what-about-sex-stories

[katabay]

ONCE UPON A TIME, THERE WAS A KNIGHT...

the visual inspiration for this was a combination of Frederic William Burton's Meeting on the Turret Stairs and also Bernardo Cavallino's The vision of St. Dominic receiving the Rosary from the Virgin

this was supposed to be just a one off illustration to get the thoughts out of my system, but then I started thinking about medieval politics and warfare and plagues and a castle and home as both a place of refuge, a prison, and a tomb, so perhaps they will end up as ex voto characters as well.

you may say, hey! that rosary looks like it has too many beads! it's a fifteen decade rosary, probably. dominicans are really into marian devotions. it works out.

also. spiral style stair cases. oh boy. it was that unexpectedly more difficult than I originally thought it would be to draw. the more I think about it, the less I understand them, even though I had a million photos of the stairs in front of me while I was drawing it.

⭐ I have a tip jar (ko-fi)!

⭐ and other places I’m at! bsky / pixiv / pillowfort /cohost / cara.app

[astralnymphh]

do any of you ever just need a mouthful of ellie william tit

[inkykeiji]

But also the thought of big brother Touya noticing you usually steal his shoes to run outside, and he loves it. But this one time he catches you and you hadn’t even realised that you’ve snatched Natsuo’s�� but Touya noticed…

JOOOOOO this ask sent me into a fucking fit and i wrote an embarrassing amount about it i am so sorry (but also thank you for such a brilliant idea it had me reeling for days ily ily ily)

warnings: 18+ minors do not interact, stepcest, noncon, touya is Awful, unrealistic amounts of cum, one (1) mention of implied underage, minimal prep, slight dacryphilia, fem!reader, implied physical abuse, rough sex words: 2.4k

You don’t notice—and, truth be told, you wouldn’t have noticed, had Touya not made such a big fucking deal out of it. 

But, as always, that just isn’t his style. 

A heavy, dirty palm claps over your mouth the moment you re-enter the mudroom, smothering the scream of surprise punched from your chest as another strong arm wraps around your waist, pulling you back against a broad chest. 

“Shut up,” your eldest brother growls in your ear, though amusement tinges the edges of his words, demand spit through a grin. 

Using his bodyweight, he manhandles you toward the steadily humming washing machine, spinning you around to face him just before he traps you against it, vibrating edge digging into your back.

“Jesus, Touya!” you heave out, a palm held flat over your heart in an attempt to calm it. “Don’t sneak up on me like that!”

“Y’know, I really can’t believe you’d do this to me,” he laments, an exaggerated pout molding his scarred lips. “I thought I was your favourite brother.” 

“What?” your lashes flutter in quick succession, forehead warping with confusion. “You are? You know you are, you always have been—”

“That so? Who’s shoes are on your feet right now?” 

Looking down, your gaze lands on Natsuo’s tattered white sneakers—a stark contrast to Touya’s worn-in combat boots, or Touya’s fraying, battered Vans—and realization smooths your brow. 

Oh no. 

Head snapping up quickly, an explanation begins to bubble in your throat, stalled by the sudden ice in your veins, your heart plummeting through your ribcage. 

“O-Oh! Uh, I-I’m sorry—I just grabbed them—I wasn’t paying attention—”

“So you’ll just slip your feet in anyone’s shoes?” 

The innuendo infusing his snarky tone doesn’t go unnoticed and your eyes narrow, face puckered up with something sour.

“Of course not,” you spit, chin tilting up a little. 

A hum of incredulity vibrates in his throat, head quirked. “Doesn’t seem that way.” 

Your features flatten, fixing your big brother with an unimpressed look, though your heart is still in your stomach, pounding away irregularly. 

You’re sure he can feel it, throbbing in your gut, his hips pressing further into your own, demanding an answer.

“Touya, they’re shoes. They mean nothing. It was an innocent mistake—”

“Prove it.”

“Prove what?” you frown, voice beginning to strain beneath desperation. “It was an accident, meaning that it was unintended, not deliberate, like—”

“Prove to me that I’m your favourite brother.”

A pang sears through your chest, features falling as if he had just physically struck you, appalled that he would even insinuate such a thing, as if he could ever not be your favourite, and your response comes out harsher than you intend, scathing your tongue. 

“I prove that to you every fucking night.” 

Sapphire flares, engulfing pinprick pupils, the hinges of his jaw flexing with a slow, controlled exhale. It wafts across your face, chills skittering after it as dread unfurls, thick and sticky, in the pit of your stomach, engulfing your heart in a tarry, suffocating embrace. 

“Y’know, that mouth of yours is real filthy,” he begins, eyes lidded with a practiced indifference, not enough to hide the flames glimmering in his irises.

Of course your mouth is; it’s routinely glazed by your eldest brother’s tongue, your teeth lacquered in thick spit stained with spice and ash—irrevocably soiled, ruined, forever his.

A response blazes on your tarnished tongue—something you try to keep locked away behind two rows of ivory, something you try to snuff out, muscle pressed hard against the roof of you mouth—but it’s too hot, it’s too strong, melting past your teeth to ooze from your lips, venom and syrup.

“Oh, yeah? What’re you gonna do about it?”

You expect a backhand for such a rude response, face preemptively wincing as the phantom of sharp knuckles and metal rings caresses your cheek, but he just smirks, eyes lazily sweeping to the sink crammed between the machines, zeroing in on a thick bar of soap. 

“Oh, I’ve got some ideas.” 

You’re too slow, too weak, too stupid to escape it—or, rather, he’s too fast, too tough, too smart to allow such a mistake, a fluid flash of ivory and crystal as he leans forward, palm already clasping around the bar when you try to wriggle from below his body, his free hand catching your jaw and yanking you to back toward him, hard enough to give you whiplash. 

Pain sears down your spine, a yelp splintering in your throat, body gone pliant beneath your big brother’s touch. 

“Open.” 

Head shaking, your jaw clenches under callused fingertips in defiance, molars grinding together.

“I said, open,” he growls, expertly squeezing the hinges, mouth popping open easily without your permission.

You should’ve known he’d do that, a trick he learned when you were teenagers, a trick he’s been exploiting ever since. 

The bar shoves past your teeth, scraping against the edges, thick curls of soap collecting in the divots of your cheeks. 

A bitterness explodes on your tongue, flattened to the underside of the bar, and your features scrunch up in distaste, nose wrinkling, eyes shut tight.

“Keep it in there,” he says, thumb pressing it in a little further, huffing out a chuckle at your responding gag. “If you spit it out before I cum, I’ll tie it to your goddamn mouth and fuck you again, y’hear me?” 

Azure eyes search your face, slow and calm as they wait for you to nod your understanding. Then he’s smirking, something smug and arrogant curdling the corners of his lips, and he’s spinning you around, grip rough and harsh as he pins you between the machine and his body, and he’s kicking at your inner ankles, toes forcing your legs further apart, knees slipping between your own, keeping them pried open. 

“You know,” he’s saying conversationally, hands unhurried as they creep up your dress, the hem beginning to bunch around his wrists. “I’ve always found it so cute when you act as if you don’t want this.” 

Fingers crawl between your spread thighs, muscles tensing around his as if they’d like to snap shut, his own strong legs urging yours wider. 

Two digits find your hole, drenched and desperate, rubbing circles into it through the lace of your panties—massaging, tips just barely dipping inside, snorting out something sick and cruel as your empty cunt pulses and flutters, a poor attempt to suck them in further.

He plays with you for a breath, gathering the fabric between his forefinger and a thumb, peeling the sticky material from where it was clinging to your folds. 

Holding it taut, he lets your shame build, flushing hot through your blood, pinpricks sprouting across your skin, Touya waiting for that telltale whimper before finally allowing it to slap back wetly, another little snicker dripping from his lips. 

Callused pads find your clit, puffy and yearning and jumping beneath his touch. He brushes against it—a crude apology of sorts—then clamps down on the swollen nub, something high and pitchy cracking in your throat.

“It’s always so hot,” he speaks over your cry, grip strengthening, “when you act as if this doesn’t turn you own just as much as it turns me on.”

Jerking forward, his hips grind into your ass, hard cock pressed tightly to supple flesh. His jaw latches over your shoulder, chin digging into your collarbone and keeping you in place.

“So don’t stop, ‘kay?”

Your head nods; automatic, instinctual, unable to resist even if you wanted to.

Because yeah, sure, he’s fucking sick, but you’re just as bad, ailed with the same illness, contracted from the same diseased household, the both of you growing, festering, in the same putrified environment—nurtured there, poisoned there, by each other, for each other. 

And so, you obey, you perform, body thrashing against his own, palms planted on the top of the washer pushing back hard, his cock twitching in response. 

Yeah, yeah, keep fighting him. 

The sound that rattles in his chest is dark, dangerous, lips spread into a wide grin. One of his hands curls around the back of your neck, grip hard enough to stutter the blood in your jugulars, before he slams your head down against the machine, skull bouncing a little with the impact. 

The force nearly sends the soap skittering from your mouth, eyes widening as you manage to catch it with your teeth, drawing it back in. His palm skims down your spine, splayed flat on the small of your back, pinioning you in place.

His cock breaches you suddenly, one sharp, swift thrust to bury him to the hilt, head jammed tight against your cervix. It fucking stings, delicate skin splitting as your hole stretches, strains, struggles to swallow him whole, desperate to succeed, to submit. 

You choke on a gasp, the soap wedged in your mouth making it difficult to inhale, and Touya laughs, cruelness curling on his tongue. 

His other hand wraps around your waist, fingertips snapping tiny capillaries beneath their touch, using the leverage to pull you back as his hips hammer forward, each drive of his cock jostling your entire body, the edge of the machine jabbing your tummy.

It’s ruthless right from the start, just as it always is with Touya, cock pounding into you hard and fast and deep, the sharp slap of his pelvis against your ass rivalling the steady rumble of the machines. 

The soap is already starting to slip again, melting in the heat of your mouth, eroded by the saliva drooling in thick strings from the corners, and you whine, teeth sinking further into the softening bar, a feeble attempt to hold it in place. 

Even now, you’re still so eager to please him. 

But it’s hard to hone your concentration on the slick bar between your lips when Touya’s consistently ramming against that swollen patch of flesh buried deep within you, cockhead rolling over that spot in quick little motions, in time with the piston of his hips. 

Sparks of pleasure quiver down your legs, each thrust sending another bout flooding through your veins, a dense, hot heat beginning to furl in the pit of your stomach. 

It feels so good, muffled moans seeping past the seam of your stretched lips, fingers curling around the corners of the washing machine, nails scraping metal as you try to anchor yourself, weakly pushing back against your big brother, begging for more. 

It’s a shame your big brother knows your body so well.

“Don’t you dare,” he pants out, purposefully angling his hips so he stops brushing up against that spot, his next thrust missing it completely. “Bad little sisters don’t get to cum on their big brother’s cock, don’t you know?” 

The denial burns your eyes, a stringy, contorted wail of his name wavering around the soap as a thick shield of tears blurs your vision, nose twitching with a sniffle. 

“Yeah, yeah, cry about it, baby,” he mocks, the edges of his letters gone wispy, sounding more like a plead than a demand. “It’s your own fault; if you weren’t such a disrespectful little brat then maybe niichan would’ve let you cum.” 

You hate being told no by anyone, but you hate being told no by Touya the most.

It hurts, chest aching with rebuff, but your body does as he asks anyway, incapable of disobeying a direct order from its owner, tears spilling past your lashes to pool in little puddles on the metal.

You try to say please, to beg so prettily, with glittering lashes beaded with tears and sweet little niichan’s hiccuping your ribs, but the wiggling of your tongue causes the soap to slip again, a sweet yelp of concern trembling in your throat as your teeth dig in deeper, jaw tensing, cheeks hollowing around the bar in an attempt to suck it further into your mouth.

The agony doesn’t last long, though, your combined obedience and weeping and the grumbling vibrations from the machine enough have Touya cumming quickly. 

You should’ve known that would happen, too, Touya now a seasoned pro in the art of the quickie, a feat achieved through years of practice, in family game closets and your personal shower and the backseat of his car. 

Two more pumps before his cock is throbbing almost violently, his hips stammering to a stop, flexors pressed flush to your ass as he fills you to the brim with hot, thick cum. 

The moment he’s got nothing else to give, finished stuffing your cunt full of his rotten seed, he’s pulling out despite your whines of protest, knees hitting tile as his hands curl around your thighs, nails dimpling plush flesh, carving crescents of angry purple as he wrenches them further apart. 

Dollops of cream cascade down your inner legs, his thumbs sure to move out of their way as they lazily roll past, unobstructed. 

“Don’t move,” he breathes, voice infused with a sick sort of awe as his head tilts, spine curving uncomfortably while he follows them down your calves, watching as they trickle right into Natsuo’s shoes. 

“Fuck,” he nearly whines, nose nuzzling into the back of your knee, lips dragging across your skin as he speaks again. “D’y’think you can squeeze some more out f’me?” 

Yes, niichan, of course, niichan, anything for you, niichan. 

Empty hole contracting around nothing and muscles in your gut tensing, you manage to wring more of the sticky substance from your body, sending another torrent of cum flowing down your legs in silky streams to soak into, to stain, Natsuo’s soles. 

A praise sticks in Touya’s throat, garbled and heavy, his tongue smoothing along the residual streaks gleaming on your skin, sopping up the remnants of his pleasure, painting over them with a thick salve of saliva. 

“There,” he’s murmuring when he gets to his feet again, nose trailing along the curve of your neck with a single deep inhale, lips planting a chaste kiss to your earlobe. “That should be enough to remind you to never make such a careless mistake ever again, right?” 

Your head turns, nose bumping against his own, wet eyes blinking twice. Waiting. 

Something sinister smears across your big brother’s lips, crystal eyes shimmering as they watch his fingers dislodge the bar from your mouth, clumps of soap clinging to the edges of your teeth. 

“Yes, niichan,” you say immediately, voice wrecked and raw, the confirmation grating on your throat.

A thumb rubs along your front teeth, smudging the soap in a crude caress, his gaze mollifying slightly. 

“That’s my good little sister.” 

[rougepancake]

hello! can I request aged up genya x f reader. where Reader was talking to someone that genya hates, and he becomes possessive. NSFW please!

Of course!!

JEALOUSY

Ft. Genya Shinazugawa

—} Marie’s 500 follower event

Warnings: Sexually explicit content under cut. Minors and ageless blogs dni. Rough sex, upset Genya (tee hee), mentions of overstimulation.

“You know how I feel about him.” He growls in your ear, pushing your face further into your pillow. His pace is relentless, hitting every spot just right and just hard enough to make you scream.

“I-I know!” You reach back and grab at one of his wrists, holding on for dear life. “I was- aH- I wasn’t thinking-!” You’re totally out of breath, your eyes rolling back into your head as you feel, yet another, orgasm wash over you.

“Oh I can help you with that.” He snarls as the tip of his cock hits your cervix. Suddenly, he stops thrusting, pressing his chest to your back in silence. Only the sound of you catching your breath can be heard, as well as your racing heart.

It’s awkward, and just when you think he’s shown you some mercy, he flips you over so he can see your face. He gives you a soft smile as he wipes away your tears, his touch ten times gentler than it was seconds ago. It was like he became a whole new person.

“It’s okay, love.” His voice was soft, smooth, as if he wanted you to know he was being genuine. “I understand that you weren’t thinking, and I forgive you.” He draws his hips back slowly, pulling out of you.

“Wait r-really?”

“No.”

You definitely weren’t going to be able to walk properly tomorrow.

[firewasabeast]

tommy whining and whimpering as buck fucks into him slow but sharp. they've been going at it for what feels like hours now but buck has his cock ring on and he can hold out for as long as tommy wants, no needs, him too. tommy's already come twice without ever being touched and he knows he can't do that a third time but he also didn't think he could do it once. he's clenching the sheets, then clinching buck's forearms, running his hands up and down his biceps. he needs to feel him, needs him close. and all he can breathe out is a whispered chant of "evan, evan" over and over again. buck presses against him, chest to chest, and they're sweaty and sticky but god it feels so good, he loves the way their bodies match up so perfectly. he can feel buck's lips against his jaw, but he can't force his eyes open anymore. buck's stomach slides against his cock with every thrust and it's just enough to send him over the edge again. buck's saying something and he's sure it's sweet and hot but he can't even hear the words at this point. knows he can't go past three either, and apparently buck realizes that too because he pulls away briefly but before tommy can whine at the loss happening just a little too soon, buck's back and a few thrusts later he's moaning in tommy's ear, all his bodyweight dropping on top of tommy in the way he absolutely loves. they're both breathing heavily and they're certainly a mess, they've gotta change the sheets before they actually go to bed, but for now they just hold each other and whisper "i love you" between kisses.

[frostmarris]

Half-halfling Barbarian Sakura that I went sicko mode over a few days ago in the akasaku server hehe

expect to see more of her 😈

[lovelesscherub]

i missed wip wednesday, but fuck it. here's a tiny snippet of something i've been writing for a long ass time, and i need some motivation to keep writing it instead of just editing what i've already written over and over again, so...

Steve positioned himself over Billy’s lap, straddling him and getting comfortable, hands pressed flat against Billy’s chest.

“You got a little something right there”, Billy grinned, gesturing towards the corner of Steve’s mouth. “A little chocolate, I think.”

“Uh-huh?”

“Uh-huh”, Billy replied, tugging Steve down by the front of his hoodie and pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth.

“You were right, didn't taste bad at all”, Billy snorted after pulling away.

“Oh fuck you”, Steve laughed, leaning in for a proper kiss on the lips this time, both of his hands holding onto the front of Billy’s leather jacket tightly.

[crmediagal]

I’m doomed to write domestic Elucien and I’m just gonna apologize in advance, I think?? 😣

Domesticity is hardly popular as far as fanfic tropes…at least, in any of the fandoms I’ve frequented in the past (and loved in spite of that). But damnit….my favorite tormented, traumatized males becoming husbands and fathers is my kryptonite. A hill I will die on. A want I’m doomed to write again and again.

I need them loved back to life by wives who take none of their bullshit but also would kill a bitch who even breathes a hint of an insult in their direction. And then the little beings who take no note of Daddy’s physical scars or suffocating guilt, just overwhelming acceptance of who he is in their innocent eyes; who allow him to dote the fuck on them so that they are fully aware that they have him in a loving, irreversible choke hold.

I need to finish the books… But I don’t think I can wait that long to start said fic. 😫

[sadiegirl2021]

For the prompt: Mates, I thought I should just write 12 pages of smut.

Let our happy couple have a filthy, fun time together!

@gwynrielweeksofficial

You've Been Waiting So Long, I'm Here to Answer Your Call on Ao3 - Sneak Peek

When Emerie had opened Gwyn’s world to romance books, life was never the same again. A hunger she didn’t think she’d be able to feel again bubbled up inside her, and she needed a male to sate it.

But therein lies the problem. There was only one she wanted, and if he said no, she would literally die on the spot of embarrassment.

“Are you certain he’s not seeing anyone?” Gwyn whispered to Nesta during training.

Nesta shook her head. “He told Bryce ‘no’ when she asked if he had a partner, and I asked him again when she was asleep, and he confirmed it. He’s single.”

“Or lying… He probably has the most beautiful females in the Night Court chasing him, he’s going to laugh in my face.”

“He won’t, Gwyn. And you are smoking hot! I’m still devastated you’re not into females. I would have definitely bedded you,” Emerie reassured her with a leg squeeze.

Gwyn smiled with appreciation, “You mean that?”

Emerie nodded.

Gwyn squeezed her hand to thank her. If she was into females, Emerie would definitely be her type!

She was almost convinced… but the doubts were loud. “What would I even say to him?”

Nesta spoke in a light, singsong voice to try and imitate Gwyn, “Hi Az, I think you’re sooo handsome! Do you want to fuck me?”

Emerie burst out laughing as Gwyn smacked Nesta on the arm with a smile, “I don’t sound like that!”

“Yes, you do!” Emerie squeaked out between giggles.

"Is that what you said to Cassian?" Gwyn asked Nesta, her voice low so no one could hear them speaking.

Gwyn had never initiated contact with a male before. They were rarely allowed near the temple or nearby village, and the elder Sisters would ensure they stayed far away from the priestesses when granted permission to be in their vicinity. While her sister would often sneak out with others, Gwyn never summoned the courage to do so. Now, she deeply regrets that choice.

Nesta scoffed, “No! We were having a fight, and I kissed him to shut him up. Then things just kind of… escalated from there.” Emerie quipped nice and reached over Gwyn to high five her.

"Should I do that? Kiss him and see where it goes?" Gwyn asked tentatively. Maybe she didn’t need to ask him to sleep with her… she could just manoeuvre him to his bedroom if he was into it.

"Not the worst idea," Emerie agreed. "He stares at you all the time. I’m sure he would love for you to make the first move."

"He doesn’t stare at me," Gwyn huffed.

Emerie grabbed her face until she was looking up.

Sure enough, Azriel was watching them curiously from across the training ring. His cheeks tinged pink when her eyes caught his, and he looked away so fast she swore it would give him whiplash. His shadows danced and grew bigger, as if they were excited she was looking over at them.

She blushed, averting her own gaze. That didn’t mean anything.

[candy8448]

I see thistleXking delgal stuff and im just like...

I dont ship them at all !! D:

You can have deep, unending, insanity-driving, love for someone where the love is platonic!

I see all of these characters, main cast and others as being platonic the vast majority of the time but all the content i ever see is shipping content :((

Let me have my platonic fluffy lil guys!!

Disclaimer

[johnslittlespoon]

how soon after posting a chapter do you start the next one? (me trying to figure out when’s an appropriate time to ask for a sneak peak bc i’m a feral dog for tas 🧍🏻‍♀���)

this made me gigggleee <3 i get asked this sm and honestly i'm constantly writing it!! i've usually already started the next chapter while the one i've just finished is still being beta read LOL, i have to write for at least a few hours every day or i start feeling a little insane :') i started ch10 the moment i finished ch9 last week... yesterday i wrote for 12 hours straight and i'm now at 17k with no end in sight so >:) it's gonna be the longest one yet oops but it's an important one so ig it can't be helped lol. anyway small sneak peek! <3

and a general thank u for the love on the last chapter oh my goddd. the way my days are lit up by the kind words y'all take the time to leave for me to read :')) i rly do wish i could somehow bottle the feelings up and give em out so i can adequately express how much gratitude i feel, but just know it means the world to me and spurs me on so much and i'm v v aware of how lucky i am <33

[neil-neil-orange-peel]

I was thinking to myself recently how wild it would be if this fandom was big enough to do a kinktober. Alas...

[dragonsdendoodles]

hey sorry if this is a chronically online question or sm but what is your opinion on proship or general dead dove¿?

Asking because every single mphfpc artists i've known either has a problem with black people or are downright child likes ☹️

also sorry if you don't understand my question my english is not very good

TW: brief mentions of pedophilia, incest, and rape

People here have problems with black people??????? Where have you seen that that’s not good :(

As a general rule I don’t fuck with proshippers, I’m generally lenient about portraying abusive relationships so long as they are absolutely not portrayed as a good thing but I do not fuck with pedophilia or incest. Absolutely not. We don’t do that shit here.

As for dead dove, to my understanding all that means is on fanfics read the tags because the tags are exactly what you’re gonna get, and unless something is actively hurting someone I am very big on don’t-like-don’t-read. I know what I want to read, and I don’t want to read what some other people want to read, so if it’s not actively harmful I just mind my own business. Please let me know if I’m wrong, that’s just my understanding of it.

I have seen a decently big problem with pedophilia and rape in this fandom, mostly on AO3, but it’s definitely a thing I’ve seen that I’m not a fan of. Unfortunately though shitty people just seem to be a thing in fandoms, so I just try to avoid that side of this one the best I can. There are some awesome artists here who I’ve never had a problem with and are genuinely really cool people, so this is generally where I stay.

Let me know if I need to rephrase anything! I try to be careful with my wording about this (because I am bad at words) but I am also Stupid and do occasionally slip up sometimes

[tough-n-dumb]

let me be your stolen spoils

rating: E

A pleasant flush spreads through him remembering the first time he woke up with a ring of bruises that Inej had kissed into his skin, circling his neck like a medal he had worked so hard to earn. He had rolled over in bed to face her and preened while she traced her fingers lightly over the marks. Mine, she had whispered. Yours, Kaz had confirmed. Inej places her mouth on the base of his throat now and he feels her canines nip into his skin. He would let her devour him if she asked.

Kaz, Inej, and a sunny spring day spent in bed.

Read on AO3

[letmetellyouaboutmyfeels]

GOOOOOOD MORNING!

I actually wrote this chapter yesterday but it was a little on the later end of the day so I decided to wait and just post it early. Happy THANK GOD SUMMER IS ENDING weekend! Soon we will be FREE from the nefarious clutches of SUNSHINE and HEAT.

Disgusting.

Anyway have some smut!

Title: Baking is a Science but I Studied the Arts

Rating: E

Pairing(s): Buck/Eddie/Tommy and variations thereupon

Chapters: 9/12

Chapter Summary: All three of our very handsome, very strong, very brave, very stupid heroes continue to struggle with guilt. Chimney, a thoroughly innocent party in all of this, begins to struggle with something else entirely.

[acapelladitty]

Thinking about Whole Day Off today 🙈