonder Haddock missed out on in his own childhood. Haddock goes out of his way to do stuff with Tintin he never got to do with his father, like going to the theatre or trips to the seaside.

Initially Tintin tolerates Haddock, but he proves himself with his sailing prowess in The Shooting Star. While Tintin is brave and proactive he's very introverted and closed off from people, having gained dangerous enemies at such a young age.

At first he's not used to having someone look out for him but grows to deeply appreciate Haddock. A colleague at work said Haddock is like that one middle aged guy you befriend at a job you got as a teenager and you become ride or die with through trauma bonding and I think he's exactly right!

Even though he's his best friend Tintin still keeps him at a distance. Haddock doesn't know his legal name or anything about his past. Tintin rarely opens up about personal problems out of fear of worrying him.

As Haddock has pinned so much of his self worth on Tintin, in my post canon series Haddock is forced to re-examine his friendship with him.

Haddock gets into a secret romantic relationship with Ramo Nash and gets some well earned down time from adventures, taking up painting as a hobby. It's the first time he's had time to find himself outside of being Tintin's adventuring companion, and realises he may have to make the painful decision between his best friend or staying true to himself. It's a decision he knew he had to make for a long time.

Haddock invites Chang to live in Marlinspike during his year as an exchange student in hopes he'll keep Tintin out of trouble. When Chang ends up joining in on the adventures instead Haddock is taken aback by how competent he is, and how seemingly effortlessly he is able to keep up with Tintin. Watching a younger fitter person does bring up some insecurities in him, but he later appreciates that this means he could sometimes take a break and let Chang go get shot at instead!

Tintin's tendency to keep his personal problems to himself drives a rift between them as he desperately tries to navigate coming to terms with being gay. Even though homosexuality was legal in Belgium at the time there's still a stigma, and Haddock and Tintin are terrified of losing each other's respect.

When Haddock finds out Tintin is also gay he is overjoyed, he vows to look out and to always be a safe haven for him. He grew up in fear and in the closet, so is determined to be the father figure he never had himself.

Haddock is very supportive of Tintin and Chang, but as Tintin grows closer to Chang and spends more time with him Haddock can't help but feel a little insecure. It's normal for parental figures to feel that way.

As Haddock grows older and less physically able to travel, Tintin worries if his deteriorating health is his fault. Haddock makes sure to nip this fear in the bud, and lets him know how proud he is of what they were able to do. As Haddock settles into retirement with Ramo, Tintin and Chang visit frequently to help take care of them.

Haddock never officially adopts Tintin despite everything, just in case the Haddock family curse still persists. Also "Tintin Haddock" is an absolutely awful sounding name.

Neither Haddock or Tintin can stand spiders. They get Nestor or Calculus to deal with that

imagine All of Tintin's Father Figures in a group chat in a modern AU, Haddock, Calculus, Skut, Mr Wang, Ramo Nash... The Council of Dads (Castafiore is in it too, she counts)

[worldofkuro]

Painted Smile

Painted Smile XXXVI

<- Previous Chapter I

Summary: You couldn't wait to meet new friends. What you didn't expect was this smiling little boy, only one year older than you, that would take such a big place in your life.

Notes: Sorry, it's been so long isn't it ? I'm working and I only have Sunday as my day off so... Maybe I'll write longer chapter.. I don't know yet. But now, please enjoy today's chapter! I've been told the past never let you go... How depressing.

It’s been a few days since Trey’s attempt on your family’s life. You have been sick since you had healed Alastor, and now you had two protectors with you. Alastor couldn’t work yet, so he stayed at home, taking care of everything. 

“ Mommy, do you want water ?’” You peeked at your daughter who was looking at you worriedly.  

After the fire, your parents and Marie came to visit you. They were so worried, it was a cute scene to watch them fuzz about you. Fortunately, they didn’t stay too long and you managed to have a discussion with people much more interesting.

“ Papa Legba, Baron Samedi..?” You asked calmly, sitting in the living room, your daughter on your lap. You observed Alastor who was standing up, his arms crossed behind his back, his usual smile on his face. He seemed pleased with himself, you wondered why..

“ Little lady… Alastor…”

You turned your head to the old man with a soft smile. No matter the years that have passed by, Legba still looked the same. He was still looking at you with a gentle gaze, full of knowledge you wished you possessed. He was sitting on a chair, with his cane between his legs.

“ Hello, little doll. How are you, Alastor?”

You grinned at Baron Samedi’s greeting. He was leaning against the wall, his cigar in his mouth and his usual amused smile on his lips. He seemed relaxed enough to have the discussion you were dying to have.

“ Well, goodmorning, gentlemen. I think you already know why you were called today.” Alastor mused as he moved toward the center of the living room. You smirked, he always loved the attention huh… “ Baron Samedi, something to say perhaps ?”

“ Why would I? I have no obligation to you.” The spirit smirked, blowing the smoke out of his mouth toward Alasto who didn’t even flinch. 

“ Maybe not me, but my daughter? I think you do.” 

You glanced at Alice who was looking at her father, her head tilted. She seemed curious about what her father was doing... Could she not see the spirit..? Yet, she could interact with your shadows… You sighed, kissing her forehead once more. You still didn’t know if bringing your child into this spiritual world was a good idea… Maybe you should wait a little longer..? But perhaps it was too late? She managed to create a shield around Alastor and herself… 

You closed your eyes, not quite listening to Alastor and the Baron’s conversation. You just wanted your family to be safe, that was the reason you made a deal. To protect Alastor… And now, your little girl… At first, Alastor’s father was the enemy, the one stopping you from a happy ending… Now… It’s someone older than you, who has had his eyes on you since you were a teenager… You couldn’t help but shiver at the thought.

“ Mommy…” You peeked down on Alice who was looking at you, a grimace on her face that made you chuckle. “ It smells bad.”

You tilted your head to the side and then tried to find the odor your daughter was smelling. Maybe you left some meat outside..? No, you really couldn’t smell anything bad… 

“ Where does it smell, Alice?”

She jumped from your lap and sniffed the air. You saw Legba watching the little girl with a soft gaze, an amused smile on his lips. You giggled when Alice asked her father to stop talking because she couldn’t concentrate on the smell if he kept talking. You winked at your husband who rolled his eyes at his daughter.

“ Alice, what did I tell you?”

“ What ?”

“ When I seem to be talking ‘alone’, you don’t talk.” Alastor sighed, shaking his head.

“ But Dad! It smells… bad! Like… Like when we were in the fire but worse !” She claimed, pouting while her arms were crossed on her chest.

Was she traumatized enough to smell the fire once again? After all, when you almost drown on the lake, years before, you would sometimes think your lungs were full of water and you couldn't breathe anymore. Thank God, you weren’t alone when that had happened, and you had been taken care of easily. 

Was it the same for Alice?

You stood up but Alastor made a gesture for you to stay sitten. 

“ Where does it smell, Alice?”

Your eyes followed Alice who was walking hesitantly toward Baron Samedi. The Baron truly seemed surprised when Alice pointed toward his cigar, as so were you. She didn’t seem to see him, but she could smell the cigar he was smoking..? What did it mean? You wanted answers now, when did you lose control of all the information?

“ Baron Samedi, please, explain yourself.” You asked, not caring if you were being disrespectful.  Right now, Alice’s safety was your priority.

“ Well… I’m as surprised as you..,” He crouched in front of Alice who was pinching her own nose. It seemed like she really didn’t like the smoke that was coming from the Baron. She truly didn’t seem to see him.. “ I thought she would be able to see me now.” 

You glanced at Papa Legba who was looking at Alice with a soft smile. He stood up and walked toward your daughter with his cane taping the floor loudly. Your eyes widened as Alice turned her eyes toward the noise before rushing into your arms, scared.

“ Mommy !”

You stared at her then at the two spirits. You were completely dumbfounded, your little girl could.. feel spirit ? You shouldn’t be this surprised, she was always playing with your shadow since she was a baby. She was also used to seeing you telekinesis objects in the house, she was used to …magic.. but..

“ I see you are full of questions, little lady. Alice seems to be very sensitive to spiritual energy…”

“  Can Alice really feel the spirit around her..? Then why can she play with my and Alastor’s shadow ..?” You asked, trying to calm your daughter that was trying to get your attention, pointing to where she heard the noise.

“ Well, my dear. Look at her parents.” Alastor claimed, with a proud smirk. You shook your head with a small grin. He was so full of himself… “ But what I want to know is, why Baron Samedi..? Why didn't Kalfu or you, Papa Legba, were the one to reach her?” 

“ Well, if we resume everything. Alastor, your blood is powerful, Voodoo has always been in your reach, it always has been in your life thanks to your mother. You tainted your wife’s blood with yours, making her able to see spirits and even to work with them.” Papa Legba recounted, his hand pointing toward you. “ Then, you bound yourself together, into the spiritual realm…the vessel being a deer plushie… A plushie your daughter never let go off.”

You peeked at Alice who had calmed down, her eyes were staring at Papa Legba’s position but you could feel she wasn’t seeing anything. She was mostly trying to see who you were talking to.

“ Alastor, you made a deal to kill, so you could be stronger. Your wife has made a deal with Death to protect you. You named your daughter after a brutally deceased friend. Death has always been around you, so , wouldn't it be logical for your daughter to be close to Death too..? Now, the real question is: Is Alice protected by Death..? Or cursed by it?”

You felt like drowning. Your little baby… No, she didn’t have to pay for your sins. You peeked at Baron Samedi who was listening quietly to the conversation, never speaking.

Why? Wasn’t he on your side? Should he not just say Papa Legba was doing a horrible joke to tease you? 

Dear, since when is Death on our side?

‘ But, he protected her when I was pregnant..!’

Don’t trust him so easily. Don’t think Death is on your side, he might have saved our daughter, but he didn’t save your friend, didn’t he? Always doubt people’s will.

Your eyes widened as you realized that you saw this spirit, the one who owned Death, almost as a friend. You forget he was a powerful spirit, that he could watch you die without batting an eye… You made a mistake… While you saw him as a friend, Alastor saw him as a transactional tool.

Who was in the right ?

While you worked with spirits, Alastor owned them…

Who was wrong?

“ I won’t hurt you daughter, little doll.”

 You turned your head toward the Baron, septic. Alastor was right, why would the gatekeeper of Death help you? You didn’t do anything to be granted such favors… And yet…

“ Don’t think too hard, I’m just amused by the situation. I don’t remember the last time a child was able to use some of my powers without me being summoned.” The Baron smirked, going closer to your daughter who turned her eyes toward the spirit. “ Now, this little genius should learn how to control her power ! Imagine if she used her power at school, how dangerous… Oh, let’s do that!”

After that conversation, you fell sick for the next few days. Nothing serious of course, nothing worth fussing about. But your daughter and husband weren’t thinking the same thing as you. They demanded that you stay at home and rest. That was why you were in bed, with your daughter coming with a glass of fresh water.

“ Thank you, my cutie pie.” You kissed her forehead which made her beam at you. You were trying to reassure her that you were feeling great, but you did feel faint, and you wanted to vomit most of the time. It seemed like the fire’s accident was still having an effect on your body…

You chuckled when you saw Alice ordered Alastor’s shadow to bring you another glass of water. She sat next to you, hugging Eamon against her little body. Your stare fell on the plushie. You couldn’t help but remember when your parents gifted you with it. It was white as snow, and now he was reddish because of Alastor’s blood because of his father’s beating…

Death and violence were really around your family right…

“ Mommy, I learned something at school! Do you know how to say blood in french?” Alice beamed at you, excited to share her knowledge. “ It’s “ Sang” ! Does that mean that our family name is… related to blood?” She tilted her head, her curious eyes staring at you.

Blood huh..

You observed your daughter, so innocent and yet she bore such a heavy name. She bore your deceased best friend's name, and Alastor’s name, who was tainted with so much violence. You chose to take Alastor’s name, you had the choice, but your daughter… Would she bear it?

“ Alice, are you happy with your name? With Mommy and Dad?” You asked, your voice weak. You were so scared your past would weigh on your daughter because of your decision… Violence, murder, blood… Were you a good mother? Was that all you could give her..? 

“ I love it ! “ She stood up on your bed, jumping on the mattress, being mindful of your body. “ I have the name of Mommy’s best friend! You told me she was like a princess ! She was super funny! And she was very pretty! “ She laughed, clapping her hands together. “ Sanglar is also a good name! It scares my classmate ! But if it means blood, then it means that Mommy and Dad are tied to me forever !” She jumped in your eyes with a big grin. “ We are going to be a family forever !” 

You weren’t aware of the tears in your eyes. You didn’t know you needed to hear such words from your daughter. It was too clever for her age, she wasn’t supposed to answer such things at your question. Shouldn’t children of her age be confused if their mother asked such a question…? Was it normal…?

You chuckled, squeezing your baby in your arms.

Since when were you trying to be normal? You ran after Alastor knowing he wasn't what ‘normal’ was supposed to be. He asked you to marry him just before ending his father. You had your first time just after your first murder, next to a corpse. Your best friend would ask you to kill people for her sake.

Who do you think you were?  Normality isn’t for you anymore. And you never craved it.

You left the bed, with your daughter in your arms and Alastor’s shadow behind you with a big smile. You weren’t feeling sick anymore, and you wanted to see your husband!

You followed Alastor’s shadow, which guided you toward the lake behind the house. You smiled when you saw your husband. Who was doing… What was he doing ..?

“ Ah, there you are. Darling, why don’t you let  Alice down for a bit?”

You tilted your head but did as you were told. Alice ran toward her father who patted her head three times. You walked toward your husband who kissed your forehead. You closed your eyes, feeling your body relaxed to his presence.

Relaxing near a killer… And you wanted to be normal?

“ Today, we’ll start Alice’s training.” Alastor whispered in your eyes, his voice deep and smooth. You couldn’t help but shiver, when was the last time you heard his voice like that…” Now, Alice! Do you want to know my and your mother’s secret?”

“ I already know!” Your daughter claimed which made Alastor raise an eyebrow, smiling down at her. “ Always smile and wear red ! “

You laughed out loud while Alastor chuckled. Is that how Alice saw you? Two people who always smiled and wore red? Funny thought…

“ Not quite, but close enough. I have three rules I have taught your mother, do you want to know them?” Alastor asked and grinned when Alice nodded furiously. “ The first rule..”

You smiled as Alastor taught Alice the rules he had given you when you were kids. You sat down on the grass as Alice repeated the rules then smiled at her father. She was trying so hard to get praises from him, it was adorable. 

“ Now…” Alastor’s eyes turned red. “ Do you see my shadow ?”

“ Shadie? Yes, I see him.” She nodded, waving at the shadow which waved back. You giggled at the shadow’s name, it seemed to like it.

“ Try to create a shield so he can’t touch you.” Alastor said, crossing his arms on his chest. You frowned. wasn’t he going to help her more than just ask her to do something. You stared at your little baby who was so confused… Aah..

You stood up and walked toward your daughter, kneeling next to her.

“ Do you remember what I told you? When you are feeling overwhelmed ?” You waited for her to nod. “ Then, let’s imagine, Shadie..? Shadie was being mean, so you want to be alone a little bit.” You raised your hand in front of you, your daughter mimicked you. “ Now, imagine a shield around you.”

You smiled as Alice closed her eyes, frowning very hard, trying so hard to material a shield but without any success. She opened her eyes and looked at you sadly. You smiled at her, kissing her cheek, whispering sweet reassurance.

“ Can Eamon help me..?”

You tilted your head but nodded. You walked back inside the house, letting Alice with her father. Should you be alarmed she was so attached to this plushie..? You entered the room and took the plushie.

You stared at it, then you hugged it, feeling some relief in your body. Even after all these years, it was still your little protector..? Maybe Alice felt the same way, and that’s why she needed this plushie. She must have felt out of place everywhere she was because of how she was…

You walked back toward your little family but stopped at the scene in front of you.

Alastor had one knee on the floor, behind Alice, and was showing her how to place her hand in front of her. What made you nostalgic was that the gestures he was teaching her, were the first gestures you used to when you first used your power.

Alastor was teaching your daughter with your techniques…

Why were you feeling so emotional..?

You walked toward them with a fond smile. You felt your breath shake as your husband and your daughter lifted their heads to watch you approach. Alice gave you a big smile, while Alastor looked at you with an amused smirk.

Yes, you didn’t care for normality if it was your everyday life, seeing your husband teaching your daughter.

Alice took Eamon in one arm and then raised her little hand in front of her. You took a step back, and so did Alastor, to watch if something happened. She was trying so hard, you really were rooting for her…

Your shadow moved toward Alice and patted her head, trying to encourage her. You wondered how you could help your daughter… How hard could it be to try something you didn’t know existed… How difficult could it be to believe in something you didn’t understand…

“ Darling.”

You turned your eyes toward Alastor who was staring at Alice. You frowned and then looked at your daughter, still shieldless. She had her head down, mostly defeated by her failure and you knew Alastor wouldn’t comfort her… You sighed before walking toward your little baby.

“ It’s okay, baby. Mommy did when she was older, you know?” You smiled, approaching your hand toward her and flinched when you felt how cold her skin was. “ Alice ?”

Your daughter raised her big eyes toward you.

Big purple eyes.

You took a step back, as she tried to grab your hand. You could see she was confused and scared so as soon as you composed yourself, you hugged her.

“ I’m scared… It’s cold… My eyes are like ice..” She mumbled, squeezing Eamon against her.

You kissed her forehead, humming against her, reassuring her like you could. Even if you made a deal with the Baron, you weren’t fully attached to him like you were with Papa Legba, so you didn't really know how Alice was feeling.

The first time you met Legba, you felt hot, warm… When you are using the Baron’s power, you feel cold… Was that how Alice felt?

“ It’s okay, look at mommy..” you whispered and stared into your daughter’s eyes. Her brown honey eyes have been replaced by a vivid purple hue. Even if it was strange, and in a way… sad, it truly meant Alice was attached to Voodoo and Baron Samdi, she was beautiful.

You felt Alastor kneeled next to you, patting his daughter’s head.

“ This world is dangerous, Alice.”

“ Why…?” She whispered, looking at her father.

“ Because people like us exist.” Alastro stated. He tilted his head with an amused smile. “ What do you see? Come on, tell me.”

“ But I’m scared…”

“ Scared? Why would you?  your mother and I, are here? What could happen ?”

You smiled at your daughter who seemed to be reassured by her father’s words. You knew Alastro wasn’t trying to reassure her, he was stating the truth…

Alice began to look around, she even let you go and walked a little further with Alastor's shadow and your own, as her guard. You turned your head toward Alastor.

“ So, what do we do about John?”

After explaining to Alastor everything that happened with John, your husband didn’t say much. You had begged him to share his thoughts because you couldn’t be left in the dark with the recent evenement. His only answer was that he needed time, but he would talk to you soon.

Soon was now.

“ Well, what about him? Don’t you want to kill him dear? Or did you change your judgment because he was nice with you?” He tilted his head toward you with a menacing smile. “ Because he plays the role of the prince, the same prince you used to read when you were younger? Fighting his family for a dame?”

You frowned at this. What was he trying to do ? You didn’t say you wanted John to side with you. You were asking him his opinion.

“ Alastor, what are you talking about..?”

“ Do you really think John is going to betray Trey?”

“ It’s just… I can feel it, Alastor. John doesn’t know about Trey’s sins.” You said, taking his hand in yours.

“ Mnhn… Then, I’ll tell you what I know. John will never stop being in love with you. If you want to use him to bring Trey down, then I’m all ears my dear. But I know you, oh, I know you. I know your deeper fears, your deeper desires…” He leaned toward you and whispered in your ears. “ You want your happy ending from your books.”

You gasped, stepping back. You felt anger inside of you while Alastor was staring at you with a big smile.

“ John isn’t my happy ending!”

“ I know, dear.  But, I feel like you want that fairy tale ending and you know… I can’t give you that… Oh well, I could.” He kissed the back of your hand, staring into your eyes with that obsession you always craved. “ Say it, dear. And I shall be the perfect boring gentleman and give you that happy sappy bland ending.”

You imagined that life for a moment. That tasteless life, where your only problems would be to make sure Alastor would come home to a warm dinner… Long gone would be the excitement to gain new skills, to talk with spirits, to learn things from Papa Legba, to laugh with the Baron, to watch your shadows play together, to watch this bland life where Alice would be worth only as a married woman.

Long gone would be the bloodlust and mostly, the Alastor you loved, you craved, you were crazy about.

“ If I asked for that life, kill me.”

Alastor's eyes widened, his grip on your hand getting tighter. You could see his eyes staring at you, mostly trying to see if you were serious. He leaned toward your face.

“  Really..? Would you let me kill you?” He whispered, his voice shaking with desire. You stared at him, your heart beating faster, excitement pooling inside your belly. You grasped his tie and forced his lips against yours, moaning in relief at the feeling of this desperate, dark and twisted kiss.

“ Yes.”

After this, Alastor began to train Alice every afternoon. Of course you were there to make sure he wasn’t working her too hard. Alice seemed to learn quickly, way too quickly. You were worried, should a child learn so quickly…? But Alastor never asked her to do anything more than use her eyes. She could see things when her eyes were like that, she would point at something near the forest and when you walked over, it would be the corpse of an animal.

You guessed that she could see the spirit of animals, if they recently died. Alastor and you couldn’t be capable of such talents. You would stop her coming toward a decomposed animal, you didn’t want her to see that yet.

But of course, she was still a child with a power too strong for her.

The following nights, Alice would wake up by screaming in fear. Alastor and you would rush inside the room and she would talk about how the dead animals wanted to eat her, or come close to her.  

She would sleep in your bed, almost every night but you could see she was becoming more tired as days passed by. The nightmares were restless, and your little girl was becoming weaker as day went by.

You were at home, baking your daughter’s favorite dessert, as she was at school, when the phone rang. You wiped your head full of flour before answering.

“ Mrs. Sanglar? This is Gwen, Alice’s teacher. I’m calling because Alice fought against one classmate, could you come here around 4pm?”

You looked at Alastor who was leaning on the wall, next to you. You were dumbfounded, Alice fought against someone ? She could be full of herself, like your darling husband, but she wasn’t violent.

Alastor took the phone from your hand, and answered with a smile.

“ We are coming right now.”

As soon as you entered the school, you hasted toward the director’s office. You knocked and entered the room where Alice and another boy were sitting, their head down. Alastor walked toward your daughter and put his hand on her shoulder.

“ Now, what do we have here?”

You kneeled next to your daughter as the director said that he was waiting for the boy’s parents to come. You stroke her cheek with a reassuring smile. 

“ What happened, baby?”

“ I’m so tired mommy… Everything seems too loud… when… When someone touches me… It feels like.. It stings…I don’t want them to be near me… It’s too much..” She mumbled, her eyes becoming watery. You hugged her, carrying her in your arms.  You could see Alastor’s gaze on Alice, was he making sure she was okay..?

“ Little boy, do you want to explain why you fought against a girl?”

“ I’m sorry sir.. I just wanted to play with her… But then, she pushed me so hard without using her hands, I saw it! She was being weird ! Talking alone ! Looking where nobody was there! …She freaks me out…”

You frowned when you heard the boy’s explanation but didn’t do anything more. They were all children, he was just scared of the unknown. You kissed your daughter’s forehead, rocking her against your chest. 

“ May we go? Alice has been having nightmares, which explain why she is so tense and prone to violence. It won’t happen again.” You smiled to the director who didn’t acknowledge you, he turned his face toward your husband. 

“ Sir, I think–”

“ Did you just ignore my wife?”

The temperature dropped, making everyone freeze. You turned your eyes toward your husband who was smiling at the man, teeth bared. The poor man was trembling, shaking his head.

Aahh.. How long since someone was scared of him. How long since you had seen your husband as the predator he was…

You smiled pretty behind him, looking at the director who was trying to apologize to you, not that you cared anyway. Alastor whispered something in his ear before leaning back. You wished the wind would have brought you the sentence Alastor said that made the poor man pale so quickly.

“ Now, since everything is settled, we might go on our merry way. Have a nice day, gentlemen !”

Alastor guided toward the exit before driving you back home. Alice was in your arms.

“ Am I in trouble..?”

“ Why would you be?” Alastor asked, with an amused smile.

“ I… I pushed the boy… I did what mommy told me when I’m feeling overw…ower…”

“ Overwhelmed?”

“ Yes, that.” She said.

Alastor just snickered at that but didn’t ask for more. You hugged your daughter during the drive home, letting her fall asleep against your chest.

Once you were home, you put her in your bed with Eamon, knowing she would feel better if she saw the plushie by her side. You walked down the stare and freezed. Alastor was in his office, you could feel him.

And yet, you felt like you were being watched.

Trey..? No, it wasn’t the same feeling..

You closed your eyes and sat on the sofa. You concentrate on your yourself and feel your soul coming out of your body.  As soon as you did it, you could hear Alastor coming into the living room, sitting next to you, making sure your body wouldn’t hurt itself.

“ Dear, I guessed you felt something ?” He watched toward your direction without seeing you.

You flew around the house, trying to find the subject of your screaming instinct.

Maybe you were just being paranoid? 

You sighed, ready to go back to your body but stopped when you felt something in front of you. You flew toward the front door and looked around it. Nothing… Were you being paranoid?

Your eyes widened when you saw it and then everything scattered.

Alice woke up screaming while you were being tugged back in your body. Alastor took your face between his hands, his gaze serious.

“ What did you see?”

You were breathing hard, not being able to speak. You shook your head and pointed toward the door before running toward your bedroom where Alice was crying, squeezing Eamon against her. You hugged her hard, against you. Could she feel your inner turmoil after what you saw?

Were you even sure you saw it ?

You calmed Alice down before turning your head toward Alastor who came toward you with a sinister look even though his smile was still present. You stared at him, hiding Alice’s face against your chest.

“ Did you find it ?”

Alastor nodded before walking toward you, opening his palm.

Inside your husband’s hand was an eye. A human eye.

“ I think we know who this belongs to.” He whispered. 

Even if he was calm, you knew he was shaken. His gaze wasn’t leaving the eye. You knew who it belonged to, and you knew he did too. This eye he had seen since he was a child, the eye of the only man who tortured him all his childhood.

“ Your father’s.” You whispered.

He only nodded, before sighing. He shook his head, mumbling without you understanding anything.

You looked at Alice who calmed down a little. 

“ What did you dream about my baby?” You tried to smile at her, even if she had nightmares, sometimes it would be so bizarre that it would made you laugh and you would create a whole funny story about it.

“ A man was staring at me… With one eye missing.”

Alastor’s head snapped toward Alice while you froze, feeling a shiver in your whole body. He kneeled in front of her, his gaze fixated on her expression.

“ What did he look like?”

“ I don’t know… I didn’t want to watch him..?” She sniffed.

You observed Alastor’s face, he couldn’t hide how affected he was by this news. You put your hand on his shoulder with a reassuring smile.

“ Alastor… She dreamed of him. Don’t you remember, sometimes, Papa Legba would take my soul to show me something important ? Maybe the Baron did the same thing.” You said, with a soft smile even if you were shaken by this revelation. Legba always told you he would use your dream to give you information, did Baron Samedi do the same thing?

“ Yes… Maybe she was being warned, just like you used to.” He sighed, his hand going through his hair. “ Does that mean someone has already found my father’s corpse?”

In the deafening silence, you could only hear Alice's little voice.

“ I wasn't sleeping.”

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