#it’s painting with a broad brush and it’s close minded

[demigodofhoolemere]

Me through most of Boom: Wow, this is a really solid dramatic episode.

Me when Moffat needlessly sprinkles in anti-faith sentiments without specifying that it’s blind faith in bad things that the Doctor doesn’t like, which makes it come off like the Doctor is just against religion generally:

[justblades]

┈── ⟣ tracing their tacet marks! scar, jiyan, & aalto

notes: fluff & slight crack, reader is rover, gender neutral! reader. inspired by this tweet, not proofread.

SCAR : with feather touches, you trail the lines of the tacet mark on his neck with your thumb, drawing zig zag lines to follow its outline. his lips were sewn shut the first second, but gradually lets loose as he realizes what you were doing.

"having fun, rover?" he queries with a growing smirk carved on his lips, heterochromic eyes of solferino red and slate gray hues carefully watching yours as your vision anchors to the end of the mark on his neck.

the male then wraps his dominant hand around your wrist, much to your surprise and proceeds to inch closer, rubbing his scarred, sunken cheek on the back of your hand. the same smile still carved upon his features, a tranquil atmosphere envelops the two of you. as if you were put in a trance, his ivory colored locks ripple along the gust of the wind that blows. "i've always known you were a curious one. don't worry, you can always do whatever you'd like to me."

his tone insinuates something different from what he says, as always, he likes to dawdle around words that are more than what meets the eye. yet still, you couldn't help but indulge in a passing moment where silence runs through your system and revel in the fact that you get to do this to scar, who's always, for some reason, unpredictable at times. grateful for your status as a rover, this is a privilege you had come to appreciate in each day that elapses.

you can tell for certain this part of his doesn't receive that much attention, nor affection - evident enough from his expression. he simply closes his eyes, letting everything at the moment unfold naturally with no more unnecessary remarks to be told. "feel free to do whatever makes you happy."

JIYAN : the general gazes solemnly at the vista of infrastructures in the jinzhou city, getting lost at the view as petals of emortia brush softly back and forth on his legs. a strong, gelid wind blows upon your dewed skin, you notice how he hangs his head low, now admiring the bed of flowers where his efforts brought him - a sudden thought lighting up his mind.

he sits down on the field, one leg up and the other resting on the ground. the teal haired then calls to you, "come, sit beside me." voice laced of resolution and velvet, his tone was not of command, but an honest request. you tread towards the general's figure, his broad back and the tacet mark exposure befitting the view in front of you.

curiosity piques your mind, when suddenly, your index finger ghosts a touch on the middle of his mark. a jerk movement erupts as a bodily reflex, his lips part wide from the unanticipated gesture - tassel earrings dangling along his movement as he looks at you with a confused expression painted on his face. "apologies, that was unexpected . . ." he pauses, golden eyes anchoring from your hand to your face. "but i'd like to ask why."

a short silence with no sound but the wind blowing ensues, "your tacet mark's bigger than those i've previously seen. sorry for the unprompted touch like that." you display an apologetic smile, eyes squinted with a hint of begging for the general's mercy. he turns his attention back to jinzhou's breathtaking scenery, feeling the breeze once more with his guard let loose, at least for now.

jiyan flashes you a small smile in return, "no problem. i don't mind." he simply answers. as if you could see every glimmer of light from the city reflecting in his amber eyes, you could get lost at the imagery inside as you proceed to draw the outline of the tacet mark on his back.

a darker color in stark contrast to his fair skin, the view becomes even more beautiful: the general simply lives in the present tranquil moment, perhaps these light touches will serve as a soft reminder that it is alright to rest once a while. after all, being a general is being a bastion of hope and resolution. amidst having a solid, hard resolve, perhaps soft moments and touches will surely melt the toughest heart of depths.

AALTO : "can i touch your tacet mark?" you delve straight to the point and reach out to the side of his neck even though you haven't received an answer yet. goosebumps ride on his skin as he feels the delicate contact follow along the mark's bizarre shape. he feigns composure and turns his head to the opposite side, just so you wouldn't witness him at his vulnerable state.

although the slower you traced on the tacet mark, the more impatience gnawed at his bones and his sensitivity heightens. "w-wait! why are you doing this?" he inquires and takes a step back for a moment, one eyebrow raised, obviously confused at your actions as of late. "i was just wondering if it was sensitive." you reply and step closer to him once more, driving him to a corner where he'd find no refuge from whatever you're planning to do.

suddenly, a gust of wind leaves a silhouette in front of your eyes in a wink, the pseudo figure of him doing a heart pose with both his hands feel like he's poking fun at you. "come on, aalto, just one!" you purposely exclaim. emerging victorious the moment he comes back to the spot, he heaves a dreary sigh. "i suppose it can't be helped."

he stands still and waits for the teasing episode to come to an end. you reach out your index finger and trail your fingertip on his soft skin, paying attention to his body language all at the same to see if there could be any information you could get out of the man - even if it did not appear to be beneficial at all.

the intel broker then peers at you with a bashful look cast on his flaxen irises, feigning obliviousness but the bit lip was clearly an indicator that he's not used to this. watching his poorly stifled expressions, you could not restrain yourself anymore and a chuckle slips from the margins of your lips, "that was surprisingly entertaining." you state as a matter of fact, comical tears about to well up in your eyes.

"shall i trace your tacet mark again next time?" you ask in a rhetorical manner, heart brimming with wonder. "that'd be the last." he says bluntly and takes a swift turn around, proceeding to put on his tinted glasses as a last resort to upkeep his cool guy style.

[leonsleftbicep]

Quirks i’ve noticed Sleep Token Members have

mind you, this is things i’ve just noticed from from the concert videos i have caught out of no where

Vessel

big stomps

flaps arms and hands when hes dancing

scrunches his face in photos with flash

squeezes himself with an arm to calm himself

II

broad stance

almost always wears vans

right eye is slower to open the his left (hes just super sleepy)

III

flicks his hands

brushes his hand over his head trying to “smooth back his hair”

pants are always regular length and never tall length just so socks are on display

head bangs like his hair is out

thumb holes in long sleeves (hes just like me for real)

loosy goosy dance moves

looks like he would punch you if you acted wrong to someone hes close to

IV

hood up almost always

40 year old dance moves

palms not painted purposfully

sassy/saucy body movements

adjusts the soft mask A LOT

props up guitar with his right thigh during the summoning solo

i feel i missed a couple but thats okay!

(i do indeed know that some of these are for technical reasons and such but i just notice them and want to write them down)

[ja3yun]

bro imagine tdh heeseung telling yn to come over real fast bcs he practically owns her and when she arrives he gave yn a bouquet of flowers just because like crazy but heeseung’s new cover just STUCK IN MY MIND

okaaaay my mind went wild with this so this might not be what you are looking for (sorry!)

warnings: heelzebub, smut (mdni), leg humping, coercion, blood, mentions of killing, not proofread

wc: 1.4k

the doll house masterlist

As you step into Heeseung’s room, the first thing you notice is his tall, broad back. His imposing stature always leaves you feeling unsettled. Each time he summons you, a sense of dread accompanies you, anticipating what task he might have in store. So far, it’s been manageable—spending time with Soonyeol, bringing her hard-to-find snacks, and anything else that might make her happy.

It would almost be endearing, if not for his persistent attempts to lure you into bed each time you cross the threshold.

You take a deep breath and prepare yourself for whatever Heeseung has planned today. He turns around, his gaze locking onto yours with an intensity that always makes your heart race.

"You're here," he says, his voice low and smooth.

Nodding, you hang your tote bag on the bannister of his bed and walk towards him. “With five minutes to spare,” you snide, crossing your arms. “So, what’s wrong with her now? You didn’t ask me to bring anything.”

His eyes trail over your body, taking in the sundress that perfectly hugs your curves. Delight paints his face, his tongue instinctively running along his bottom lip as visions of your naked form cloud his mind.

“You look breathtaking, baby. A vision in yellow,” he mutters, his eyes fixated on your cleavage. A sly smile spreads across his face as he takes a step closer, his presence overwhelming. "Wait here for a moment," he says, his voice a blend of command and charm.

Before you can respond, he turns and walks out of the room, leaving you standing there. You hear the faint sound of a door opening and closing, then silence. Your curiosity piqued, you glance around the room, taking in the expensive furnishings and the subtle scent of his cologne lingering in the air.

Moments later, Heeseung returns, his hands behind his back. As he approaches, he reveals a stunning bouquet of flowers, an array of vibrant colours and fragrant blooms. The sight takes you by surprise, and for a moment, your breath catches in your throat.

"These are for you," he says softly, extending the bouquet towards you. The gesture is unexpected, and you can’t help but feel a flicker of warmth beneath your guarded exterior.

You take the flowers, their delicate petals brushing against your fingers. "What's this for?" you ask, unable to hide your curiosity.

Heeseung's expression softens, a rare glimpse of sincerity breaking through his usual demonic demeanour. "Just a little something to show my appreciation. For all you do for Soonyeol. And for putting up with me."

But you don’t buy it, knowing that this is buttering you up for something worse than just a girl's day with his minder. You shiver at the thought, thinking the worst as your mind swirls with possibilities.

He sees your doubtfulness and snickers, “Baby, you don’t trust me?”

"I don’t, no," you reply bluntly, meeting his gaze with unwavering suspicion.

That causes Heeseung to laugh out loudly, shaking his head in disbelief. He knows you have no reason to trust him, but hearing you say it outright fills him with amusement.

Taking one of the petals between his thumb and forefinger, he watches it as it crumbles beneath his harsh touch, his signature smirk reappearing on his face. Something delicate like this deserves a gentle touch, something Heeseung is incapable of.

“You’re right not to trust me, angel,” he whispers thoughtfully, his hooded eyes meeting yours and eliciting a flutter of butterflies in your stomach. “Just like pretty roses. They’re beautiful on the surface,” he continues, his voice low and hushed as though sharing a deep secret. Taking one of your hands, he guides it to the exposed stems, squeezing your hand tightly around them.

That's when you feel the sharp cuts of the thorns digging into your palm, making you wince. His strength overpowers yours as you try to fight his hold. As you look up at him pleadingly, feeling the blood rush out and coat both your hand and his, he does nothing but stare intensely at you. “But they’re sinister the deeper you go.”

Your heart pounds as the pain sharpens, the cruel irony of the beautiful flowers cutting into your flesh not lost on you. Heeseung's eyes, dark and unyielding, seem to drink in your discomfort.

Tears prick at the corners of your eyes, not just from the pain, but from the helplessness of the situation. He finally releases your hand, and you immediately pull it back, cradling it against your chest. Blood seeps from the punctures and onto your dress and chest, only to the elation of Heeseung.

Taking your hand, he kisses your wounds tenderly, licking the blood from you with greed. You gasp as you feel his tongue slowly and tantalisingly heal you, causing you to hold back a moan. This shouldn’t be turning you on, yet as always with Heeseung, even things deemed evil have a way of making you feel lustful.

He focuses his attention on your chest now, licking the drops of blood from the flesh of your tits, dragging it up to your neck, sinking his teeth into you - not enough to puncture you but enough for you to wish he had.

That makes you mewl out, dropping the flowers as you press your body to his and cling to him. His aura pulls you in time and time again, making you a victim to his allure each and every time you see him.

But this feels more desperate than the other times, you need him now, more than you have ever; and Heeseung knows this.

Placing his leg between yours, he ruts his knee up to meet your pulsing cunt, offering you some relief as you grind down on him. “There you go,” he whispers in your ear, his hands holding you steady as you find a rhythm you’re comfortable with, “Doesn’t it feel good to give in? To surrender to your sins rather than keep your morals?”

You are so lost in the feeling of his knee and thigh and the pleasure you’re receiving from it that you simply nod, agreeing with him. You can’t deny this feels incredible, you aren’t a liar.

Kissing along your jaw, you feel his wicked grin as you comply with his words. “You want to give in, don’t you?”

“Yes.”

“You want to come back to me and live here with us again, don’t you?”

“Yes.”

“You want Soonyeol out of the picture, don’t you?”

“Yes!”

You feel your orgasm approaching as he guides your hips to grind your clit in the perfect position, picking up speed. You haven’t realised what you agreed to, too lost in the ecstasy that your mind isn’t thinking straight.

That only makes Heeseung happier as he has you exactly where he wants you. Pawing at your ass, he moves his body in tandem with yours, his focus to get you off and have you succumb to his offer, that one that has been hanging over your head since the first time he had you.

With your high approaching, you grip his shoulders and move your hips faster, that familiar coil in your stomach tightening and your heart picking up speed.

“Kiss me, seal in your well-deserved fate,” he coaxes you as you start to release over his leg. Shocks of pleasure rip through you as you cry out his name and your body crumbles where it stands.

But much like post-nut clarity, you somehow come to when his lips are a centimetre from yours, teasing you with the opportunity to have Soonyeol’s life once more. Quickly, you push him away before he can seal your deal, panting as your chest rises and falls in time with your heart.

“What the fuck, Heeseung!” you exclaim, frantically gathering your bag and scrambling away from him, “Don’t fuck with me like that.”

His eyes are flushed with that crimson hue that you hate to love so much, his hand palming over his cock. “Baby, I can seal it another way if you want, if you bring that pretty pussy over here I can make your dreams come true.”

Shaking your head, your back reaches the door and you open it, “I sold my soul to you for my dream, this is nothing but a fantasy.”

“I can sell you a fantasy, Y/N. Anything you want,” he chides, moving closer.

But before you get lost in him once again, you bolt out the door, hurriedly walking down the hallways. You can’t believe what you’ve just done, what you almost did, you betrayed Sunghoon and Jaeyun while almost getting Soonyeol killed, all for your own pleasure.

Poking his head out, Heeseung laughs, “Baby, you forgot your flowers.”

[zorosdimples]

BETWEEN YOU AND ME (AND THE SEA)

pairing ༄ zoro x gn!reader

warnings ༄ suggestive content (this takes place after sex). slight angst that ends in sweet comfort. brief descriptions of violence and wounds. love as religion/love as worship.

word count ༄ 911

notes ༄ this fic is just an insanely intense pillow talk session with my favorite man (i don’t know how to be normal). it’s brimming with love. please enjoy!

p.s. i use the word “bokken” to denote a wooden practice sword.

“i would die for you.”

your breath caresses zoro’s heaving chest, his tawny skin damp, glistening under the moon’s pearly glow. the air is still in the crow’s nest; the only sound to disturb the lulling midnight is the gentle lap of the wine-dark sea.

it takes the swordsman several moments to process your words, his mind still hazy from the events of your shared watch. one wide palm rests on the soft curve of your lower back while he absentmindedly strokes the arch of your neck.

“hm?” zoro belatedly rumbles, brows knit in confusion.

you raise your head to meet your lover’s steel gaze. the look in your eye—zoro knows it well. beneath the heady cloud of contentment is the crazed glint of worship, shining like a honed blade. it’s a look that both terrifies him in its depth and comforts him in its earnestness.

will he ever be worthy of your devotion?

“i’m not particularly brave or strong,” you start, a fingertip etching love into his flesh as you trace the jagged edges of the scar that slashes across his torso—the ghost of an injury that almost took him from you.

“but i would do anything for you, zo. i would die for you. and it should scare me, that i feel so deeply.” your finger stills, hovering above his heart, beat steadfast as the foamy tide. “but when it comes to you? i lose all my inhibitions. i would die for you in an instant.”

even in the dusky quiet, zoro’s hands are broad and warm as the sun. they are an extension of his weapons, instruments of death. yet he cradles your cheeks with devastating care as he pulls your face to his own. his jaw flexes resolutely as he grits out, “don’t say shit like that.”

“not saying it doesn’t make it any less true,” you murmur.

few things scare the swordsman; he knows death’s face, having brushed shoulders with the endless ether more times than he can count. when he dreams, he wades through a river of ichor as asura, violence incarnate.

but your vulnerability frightens him—how you lay your heart bare and expect nothing in return.

the way you live goes against everything zoro has ever known, against his basest instincts to keep his emotions close to his chest, to fight the burden of existence with blood in his maw, to survive at any cost.

(it’s a bitter january evening and snow flurries paint the eaves of the dojo white. zoro’s stomach growls, hunger gnawing at his intestines. his young, scrawny limbs ache with overuse. the room is frigid; his simple robe is not nearly enough to keep the color in his cheeks.

this dreaded overnight practice is punishment for pilfering onigiri from the kitchen several days prior. hunger is but a distraction for the weak. he must repent with grueling drills. but in the middle of an overhead swing, he loses feeling in his arms, the bokken clattering to his feet.

his sensei tsks in disappointment. “the way of the sword is absolute, roronoa. you eat and sleep and breathe by the blade. the second you lose focus—the moment you lose sight of what is important—you will cease to be a swordsman.”

tears of frustration prick the young boy’s eyes, but he holds his tongue, picking up the bokken without sound or complaint. he doesn’t realize that his palms are cracked and that the wooden hilt is stained sanguine. he continues training until dawn.)

zoro licks his chapped lips. his tongue is always loose when it’s just the two of you and the sea. “i’m not worth it.”

a frown pinches your features. adorable, he wants to say as you wrap your arms around his neck with a huff.

“what makes you think your life is worth any less than luffy’s? than chopper’s? than mine?”

zoro assesses you for a moment, feline eye unreadable. he measures his words with unusual care. “my role is to protect. it was—it is—my vow to luffy.”

threading your fingers through his mint tresses, you tug, concern rolling off of you in waves. “then who’s left to protect you, zo?”

his mind answers without hesitation: no one. (the little boy with the bloodstained bokken weeps.)

“let me protect you,” you entreat, lips brushing his, ardent as a prayer.

the fates, in their divine and impartial wisdom, must have made a grave mistake: spinning the claret thread of your fate, meting it out, and mistakenly intertwining it with the swordsman’s. zoro is certain that it’s a miscarriage of justice—not that the gods have ever been preoccupied with fairness.

did he do something in a past life to deserve your reverence?

“i can’t,” he breathes. but his iron resolve is rusting, fissures compromising the once-gleaming surface.

“you can.”

zoro has never considered himself to be a good man. you are eager to give, and he wants nothing more than to receive. he drinks in your affection so greedily that he doesn’t notice how his lone eye burns when he claims your lips with his own, heartfelt i love yous exchanged between spit and tongue.

the tears are silent as they drip down his freckled cheek; you swipe each of them away with a thumb before dotting kisses across his salty flesh. zoro has half a mind to be embarrassed—swordsmen don’t cry.

but if there is one absolute truth in this cursed world, it’s this: his heart is safe with you and you alone.

[rafeyscurtainbangs]

Backseat - Rafe Cameron Daydreams ☁️

+18 Minor DNI

Frat!Rafe x Yearning!Reader

+18 Minor DNI

🪄 warnings: brief unprotected p in v, language

📖 You and Rafe want to hook up but the rooms are all taken

✨ “Round two aight? You’re not gettin away from me.” ✨

400

Rafe’s strong arm wraps around your shoulder as he walks you up the stairs of the frat house for the most unnecessary tour, considering all you have on your mind is him and getting him alone. All his words are going in one ear and out the other. The only thing you’re retaining is the depth of his tone and rasp in his voice, making you even wetter.

Rafe reaches down, turning his door knob finding it locked. “No fuckin’ way,” he hisses. His eyebrows furrow, annoyance painted all over his face as he lifts his fist, banging on the door. You hear Top next, screaming that the room is occupied. Rafe’s hardened demeanor softens again as he leans his back into the wooden door, pulling you in by the small of your back as he wets his lip, flipping his snapback around to lessen the space between you even more.

“Occupied,” you pout, body buzzing as you find yourself deliciously close to his lips, just far enough to see his smile curl into a smirk. “You think any of these are free?”

“It’s a big house, doll. We got options…” He croons. “My trucks always free if you wanna be alone. We don’t need to play this guessing game.”

“Your truck huh?” You light up just enough – Rafe, takes his chance, leading you in the opposite direction a moment later. The two of you walk back through the packed frat house as you feel your heart start to pick up speed. As soon as you pass the threshold you let out a gasp as Rafe takes you into his arms. You wrap yours lazily around his neck, fingers lightly scratching at the nape of his neck making the blonde groan and smile. “So…”

“So…” You giggle, cocking your head ever so slightly. Rafe chuckles, turning his gaze narrowly, trying to compose himself.

“I like you, sweetheart.”

“I like you too,” you add, making Rafe turn his full focus back to you.

“I don’t want you to think I’m out here for a quick fuck. ‘Cause I’m not.”

Your eyes widen at his words, lips pulling in a sweeping smile. “We’re fuckin’, Cameron?” You asks in that breathy tone that has him pushing your back against the side of his lifted truck, hauling you into a searing kiss. Rafe’s tongue slips between your lips, reeling with yours as his body grinds into you, pulling away between kisses to confirm exactly what you wanted.

“Yeah – yeah we are.” He opens the passenger’s side door, setting you down, making you gasp as he lays back the seat fast. The two of you works off your clothes, stealing kisses in between. Your bare skin clings to the leather as Rafe pulls you to the edge of the seat, moving closer on his knees with one hand on his cock, the other on your hip.

Your fingers trace down his broad chest, catching all that you can see in the dark. A single streetlight gives you a sliver of light, just a glimpse of his tanned, toned skin, and muscles. “I wish I could see you,” you sigh.

“Round two aight? You’re not gettin away from me.”

“Okay,” you respond dizzily as your fingers trace through his abs, retreating to hook around his neck as his fat tip glides through your folds, catching your clit making you moan. Rafe leans in again, just like he did in the frat house, that same magnetism pulling you in as well. Rafe’s lips brush softly against yours, pressing firmly as he pushes in.

Your lips separate from his as they fall open in a soft “o”. Rafe kisses the corner of your mouth as his cock fills you completely. “Rafe…” You squeal. He circles his hips, letting you adjust to his size to no avail as he stretches you out like never before.

“Holy shit…” He grunts in reply as he drags his long, thick cock out making you whine at the loss of him. “You feel too damn good, princess. You alright?”

“So good…”

The car is quiet, the soft bass of the party is all that’s heard between Rafe’s teasingly shallow thrusts resulting in lewd squelching of your wet pussy, making him chuckle smugly. Rafe reaches up, wrapping his hands around the two metal bars connecting the seat to the headrest. His big biceps flex as he curls his fingers around the metal, no doubt planning on using his grip to fuck you right. “Ready for more?”

[jolapeno]

16. apple green

frankie morales x f!reader | chapter sixteen of do me yourself

summary: a meet-cute in a hardware store? impossible, out of the question. except, that's exactly what happens. a need for screws leads you to a broad-shouldered, brown-eyed man who you're sure is about to change your day, never mind your life.

wordcount: 3.7k chapter warnings: dad!frankie. frankie calls you 'rainy' (paint-related from chp.1) no other descriptions or name used. no use of y/n. FLIRTATION TO THE MAX. an: this chapter made me beam from start to finish. like my face hurts.

prev chapter | series masterlist

key: frankie is in bold, you are in italics

It’s long, your exhale. Stretching out slow and full, cheeks still tingling with the lingering ache of laughter as you gaze at the horizon.

Just where the sun dips; its final rays painting the sky in lavender and rose. You're joined by a gentle, warm breeze whispering through the air, carrying the salty scent of the sea and the soft hum of waves caressing the shore's golden sand.

The air is cooler now under the encroaching dusk, as the tide steals the footprints, making them vanish.

And it’s perfection. All of it.

A moment you wish you could pause and live, exactly like this, for a handful of hours.

The sound of flip-flops meeting soles is what eventually ruins it.

It pulls your glance over your shoulder, watching his approach—shades shielding his eyes, hair loose in slightly longer curls, it almost dry from your earlier fun in the water.

Then you see his smirk. The one which grows as he nears, knowing what you’re thinking, even if you try to hide it. Because if you had gone to grab pizzas, you’d be face down in the sand—food ruined, embarrassment smothering over your cheeks. But, he carries it one-handed like it’s nothing. A bottle of soda under his arm and a plastic bag dangling from his wrist, as you shift on the blanket that’s still warm from the sun, arms reaching up to help.

“Hey, Butterscotch.”

“Hey, Mi lluviosa.”

You don't even fight how you beam at your nickname's new variation. The one that had slipped out when he'd turned his alarm off, eyes all closed with your face buried into his neck.

The jingle of his car keys sounds as he throws them to the edge of the blanket, watching him join you as the scent of melted cheese, tomato and toppings greet your nose before you even open the box.

“Smells so good.”

He utters a soft agreement as your knee abuts his; periodically glancing at him as you grab a slice, chewing with a smile as he wrestles with his toppings and strands of cheese from tangling in his beard.

By the time you’re both full, the chill of the evening air is making you shiver, when you gently slot the cardboard lids back into place. Tenderly, as you watch another wave rise and crash against the beach, your palms tenderly brush up and down your arms.

He notices—or must do. Moving onto his knees to dig around the duffel you’d both brought—a jacket pulled out, before sliding it around your shoulders, coming to sit behind you. Legs on either side as the scent of him joins you.

Toes wiggling in the sand, his hands sliding over your legs, you turn. “Would you rather be a jellyfish or a starfish?”

Exhaling a groan, your back comes to rest on his chest. Eased there, guided. Your ankle accidentally nudges one of the half-empty pizza boxes in your movements—a thing you hope remains sand-free from when you get back to his and decide you wish to nibble on a little more.

Blowing out a puff of air, it tickles against your ear as his arms come around you. “Jellyfish.”

“Is it because they glow in the dark?”

Laughing, kissing the side of your head. “No. But that is a good reason.”

“You want to sting people, don’t you?”

Sliding your hand around the back of his neck, fingers scratching at his hair, smiling, biting down on your lip as he presses another kiss.

“Maybe.”

“Deviant.”

Softly blowing against your ear, drawing shapes along his scalp as he whispers, you love it.

And you do.

Fuck you do.

Do you think I need to reconsider jeans and a black tee for what we’re getting up to today?

No, you’ll be fine. I’m putting up some shelves is all.

Does this mean you’re going to tuck a little pencil behind your ear?

Do you like the idea of that?

Might do.

I’m beginning to worry you’re with me for my hobbies and not me.

How about you stop looking so hot when you do your hobbies?

I’ll try. It’s hard to turn off.

HA HA HA.

HA.

You're there, in a stranger's home, for all of ten minutes before you realise that you’re not needed. Not that Frankie says anything.

Only confirming it when you ask, “You sure you don't need me to hold this?” Voice-breaking the quiet hum of the electric drill he’s holding.

Carefully re-positioning one of the wooden shelves against the wall, his brow furrows in concentration, a single dark curl falling over his forehead as he glances from the step-ladder, eyes nothing short of warm and twinkling despite the overcast light. “I've got it, but your company makes it easier,” he replies, tone nothing short of affectionate, sweet, truthful.

“Francisco Morales, did you want me here as eye candy?”

He buries his answer with the drill as you wander over to the window smirking, seeing that the sky is still a thick blanket of grey, clouds heavy with the threat of rain. Even without the window open, you know the air is cool, likely damp, carrying a hint of petrichor as you turn on your heels, watching from your new position.

You don’t suppress the small smile that plays on your lips—something comforting about the sight of him so focused, so intent on getting everything just right.

“Could you just pass that for me?”

Smirking, you quickly move over to pick up what he’s gesturing at, turning it over in your hand. “This?”

“Please.”

Biting your lip, grinning. “What do I get for it?”

“The knowledge I’d be done earlier.”

Tilting your head from side to side, you scrunch your face—almost wanting to twirl the tool.

“What if I wish that you'd do me yourself, Morales?”

Pausing, the wood in his hand lowers down the wall as he turns his head, staring, mouth falling open before he eventually rests the plank against the wall. Slowly coming down the steps, across the plastic-covered floor, it all scrunching under his boots. “That what you want?”

His hands slide around your waist, palms flat, dragging along the fabric that covers your skin, rippling fire out across your body as you curl in, arch, ghosting your mouth over his.

“We can’t fuck in this person’s house, Frankie.”

Groaning, low, deep in the back of his throat, you smile—mirroring the one he traces across yours. “Remind me why?”

“You make me messy.”

Grunting, pressing it to your neck. “Yeah?”

Nodding, biting your lip, pulling his face up by your palms on his cheeks, mouth ghosting over his. “Really messy.”

Inhaling, you feel him agree. Mouth meeting yours, before you ease his nose to your lips, pressing a kiss. “Finish drilling, Morales. Then we can go home and you can drill me.”

He mumbles something in Spanish under his breath.

Guess how my morning has been?

Wonderful? Full of coffee and people asking for tips on how to twist a screw in.

No, not everyone is you. Harold has asked me three times when he’s next seeing you.

Oh yeah, I should really return his call for our second date.

I know you’re joking, but ouch.

Don’t worry, Francisco. He’s just a side piece. You’re the main. I want to get lunch, do you want me to bring you some and then you can pee around me so he knows?

Please. He keeps asking if you like diamonds.

Tell him I’m not mad at a diamond.

Shooting a wink at Harry, he lifts his chest up from his leaned position on the counter. Head dipping, fingers sliding across his lips as though they’re a zip before tapping his nose.

That familiar scent greets you just as graciously. All fresh-cut wood, spilt paint and lemon disinfectant, as well as Harold's aftershave. The one change—the biggest—is the missing crackle of the radio, you had found a compact, newer one a few weeks back, placing it on the counter with a big red bow and a card for Harry.

Bag swinging in your fingers, it’s a hunt to find him. Peering down aisles, eventually spotting him crouched—cargo trousers doing their utmost to remain stitched across his thighs.

You’re grateful he wears an apron that covers his groin. Half-fearful of the eye contact you’d give the area in what he’s currently wearing.

Digging your hand into the bag, and retrieving the top plastic carton, you do a little wiggle down the aisle with it.

“What’s this?”

Shrugging, stopping just before him as he stands. “Cake?”

Placing his clipboard down, narrowing his eyes as he takes it, turning it over.

“Butterscotch—that’s the flavour.”

Scrunching his face, he sighs. “I… I don’t know if I like it, baby.”

“Well, more for me.”

Smiling, pressing a kiss to your cheek, he motions to peer in the bag. “You like it?”

“Well, I like you.”

“Not sure it’ll taste like me.”

Tongue in your cheek, looking him up and down as he straightens, you wait a beat, and then another, before adding, “Shame. Guess I’ll have to keep eating you then.”

“Menace.”

Moving close, lips almost touching his, you whisper the same words he said to you only a day or two ago, you love it. A low whine leaves his lips, stifling it against your mouth, a crooked finger under your chin, making kissing a little easier.

“Wanna eat in the office?” he asks.

“I was thinking we could eat as you cut wood. I love sawdust seasoning.”

Pinching your side, not able to stop the giggle, he turns you on the spot, leading you back down the aisle you’d come down. “Go in, I’ll be a moment—just gonna tell Harold that I’m going on break.”

Nodding, twirling on the spot, you wink. “Tell him I love him.”

His palm manages to catch you on your ass as you roar with laughter.

Butterscotch Morales.

I’ve been first named.

Did you put flowers on my car?

Maybe I did. Maybe I didn’t.

You lured me there to be romantic?

Well, it is very hard to be romantic when you’re at my house.

I can go home early if you want.

Don’t you fucking dare.

Noted.

I also think you’re doing just fine in the romantic department. For one, they’re gorgeous. And the deep clean you gave me in the shower this morning still has my thighs shaking.

I don’t think you know how good you look with soap suds on your skin.

I have an idea now.

You fancy anything particular for dinner tonight?

Can you be on the menu?

I think it can be arranged for dessert.

Okay. Then tacos?

Double helping for me then.

Francisco!

You’re smirking I can feel it from here.

You know before you open your eyes what day it is. A mixed blend of emotions that flood you as you wake to the thick scent of freshly brewed coffee, breakfast—maybe eggs, you can’t be sure.

Heart both full and heavy as it coaxes you from your sleep, your lashes flutter, eyes blinking as you stretch your arm out across his dark bedsheets. You hate that you can feel the warmth fading. Dismay flutters in your chest, as you begin to fight the urge to roll face down into his sheets and glue yourself to his mattress.

“Morning, baby,” he whispers, interrupting, eyes finding him in the doorway, leaning, head resting against his bicep, a slither of his stomach on show as his top pulls up. “I’m making us breakfast.”

“You didn’t have to…”

“I wanted to,” he replies, palm patting against his thigh. “If you want a shower, you have time.”

“Telling me I smell?”

Tongue sliding over the front of his teeth, he smiles—mischievously. “Maybe I just want you to smell like my soap for when you go home.”

Home you think. A tightness in your chest all but inflicted by the word. Four letters. Barely anything. Yet, you have to bite down on the inside of your cheek when he kisses your forehead and heads back out of the room.

It bubbles as you glance around the room—his room—taking in the cosy armchair with your jacket laid over it, the photograph of you and him surrounded by ones of Luca, Frankie and Luca or his friends.

Then, you hear him singing. The sound makes your heart throb at the same time as it brings a smile to your face as you head to his bathroom.

You find that the only benefit to showering is wrapping yourself in his cosy robe before you make your way to the living room.

Frankie lounges on the sofa, hand patting the spot beside him. You eagerly curl up next to him, nestling your head against his chest as his arm wraps around you, the other hand resting on your knee, thumb tracing soothing circles.

The tray of breakfast sits on the coffee table. You reach for a piece of toast, nibbling as you settle in. After a moment, you taste it—the eggs cooked just how you like, the toast perfect, just the way you love it. Of course, he has.

Frankie watches you with a tender expression, his fingers continuing their gentle caress on your knee.

“You excited?” you murmur between bites, “He’ll be here soon.”

Hand stroking over your leg, he swallows. “Yeah, I’ve missed him,” he replies, his voice a low, comforting rumble.

You look up at him, your heart swelling with love. “He’s going to have so many stories.”

Snorting, he runs a hand down his face. “Oh, I know.”

You smile, let the tranquillity of the moment wash over you, savouring the simple joy of being with the man you love. Curled up together. “Thank you for letting me see him before I go.”

His cheeks flush slightly, and he leans down to kiss the top of your head. “You know you don’t have to go.”

Staring at him, thumb swiping over his upper lip, removing the crumb from a slice of toast. “I should. Before I never leave.”

The tip of his tongue peeks out, swiping across his lower lip as his fingers do a dance on your leg. “That doesn’t sound half bad.”

Rolling your eyes, picking up your coffee. “You can ask me better than that, Morales.”

You don’t add that you hope he does.

Draining more of your coffee as you stare at him over the porcelain, placing it down before kissing his cheek.

“I should go pack.”

His groan follows you as you head back off to dress—folding things, shoving others into a bag and cleaner clothes back into your drawer.

It’s a try, an almost fail to not feel a sting of tears as you leave your bag on the bed.

The embers of it flickering inside of you even when you take over cleaning for him when he tells you Sam’s car is pulling up. It almost douses it, his joy, drying the mug in your hand when you peer into the living room as the front door is flown open and you see Frankie bear-hugging Luca as Sam follows in behind him.

Miss you’s turn into excitable tales. Occasionally translated by Sam as you wipe the side free from water, closing a cupboard quietly and drying your hands.

Then, when you’re about to slyly move into the room discreetly, you hear her call your name.

For a second, your head turns, but you don’t move. Just glancing, pulse pounding in your ear as you find Sam smiling, waiting, brows slightly raised as though you hadn’t made it up that she’d spoken your name.

“Can we talk… outside?”

It takes all of your restraint not to flick your eyes to Frankie.

For what, you’re not sure—reassurance, need, it all blurs into a stew inside of you as you reply, following her through the living room and out of the front door.

Nails digging into your palm, you try to breathe. In and out, out and in. But it builds.

And it builds.

And it builds.

Unable to stop the anxiety shifts into something thicker, less easy to keep down. It rises in your throat, choking you. Something similar to bile, as your head runs through a thousand things—whether you’d been too much with Luca, whether Frankie hadn’t shared that you’d be here, whether and whether and—

“I wanted to thank you,” Sam begins, smiling, hands linked together in front of herself, “Frankie… he’s a great, great dad—”

“The best,” you add. And then shame blooms over the anxiety at interrupting.

Sam, though, doesn't seem fazed. If anything unbothered. “The best. I’m very lucky to co-parent with him. But—”

Your stomach knots. Tightens.

A ball swelling inside of you as it becomes harder to breathe, to take full ones that fill you with air and rational thinking.

“I know he didn’t help make all those things.”

Oh, you think.

Shoulders unlodging from your ears, sliding down to their normal place.

“You must have spent hours on them,” she continues, a soft line in her forehead appearing as her face lightly scrunched, “All of them. The t-shirt? The candle? The card—the card, was so, so nice. It was so thoughtful. I can’t… I am not ashamed to admit I cried my fucking eyes out.”

Shifting your weight, a smile breaking out, “It was all Luca’s idea. I just wanted—”

“I imagine some of it was, but not all of it.”

You blink. It’s that or let your eyes fill up too. Seeing her staring, watching, with nothing but gratefulness on her face.

“I’m… I’m glad he has you,” Sam says quickly, almost hurriedly. “Luca. And Frankie.”

Her hands come around her waist before relaxing at her side, lips rolling, looking as nervously as you did moments ago.

“Thank you, for helping him with the gifts,” she continues.

Swallowing, you nod. “Anytime—if that’s okay? I… I don’t want to be anything but Rainy to him.”

Smiling, she inhales. “I know.”

“Good.”

A beat happens, the two of you finding yourselves admiring the other when you hear Luca’s laugh echo out of the house.

“So, I hope you don’t mind me asking, but what is it with Rainy?”

Laughing, you press your hand to your face, watching her smile, waiting—patiently. “It’s a stupid joke, Frankie’s doing.”

Sam raises her brows, and stares in waiting, gesturing for you to continue.

“Okay, well—”

The next time it rains, can you kiss me in it?

Baby I’ll kiss you whatever the weather. Am I allowed to ask why?

It’s romantic, isn’t it?

Are you watching a movie?

Maybe.

And we haven’t kissed in the rain. We’ve kissed nearly everywhere else.

Well, I’d hate not to have kissed you everywhere, baby.

What’s happening in the movie?

Lots of declarations.

Ah. Lots of when we first met, I wasn’t looking for someone, I was running from it. But, you really wanted to try and build something, and before I knew it, I was falling.

That kind of thing yes.

I miss you.

I miss you too, baby. The bed feels strange without you asking me random questions.

I think watching this was a bad idea.

Answering his call, you don't pause the movie—just turn the volume down. Curling further into your couch as you tug the blanket up your neck, bringing his voice to your ear.

“Hey.”

“Hey, baby. Is the movie making you sad?”

Nodding, you swallow back the lump in your throat. Tears springing, the ones that had already fallen.

“You choking up so much you can’t reply to me?”

Laughing, tears spluttering, you sniff, wiping your cheek with the back of your hand as you grin—half-shaking your head. “How’d you know?”

You hear rustling, imagining him in bed. In the middle of the place, the two of you have been sharing. Wondering if he can smell your perfume, whether he misses the extra warmth of your skin like you currently miss him.

“‘Cause I know you. And, you do this little sniffle you try to hide and—”

“Okay, okay,” you interrupt, hearing him laugh, it tickling down your ear, making your chest go all warm like it usually does.

Like it always does.

“Maybe I shouldn’t have put this on.”

Snorting, it’s followed by a groan. One you now know he does when he stretches, when he’s trying to loosen the tightness in his back.

“Why did you?”

Because I miss you, you almost reply. Unsure how he couldn’t know, wouldn’t. A horrid thought burst through everything, standing all determined in the wake of nothing but only joy and happiness for days. Making your heart hurt, shrink and fall somewhere along the pit of you. Because maybe he didn’t know, because he didn’t miss you.

Maybe he felt happier that he had his home to himself, his bed, his things—

“I miss you too, Rainy.”

A gasp escapes, one enriched in emotions, fresh tears falling as you pause the movie, curling up more, knees pulled up as he repeats it.

“What do you miss?”

He snorts again, but more full of tease, “Fuck, where do I even start?”

“At the beginning of the list.”

“Oh well, firstly, I miss the fact I’ve not been asked if I would rather be a cactus or a house plant.”

And you smile. It stretches out, sliding into your cheeks—for the first time since you came home to emptiness—you feel happy again, even as another tear rolls down your cheek and you ask, “Well, what would you prefer?”

Frankie laughs. It flows down the phone, somehow brightening your own home, even if he’s not inside of it. It makes you kick off the blanket, stand up, turn the television off—and the lights—and walk the lonely route to your own bed.

Half-wishing you’d taken him up on the offer of staying one more night.

NEXT CHAPTER ->

[hrefna-the-raven]

Mask

Horror masterlist - Masterlist - Misc. masterlist

RZ Michael Myers x female nurse reader

Part 1

Words: 1248

Warnings: very mild and short descriptions about violence

Summary: you seem to be the only person who's able to communicate with Michael and so you continued to take care of him on Dr Loomis' orders

Reader: short female reader in mind, but no specific descriptions are used

The following days and weeks passed with the same routine. You were overseeing Michael in the observation room until Doctor Loomis would arrive for the therapy session. Occasionally, the doctor would even request that you stay, hoping that Michael would open up in your presence. He did, although the doctor was too engrossed in his own theories to notice it each time, but you saw all of it. The little amused huffs behind the mask whenever you challenged him with a question, the silent chuckles and crinkling eyes whenever you told one of your jokes and the way his breath hitched as soon as your hand found his in an innocent touch. All the while a frustrated Loomis sat across the table, huffing as he scribbled down in his notebook, so much to write and yet no wisdom to share, only speculations.

The conflict within Michael kept raging on, torn between his urge to kill and the growing fondness for you. You were a thorn in his flesh of bloody sin and yet, you soothed his mind and your touch left a sense of longing burning beneath his skin. Your fingertips brushing the side of his hand as he tried to help you make your own mask felt electrifying, a spark straight to his rotten heart, nourishing its dying flesh. His heart raced, threatening to burst out of his chest while his breaths grew heavier. As his eyes finally locked on yours, the entire world around him froze, time trickling away while you observed him, your perfect lips slightly parted, realising what was happening to him, what you did to him.

"Well mine doesn't look as good as yours but I still have time to learn from the master", you giggled, holding your mask up for him to see, "shall we try them on?"

A faint smile spread across his lips, well hidden beneath the painted paper on his face. The way you giggled so carelessly in his presence, the graceful movements of your hands, making the piece of paper-mâché seemingly dance in the air, Michael could feel a knot forming in his stomach. He had never felt like this, not even prior to that one fateful Halloween. Although his heart suddenly jumped as he observed your cheerful expression falter, replaced by a hint of fear. Would this be the inevitable moment of truth where you'd finally realise how ugly he truly was on the outside and deep within?

"I...I should turn around", you murmured, "sorry I forgot for a moment that you don't like showing your face."

His fingers moved up to grasp your chin, preventing you from turning your head away. Observing your initial confusion, he handed you his new mask and slowly removed his old one. A hushed gasp slipped passed your lips, eyes wide in shock as you gazed upon Michael's real face for the very first time. He let out a rasped groan as your fingertips graced his forehead, brushing the long blonde strands of hair away to tuck them behind his ears. His handsome face bore a rough charm, tiny dark stubble adorned his broad jaw and chin, his lips trembling ever so slightly while his icy blue eyes locked onto yours. He noticed your flustered expression and the heat rising to your cheeks as you leaned closer and put the mask over his head, but you didn't pull it down immediately.

"That...uhm...is a very beautiful face", you whispered, "thanks for allowing me to see it...for the trust."

You pulled the mask down and right before it covered his face entirely, you saw his lips curl into a wide smile. As you were about to put your own mask on, the metal door swung open and Loomis entered with Cruz following closely behind.

"Thank you nurse", the doctor called out while Cruz simply waved at you with a smile, "you can take your leave now. Mister Cruz will take care of Michael in the coming days and I will commence the daily therapy session now. Happy Halloween!"

You sensed Michael tense beside you, the breaths under the mask becoming more erratic with each second of silence passing. Your hand found his, squeezing it gently while his gaze met yours at the subtle reassuring touch.

"I'll take a week off from this evening on, but", you spoke calmly, sensing his rising panic, "I know tomorrow is Halloween, soooo....after discussing it with Dr Loomis, I got the approval to drop by and visit you, in my Halloween costume. And of course I gonna bring you some candy."

You offered a gentle smile while your hand remained on his but it wasn't nearly enough to quell the anger burning within Michael in this moment. He had trusted you, opened himself up to you, and now, like everyone else in his life, you were about to leave him again. Leaving him all to himself and his darkness again? The thought of being abandoned consumed him, causing his teeth to grind and his once warm eyes turned cold and lifeless. His hand instinctively moved towards your neck while his mind exploded with images of how he could simply smash you head first into the table. The cracking sound of your skull, the crimson trickling from every wound, pooling around your face in perfect contrast against the dark grey metal underneath, all mingling with the sweet melody of your panicked last breaths, realising your life was drained away by his hand, the very one you're still holding onto right now.

"If you write me down your favourite candy, I gonna try and get that one for us. Promised!"

Your soft voice snapped him out of his murderous trail of thoughts back into reality and he felt his hold on your neck loosen, gently caressing your skin before retreating. Steel blue eyes blinked at you a few times, the love and gentleness slowly returning to them and with a loud sigh Michael leaned forward, hastily scribbling a few words on a piece of paper before sliding it towards you. The chuckle escaping your lips went straight through his chest, it being the most beautiful sound he had ever heard, forgetting all the pain and doubt it had caused within him just a few seconds ago.

"Oh those two are my favourites too", your finger tapped on the paper, "you have an excellent taste in sweets, Mr Myers."

He rolled his eyes in response but you could almost see the smirk peeking out from behind the paper-mâché.

"I'll see you tomorrow then. Make sure to wear your scariest mask", you winked at him before heading towards the doors.

Before the door fell shut, Loomis slipped through it, calling out for you. It amazed you how this man knew so much and so little at the same time about his most famous patient. He listened, analysed and yet, he never seemed to truly see or hear Michael. Maintaining a friendly and professional expression on your face, you continued to listen as he provided additional instructions for your visit the following day.

As you laid in bed that night, a stash of candy and sweets stowed away and ready, excitement bubbled in your stomach while your restless mind got lost in the anticipation of your first private meeting with Michael, outside your nurse outfit and the obligation to watch over him. It would simply be you and him having as much Halloween fun as a place like Smith's Grove would allow.

Part 3 - Home (18+)

[lovesickeros]

☆ glimpse of divinity

{☆} characters lyney, neuvillette [ separate ] {☆} notes cult au, drabble, gender neutral reader {☆} warnings none {☆} word count 0.8k

× neuvillette

The first time he sees you strolling the streets of Fontaine with a glint of wonder in your eyes, he thinks he must have finally lost it. He has to rub his eyes and check a few dozen times before he's certain that you are, in fact, real and not some figment of his imagination conjured by a lack of sleep and overdose on caffeine.

..Though now that he gets a better look, it's not quite the same. Like a smudged painting, he thinks. Still, the uncanny resemblance to the visage of the Divine One has him lingering around the area just to stare a little longer, a deep, devoted sense of affection bristling beneath his skin.

And then you turn sharply on your heel, staring directly back at him, and he feels a sudden wave of embarrassment and something akin to shame.

Archons, he'd just made a fool of himself, hadn't he?

He quickly turns away, clearing his throat and hiding his embarrassment behind his hand. Though it does not seem to deter you, the soft tap of your shoes growing closer until you were peering up at him with wide eyes.

"..Hello." He offers awkwardly, a little too stiff and a little too formal, but you don't seem to mind in the slightest. He knows that your appearance, your vague similarities to the Divine One are mere coincidence, but it does not stop his heart from skipping a beat when you smile up at him. "I– apologize for being so uncouth and staring, it's just.."

His voice trails off into a breathy exhale, his hand twitching on his cane as if he wanted to reach out and touch you..but he restrains himself in time. He could not make a bigger fool of himself – he would never hear the end of it from lady Furina.

"You remind me of someone."

He decides, readjusting his hands on his cane as he bows his head for a moment is a show of genuineness, though it must look awkward with how stiff his body feels.

Yet he cannot help but want to get closer anyway, to hear the silky lilt of your voice grace his pointed ears. This is as close as he will ever get to the Divine..he is a weak man, he finds, as he offers a hand to you.

"I understand if this is a bit..forward, but would you mind joining me for tea?"

× lyney

He is a master magician – his entire work is built on keen misdirection and sleight of hand, but even he stumbles for a minute thinking he'd seen an illusion in your warm smile and striking features. Almost an exact copy of the Divine One, yet not quite..

Still, it's enough to pique his interest – enough, too, to give him the confidence to slip into your conversation with ease, all smiles and the slip of a card between his fingers.

"Hello, stranger – I don't think I've seen you in Fontaine before," He laughs, his hand reaching around to rest gently on your opposite shoulder, his voice a ghost of a whisper in your ear. "Say, could I interest you in a bit of magic?"

He perks up at the way you seem to light up like fireworks at his offer, a spark almost like recognition in your eyes he brushes aside – he's quite well known, after all.

"Good! Now, if I may just borrow your attention for a minute.." He grins, stepping around you and turning sharply to face you, his hand outstretched with a deck of cards in his hands, face down. "Let's start simple, shall we? I shan't overwhelm my audience – pick a card."

He holds the cards out again, his features twisted in something like awe, though he hides it well.

His heart flutters at the briefest of glances of your hand against his as you pluck a card from his hand, and he quickly retracts it, reshuffling the deck with a broad grin and a wink.

"Do your best to remember it! If you could return it to the deck.." The card is placed back in it's place amongst the rest, and the magic begins!

"Now then, let's see..hm," He hums for a long moment, the silence filled by the constant shuffle of cards until he suddenly plucks one from the deck, flipping it around for you to see. "Is this your card?"

He frowns when you shake your head, almost pouting, before he lights up again and steps forward.

"Ah! How foolish of me, I missed it..it's riiight here, see." He winks, reaching behind your ear..and pulls free a card from seemingly thin air. He flips it around for you to see again, and when you tell him it is, in fact, your card, he flips it around again.

And before you can see it, he's holding a rainbow rose between his fingers, his hand outstretched as he bows.

His eyes glint with a sort of wonder as he looks at your features, his smile widening a fraction.

"Well, dear stranger? Did you enjoy the show?"

[raitonsfw]

𝓈𝓎𝓃𝑜𝓅𝓈𝒾𝓈: Never again will you tolerate Eren's arrogant behavior- you said mindlessly as he pounded into you with a poisoned feeling running through your veins.

warnings: 18+ mdni, smut, fem!reader, asshole!eren, doggy style, choking, bruises, hair pulling, dirty talk, begging, clit play, cumshot (on reader's back), rough p in v intercourse, dubcon, slight edging, implied second round, degrading names (slut, whore), he calls you baby once.

a/n: wrote this in maybe 30 minutes with nothing but slutty thoughts in my mind. wc: 600ish. v-day m.list | m.list

thirst count: 1

divider credit: @hitobaby & @firefly-graphics

“Damn, you take dick so well…” You heard from behind you, the bed creaking from his momentum and… fucking never again. 

This was a one time thing– you couldn’t fucking do this again or else you’d scream. Eren Jaeger was such an asshole, but Mikasa swore him to be a sweetheart ‘once you got to know him.’ 

Yeah, sweetheart my ass as he pounded you from the back so harshly he left nasty bruises. His fingertips dug into you, blood welling to the surface as they marked your skin and you yelped, your cunt accidently squeezing his cock harder. Eren groaned at the feeling, his hips smacking even harder into you and you swore you heard him growl from the pleasure.

“Shit– too deep!” You whined out as he angled himself deeper, aiming to ram relentlessly into your cervix. All you got from him was a cruel laugh, his hands running up your back now to grasp at your hair and your neck. A strong arm held you in place by your throat, his fingers squeezing at just the right amount of pressure and his other hand yanked you back to look at him as he hovered over you now. 

“Too deep, huh? But ‘re moaning like a slut– shit…” His eyes rolled back as you tightened around him again, quiet whimpers escaping you as he pounded you with no remorse. His cock pulled all the way out each time, long broad strokes, as he fucked back in with low grunts leaving his throat. You couldn’t really see him, trying your best to turn to face him but his grip made it so hard and your vision blackened slightly as he choked you out. 

“Fuuuck, gonna cum baby–” Eren breathed out, his thrust growing sloppy as he chased his release and you wanted to cum too; you were so close, your pussy fluttering around him as you inched higher and higher but you knew he was going to pull out before you even had to chance to. 

And– yeah, there it was; his cock pulling out of you quickly– a sharp gasp falling from his lips as he painted your back white with his cum, some catching in your hair and you clenched around nothing with a desperate whine. Your fingers chased towards your clit, but a brutal hand stopped you. 

“Please, need to cum. Do something– anything.” You begged, arching your back as you breathed out a frustrated sigh. You swore you saw a pout from him– maybe he felt bad? You never knew with this fucker. 

“W-Wait a fucking second…” He gritted out and you felt your orgasm fleeing, dissipating as you pleaded for Eren to just fucking touch you. A few seconds later, his fingers brushed against your clit and you shuddered at the feeling with a quiet whimper. “You’re so goddamn needy…” 

You didn’t care what he said to you now, endless babbles of nonsense spilling from your lips as you rolled your hips against his circling fingertips. They tapped incessantly against your clit, his nails delicately scraping against it once in a while to get you to jolt at the hinted pain. You drooled into the pillow beneath you, your body quivering as you fell apart with a wanton moan; his name becoming the only thing you knew. 

Boy, was he fucking lucky that you even moaned his name this time around. Why did you ever listen to Mikasa– there was no way Eren Jaeger was a sweetheart. He was an asshole, through and through, his cock prodding into you once more as you came down from your high. 

“Aw, c’mon now… a whore’s gotta have her fill– wouldn’t want you getting loose for other men besides me…” 

[nerdytyrantphantom]

shattered but not lonely (joel miller x f!reader)

This is my 2nd request! Hope you love it, anon 💖

request: hey!! could you do joel x reader (maybe smut) where joel gets super protective over the reader after saving them from a dangerous situation?❤️❤️ word count: 3.9k rating: 18+ explicit warning: SMUT. reader was kidnapped by raiders and joel rescues her and they have sweet, sensual reunion sex after she heals. soft!joel, pet names ("sweetheart" "baby"), light mentions of captivity, oral (f receiving), reader gets super fucking wet, joel is very into it, p in v sex (be smart etc.) a/n: my goal with this piece was to write the filthiest yet equally loving/romantic smut possible :o) i hope you like it! also, to the anon who made this request - i have a second (less fluffy) interpretation of this prompt i plan to post in the near future :) p.s. title is from the song "my favorite book" by stars

“Joel?” you whispered. If the figure in the doorway wasn’t who you thought it was, you prayed for a quick death. 

But as the man’s silhouette approached, your breathing steadied; it was him. Despite your blurred vision from two swollen black eyes, your brain recognized the fragments that formed Joel Miller’s unmistakable presence: the broad shoulders, firm gait, and weight of his rifle slung over his shoulder. A hot wave of tears rose at the realization that Joel had found you. You were going to be okay.

Upon reaching your side, Joel sank to his knees. His battered hands carefully cupped your wet cheeks as his bloodshot eyes desperately searched yours. You’d never seen this Joel before – a Joel who was scared, whose vulnerability was laid bare – and your heart wrenched with pain at the tears threatening to spill from his own eyes. 

“Sweetheart,” he choked, like he couldn’t decide whether to laugh or to cry. His bottom lip quivered as his thumb gently brushed your cheek, as if he was checking to make sure that you were real, that it was really you beneath the bruises and the bloodshed. His voice cracked with sorrow, guilt seeping through every word: “I’m so sorry I wasn’t there.”

The iron fist that wrapped around your heart squeezed knowing that Joel blamed himself. It was in his nature to take on the weight of the world and responsibility for those he loved and you were no exception. You knew Joel and understood the depths to which he would punish himself for not protecting you. In reality, there was nothing he could’ve done. But in Joel’s tormented mind, such reasoning held no solace.

You struggled for the right words to take away his burden. “It’s okay,” you assured, your hands tenderly covering his that still cradled your face. “I’m okay. I promise.” Joel saw through your forced smile, but knew there was nothing he could say. “Let’s just go home.”

Silently, Joel cradled you in his arms, holding you close against his chest. As he carried you, he felt the weight of your body relax, surrendering to the comfort and safety he provided. Your head rested against him, your breaths becoming steady and peaceful as sleep claimed you. 

Time blurred as the days passed. Hazy memories floated in and out of your consciousness — glimpses of Joel spoon-feeding you, of tenderly replacing bandages, and the featherlight touch of his lips pressing kisses to your forehead. 

Finally, one night as twilight painted the sky in shades of purple, you stirred awake. As if on cue, Joel entered the room with a glass of water. His boots scuffed the hardwood floor as he approached and set the glass down on the bedside table. Taking a seat on the edge of the bed beside you, he reached out, gently tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. Then leaning forward, his lips pecked your temple.

"Hey there,” he whispered. “How are you feeling?" 

You took hold of his hand, bringing it to your lips, pressing a tender kiss to each  knuckle. "Better," you whispered, as though the two of you were sharing a secret. Your lips trailed up his hand, skimming along the inside of his wrist until you found yourself pulling him closer, causing Joel to lose his balance slightly as he leaned in to embrace you. 

You nuzzled into his neck, seeking the comfort that only he could provide. "Missed you," you murmured, your words vibrating against his skin, as you breathed in the familiar scent that defined him.

His strong arms enveloped you, pulling you tightly against him. "I'm right here, sweetheart," he promised, his fingers stroking your hair. "Never gonna change that." In that moment, time stood still as you both immersed yourselves in the simple joy of being together again. The outside world faded away – the QZ, raiders, the infected – and all that mattered was the warmth of your bodies and shared breaths and sighs between you.

As your lips brushed against Joel's ear, you confessed with a hint of playfulness: "I think I need a shower." 

Joel's arms gave you one final squeeze before releasing their hold. He leaned back to look at you, his eyes still filled with a mixture of awe and disbelief, as if he still couldn't quite believe if you were real. You gave him a small smile. "I'm here," you reassured him. “I’m okay.”

As you stood from the bed, a mask of determination veiled the pain that still raked through your body. Joel stood beside you, a silent pillar of support, guiding you with gentle hands to maintain your stability as you found your renewed sense of balance. Together, you made your way into the bathroom.

Joel reached out and turned on the shower, the sound of running water filling the space, creating a soothing backdrop to the moment. He stood by your side, his presence a steady reassurance as you prepared to cleanse away the remnants of your ordeal. With quiet care, he helped you disrobe, removing each piece of clothing with a delicate touch. 

As you lifted your arms for Joel to remove your shirt, you couldn’t hide the whimper that escaped your lips, a sharp burst of pain radiating throughout your spine, as he tugged the garment over your head. You tried to quickly conceal the pain, but Joel saw through your facade – he knew you better than anyone.

To your relief, he didn’t scold you for moving into normalcy too fast or decide that the shower was a bad idea; instead, he held his hand under the stream of water, adjusting the temperature to ensure it was just right. 

Then, you watched as he slowly shed his own clothes, standing before you naked and vulnerable, mirroring your own state of undress. He held your hand, intertwining his fingers with yours, as you both stepped into the warm fall of the cascading water.

Under the torrent of the shower, steam billowed, welcoming you in a cloud of wet warmth. With practiced hands, Joel lathered shampoo in his palms, his fingers working their way through your hair, massaging and cleansing with a confident yet gentle touch. You observed him in silence, captivated by the sight of his muscles flexing with each movement, displaying strength tempered with tenderness. The white suds built up, creating a frothy veil over your hair, as Joel carefully lifted your locks into the stream of water, rinsing away the traces of the past.

Gently, Joel turned you around so that your back was to him, his hands lathered in soap. With the utmost care, he began to massage your shoulders and trace a path down your arms, his touch both soothing and deliberate. He lifted your arms slightly, ensuring no part of your body was left untouched, as his hands moved down your back, tracing gentle circles and washing away the remnants of your captivity. Leaning forward, resting his chin on your shoulder, he guided his hands over your stomach and breasts, the suds gliding down your body, renewing your skin. 

The moment held a sensual undercurrent, but it was devoid of pressure or expectation. This act of washing was an expression of pure love, a quiet gesture of nurturing your body back to health. Yet, even in this gentle intimacy, feeling Joel's body against yours, his hands caressing every inch and crevice of your body, a dizziness washed over you. A sense of lightheadedness and longing swirled within you, the desire to melt into his touch and be swept away.

After the shower, Joel wrapped you in a soft towel, cocooning you in its warmth. He then tenderly placed a second towel over your head, gently drying your hair, revealing your face with a renewed glow and cleansed complexion. As his eyes took in the sight of you, a mixture of relief and adoration danced in their depths, forming the first soft smile you had witnessed since your return. He leaned his forehead against yours, creating a sacred space between you.

"Tell me what you need, baby," he whispered, his voice carrying a blend of tenderness and desperation. His commitment to taking care of you was unwavering, his desire to meet your every need palpable. In this moment, he wanted nothing more than to provide solace and support, to be the anchor that would guide you through the storm.

Hugging your towel against you, you burrowed into Joel, a silent request for him to hold you that didn’t require words for him to understand. As he wrapped you in his embrace, you spoke into his bare chest, voice muffled: “You. Just need you, Joel.”

"I'm right here, baby," he murmured, his touch a comforting presence against your back. Your body stirred with a different kind of ache as you gazed up at him, a longing that transcended the physical. His soft, pillowy lips beckoned to be kissed, the scruff on his face tempting your touch. You could spend a lifetime tracing the lines and contours of his face, exploring every inch of him with a blind devotion.

Locked in his gaze, Joel understood the unspoken desires that flickered within you. Like a language only the two of you shared, he deciphered the quickening of your heartbeat, the subtle lick of your lips, and the faint furrow of your brow that betrayed both frustration and longing. He blinked, a silent affirmation that he felt it too, as he gently guided you towards the bed.

"Come on," Joel beckoned, his voice laced with a mixture of invitation and anticipation. You observed as he skillfully arranged the pillows against the headboard. He draped the towel that had once enveloped your damp hair onto the mattress, purposefully positioning it where your body would inevitably find its place. You then climbed onto the bed, positioning yourself with your back nestled against the plush pillows, your abdomen resting upon the soft towel, and the second towel still wrapped around your shoulders, offering warmth and security. 

From this vantage point, your gaze fixated upon Joel, who stood at the foot of the bed, an arresting sight that never failed to steal your breath away.

No matter how many times your eyes met his, the effect remained unchanged—an overwhelming wave of captivation that surged through your veins. This moment was no exception. His hair, still damp from the shower, was slicked back, save for a single rebellious curl that dared to escape its confines. His flushed chest glistened under the subtle glow of amber light, adorned with droplets of water that cascaded over his skin. The only barrier between you and his complete vulnerability was the white towel that draped enticingly around his waist. Its snug embrace accentuated the contours of his hips, hinting at the sculpted muscles that lay beneath the fabric, while the mere suggestion of movement threatened to loosen its grip.

A tremor of anticipation coursed through you as Joel's eyes roamed over your form, mirroring the same intensity with which you had studied his. A slow, deliberate stroke of his jaw accompanied the journey of his gaze, traveling up your legs, lingering over the heat of your core, trailing across the curves of your breasts, until finally, his eyes connected with your own. His thumb traced a path over his bottom lip, an unspoken question hovering between you.

"Will you let me take care of you, baby?" he asked, a confident plea that resonated with sincerity. He closed the distance, taking a purposeful step toward the bed, his touch grazing over the delicate skin of your foot, tracing invisible patterns.

A lump formed in your throat, your mouth suddenly dry as you nodded, your eyes conveying an unspoken affirmation. "Always," you managed to whisper, the weight of your words hanging in the air, sealing the unbreakable bond that bound you two together.

You bit back a moan as the towel wrapped around Joel’s waist teasingly fell lower, the outline of his half-hard cock rising beneath the white cotton. He then crawled up the bed between your legs until he was able to nuzzle his nose into the soft skin behind your ear. 

“That’s all I ever want,” he murmured, his warm breath sending a shiver down your spine. He planted a small kiss onto your skin, humming with pleasure as he grazed your neck. “To hold you,” he continued, moving down to kiss the constellation of freckles that spanned over your shoulder, “to kiss you.” 

As he continued his onslaught of kisses and pecks, you felt the heat rising within you. Finally, as though Joel could sense your desperation, he brought his lips to yours. He softly worked over them – the soft, wet sounds filling the air – before delicately swiping his tongue over your bottom lip. As you opened your mouth and permitted his entry, his warm taste filled your senses, igniting a carnal desire that only Joel could fuel. You moaned hungrily into the kiss and raised your arms to wrap around Joel’s chest to pull him closer, but then groaned as another shock of pain rippled throughout you. 

“Shhhhh, baby,” Joel cooed, resting his forehead against your own. He fought back an amused smile as he lovingly stroked your cheek and pecked at the corner of your lips. “Can’t have you hurtin’ yourself on me, sweet girl.”

Your cheeks burned with a mix of embarrassment and frustration. You felt like your body was betraying you from what your mind – and your hormones – severely desired. 

“Just lean back and relax,” Joel coaxed, returning to the spot where your neck met your shoulder. He planted more kisses, featherlight, as he continued, “Just let me take care of my girl.”

Closing your eyes, you forced yourself to relax under Joel’s direction. As you sank into the pillows, you concentrated on the touch of Joel’s mouth moving further down your body. “That’s it,” he murmured as your breathing steadied. “That’s my girl.” 

Your heartbeat quickened as Joel’s hands gently pushed away the towel you had slung over your shoulders, revealing your bare chest. With great care, Joel cupped your breasts, massaging the plush skin soothingly beneath his fingertips, while his thumbs lazily circled each nipple. As they became erect under his touch, he popped one into his mouth, suckling the sensitive skin between his teeth. 

“Oh, Joel,” you whispered, your voice both a warning and a plea. He knew what you liked. He knew exactly how to give you what you wanted. And right now was one of those moments, when he suspended the passing of time and acted as though his life’s sole purpose was purely to worship and please you. 

His tongue continued to swipe over your nipple before releasing it with a pop and moving to the next one. When you looked down, butterflies fluttered in the pit of your stomach at the sight of him; he looked so content with his long eyelashes covering his shut eyes, his nose slightly squashed against your breasts, and his lips wrapped around your nipple like he could stay that way pacified forever. 

As you melted further into the pillows, Joel’s kisses moved down your belly. “My sweet girl,” he murmured – more to himself than to you – as he reached the pubic hair covering your mound. He pushed himself lower onto the bed and arranged himself so that he was neatly between your legs, before carefully lifting your thighs over his shoulders. As you settled into the position, arousal pummeled into your core at the touch of Joel secure between your legs and your bare feet grazing the muscles of his back. 

“Sweet, sweet girl,” Joel repeated, his voice just a muffled murmur as he continued to plant kisses over your thick curls of hair. He turned his head to skim the tip of his nose over the inside of your leg, before dipping himself into the deepest crevice of your thigh, where he dragged his tongue along the crack. “My baby,” he whispered. 

Joel hadn’t even touched you where it counted yet, and already, your core was dripping. Hearing Joel’s whispers of sweet nothings, tickled by his hot breath ghosting your skin, smelling the soap and shampoo mingle with the scent that was pure Joel, and feeling his plush pillows hug you from behind – it was all building so fast to be too much for you to take. Without a second thought, you spread your legs further, exposing the slick web of arousal between your legs to Joel.

He groaned with ravenous desperation, the sound only turning you on further. He squeezed the dough of your thighs over his shoulders as he buried his nose between your folds, the sticky spread of you smearing onto his face. Your breath hitched as you felt him deeply inhale your scent, before dragging his tongue along your folds. “Give you anything you want,” he mumbled, gently gliding his tongue up and down your slit. His tongue worked lavishly against you, slowly, with deliberate movements that were in no rush. As you felt his tongue dip into every curve and crevice of your core, your fingers found their way weaving through his hair. 

“Joel,” you whimpered, wanting to buck your hips into him further but knowing your pain wouldn’t let you. Your eyes rolled into the back of your head with pleasure.

Joel shushed you as he continued to lick, his scruff tickling your skin and the sensation electrifying you more. “Sweet, sweet girl,” he continued, a groan pouring from his throat as he licked up a stripe of slick that oozed from inside you. With someone else, you may have been embarrassed or ashamed by how wet you got. But Joel treated it like a gift, like he’d discovered a secret that was all his, and he never failed to express how much he enjoyed it.

For what felt like hours, he stayed like that, his fingers gently massaging the dough of your thighs while his mouth sucked and slurped every part of your core. As perspiration formed on your forehead and your cheeks began to flush, you squirmed with want under Joel’s touch. But like always, he understood.

“You ready to cum, sweetheart?” he asked, looking up at you from between your legs. Despite what he was doing, his brown eyes looked so innocent. As you eagerly nodded your head, Joel pecked up your folds tenderly until he reached your clit. “Okay, baby,” he said soothingly. “You can cum whenever you want.” And with that, he sucked your clit into his mouth. Your stomach churned at the sensation of his tongue toying with your clit like it were candy, his soft strokes perfectly brushing against your sensitive bundle of nerves with kitten licks.

“Joel,” you cried, cradling his head in your hands. You felt white hot flames licking you from the inside out as the coil in your stomach threatened to snap. Heat rose into your chest and your cheeks as you fell deeper into the pillows, the cushions swallowing you whole. 

Your hips rose just an inch, and though it hurt, the pleasure far outweighed the pain. At this perfect angle, Joel continued to swipe his tongue against your clit until all at once you were seeing fireworks bursting behind your eyes, a wave of euphoria rippling throughout your body. You cried his name as tears streamed down your cheeks.

As the aftershock continued to radiate throughout your body while you tried to catch your breath, Joel crawled up so that he could face you again. His dark eyes were blown out, his pink lips swollen and shiny with your slick. You whimpered as you watched him greedily lick his lips.

“Thank you,” you choked, wiping the tears that streaked your face. Joel kissed your face and hummed with content. “Still want you, though,” you sniffled, gazing up at him through your eyelashes. “Want to feel you inside me.”

Joel’s eyebrows furrowed in a mix of pain and arousal. “Are you sure, baby?” he asked, breath hitching, as your hips rose to grind against his. His towel had since fallen off and now you could feel it, his hard length begging to be buried inside of you.

You nodded confidently. “I’m positive,” you assured him, nosing into his neck. You nibbled his skin, the perfect button you could press to get what you wanted that would drive Joel crazy and whispered, “Please. Want you to fill me up.”

Joel groaned at your words; there was no way he could argue with you, and he didn’t want to. He fisted his cock in his hands and guided the tip along your folds. “You’re so wet for me, baby,” he commented, his eyes staring straight into yours.

You stroked his cheek and nodded, licking your lips. “All for you,” you promised him, studying every scar and scratch that etched his face. 

You watched as his jaw fell slack as he pushed himself in, his entire cock filling you up with ease. You moaned instantly. Joel was accustomed to the way you’d mewl for him to fill you completely. He knew how much you loved his cock – the length, the girth, the way it filled you to the hilt – and he could read it on your face every time he had the chance to enter you. As his pubic hair came to brush against your clit, his cock completely sucked inside you, he murmured into your ear: “That’s it, sweetheart. S’all yours.”

As your moans grew louder, Joel pistoned himself deeper, maintaining a steady pace that wasn’t too fast or too slow, but just enough to savor the sensation inch-by-inch. Your nails dug into Joel’s forearms, too weak to wrap around his back, as you clung to him with desperation. “Joel,” you whimpered, not knowing what to do with yourself underneath them. The pleasure was building quicker than you had anticipated. “Joel, I–” you started to say, before sinking your teeth into his arm. You clenched tightly around him as he continued to thrust inside you. 

“Can you cum again for me, baby?” Joel whispered sweetly, holding your chin in his hand to make you look at him. His eyes searched your red cheeks, furrowed brows, and watery eyes. As you desperately nodded your head, Joel’s lips frowned. “Yeah?” he asked, stroking your chin, unable to resist just a second of teasing. 

But before any frustration could build inside of you, Joel’s hand was between your bodies and his thumb was drawing circles against your clit. “It’s okay, baby,” he encouraged, his own words struggling to come out of his mouth as his jaw became slack watching the pleasure wash over you. As your face contorted in pleasure, the coil in your belly threatening to snap for a second time, fresh tears began to roll down your face. Joel shushed you and kissed them away. “It’s okay, baby, it’s all for you,” he said, his words gradually coming out through gritted teeth as he fucked you deeper. “All yours, baby, every part of me.”

All at once you broke, crying out as a second seismic wave of pleasure erupted in your core and rippled throughout your body. As you gushed around Joel’s cock, his pubic hair drenched and the wet squelch penetrating the room, you felt his movements grow sloppy as he burrowed into your neck. Then he was emptying himself inside you, his warm cum seeping out of your aching hole. 

He allowed himself to collapse beside you, careful not to hurt you, his sweat-slicked chest panting. His hand skimmed your chest, cupping your breast, while his face nuzzled into the other one. “My baby,” he murmured, kissing over your areola. He nuzzled into you more. “Never gonna let you go again.”

[sweetercalypso]

formally requesting some Joel fluff please, just something sweet about spending time with him <3

Joel is pretty all the time, but you’ve decided that he’s prettiest by the light of the fire.

Camped out in the middle of nowhere, hours away from the nearest crumbling city, the rhythmic flicker of idle flames allows you to memorize his every feature – the salt and pepper scruff on his cheeks; the strong bridge of his nose; the scars mottling his skin in odd, aimless places, forever labeling him a survivor.

“What’re you looking at?” His brow furrows quizzically, twisting the deep shadows painting his face.

“You.”

The corners of his mouth tick upwards in a lazy, crooked smile. Joel wasn’t used to the familiarity of your company, but he’d be damned if he let his callow heart keep you at a distance.

“Why don’t you come over here, then? Get a better look.”

You push yourself up from the ground, brushing the dirt from your pants and rounding the glowing fire with a grin. When you’re close enough to touch, Joel reaches out to guide you onto his lap with nothing on his mind beyond the thought of having you closer.  

Calloused, broad hands, rough from a lifetime of hard work, plant themselves on your waist, warming your skin through thick layers of clothing. You might not feel the heat of Joel’s palms directly, but you’ve been in his embrace enough to know his touch by memory.

His chest rises and falls with contented breath, dark eyes shining with the light of the dwindling fire behind you. He strokes over your hip with one hand, the other flattened against the base of your spine, nudging you forward until there’s nowhere else to go.

“How’s that?”

It’s perfect. It’s warm. It’s exactly where you want to be. You relax against him with a sigh. “Much better.”

[thyme-in-a-bubble]

the paint

lilac, chapter nine

a/n: hi! I'm back after taking a short break to obsessively work on this year's kinktober, but now i'm finally back to writing this beloved story. it feels so good to get back into it. it's only been a few weeks, one month max, but i've missed my lumberjack so much.

summary: “oh please, there’s only one guest staying here right now, and even so, people know this room is under construction, who in their right mind would just willy-nilly waltz in here?” 

warnings: lumberjack!frank castle x reader, smut, lumberjack AU, past domestic violence, crazy ex trope, renovating an inn, painting, kissing, semi-public sex, oral, fingering, dirty talk

word count: 1922

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A faint ache began to bloom in the muscles of your face from how hard you were smiling. You simply couldn’t help it. Every time you thought you’d gotten it under control, your eyes would just flutter back up to the man beside you as he stretched, reaching the paint roller in his hand far enough up to kiss the taped-off crown moulding that framed the ceiling, and each time he’d do so, his flannel would ride up just enough for you to catch a sliver of his skin before it dropped back down, giving you just enough of an unintentional tease to remind you of what he looked like beneath it. 

“You’re laughing again,” Frank pointed out the soft giggle that bubbled out of you as your glance washed over him.

“I’m not laughing,” you gushed, straightening back up to your full height as you finally stopped rolling over the one low spot you had absentmindedly been painting over and over again for a few minutes or so.

Eyes briefly flickering your way, his feet carried him closer to you, “well, what’s so funny then that you can’t stop laughing?” 

“Nothing’s funny,” you tried to keep your eyes on the wall as you felt his broadness brush against your shoulder. 

“Oh, no?” 

“Nope,” you playfully bumped your hip lightly against his, childishly angling your roller dangerously close to where his was glazing the wall a soft blue tone, an action that quickly developed into a juvenile game of chasing him across the wall. 

To your amazement, Frank played along, keeping it going till he suddenly changed tactics and caught you by surprise, rerouting his roller down to collide with your own, however, it never got the chance to strike as you, in the midst of a giggle fit, retracted your brush from the wall, fearing that he would roll right over you and make your arm all sticky with paint. Though in the end, not noticing exactly where you were hastily withdrawing your paint roller to, it ended up being him that got smeared and not you. 

“Oh my god,” your eyes grew wide at the sight of the blue that coated over the dark brown of his plaid sleeve, “I am so sorry, I didn’t mean to–”

“Oh yeah?” he glared back at you, grin crinkling up his eyes, “you didn’t?”

“I swear, it was an accident.”

“Ah, sure it was, just like this,” you felt his roller glide down the length of your top, making it look like you’d hugged a smurf.

Letting out a shrieking gasp, it only took approximately two seconds before you pouched in an attempt to get him back. Though the former soldier’s swift hands caught your roller before you could manage to seize your revenge, settling both yours and his own down on the covered floors before playfully wrapping his arms around you, halting your attempts at retrieving it. 

Laughter mingling and mixing into one, your feet then left the ground as Frank lifted you up. As your gaze now rose to be at the same level, the silly game swiftly vanished from your memory as you stared back into his brown eyes, both of your glee fading away as if it was never there to begin with. 

You didn’t know who initiated the kiss, but that part couldn’t be less important as your arms curled around his neck and one of your legs blissfully bent, softly flicking your foot upwards as you felt his tongue sweep across your own. 

Lowering you back down to the floor, his touch dragged up your form till his fingers tangled in your hair, tugging at the very roots in such a way that made you purr against his lips. Feet shuffling, the far wall you hadn’t begun on yet soon collided with your spine, though you weren’t pressed against it long before Frank surrendered to your enthusiastic efforts in spinning him around and switching places.

As your lips then detached, you slowly began to drop down to your knees, a wide grin warmed Frank’s features as your fingers hooked into his belt, “what do you think you’re doing, huh?” his head gently fell back to collide with the wall as he stared down at you in adoration. 

“What do you think I’m doing?” you blinked up at him as you bit down on your giggling lips, palm nuzzling against his blossoming hard-on as you undid his belt, his excitement created an impressive imprint against the fabric of his dark jeans. 

“I think we’re in an inn full of people and someone could walk in here at any moment,” he narrowed his eyes almost in a daring fashion as you tugged his zipper down. 

“Oh please, there’s only one guest staying here right now, and even so, people know this room is under construction, who in their right mind would just willy-nilly waltz in here?” 

Not tearing his eyes off of you for even a second as you freed his heavy length, he muttered softly, “you’re trouble…” utterly hypnotised as you wrapped your fingers around his girth. 

“Nuh-uh,” you smiled up at him, “I’m adorable,” before you swiped your tongue softly over his tip, visibly sending a shiver down his spine.

“Yes, you fucking are…” he uttered enchantingly, mouth falling agape as you began to plant sweet kisses all the way down towards his base, your dazzling eyes never leaving his, “holy shit…”

As your slobber began to gloss him up, your palm exploited it as you slowly twisted your enclosed fist up and down his length, keeping your movements up as your lips soon wrapped around his bulbous head, flat tongue fluttering like a gentle sea against his throbbing underside. 

Looking like he had died and gone to heaven, you felt as Frank’s fingers reach down to ghost over your features, his broad thumb caressing the outline of your face as your head began to bob, drool slowly dribbling down from your efforts and adding to the mess already painting the front of your shirt.

“Atta girl,” his fingers tenderly combed through your hair, “fuck,” lips stretched, his tip hit a place in the back of your throat that caused your eyes to squint, tears nearly appearing before you settled back to slobbering around his head, “you're so pretty like this.”

One hand steadily pumping the latter half of him, your other wandered over your own thigh. Like a magnet, your fingers pressed down on your clit through your pants, the astonishing relief causing a muffled moan to vibrate against Frank’s cock, a sensation he clearly enjoyed by the sounds of his own eager groans. 

“Oh, just like that,” he grunted, eyes lightly fluttering as you gurgled around his cock, “don’t stop,” fingers flexing and balling up into a fist in your hair as he twitched in your mouth, soon stifling a mesmerising moan as he came down your throat, “fuck…” 

Letting go of him with a soft pop, you swallowed as you gazed up at his hazy visage, feeling yourself drip and drench your panties from the borderline meditative motion of giving him head. 

Hands still fast in your hair, Frank kneeled down to your level and pressed his lips to yours, the teasing touch you had going on over your pants quickly grew into something more desperate. 

“Could you–…” you breathed heavily, “god, I feel like it’s been forever since you touched me…”

A warm chuckle rumbled out of him as he looked back into your blown pupils, “we fucked this morning,” he noted, rising back up and scooping you with him. 

“Exactly,” you bit down on your smile, “it’s been like three hours.”

Slipping beneath your waistband, your grip fastened in the front of his open flannel as his fingers grazed through your wetness. Eyelids fluttering at the foggy sensation, Frank manoeuvred your frames, spinning you around and pressing your back against the wall. 

“Well, I’m sorry that you had to wait that long,” he entertained your quip, rubbing your puffy clit just right, “whatever can I do to make it up to you?” his free hand securely snaked around your middle. 

Sharing his breath, your nose nudged against his, “seems to me like you already have a pretty good idea of what could suffice.”

“Oh yeah?” he chuckled like a crackling fire, “could this maybe make you feel a bit better?” your hold on his shirt tightened as he gently slid one finger inside your dripping heat.

“Mhm,” you nodded hazily, one of your knees briefly lifting to graze against his leg. 

As you readjusted your arms, draping them around his neck, “or how about this?” his lavish pace then intensified as he eased his ring finger in beside his middle one, curving them a bit as the root of his palm nuzzled firmly against your throbbing clit. 

“O-oh, fuck!” your head fell back and collided with the wall, your fluttering gaze glued to his. 

Leaning in to muffle your breathy whimpers with his kiss, the sensual soppy sound his efforts produced echoed throughout the half-painted room, those only growing in their volume as he rocked his digits within you rougher.

Moans melting against his tongue as it danced against your own, it didn’t take long before your pussy clenched down around him, clambering and inadvertently pulling his fingers in that much deeper as he slowed back down, rendering it a demanding task for him to get his hand back with the way you blissfully clung to it. 

Head resting a moment against his broad shoulder as you caught your breath, your puffs gradually morphed into the same blissful giggle you hadn’t been able to shake just moments before.

“You know what?” you lifted your head. 

“What?” he chuckled through his smile. 

Tangling your fingers in the hair at the nape of his neck, you rose up to your tip toes and uttered, “I don’t know if I can wait another three hours,” before you captured your lips in another heated kiss, your hands swiftly travelling south on a mission for more. 

But just as Frank hoisted you up, your legs tangling around his hips, a booming voice from somewhere else in the inn cut through your haze. 

“I did it!” you heard your father shout, his jovial stride caused the staircase he hastily ascended to creak just as loud as his boisterous words boomed, “I finally did it!” 

“Shit,” you hissed, nearly pushing Frank away as you scrambled to hide any evidence of what the two of you had just done. 

“I’m a genius! I think I’ve finally cracked the code to croissants!” the moustachioed man burst through the doors just as you rushed to pick your paint roller back up as if it had been glued to your grip for hours. 

“Dad!” you skurried to roll some more blue on the wall, hoping he wouldn’t notice just how flustered you were, “hey!”

“I think I was handling the dough too much while laminating,” he rambled, flour tinting his apron a lighter shade of green, “also why I’ve never been great at pies, I fiddle with it too much, but I think I finally got the hang of it! Just pulled some out of the oven and they look amazing,” darting his dazzled gaze from you to Frank, he offered, “you kids want one?” 

“Uh,” you glanced back at the man, still standing close to where you’d blown him just moments before, “sure,” you stiffly heard yourself agree, “that sounds lovely, dad.” 

© 2023 thyme-in-a-bubble 

[sarawritestories]

Dance With Me, Pretty Girl

Cassian X Fem (Plus size )Reader

Summary: Cassian has been away on a mission for over a month and Reader just misses him and she was having a low self esteem day when she comes home and finds a surprise for her

Content warning: Low self esteem, lonely, so much fluff, not proofread

Word Count: 1,199 words

ACOTAR Masterlist

 This past month has been exhausting. You had tried to keep yourself busy and Rhys and Feyre kept you busy with small assignments and watching Nyx, but you missed your mate. This mission Your High Lorrd had him on was the longest you’ve been apart since the war. You smiled at the memory of when the mating bond snapped for you.

It was something out of a romance novel you were on a ladder at the bookstore you owned, reaching to get a book at the top when your foot slipped. The next thing you knew two large muscular hands had caught you and were cradling you in his arms. Your eyes met his and the bond snapped. Heat crept up your face, “Thank you, you can put me down, I know I’m pretty heavy.”

The male chuckled and you caught gleam of a red stone on his chest and your eyes widened, you were mated to the General of the Night Courts armies, “Sweetheart, you are not heavy.” He puts you down, though his hand slid from your back and grazed your arm a shiver ran through your spine as goose pimples rose from your flesh. His calloused scarred hand lifts yours to his lips and plants a kiss there and electricity thrummed through your body. His eyes widened and you felt it, felt him tugging on the bond, “I don’t even know your name,” He whispered.

“Y/N my name is, Y/N.” He grinned and you couldn’t help but reciprocate one for him,

“Y/N,” he tries your name out on his lips and his voice makes your stomach flip. “What a gorgeous name,” His eyes rake over my body and my voluptuous curves. “For a gorgeous female. My name is Cassian.”

And you have rarely ever been a part since that day. Though you both agreed to wait to accept the mating bond until you got to know each other and the two of you ended up spending everyday together. And he made sure to worship your body and always made sure that you always felt beautiful.

He’s been gone for the month and the most you had gotten was small caress down the bond in the morning and before he went to bed. Just to let you know he was thinking about you. Today had been the hardest day though, you woke up and looking at yourself in the mirror had been hard. All your clothes fitted you in all the wrong places and every blemish was amplified. Your hair would not cooperate with you. So, your hair went up in a bun you wore one of Cassian’s T-shirts shirts closing the patches for his wings and placed on sweatpants.

Rhys and Feyre had let you stay in the river house while your mate was away. When you came downstairs, they smiled at you, “Morning, Y/N.” Feyre beamed.

“Morning, I think I’m going to go home today.” Rhys and Feyre exchanged a look.

Rhys nodded in understanding, “Sure would you mind stopping into the city and running some errands for us.

Errands turned into going from one end of the city to the other grabbing odds and ends things, Paint brushes, stationary, baby shoes for Nyx, okay you couldn’t resist stopping the baby store to shop for the heir they did not ask you to go, but you loved spoiling your nephew. By the time you finished shopping for them the sun was setting, and you were ready to sleep in your own bed.

Unlocking the door, your eyes widened when you saw rose petals all over the floor. The roses led a path to your living room. Once you shut the door you follow the petals and then you feel it. Feel him and you run to the living room where Cassian is grinning broad his wings tucked back is armor gone. He’s in dress shirt and slacks a bouquet in one hand a dress in the other, “Hi you.” His voice warms your skin like a tight embrace.

“Hi, I thought you were going to be gone for a few more days.” I move down and I get a smell of his scent of sandalwood.

Cassian places the flowers and dress down and scoops you in his arms. His fingers digging into your soft flesh. Rhys said you were feeling lonely and that I did enough. Told him I would come home straight away. Though I needed my girl distracted for a little bit to make her feel extra special.” He kissed your nose, and it caused you to giggle.

That would explain why Rhys sent you all over the city you nuzzled into his neck, “I missed you.” You whispered.

He squeezed you lightly, “I missed you too.” He put you down and handed you the flowers and the dress. “Will you get dressed for me, Sweetheart? We are having a date night in.” He smiles, “But I want to dress for the occasion.”

You nod your head, and he pressed his lips to yours. When you pull away and turn, he takes the opportunity to slap your ass and you glare his way and he simply responds with a wink. ��You ran upstairs and got changed.

The dress was an evening gown that looked like it was dipped in starlight and the front had a deep V that accentuated your full breast and hugged your hips, it made you feel womanly and when you walked downstairs Cassian was pouring the wine. He looked up and his mouth dropped open. You felt self-conscious and hugged around yourself. “Don’t.” Cassian scolded walking over and pulling your arms from your body. “Don’t hide, you’re the most beautiful female in Velaris.”

I snort, “I’m sure Feyre and Mor would hate that you said that.

“I could care less about them. To me, you shine brighter than all the stars in the sky. I’m lucky to bask in a small fraction of that light.”  He held out his hand. “As a matter of fact, dance with me, pretty girl.” You placed your hand in his and he pulled your hand close to his chest his hand enveloping over yours. The other hand wrapped around your waist until your stomach meets his toned chest, “Stop it.”

“Stop what,” You asked sheepishly.

“Stop comparing your body to mine. I have always found your body sexy. Always found you sexy and now I’m dancing with my sexy wife.”  He pressed his forehead to yours, his eyes closing as the two of you began to sway with no music playing.

Your eyes fluttered close and gone are the self-doubt and concerns about life as he holds you close and swayed. The two of you spent hours just swaying around the kitchen where he whispered how much he loved you and was happy to be home. And in one swift move he pulls you put, spins you in and dips you, where he trails kisses from your neck all the way up to your lips where he lays so much passion and love in the kiss and down the bond. He was home and, in your arms, you were happy. Nothing else mattered.

[lbxbx]

Cockpit 4 | knj

Pair: Namjoon x reader

Summary: Namjoon goes through a rough time while getting a divorce, meeting you at the club two weeks in a row when attraction becomes unreal.

Rating: +18 mature content, Smut, divorce, fatherhood, anal play

Previous | Next

You managed to slip from underneath him and wear the tank top you were wearing earlier today, you rush to collect his pants and throw them in the washer. After all, it was you who spilled the wine.

You rush to the kitchen and open the fridge, you’re starving, and you’re very thirsty. You grab a bottle of water and unscrew the lid, you drink almost the whole bottle in one go to quench your thirst.

“Y/N?” You hear Namjoon’s footsteps coming closer to you, “Yeah?” You close the bottle and look at him when he enters the kitchen wearing only his boxers.

“I can’t find my pants.” This man looks like a lost puppy all the time.

“Oh, I hope you don’t mind.” You take out a water bottle and hand it to him. “I put it in the washer, I spilled some wine on it earlier.”

“Thank you.” He grabs the bottle and drinks, his throat bobbing to every gulp he swallows. “Is it going to take time?”

You turn and look at the washer. “95 Minutes. Do you have somewhere to be?”

“No, but it’s getting late.” He puts down his bottle, you cross your arms and look around for a second, should you ask him to stay?

Of course not. Your brain is still working after all.

“Are you okay?” He squints his eyes trying to read your mind, you need to say something quick and not stupid.

“I’m hungry, are you?”

He tilts his head and his eyes still search your face. “Yeah.” He says unsurely.

You feel like he’s going to pull the words out of you, so you decide to turn and open the pantry and take out a couple of cup noodles.

“I really like your place.” He makes small talk and leans against the counter with his arms crossed.

“You do? Thank you.” You turn on the kettle to boil water. “I was really lucky to find this apartment on sale.”

“You’re not renting?” He asks and you shake your head. “I was going to, but the owner put a last minute offer and I had some money on hand, so I just went ahead.”

He nods and looks around the kitchen, you look at him and follow his eyesight, “You wanna look around? Food needs a couple minutes.”

“Sure.” He uncrosses his arms, and you show him around your apartment, you really adore your place and take pride in it, you decorated it the way you wanted, painted the walls the color you liked, you even showed him your wooden poker table you had and he’s really amused by it.

“You can play poker?” He asks touching the table with his fingertips, you nod and just now it hits you, you have a man you just met in the club a week ago in your place, wearing only his boxers and touching your poker table.

“We should play sometime.” He looks at you when he feels your eyes burn his back, you wish you could kiss him all over it, down his spine and his broad shoulders, this man is big.

“We totally should.” You smirk, he walks closer to you and tugs a strand of your hair behind your ear. “Don’t look at me like that.”

You tease and look at his lips, not bothering to look into his eyes. “Hm? Like what?”

He licks his bottom lip and clears his throat, sealing the space between both of you, your chest now brushing against his, he looks down at you eyeing his lips and his brain recalls your face when you’re being fucked by him, that alone made him want you all over again.

“Like you wanna be fucked again until you can’t walk.” He spits out which makes your heart skip a beat and your breath to hitch. “Cause I’ll do it.” He even continues.

This man will be the death of you.

You stare at him with your orbs widened and your jaw slightly open, his lips twitch, he wants to say more but he hesitated for a second, “Y/N?”

“Yeah?” Your hands fall on his chest.

“Tell me about your sexual fantasies.” He speaks. “I have so many things I want to do to you.”

“You do?” Your face is heating up and your insides are clenching around nothing. “Gosh, I need to sit.”

“Let me help you.” His hands reach the back the back of your thighs and he carries you up, he puts you down on the poker table and gets down on his knees, you’re not sure where he’s going but you shut your knees closer to each other, he looks up at you and forcefully spreads them apart, revealing your bare cunt under your tank top.

His eyes locked onto yours, he prints soft wet kisses and bites on your inner thighs, all the way inside until you can feel his breath coming out from his nose on your pussy.

You struggle to stay in the same position, your core is too weak for this position and you’re already shaking, you need to hold on to something or change the position.

He cuts to the chase and he devours your pussy with his eager mouth, his tongue flicking your clit and sucking on it, you throw your head back and you feel yourself getting weaker by the second, your hand reaches for the back of his head and you hold onto his hair for dear life.

“You taste so fucking good.” He slides a finger into your clenching wet pussy and licks your clit once with his hot wet tongue, your eyes close partly when he curls his fingers inside you. “Holy fucking shit.” Your grip gets tighter on his hair, your legs close around his head which makes your core rest for a few seconds.

Namjoon’s hand again moves to the back of your knees and he pushes them towards your torso all the way, which makes you hold on to your own legs for support, his tongue moving down to your entrance and he pushes it in, his fingers spread your lady lumps apart, you stiffen when you feel him move further down to your puckered butt hole, he licks it with his tongue and prints kisses around it, it’s your first time ever and it feels..

Different.

You sit up and eye him very carefully, almost anxiously, his tongue flicking the hole and making it glisten with his spit before he rubs it with his index finger and slowly pushes it in.

You whimper and one of your hands moves to your mouth, “Namjoon.” He looks up at you with lazy eyes, his finger pushing further inside you, you cover your mouth with the back of your hand when you feel the pressure of his finger inside you, it’s extremely tight and a little weird for you, and you’ve never been a big fan of change.

“You’re so tight.” He wets your hole again and the slickness makes everything feel different and good, you throw your head back when he starts moving his finger in and out of you, his tongue licking long lines from your ass up to your clit, he even prints kisses on your inner thigh and bites it harder than before, then goes back to sucking your clit.

It was the sloppiest head you’ve ever had.

You’ve received head before but it was only men doing it weirdly and not even remotely close to making you satisfied. But Kim fucking Namjoon does it to make you enjoy the process and solely to satiate you and make you feel good. He made sure every single cell of your body is drugged with pleasure.

He’s doing things that you’ve never even thought about doing with anyone.

Hell you didn’t even know you were into, but he gives it to you like he knows you for years and knows what you’re into.

“I’m gonna cum.” You announce, he pulls back and takes his finger out with a subtle pop, your shoulders sulk in disappointment, you even stare at him for a second, he’s probably up to something and in fact, he is.

He carries you and you wrap your legs around his torso and pull him in for a heavy make out session while he walks to your bedroom again, he puts you down on your feet near your full body mirror, he turns you so your back faces him, and so you can face the mirror.

You can feel his bulge pressed against your ass which makes you panic for a second, you two just got to know each other and he’s already going to fuck you in the ass?

He yanks off your tank top and you hear a breath escape his lips. “Fuck, Y/N” He grunts, his lips hovering against your ear.

“Hm?” You’re already out of breath and you feel your wetness running down your thigh, you just want him to pound you endless.

“I’ve been wanting to fuck you since day one.” He whispers into your ear and pushes your hips back into his, his cock is rock hard like you didn’t fuck just 20 minutes ago. “I’ve been wanting to do things to you..” He continues, then buries his nose in the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent. He finds your natural body odor insanely arousing.

His finger tips run up both your arms, then to your hair to run his fingers through, he smells your hair and pushes your hair aside to reveal your tattoo, he prints a kiss on the nape of your neck and licks your tattoo, the taste of your skin sits on his tongue, fuck he could easily bust a nut right now.

You feel goose bumps through your entire body and you shiver when you feel his finger tip running down your spine, he smirks in return and looks into your eyes through the mirror. “You want to see yourself getting fucked?”

You gulp and look at his reflection, standing behind you with his lips next to your ear, the constant clenching around nothing isn’t giving you a break, you nod slowly with your eyes locked into his. “Good.” He whispers and goes down on his knees. “Eyes on the mirror.”

You gasp when you feel him spread your butt cheeks and devour your pussy again, but this time from the back. Continuing what he couldn’t finish on your poker table earlier. “Fuck, Namjoon.”

Your hands struggle to find support again, you need to lean onto something or you will collapse. If not now, you’re only seconds away.

The only thing in front of you is the mirror and your palms lean on its frame, your back arches and your legs close when he shoves in two fingers inside you, his left hand sits on your lower back and he puts light pressure to get you to arch your ass back out for him, and you do, to which he delivers a spank to your ass and he grips on your ass cheeks and squeezes hard on it whilst jiggling it.

That alone makes you clench around his fingers, your cheek is pressed against the mirror, and your quickened breath fogs the mirror, the heat from your breath felt on the side of your face.

He can feel you close to cumming again, he pulls back and again you sulk and whine in frustration. “No not again.”

He audibly laughs before sitting up and pressing against your ass again, his hands working to pull down his boxers. “You can’t wait to feel my cock in your little tight pussy again huh?” His cock is into his hands and as he strokes the tip, you can feel his knuckles brushing against your ass and it drives you insane.

You push yourself with your palms away from the mirror to look at him through it.

“How hard do you want me to fuck you?” He asks.

Your fogged and high on sex brain doesn’t function out an answer, no matter how hard you want to tease him with something, you can’t.

Your insides are already missing his addictive touch and your body feels like utter inferno.

You look at your reflection in the mirror, Namjoon did fuck you up, your hair is messy and frizzy, your face is heated up and flushed red, sweaty too. The arousal in your body caused your lips to turn dark red and they’ve never been this plump, Namjoon aches to kiss you on the lips over and over. Your breasts are swollen and your nipples are hard and sensitive to the touch, even sensitive to room air.

Your entire body is glistening with sweat and your inner thighs have Namjoon’s bites printed on them and your arousal is coating those dark spots, your hips and your ass have Namjoon’s fingers marked on them and bruises from his palm.

Namjoon looks at you through the mirror and he’s totally satisfied with the way he made you look, but not fully satiated, he wants to do more to you and fuck you until you beg him to stop.

His eyes meet yours and you feel his dick rubbing against your folds, grinding and spreading your wetness all over your cunt, your hands sit on his for support and you hold onto them for dear life. He grabs your hips tighter and teases your entrance with his bare cock which feels insanely good for you, but it’s totally wrong, you can see his dick peaking through your thighs in the mirror.

“Fuck, No..” You moan in return and your hand moves down to cover your pussy, and you subtly push him, it hits him right away and he pulls back, he searches around the room for a second, trying to find his wallet.

He didn’t even bring his wallet to your bedroom, which makes you think his brain is fogged up too.

“There are a few in the night stand.” You spit out. “The first drawer.”

He lets go of you which you immediately lose your gate and your legs feel loose, he grabs you back almost immediately and smirks. “I haven’t even fucked you properly yet.”

You look back at him and your noses hit. “Oh fuck you Namjoon.” You hit his chest with your elbow playfully. “Go get a condom before your dick goes soft.”

He doesn’t hesitate to print a soft kiss on the side of your face and he whispers. “I’m gonna let go of you now.”

You lean your palms on the mirror frame again for support and he lets go and turns to take a condom out of your drawer, he rips the silver packaging open with his teeth and spits it out of his mouth before grabbing the condom and putting it on, all you see is his face focused on the task between his hands, the rest is blocked by the reflection of your body in the mirror.

He walks closer and grabs both of your palms away from the mirror and into his hands. “You want me to eat you out again?” He asks, his dick brushing against your ass which makes you roll your eyes at him. “Just fuck me already.”

You get weirdly impatient around this man.

“Alright alright..” He hooks his wrist with both of your arms behind your back and holds you still before rubbing the tip against your entrance, you even wiggle your ass down and try to land on his dick, but he clicks his tongue and whispers against your ear. “You’re hungry for my dick aren’t you?”

Your jaw drops slowly when he pushes his thick cock inside your wet pussy, and like a missing puzzle piece, your insides welcome his dick again and your bodies become one.

His other arm wraps around your neck and he pushes more of his cock inside you, you gasp when you feel him reaching that spot again, you throw your head back into his arm and clear your throat. “Slow.”

And he stops for a second letting you adjust and stretch around his throbbing cock, your legs can’t hold you anymore and you feel yourself not being able to stand up anymore, he grabs you by the waist tightly to support you which makes his cock unintentionally push more inside you. “Oh my god-“ Your voice came out loud and your back arches. He panics for a second because he thinks you’re in pain, he even grabs your waist tighter and looks down at you. “Fuck, sorry.”

You take a few breaths and put a hand on his wrist that’s wrapped around your neck, you look at him through the mirror and watch how he looks at you like you’re a fragile piece of glass.

He feels your eyes on him and he decides to look back at you through the mirror, his lips kissing your ear and neck softly, which gets you to relax around his dick and he’s able to push more into you until he’s ball deep.

“Go.” You nod, and he pulls his dick out of you throbbing pussy, keeping the dick in, before he pushes back into you, doing it multiple times before his speed goes up, with every thrust he knocks a breath out of you, you press your knees together and close your eyes shut. “Keep going.”

And he takes it as a sign to pound even harder into you, your tits bouncing to every thrust, he lets go of your waist and grabs both your elbows, pulling his dick fully out of you, he rubs your clit with it before slamming it back inside you all at once, he presses his lips against your ear and you can feel every breath that escapes his lips mixed with moans.

You always wanted to hear a man be vulnerable in bed and Namjoon gave it to you on a silver platter.

“F-fuck, ah..” His eyes close, “You’re gonna make me cum.” He slams harder into you, with each thrust he presses hard on his teeth. “Ah.. I love the way you make me feel.” His fingers wrap around your neck. “You make me feel so good, fuck.” He almost loses control with his thrusts but still manages to fuck you hard, the loud sinful noises of your skins hitting fill your room again. “Do you want cum around my dick? Hm?”

“I’m gonna cum.” You look at him through the mirror which wakes him up for a second, he looks back at you through your reflection with fire in his eyes.

He pulls his cock out and pushes you onto the bed, you land on your hands and knees, he puts his hand on your lower back signaling you to stay like this and you do, you put your ass up for him and he stands behind you, your hips in his hands, he spanks you on the ass once before pushing his dick back inside you and your hips meet again.

He goes back to pounding your soul out of you, both of you breathless, he gathers your hair in one hand and pulls you closer so your back meets his chest, the angle change making you near your high, the knot in your stomach is so close to snapping, he bites your ear and whispers. “Tell me how much you like being fucked like this.”

“Keep fucking me, don’t stop.” This barely makes it out of your lips, his hand reaches to your breasts and he pinches your nipple with two fingers, “Cum for me.” He says and in a click of a button your knot snaps inside your stomach and a heat wave goes through your entire body and down your back, you’re squirting against his dick which you never realized you could do, you gasp and look down at your pussy gushing out cum. “Fuck-“

Your muscles relax and your chest heaves up and down, It takes Namjoon seconds before he bursts his nut into his condom while throwing his head back. “Fuck.” The muscles on his chest tense when he fucks you through his orgasm, he falls down beside you on the bed, both of you collapsed next to each other, he’s on his back breathing fast and you’re face down on the sheets.

Both of you fucked and tired.

It’s only seconds later, you look at him and he looks back at you, both of you let out a soft laugh, he closes his eyes. “You’re fucking amazing.”

You grin at that compliment even though you should be the one giving it to him. You lay down on your back and turn to him, he sits up and rolls the condom off of his dick, before twisting a knot into it and throwing it in a bin, he leaves the room for a second, then comes back to the bedroom with a pack of cigarettes in his hand, he sits on the bed again, elbows on his thighs, he puts a cigarette between his lips and lights it up.

All you see is his carved back and his head leaning back to blow smoke, you watch him carefully for seconds, you can’t seem to take your eyes off of this man.

You sit up on your knees and wrap your arms around him from behind, printing a few kisses on his shoulders and back before grabbing the cigarette from his hands and putting it between your lips, you turn to straddle him and sit on his thighs, he seems startled for a second, you take a drag and blow out smoke away from his face before offering him back his smoke.

“Stay the night.”

“What?” He heard you the first time but he’s just making sure.

“You heard me.”  You smirk. “You can leave in the morning, it’s too late now and your pants aren’t even done.”

He stares at you in the eyes, and he sees that you genuinely want him to stay and there’s no harm. It’s just one night.

He grabs the smoke from your hand and takes a puff, blowing smoke away from your face and lifting an eyebrow at you, “Okay.” He nods.

You get up from his lap and almost lose your balance, his hand reaches fast to grab you but it lands on your ass.

“I can’t tell if you’re helping or if it’s an excuse to touch my ass Namjoon.” You turn to look at him, he stands up and takes another puff from his smoke before offering it back to you. “I don’t need an excuse to touch your ass, Y/N.”  His chest brushes against yours, you take the cigarette and put it in between your lips, taking a long drag.

You did have friends who smoked back in college, you took occasional puffs here and there, but you don’t really like it that much.

You blow smoke into his face. “Go shower. We totally forgot about the water we boiled for the noodles.”

“Hmm..” He puts a finger under his chin and pretends to be thinking. “Noodles or sex?”

You giggle playfully and hit his chest, turning to catch your tank top you throw it on and turn on your bathroom light. “I have everything you need in here.” You guide him into the bathroom. “Shampoo and conditioner are by the shower head, I have extra toothbrushes in the second drawer, and the blow dryer is in this closet.” You point at the closet under the sink before you hand him a towel, he nods and scratches the back of his neck, shifting awkwardly in his spot.

“What?”

“I have nothing to wear.” He looks down at you.

“Oh, you can stay in your towel if you want to.” You shrug nonchalantly, he crosses his arms and says with a hint of a pout. “Of course I can’t.”

“Unless you want me to lend you a thong.” You offer him. He squints his eyes. “I’ll choose the towel thank you.”

You leave the bathroom and go back to the kitchen, the water you boiled earlier has gone cold, you boil it again before picking out side dishes from the fridge, cup noodles were enough earlier, but not anymore when you’re past two rounds of heavy pounding.

It’s minutes after, both of you seated on your kitchen table and eating like you’ve never seen food before, you admire this guy even more, he’s not like any of the guys you slept with.

He has manners when he’s eating, he doesn’t chew loud, nor with his mouth open, he wipes his mouth clean after every bite, he doesn’t even speak with food in his mouth.

“You know what I find weird?” He asks, scraping the last of his ramen into a spoon. You look at him and wait for him to finish. “We slept together and we don’t even each other’s ages.”

“Oh yeah.” It hits you now too, you put your chopsticks down and take a sip of water. “I think what matters most is that we’re both adults.” You shrug.

“Mhm.” He agrees, then eats the last spoonful of ramen.

“But really how old are you?” You contradict your previous point which makes you earn a subtle laugh from him.

“I turn thirty in September.” He says right after he swallows his bite. “You?”

You nod, he actually does look thirty.

You lean your elbow on the table and put your chin into your palm. “Try to guess.”

“That’s a very risky game.” He shakes his head. “I refuse to guess.”

“Come on, at least try.” You whine, you’re genuinely curious to know how old he thinks you are.

“Hmm..” He leans both his elbows on the table and leans closer to stare into your eyes, tilts his head and squints his eyes for a second. “A gorgeous face with an insanely hot figure.”

You clear your throat, he leans closer and his nose hits yours. “With your beautiful ass and a tight pussy like yours?”

Your head is spinning, your mouth opens but you pause for a second.

He blurts out your exact age and guesses right, but something tells you that he knows that before and you look at him suspiciously. “How’d you know?”

“You have your medical degree hung up on the wall.” He smirks. “It has your birth date on it.”

“Such an idiot.” You hit him on his chest and get up to clean the table. He laughs and helps you discarding the empty ramen cups.

“I’m just messing with you.” He stands behind you while you’re cleaning the only dish you used, “But I was serious about your face and your body, you’re fucking gorgeous.” He presses against you cornering you against the sink, you shiver when you feel his breath down your neck. “You’re going to be the death of me, Kim Namjoon.”

He bites the skin on your neck softly and whispers. “I’d fuck you again but I would kill for some sleep now.”

You won’t even try to refuse if he offered more sex, you can’t get enough of him.

-

It’s almost 3 in the morning, the room is completely dark and it feels warmer than usual even when the air conditioning is turned on. You blame it on your dreams and what happened earlier with the man lying next to you.

You turn to look at him, sleeping on his side and covering just his lower half, he slept naked considering his clothes weren’t dry nor comfortable enough to sleep with.

He looks incredibly alluring even when he’s asleep,  you were sucking his cock in your dreams just a couple second ago and it felt amazing to be in control and pleasure him. The heat between your legs makes you whine in frustration, you have to wake him up.

No no.

You Need to wake him up. Now.

You take the covers off of you, sit up and straddle his hips, not fully landing on top of him, the blanket still covering his lower half. You bury your face in his neck and kiss him there softly, once, twice, thrice, then up to his ear, you lick it and blow air softly into it, which makes him shift in bed. “Mmm.” He groans and opens one eye. “Y/N, are you okay?”

Now you fully land on his lower half, the blanket is still stopping you from touching his cock with your cunt. You grab his head into your hands and kiss him on the lips softly, he’s still half asleep so he hardly kisses back. “We have to get some sleep.” He mumbles.

You’re totally unbothered by his statement, so you kiss him again and go down to his neck, licking a long line from his collarbone up to the back of his ear, then kiss him there, moving down to his neck and giving him soft bites.

His hands land on your hips and he hums in return. “Are you up?” You ask him, he nods, his eyes half open. “Good.” You say sternly.

You move down to his chest and kiss him, sucking on some spots here and there, then moving down to his stomach, you print a few kisses on it then gaze at his trail of pubes, the excitement in you is indescribable, you’ve never wanted to blow a man this much.

He feels you moving down and he knows what you’re about to do, he sits up on his elbows and looks at you, his hair messy and his lips pouty, eyes half open. His hand reaches for your hair and he tugs it away from your face and behind your ear.

His mind is still foggy from being in deep sleep, but his body is already on fire, he can’t remember the last time he got his dick sucked.

You pull the blanket off of him and grab his hardening dick in your hand, trailing a few wet lines of saliva on it to make it wet, you stroke it slowly and kiss his upper thigh while looking up at him. He’s fully conscious and alert.

“I’ve been wanting to taste your dick.” You tease him with your sleepy voice. “Will you please let me suck your dick?”

That alone makes his dick fully erect in your hand, and it even twitches which makes you giggle sexily at it, you stick your tongue out and slam his dick onto it a couple of times, making it completely wet.

“Fuck, Y/N.” His bottom lip sits between his teeth and he takes a long exhale when he feels your tongue licking his dick from the base to the very tip slowly but repeatedly.

The leaking tip finally sits inside your mouth and you wrap your lips around it, and like you’ve never eaten a dick before, you devour it, you want to feel his dick on every taste bud, and he tastes fucking good.

You’re hungry for him and eager to pleasure him, you want him to feel your mouth and cum inside it.

“You look so fucking beautiful with my dick in your mouth.” His hips move up to push more of his dick inside your mouth. You’re soaking wet for him.

You were lucky you’ve never had issues with your gag reflex, it’s hardly even there which is what makes you give the best blow jobs ever.

Your head bobs lower and to take more of his enormous dick inside your mouth, you will have terrible jaw pain in the morning, but he’s fucking worth it.

You can feel the tip of his dick tickling your uvula which makes him tense and sit up for a second, you land even further down and his dick is now fucking your throat. “Shit your mouth feels so fucking good.”

You pull back from his dick and stroke it again, coughing a couple of times and looking into his eyes.”I want you to cum down my throat Namjoon.”

He has the look of the lost puppy on his face again, he cannot believe you just said that, his jaw even drops and his eyes move back and forth between your left and right eye.

You lick his balls once which makes him spread his legs a little wider. “Will you?”

Your question snaps him out of his thoughts, he nods slowly and you’re more than satisfied with his answer. You took the man off guard what were you expecting.

You stroke his cock again and suck on his balls, hallowing your cheeks and running your tongue up and down his sack, you move further down to his ass and you lick his hole once which makes him flinch and almost close his legs, he grabs you by the head and gasps. “What are you doing?”

Your eyebrows form into a clear frown. “Rimming your ass clearly, do you not want me to?”

“It feels weird.” He shakes his head in denial.

“You fingered my asshole earlier.” You shrug, your hand still stroking his cock. “It was weird too.”

“But it was good weird, wasn’t it?” He asks, out of breath, he’s already about to cum.

“And does this not feel good weird?” You raise an eyebrow and look at him challenge, most men do enjoy their ass eaten but won’t even admit.

It takes him a few seconds to think, he clearly enjoyed it but he’s denying it.

“Fine, I won’t do it again.” You lick his balls again and suck on them, before putting his dick back into your mouth, his tug gets harder on your hair and he starts moving his hips up to fuck your face, slamming into your throat roughly until audible gags are heard, his balls slam against your chin and your tears are already streaming down on your face.

“I’m gonna cum.” He announces, out of breath. You pull his dick out of your mouth and try to catch a breath, you kiss his dick a couple of times and look at him in the eyes. “I wanna feel your cum down my throat.”

“Come on baby let me fuck your mouth again.” He runs his thumb on your bottom lip, you stifle a grin at the pet name and put his dick back into your mouth, his hand goes back to pull your hair, and he slams into your throat again, sloppy gagging sounds fill your room, your nails dig into his thighs, you need to catch a breath but he’s already close to cumming, so you decide on holding your breath longer.

“Fuuuck.” You can feel his cum down your throat and he fucks your face through it, releasing a loud breath with each ribbon he shoots. “Oh my fucking god.” He lets go of your hair and throws his head back into the pillow, you pull his dick out of your mouth and kiss his lower stomach and thighs while catching a breath.

“You’re fucking incredible.” He leans his wrist on his forehead and clears his throat. You crawl up to him and catch his lips into a soft kiss, he kisses back immediately and pulls the cover over both of you, and you sleep in his arms, which you normally would refuse to do because it feels intimate, but you’re both too tired to think.

--

You turn in bed, your joints all feel loose and your back hurts, your head even feels heavy and you’re craving more sleep.

You’ve always been a morning person, you like waking up early and working out at home or even taking a jog around your block, take a shower and grab a bite before planning out your day. Even if you slept really late, you’d wake up early and just nap during the day.

You let out a gasp when you finally open your eyes, your vision still blurry. There’s a man next to you.

You must’ve been in deep sleep to even forget he spent the night here. Although the reason you’re in deep sleep is because he pounded you hard last night he just knocked you to sleep.

He opens his eyes and looks up at you, a lazy smile on his face, he rubs his eyes and crawls closer to you, leaning his head on your chest and hugging your body closer, his hands tugging on the short silk dress you’re wearing.

You hesitate a second before wrapping your arms around him, hugging his warmth closer to you.

He looks up at you and his eyes shift between your eyes and lips, before he gives your lips a soft kiss. And the moment his lips land on yours, your phone starts ringing, you kiss him back quickly before reaching to grab your phone, it’s Hoseok.

“I need to answer this.” You look at him, he nods and lazily buries his head in the crook of your neck, you swipe your phone screen and answer the phone. “Hobi?”

“Are you still asleep? It’s 10 in the morning, are you okay?” Hoseok knows you wake up early so he genuinely thinks you’re sick or something.

“No I’m fine, I went to bed late.” And you’re trying so hard to focus but the man in your arms won’t let you. His lips are kissing behind your ear and down your neck, licking some spots with his warm tongue, and his arms are hugging your waist closer to his, his morning wood felt as it is against you.

“I found you the screws you were looking for, you know for your pantry shelves. Do you want me to come over and install them?”

It’s totally not the time, and the man you stated your fear of to Hoseok is in your bed. Now your body tenses because Hoseok knows the pass code to your door and he could come any minute.

“Of course, but I need to shower and finish a few things first, okay?” You see Namjoon’s head disappear under the blanket and he’s kissing your thighs and spreading them apart to sit between them, he pulls your panties to the side and kisses your cunt lovingly like he didn’t fuck it the night before.

“Okay, I’ll get breakfast too, I just got off work and I haven’t eaten anything.” At this point you could agree to anything because you just want to end the call before you get busted.

“Cool, okay.” You sit on your elbows. “I’ll see you later Hobi, thank you for the screws.”

“I’ll see you.” He finally hangs up, you throw your phone down on the mattress next to you and throw the blanket down on the floor.

Namjoon looks at you ever so innocently before he shoves his middle finger inside your hole, which makes you whimper and bite on your lips. “It’s still morning.”

“You’re allowed to suck my dick in the middle of my sleep, but I’m not allowed to eat your pussy when I wake up?” He smirks and kisses your clit softly. “I’m just saying thank you for letting me stay the night.” He curls his fingers inside you and you hold onto the sheets while throwing your head back. “Oh Namjoon..”

“Hm?” He spreads your pussy open and sucks onto your clit, flicking his tongue against it which makes you wet in a snap of a finger.

“Sucking your dick in the middle of your sleep was fucking worth it.” You look at him and move your hips with his fingers, creating a slow grind on his face. He laughs at your words and climbs up to kiss you on the lips, his fingers sliding out of you. “You liked sucking my dick didn’t you?”

You sit up and push him down on the mattress, before reaching for your nightstand and grabbing out a condom and putting it on your pillow. You climb on top of him and straddle his thighs, slowly but gently landing on his erection.

“So you’re into morning sex, Kim Namjoon?” You grab his hands into yours and lean down to kiss the corner of his lips, slowly grinding against his bare cock, his grip tightens around your hands and his eyes scan your bodies. You go down to his long neck and satisfy your urge to kiss it, using your teeth to bite on his skin gently, what grabs your attention is his necklace.

It had a barely noticeable heart chain, with the name ‘Jay’ engraved on it.

“Who’s Jay?”

[jolapeno]

10. cranberry cocktail

frankie morales x f!reader | chapter ten of do me yourself

summary: a meet-cute in a hardware store? impossible, out of the question. except, that's exactly what happens. a need for screws leads you to a broad-shouldered, brown-eyed man who you're sure is about to change your day, never mind your life.

wordcount: 3k chapter warnings: SMUT. 18+. jo's bad use and knowledge of DIY. frankie calls you 'rainy' (paint-related from chp.1) no other descriptions or name used. no use of y/n. an: this one is called jo made herself horny. see author note at the end.

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It’s difficult not to smile as you approach.

His voice, mid-singing—almost competing with the radio that lingers under his voice—had been travelling out as you walked up to the building. Louder when you pulled open the door, sliding the sunglasses from your face.

A few blinks and your eyes capture his, singing dying out, leaving the original artist blaring around in the background.

Still, you're unable to stifle the smile. Not as you walk closer or as he puts down the tool in hand; least of all when you realise he's looking only half as abashed as you would be if he caught you mid-rendition, watching him dial down the volume on the radio as the door closes behind you.

Frankie had shown you this place once before. Your voice, light, teasing, hand in his: “You’re showing me where the magic happens?”

“I’ve shown you where that happens.”

“Not that magic—or, well, I hope you’re not about to tell me there are even more videos on a different site I need to watch. I’ve been forced to rewatch things lately.”

He’d explained, with a soft smile and a twinkle in his eye, how he’d turned the garage into a workshop. The hours, the pieces he’d started with and the things he’s managed to build, find or bargain for along the way. Even lingered his thumb over the height chart for Luca, the one he told you he began when he first bought the run-down house he made a home.

It was impressive then, but you hadn’t appreciated it as much as you do stepping in today.

You'd been too busy then, watching, studying him. Spotting the way he trailed his thumb across his bottom lip, eyes widening as they tried to smile before his lips as he pointed out highlights he knew you’d have seen from certain videos you’d mentioned.

Now, it's all lit by soft, mid-morning sunlight, looking homely, loved, worn in and appreciated—everything you’d expect from him.

Even if things are out, such as plasterboard and wood leaning against odd edges, everything else has a place. Just like the scent that wanders around and flows as if there’s a constant candle burning, one which includes notes of freshly applied paint, the essence of sawdust and leather. A blended aroma that subtlety clings to his clothes—and then lingers inside your own. A thing which brings comfort, until it seeps in sadness upon the realisation that it's faded from a sweater, bedsheets or your throw after a few days of not seeing him in person.

"Hi, handsome."

He grins, a hello escaping out as his knuckle tips your chin up, your smile back presses to his mouth. Tasting his lips, how they’re tinged with coffee. Frankie planting it more intently as your hands find their way around his waist, heightening it, fingers grasping your cheek.

You swear you could kiss him forever. A thought you know you have continuously, almost every time his mouth finds yours. But you mean it.

Completely. Utterly.

Your palms sliding around, fingers brushing over dry, hard paint specks buried into the soft, beloved cotton of his tee.

“So,” you say when you pull away, teeth biting your lip—finding yourself staring at him, as though his face alone answers everything.

In some ways, you're adamant it does. In others, you know it will.

A feeling that thrums more and more intensely as weeks rack up into months, as your heart flutters in your chest when his eyes hold yours for a second longer than normal.

“What has prompted this little requested visit?”

Grinning, he traces his thumb along your jaw. “Thought you could drill some holes—for your cupboards?”

Smirking, dragging your tongue in a sweeping motion across your lip, you tap your fingers on his waist. “Drill, ay? I didn’t… exactly come dressed to be in your workshop.”

“Wait,” he says, eyes widening, mouth pulled into a line as he brushes his fingers down the fabric of your summer dress that rests along your collarbone. “This isn’t an everyday DIY outfit?”

Grinning, you nudge into him, head shaking—hand grasping a handful of his tee. “No.”

“Don’t worry,” he says, voice dropping, charm encasing each letter as his hands find a home on your hips, “I’ll make sure you don’t get messy.”

A soft laugh escapes you, feeling the way his thumb continues its gentle circling on your cheekbone.

“You on cleanup duty, then?” you reply, the words muffled against his lips. He hums in response, a sound of agreement that sends a pleasant shiver down your spine.

Without pulling away, he gently guides you towards the bench—hands on your side as his chin rests on your shoulder.

One glance at him, and he offers you a comforting smile. Before it comes over him, that voice—the one from the videos. All lightly, but sternly instructing you. Talking you through the steps, before he tells you to pick up the black and orange drill from in front of you.

A lick of warmth slides up your spine, a soft whimper escaping your lips as you press closer to him, your body beginning to buzz from the way he’s pressed against you—his fingers tracing lazy patterns on your waist.

“We’re going to begin with drilling the holes for the handles.”

Rolling your lips, you rest your head against his. “Okay.”

“What you’re gonna do is lightly ease the drill in.”

“Is that so?”

Clearing his throat, you swear you hear your name, it followed quickly by a “Stop.”

“Stop what, Frankie?”

It’s a grunt. A thing buried in his throat before he takes a measured sigh. His hand rises, gripping the top of the power tool before lining the drill bit with the marked wood.

“Being a tease—now, lightly pull the trigger.”

Blanking your face, staring at him with confusion. “So, push it in and out?”

You watch it hit him—slowly. It washes over him in a few blinks, your hips wiggling against his before he groans again. “You’re killing me.”

“I’m very innocent, Morales.”

“Mierda. You’re the opposite of innocent. And no, it’s straight down. Not in and out—we’re not… we’re not fucking it.”

Giggling, you bite the inside of your cheek, adjusting your stance as you swear his groin pushes into your ass on purpose. Finding a way to mumble an okay, you shift your shoulders in preparation. Asking, finger hovering over the trigger of the drill, if you squeeze it lightly as you feel him nod.

Swallowing, you give it a test. A little click. Hearing it, before you see thin crinkles of wood coming away from the pressure.

“Like that?”

Somehow, all beyond you, you manage to keep your voice steady. It all unwilling to tremble—even though his breath is dancing over your neck. Even though his hold on your hip is tightening.

Then there’s the heat pulsating through your dress—the warmth settling into your bones, skin and muscle from his touch. Your body remembering, recalling—able to know just from his presence what he can do, what he has done, how he can unravel you and make you become a mess all from his fingers, mouth and—

“Bit more pressure this time, baby.”

“You can’t say that.”

Snorting, the air dances over your skin as you swear you feel him smirk. “Oh, Rainy. I can.”

You swear his voice drops an octave.

Sweeping the words over you, making your body tense, muscles twisting in on themselves as you try to focus on the drill in your hand. Stare down at the piece of wood he’s set up for you until it’s a blur. Nodding. Finger over the button, knowing you just need to squeeze—

Perfect, he whispers.

And fuck it makes your thighs press together. Makes something rumble inside of you at the same time as the drill fires to life.

The noise is all loud, alarming—deafening. A hole deepening in the wood.

“That's it, just like that. Perfecto, hermosa.”

Even with how loud it is, you can only hear him.

How he layers so much emphasis on the P, the letter is still skating over your skin by the time the rest that follows it has left his tongue.

You can only swallow. Remaining aware, and yet focused in, on how his hand slides down, fingers teasing the end of your dress—a quickly thrown-on thing, an easy option that meant you could arrive here sooner.

“You’re perfect,” he says, kissing it against your neck as his hand slides under your dress, palm flat to your thigh, dragging it up, and up.

Some part of you, all distant, feels him take the drill, hears a click, before it’s out of sight, out of fucking mind.

Then it’s just thick fingers you focus on, how they slide, rub, torture over your underwear—feeling like minutes, hours, days before he manoeuvres. Before he’s forcing elastic to cut into your skin, before you feel him trace along the places you need him desperately.

“Frankie…”

He drags his nose against the side of your face, feeling the exhale flutter against your jaw before he makes you gasp before it grows into a shameless whine.

“This not what you wanted?”

Swallowing, your eyelids quiver. Some part of you, a present part of you that isn’t lost in the way he’s stroking up and down your slick folds, occasionally catching your clit, that he isn’t going to let you come like this.

Even if he's told you he likes the way you sound, has confessed that he likes watching you unravel; his favourite pastime, his favourite movie and soundtrack.

“Need to hear you, Rainy?”

“Want you,” you pant, breathless.

He fans hot breath on your skin. “Want me to fuck you here, baby? On my bench. Hmm?”

You’re fluttering, desperately to squeeze him—fingers or cock, you’re not in a frame of mind to be fussy.

Mind changing, singing, practically bellowing: please, please, fucking, please. Body thrumming, vibrating, legs desperate to shake—if not for the fact they’re keeping you upright. Your fingers find a place on his bench, digging, barely making a mark against the rest on his workbench. But it’s stable, rigid.

“Tell me, baby,” he says, softer, dripping it into your ear like honey—all encased in air that seeps inside of you and makes you forced to chase his lips.

It’s against them you say please. Kissing a y, an e and a s against his mouth, licking past his teeth, hips rocking into his fingers as he circles and circles and circles—

Then, nothing.

Retraction, emptiness. A desperate whine emerges, rising from the back of your throat until it fuses with the air.

An explanation almost demanded, but his belt buckle undoing silences you. His clothed cock presses against you, feeling how hard he is, the size of him making you clench your thighs as cool air kisses the back of your legs when he grabs a fist full of your dress.

“Gonna get rid of these.”

It’s deft, his finger—hooking in the band of your panties as he drags the soaked fabric down your thighs, letting it fall the rest of the way as the fabric finds a home around your ankles. For a moment they just remain there, not entirely confident you can step out of them until he holds you steady, talks you through it:

One foot, then the other. That's it, baby.

Because your body is on auto-pilot, doing things for you, for him. Like parting your thighs as his hand rests on your back as he softly urges you down. Your forearms find the bench, hingeing at the waist, lying your chest flat on his bench, sawdust filling your nose and stitching itself into the upper part of your dress as you turn your head, flakes sticking to your cheek.

And for a moment, an expanse of time, you forget how to breathe, how to be, where you are as you stare at him.

This man, this person who one day you didn’t know and the next you did—is now yours, all yours. Mine, he’d said in bedsheets after the conversation in the kitchen. Like that you’re mine, Rainy. A man you trust, like, lov—

Frankie, who is all handsome, broad and fucking kind, is now looking at you as if you’re the only thing he’s ever wanted to devour in his life. Do it, you silently plead, beg, metaphorically getting on your knees as he washes you in almond-brown eyes.

He’s a sight you couldn’t have ever made up, least of all this one. Fingers, thick—one wrapped in a bandaid—pulling down on the brim of his hat, hiding his eyes, casting half of him in a shadow that makes you almost moan. There’s just the tip of his nose, just his mouth on show, lips spread and curled into a smirk as he lines his cock at your entrance.

You sure? He asks, fingers brushing over your hip, keeping the fabric back, as you smile, nod, and whisper for him to make you feel good before he eases the head of his cock in. It's then your mouth parts around a silent cry of his name, pussy welcoming each inch of him, opening, as you let him slide all he wants to give.

“Know you can take me,” he hushes, “I’m good at measurements, calculations—“

“Fuck.”

“Fuck, you like that.”

Whining his name, he smirks. Because both the feel of him and the act is something you couldn’t have ever concocted. Fuck, a year ago you wouldn’t believe the person you are either. Not this confident being almost laid down on his workbench, feeling this good, this attractive, all bold—asking for this, for what you want. No flicker of shyness or nervousness.

Then there’s him. A sight your mind is struggling to process. Frankie with his teeth glistening with spit as he stares down at you, as he sweeps that burning gaze over you and grunts at the feel of you. One hand, large, slightly calloused, finding meaning on your waist, the other holding your dress up your spine, pressing down, light, but firm—don’t move, baby, stay still.

As if you ever would.

The stretch is welcomed, a dull ache answered, all buried to the hilt. Remaining there, still.

“Move, please—fuck, Frankie, I beg of you.”

He chuckles. A low laugh.

But he does, pulling out before driving back in, making your vision swim, blur. It all overwhelming. Both the sensation and everything else—scents, sounds and touch. His hips slowly moving, his belt buckle clanging and it’s easier to find yourself draped over the bench, cheeks on the wood, inhaling it—the scent that lives in his clothes, in his fingers and aura.

Frankie, just Frankie. Your Frankie—

“So g—fuck—good for me.”

Your fingers dig, grasp—his cock kissing that spot inside of you that forces your toes to curl in your shoes, your mouth managing half of his name before it fades to a moan. All breathy, doused in whimpers and yes’s falling in a verse that leads to a chorus.

“Feel so—oh, good, Frankie.”

“Yeah?”

“Perfect. Feel perfect.”

He moans—low, tinged in a grunt, a hiss, your name etched somewhere in the sound—as he pulls almost all the way out, drawn out, an emptiness beginning to register before he thrusts in. Somehow deeper, somehow filling you more perfectly as you squeeze your grip on the bench.

And you’re close, all light and boneless—but heavy and alive, so alive you feel like fire courses in your veins and you could become more flame than a person.

“Come for me, baby. Right on my bench—fuck, you feel good, so tight—need y’to come. Right here.”

And it crashes against you, all of it. Suddenly unable to smell a thing, hear a thing—you just feel. Feel the sensation of just him and the tip of him hitting that spot which makes you arch as pleasure, all blinding and molten lava rushes through your blood, and flows into your muscles.

All numb and yet tingly.

It takes a moment, but your senses come back one by one, panting, breathless—muscles tired and depleted—as you feel his hips stuttering, the strained noises from behind forcing your eyes open.

He’s a picture, a work of art—a statue that should be carved by someone with talent. Sun streaks in and basks him in a golden hue, illuminating that heart patch on his jaw—the way his tongue is pinned between pearly white teeth, and the vein in his neck throbs angrily as he reaches his own climax.

You clench, aware of it, ogling and admiring pushing him over the edge as he curses, tensing, rigid, pace lost as he spills inside of you, happily taking it all, wishing to wring him dry and ensure he’s empty. Greedy, desperate and fucking needy.

Before his body finds refuge on top of yours, heart hammering against your spine—hat falling, tumbling off onto the floor as the two of you catch your breaths. His hand finds your cheek, stroking his thumb against it.

“Never… I’ve never done that before.”

Smiling, you gaze at him as best as you can. “I like how you drill,” you say, playfully, feeling his laugh rumble through him before he kisses your hairline.

It’s light—perfect.

Feeling the laugh bounce from bone to bone inside of you before he turns and eases you up, chest to chest, murmuring against your lips about a shower, about cleaning you up. And you keep smiling, even more so when he checks your chin and cheek, the pad of his thumb tracing over and over.

“You promised me I wouldn’t get messy.”

Thumb pausing on your cheek, he smirks. “I can clean you up, baby?”

Smirking, you shake your head, heat flooding your cheeks. “How are you planning on doing that?”

He tilts his head, before slowly grasping the bench, descending to his knees. Your mouth unable to stop itself from falling open, all wide, surprised as he presses a kiss to your knee.

“Might want to hold onto something, baby,” he says, writing it against your inner thigh. “Might take me a minute to make sure you’re all cleaned up.”

NEXT CHAPTER ->

an: while we still have some more chapters of these two, I've been experimenting with a few things and while it won't have any bearing on the main series, there will be some smutty-one-shots that can be read as and when, and if so people wish. they won't require reading of the series, but rather allow anyone to enjoy two people who are becoming comfortable with one another, exploring a few different things. i'm not sure on when the first will be out, but it won't replace normal uploads for them. but rather just be small little things i'd love to include but would feel shoe-horned into my plan. also if there's anything you'd love a bit more of, whether it's a bit more on rainy/frankie or their relationship, my inbox is always open. thank you for letting these pair into your heart.