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joelscruff · 6 months

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one of your girls (frankie morales x triple frontier boys) 18+

a/n it's @swiftiscruff friendship exchange time!!! i'm so beyond excited to share this piece i've been working on, dedicated to my incredible friend han @swiftispunk 🌙 we brainstormed the idea for this fic months ago and it's finally somehow become something tangible - but han, if i've learned anything from writing this fic, it's how much i depend on you when it comes to so many aspects of my writing. whether it be workshopping ideas, input on characterization & dialogue, sharing snippets, etc, you are always there to lend a hand, listen, and advise. not having that this time around (because this fic has been a secret ofc!) just further proved to me what an incredibly patient, giving, caring, kind, & beautiful friend you are. i love you so much & i'm so grateful you slid in my dms one whole year ago today 💕 summary: unpacking some of frankie's old things leads to a revelation about his past. (OR to put it simply: frankie morales x triple frontier boys circle jerk 🙌) rating: 18+ explicit warnings: circle jerk (frankie/benny/santiago/will), sub!frankie, bukkake, facials, cumplay, cum swallowing, frankie is literally a cum dumpster (and loves it), praise kink galore, pet names (good boy, baby boy), dirty talk, oral (m receiving), deepthroating, cock worship, use of restraints, sexy photographs, sharing, mentions of frankie x all the boys individually (this includes tom but he's not involved in the circle jerk - sorry tom), brief mentions of anal sex (m/m), for story purposes you are frankie's current gf but it's not really the main focus...for now anyway, all of this takes place before the events of triple frontier word count: 12.2k ao3 dividers by @saradika-graphics 💙

You've been moving boxes for what feels like forever, arms aching and the sun beating hot against the back of your neck as you swipe sweat from your brow and head back into the aging, disintegrating storage unit. When Frankie had first told you about it you'd been adamant that he move his old things - locked away for almost ten years now - out of the unit and into the new house. "We don't need to be paying for storage when we have a garage", you'd said confidently, "we have a house now, Frankie. What's yours is mine."

If only you'd believed him when he'd told you it wouldn't be that easy.

"I told y-" he begins for the fourth time as you lean down to grab another box, but you snap up immediately with a finger to your lips. "Why don't I just do the rest from here?" He offers fruitlessly, "You take a break, relax in the truck for a little while."

You're already shaking your head before he's finished talking, resuming your retrieval of the large box at your feet, "No, Frankie. We do this together."

You don't have to look at him to know that he's rolling his eyes. All the same, you hear him clamoring after you with another box as he follows you from the unit and back to the truck. The sun hangs high overhead and you squint uncomfortably against it, piling the box alongside the others in the truck bed. Frankie does the same.

"I mean, what's even in all of these?" you ask exasperatedly, shoving one of the many boxes with your hand and leaning backwards against the truck, "How did you accumulate this much shit in the military? I thought minimalism was all the rage over there."

"I told you, it's not just mine," he reaches forward to brush some sweaty tendrils of hair out of your eyes, "It's the whole team's shit. Well, mostly Ben and Pope's, the others were uh-" he winches, "a little more organized, I guess."

"You guess?" you push up on your hands and seat yourself precariously on the edge of the truck bed, catching your breath. Frankie watches as you tear open the nearest box, biting down on his lip to stifle a laugh when he sees your eyes widen at what's inside.

"Paperwork?" you breathe, mouth agape, "Paperwork? That's what in all these? Fucking forms?"

"Something they don't tell you when you first join," he shrugs, "But no, that's not all that's in these. There's souvenirs, journals, photos, mission plans-" he cuts himself off and stops speaking altogether, lips clamping shut. Your brow furrows as you watch him assess the open box beside you, then the others strewn haphazardly here and there inside the truck bed, as if he's only just realized something he hadn't considered before.

"What?"

He seems to shake himself from whatever stopped him, eyes still settled on the open box as he murmurs, "Um, maybe don't open any more right now."

You raise an eyebrow, "Why not?"

"Just, uh... don't."

"Well that's not ominous in the slightest."

He laughs but something about it seems off, almost forced as he reaches forward with both hands to help you down from the truck. You follow his lead, peering up at him curiously and hoping maybe he'll elaborate, explain, but instead he turns on the spot and heads back toward the storage unit, pulling you along in tow.

You decide not to press him about it for the time being. Right now, all you can think about is finishing hauling these ridiculous boxes and devouring an iced coffee on the way home.

A week passes before you even think about the boxes again.

By that time they've been taking up residence in the garage, haphazardly placed along the concrete in unorganized disarray, exactly where you'd both left them the day you unloaded the unit. You'd been too exhausted to start unpacking and had instead collapsed on the couch, laying there with aching limbs as Frankie discarded your empty iced coffee and poured you a tall glass of water.

"Your job is done now, querida," he'd murmured softly, stroking your cheek, "I'll do the rest."

Except he hadn't. He'd pulled your feet into his lap and settled comfortably beside you on the couch, just for a moment - and then it was lights out for the both of you, boxes be damned.

Now you find yourself the following Saturday perched precariously atop your counter, fingers smeared a soft fern green as you paint the walls of your new kitchen. You only moved into this house a month ago - your first real house together; shared, owned, all that jazz. Most of that time has already been entirely dedicated to making it your own space; unpacking, decorating, furnishing, rearranging - you've been more than busy with curating this new step in both your lives.

Which is why it's not surprising that you forget about the storage unit boxes and their scatteredness in the garage, too distracted by your current ongoing tasks. You hum along to the radio as you carefully attend to the smallest crevices and spaces between the cupboards, above the stove, under the window sill. You need it to be perfect, have gone far too long living in a less than adequate apartment without much creative freedom for this house to suffer the same fate.

Of course, just as you acknowledge the desire for perfection, your hand slips. A splash of green suddenly paints the pure white window sill and your heart sinks.

"Frankie!" you call out with a groan, reaching forward to wipe the mess away and only making it worse, "Where's the white paint?"

"Should be in the garage, I think," you hear him call back from the living room, busy with his own task of painting the walls a deep maroon, "Need me to get it for you?"

"No, I got it," you slide off the counter, careful to avoid the can of green paint at your feet as you make your way to the garage. It's only when you pass the threshold off the laundry room that you finally remember the forgotten boxes, faced with them for the first time since you dropped them off.

"Dammit, Francisco," you mutter, "You said you'd take care of it."

You can't really blame him though. It really is an undertaking; you'd known that from the moment he told you about the unit to begin with. He'd wanted to keep them there, would rather continue paying the monthly fee than deal with the enormous amount of unpacking he'd have to do, but you'd pushed. Now, as you grimace at the pile of heavy boxes, you wonder if maybe he'd been right.

For now, you turn your attention to the task at hand - finding white paint. You scan the storage shelves along the walls and spot the can you're looking for on a high shelf, out of reach.

Maybe those boxes can serve a purpose today.

You shove one toward the shelf and heave another one on top, making quick work of it despite the effort. Climbing onto your makeshift stepladder, you reach for the white paint and successfully pull it to your chest, but the added weight causes your feet to dig into the box below, exposing its contents as you carefully pull yourself back down. Your eyes can't help but dart to the crushed opening, spotting what looks like a photo album peeking through.

Setting the paint down, you lower yourself onto the concrete and cross your legs, biting your lip and reaching inside the box to grab the album. It's navy blue, relatively small, lightweight. A little skim couldn't hurt.

As soon as you open the photo album you can't help but smile, met immediately with a photo of Frankie and Santiago with their arms around each other - fifteen years younger. Their eyes are alight with excitement, Frankie's cap askew and Santi's expression caught in a permanent laugh. Before, you think to yourself, this was before shit got real. You flip the page and smile wider when you see a photo of Benny and Will, caught in what must be a playful brawl with Benny's hand grabbing at Will's leg as he tries to get away. Will is grinning from ear to ear, a genuine smile you've only seen a handful of times. Yep, definitely before.

You flip through the rest of the photos with a heaviness in your heart you can't describe. You've known these boys for a handful of years, have only heard fragments of the shit they've been through together, but you know it wasn't easy, know it affected them in ways you'll never even begin to understand. Being able to see them before all that, before they became hardened and molded by pain and trauma, you can't deny the emotions that bubble in your throat.

The last page contains a group photo; Frankie is in the center, surrounded by his friends on all sides, Will and Benny turned towards him with a fond smile and a grin, Santiago with an arm around him again and his head tilted to brush against Frankie's cap, and Tom on the edge - looking a little out of place, you must admit. But then, you suppose, things haven't really changed.

You're about to close the album and return to your painting when you notice a little pocket built into the backing, hidden out of sight with a hint of white poking through. Not wanting to miss out on another good photo, you slip your finger inside and happily tug out what looks to be a polaroid, different than the others. Curiously, you flip it over.

And immediately drop it to the floor.

Suddenly you can hear Frankie's words from last week, thrumming in your mind on repeat: "Um, maybe don't open any more right now."

You hadn't understood. But now you think you do.

With slightly shaky fingers you reach down and pick up the polaroid, taking a breath before slowly flipping it over again. Lips parted, eyes wide, heart pounding, you peer down at the little photograph and try to understand what you're seeing.

A much younger Frankie - naked, save for the cap on his head and the pants around his ankles. On his knees, peering up at the camera with hooded eyes and a fucked-out expression you've become more than familiar with at this point in your relationship. But that's not what made you drop the photo, no.

His face is covered in cum. You know that's what it is, know there's nothing else it could possibly be. Thick trails of it paint his face like abstract art, dripping down his forehead and the bridge of his nose, his cheeks, his lips, his chin. It's all over him, smeared along his neck and chest bloomed red with heat and arousal. His cap is askew, cheeks flushed, and - most notable of all - he's smiling. Looking up at the camera, drenched in cum, smiling.

Frankie is bisexual; you've known this since your first date, remember how shy he'd been as he'd softly murmured, "Just so you know, I like girls and guys." It hadn't bothered you at all to know that he'd been with men in the past - in fact, you'd kind of liked that about him.

So this - this doesn't bother you. You're not bothered. You're... you don't know what you are, can't seem to pinpoint exactly how you're feeling right now as peer down at the polaroid that you were probably never supposed to find. You're not bothered, you're just... surprised. And confused. What is this doing here? Why is it hidden in an album of Frankie and his friends?

....Oh.

"Find it?" you suddenly hear Frankie call from the living room, and your stomach drops. You hastily stand and slip the polaroid into your back pocket, then close the album and toss it back into the box.

"Y-yeah," you call back, "I got it!"

You try not to mention it. Try, being the operative word.

But it's all you can think about. It's all you see when you reunite with Frankie in the kitchen later that afternoon, staring at the flecks of maroon paint scattered across his face and being unable to not see smears of splattered white. It's all you see that evening as you dig into your leftover Chinese food, eyes constantly flickering across the table to watch Frankie bite and chew, lips soft and wet and definitely not leaking cum at the corners.

It's all you see that night when you settle in bed and watch as he comes out of the bathroom with a towel around his waist, water dripping down his neck and chest not unlike the thick drops of release in the photo. You watch with hooded eyes, lips parted, heart thrumming, as he tugs the towel off and walks to the dresser with his pert ass on full display. You can't help but wonder if there'd been cum there too, leaking and dripping, hidden away because of the angle of the photo.

"I can feel you staring at me," he suddenly says with a chuckle, "Why don't you take a picture? It'll last longer." He says it in jest but you feel your face bloom with heat, immediately averting your eyes and burying yourself beneath the sheets.

"I was not," you lie, "Get over yourself."

He laughs again and you hear him shut the dresser, probably tugging on a pair of briefs, "You've been looking at me weird all day, it's kind of freaking me out."

You want to point out that "all day" is an exaggeration, but then you'd have to admit that you have been looking at him strangely for at least a portion of it, and you really don't want to do that. Instead, you reach over and turn off the lamp on your bedside table, then nuzzle into your pillow and close your eyes, ignoring him.

"Is something wrong, baby?" you hear him ask, humor slowly dissipating from his voice, "You need to talk about anything?"

"No," you lie, your own voice betraying you immediately, "I'm fine."

You feel the bed dip beside you, feel the warmth of his palm come down to gently caress your upper arm, "You sure? Did I do something to upset you?" You can practically hear him wince as soon as he says the words, "I know, I should already know if I did. But today's been busy and-"

"You didn't do anything, Frankie," you tell him softly, "I promise."

"Then what is it?" you can hear the concern, the gentle worry as he strokes your arm up and down, "Talk to me." He sounds so kind, so tender, as always. It's so damn hard to keep anything from him. You sigh.

"I feel..." you grimace, eyes still closed, "I just feel..."

He waits for you to continue, in the meantime settling into bed beside you and tugging the sheets up over himself. You feel his warmth against your body and it immediately fills you with a sense of calm, comfort. Your heart slows a bit, breaths coming a little easier as he brings his arm down to wrap around you and pull you in close.

"How do you feel, querida?" he murmurs, "Tell me."

"Guilty," you finally breathe, and you're surprised to feel tears pricking in your eyes, "I feel guilty."

You can hear the confusion in his voice, "For what?"

"I...I saw something I shouldn't have," you admit quietly, "In one of your boxes. Something really private that you probably never ever wanted me to see and I'm so sorry." You feel his arm freeze at your side and you take a shaky breath, "And now I can't stop thinking about it even though it's absolutely none of my damn business. And I wanna ask you about it but I really have no right to, not when I wasn't even supposed to know about it in the first place, and-"

"Mierda," he groans - shit.

"I'm so sorry, Frankie" you whisper pathetically, still facing away from him, "It's all my fault and if you need me to just forget about it, I will. I promise that I will."

"Fuck," he murmurs, "No no, baby, it's not your fault, it's mine. I should have unpacked all of it myself. I knew there was shit in there you might not wanna see."

"Y-you're not mad at me?"

He buries his face in your hair, nose nuzzling against your neck, "Of course I'm not mad at you - could never be mad at you for that. What's mine is yours, remember?"

You pull away to turn and face him, expression pensive. He's looking at you with earnest eyes, no anger or betrayal to be seen, and it almost makes it worse. Because does he know? Does he realize what exactly it is that you found?

"You have um..." you bite your lip, "You have pictures, in a photo album."

He stares at you, brow furrowing. "What?"

Fuck.

"There was... there was a photo album in one of the boxes. And I figured I'd just flip through it, just to have a look at you when you were younger, you know? Thought it'd be nice, that there might be something we could frame for the house."

He's looking at you like you're speaking another language, confusion lining his features, "....So?"

"So... so I found..." you wince, the image flashing behind your lids again as you try to figure out how to word it, "I found a picture that I don't think you would have wanted me to see."

He's still staring at you, the cogs turning in his head but seemingly no closer to an answer. You picture him flipping through an invisible rolodex, trying to pinpoint exactly what picture you could be talking about. You're starting to realize that maybe when he'd told you to stop looking in the boxes he'd been talking about something else.

"Honestly baby, I thought you meant you looked at some of my paperwork," he admits. Bingo. "Saw some stuff we did for a mission or something. There's plans in those boxes, strategy stuff, and you know how intense some of those were, some of the..." he takes a beat, biting his lip, "some of the things we had to do."

You shake your head quickly, "It wasn't anything like that. It wasn't...it wasn't something serious, really. It was..." you take a deep breath, still unable to say the words. Instead, you reach over into your nightstand and grab the polaroid, sitting up in bed and waiting for him to join you.

"What is it?" he asks, gentle and kind as he sits up beside you, "You can tell me, baby. We can talk about it."

Your heart races but you figure there's no going back from it now, and you're not sure you'd want to keep it from him anyway. Up until this point you and Frankie have always made communication an important part of your relationship. It's been necessary considering what he's been through, what he still deals with, and it's something that you're proud of. You're just gonna have to grin and bear it.

With a sigh, you shakily hand him the polaroid.

He flips it.

And drops it.

"Oh," he gasps, hand coming up to cover his mouth, "Oh, fuck."

"It's not- I'm not-" you stutter, fumbling over your words, "It's not a big deal, really. Like, it's whatever. I know you're bi, I know you've probably sucked your fair share of dicks-"

"Oh god," Frankie moans, his hands coming up to cover his eyes, "Oh my god."

"Hey, hey, no," you reach up and try to pull his hands away from his face, desperation in your voice, "Do not hide from me, you did nothing wrong. You hear me? There's nothing wrong with this." He groans again, shaking his head, but you just keep on talking, "I'm not mad about it or anything, it'd be pretty fucked up for me to mad about it actually. I'm just- hey," you continue to pry at his fingers, "Francisco, look at me."

Slowly, hesitantly, he finally removes his hands from his eyes to peer at you. You can see the embarrassment there, the humiliation - and not the good kind, not the kind he likes.

"Hey," you whisper, "You don't have to talk about this. We can pretend I never even saw it if that's what you want," you bring his hands down and hold them tightly, squeeze them in your own, "I just... I just wanted you to know that I saw it. And that I was just a little curious about why it was in an album from your military days. That's it. That's all."

His eyes fall back to the flipped polaroid on the bed, the back of it facing the both of you. You watch as he slowly reaches forward to pick it up again with his index and middle finger, pulls it upwards and turns it around to see it again.

Out of respect for him, you don't look at it. You just watch his face, his expression. He looks.... thoughtful.

"Talk to me," you whisper, voice breaking, "Please."

He looks from the polaroid to you, then back to the polaroid. After taking a steadying breath, he places it back down onto the bed between the two of you, face up. Your eyes spot his cum-covered face again, frozen forever in time, and you quickly avert your gaze.

He notices, and gives you a small half smile. You return it tenfold.

"Well, it.." he starts, taking another breath, "It was just something that.. we just started-" he cuts himself off, smile turning to a frown as he formulates his words. "It started..."

"Hey," you breathe, reaching down to squeeze his hands again, "Take your time."

It started as a way to blow off steam - that's it. Simple, easy.

They'd all gotten to know one another during training, spent time shooting the shit and building friendships with each other. There had been such a sense of belonging, of fortified brotherhood, a pull toward one another that none of them could deny. So it was unsurprising when their teamwork and comradery resulted in their placement into a special task force, just the five of them against the world - or, rather, the enemy.

But it was stressful. Going from basic military training to special ops added a new layer of pressure and competence that they hadn't experienced before, and it was no walk in the park. Things got harder, more pressing, more important. And all they had, like always, was each other.

So it made sense one night, for Frankie anyway, to offer Santiago a blowjob.

He'd heard the stiff grunts from the bed beside him, the dry - too dry - slap of skin as Santi worked at himself beneath the thin sheet of his bunk. It wasn't abnormal for Frankie to overhear one of his buddies masturbating; in fact it would have been abnormal to not hear it. He'd gotten used to the different sounds they'd each make as they gripped their cocks, hidden away in the dark, and pumped themselves to completion. He had memorized the sounds of their breathing, the grunts and the whines, the soft moans of their orgasms.

But it was never something that was discussed. It was an unspoken rule, almost: what happens in the bunks stays in the bunks. So Frankie had never even considered crossing that line, especially because he was pretty sure he was the only one in the group who liked dudes - something everyone was only vaguely aware of.

There was something about the desperation in Santi's movements that night, in the sweat on his brow and the pained expression on his face. He'd gotten reprimanded earlier that day for failing a training mission, been yelled at by two commanding officers while the rest of the boys looked on with regret in their hearts. If one of them failed, they all felt as if they'd failed too. Santi hadn't spoken to anyone for the rest of the day, had eaten in silence and then retired to his bunk much too early. And now, hours later here he was, hand around his cock, trying to forget.

And Frankie wanted to help.

"Pope," he'd whispered under his breath, just loud enough for Santiago to hear. Santi had turned his head slightly, eyebrows raising when he realized he'd been caught in the act. He'd been about to say something, defend himself maybe, but Frankie had shook his head and continued, "Need some help?"

A look of confusion. "Help?"

Frankie's eyes had wandered to the shape of Santi's lower half beneath the sheet, then back up to meet his gaze.

"Yeah," he'd murmured earnestly, "Help."

Santi had stared at him for a few seconds, brow furrowed, chest heaving. His hand was frozen under the sheet, gripping firmly to his hard cock as he'd considered Frankie's offer. Someone else might have hurled hurtful words, another might have ignored him completely.

But Santi took a deep breath and leaned back, closed his eyes and breathed, "Go ahead."

Frankie had been under the sheet in minutes.

Tucked away, hidden in case any of the other guys woke up, Frankie sucked slowly on his friend's cock. He wasn't sure how much Santi wanted to see of him, figured maybe he'd have his eyes closed as he pictured someone else, maybe that girl he liked from back home, but it didn't matter to Frankie - what mattered most was helping his friend forget about the shitty day he'd had. He treated Santi's cock like something to be worshipped, swallowing and licking around the big shape of him, warm and thick in his mouth. And when Santi came, it was only moments after Frankie had started.

His hands came down to grip Frankie's curls, tugging and pulling as he'd groaned and spilled down his friend's throat. And Frankie had swallowed every drop.

"Francisco," Santi had murmured when Frankie pulled off his cock with a pop, a drop of cum leaking from the corner of his mouth as he peered up at Santi from beneath the sheet, "You've been holding out on me."

With a smile, Frankie had licked the cum away and placed a gentle, reverent kiss to the wet head of Santi's cock. Santi had watched with hooded eyes, let Frankie kiss him there a few more times, let him trail his nose along his thick shaft and inhale deeply at the base. Hands still carding through his hair, Santi had let him mouth at his cock for a few more minutes before softly telling him he should get back in his bunk.

"Just trying to savor it," Frankie had whispered, voice a little sad, a little broken.

"You'll do it again," Santi had replied, reveling in the way Frankie's eyes widened, a smile lighting up his face.

And he did do it again - the following night. He'd been a little hesitant, unsure if Santiago had really meant what he said. But after the others had fallen asleep and Frankie was still just lying there, waiting, he'd heard a soft pssst sound. He'd looked over to see Santi sitting up in bed with a smirk on his face and one hand already beneath the sheet, tugging at his dick.

He stuffed his mouth with Santi's cock every night that week. It was almost feral the way he drank him down, eyes rolling as his lips kissed Santi's pubic hair and his tongue laved the shaft of his cock up and down, up and down. Drool cascaded from his lips all over his friend's belly, and he whined softly over and over whenever his curls were tugged, his temples stroked. Santi would talk to him softly, murmur the quietest little praises that made Frankie insane with need. That's it, there you go. You take what you need, Francisco. And then he'd come down his throat, fill his stomach with it, and whisper, "Good boy."

It was filthy, but it wasn't wrong. Not one part of it felt wrong. And Santiago never once made him feel like it was a shameful secret they were keeping, like the others finding out would be the end of the world. And it's good that he'd maintained that stance, because soon enough, Benny was in on it too. They should have seen it coming, considering his bunk was directly above Santi's.

"Can you give me one, maybe?" he'd asked Frankie awkwardly one night, voice quiet and slightly nervous as he leaned over the bars of the bunk bed, "I've been... I've been listening to it every night and it's driving me fuckin' crazy that I don't know what it feels like."

"Are you saying you've never had a blowjob, Ben?"

Benny had rolled his eyes, "Of course I've had a fuckin' blowjob, idiot. I've just never had a... a you know..." he'd shrugged, "A Frankie blowjob."

"It's good," Santi had said nonchalantly, tugging off his shirt and climbing into his bunk, "He's fucking incredible, actually."

Frankie had preened at the praise, cheeks reddening. An hour later he'd climbed up into Benny's bunk and deepthroated his cock for a solid fifteen minutes. Benny was breathless, chest blooming with heat as he watched Frankie suck and drool, gagging every so often but immediately resuming his sloppy ministrations as soon as he'd caught his breath.

"Look at that," Benny had marveled softly, "Look at that."

"I told you," they'd both heard Santi whisper from below, "He's a fucking godsend."

"I'm gonna cum down your fuckin' throat, Frankie," Benny had groaned, and no sooner were the words out that he was following through, spurting slow and steady into Frankie's mouth. He gripped the back of his head, watched Frankie swallow, and then whispered, "Good boy". Oh, he really had been listening.

Sated and warm with wet and sticky briefs, Frankie had climbed back into bed with a new appreciation for Benny.

As if two wasn't enough, Will got involved shortly after that. Of course Benny had unsurprisingly spilled the beans to his brother, which lead to Frankie climbing atop his own bunk one night to join Will, who'd been a bit unsure. It was as if he thought a prank was being pulled on him, like it was all bullshit, but he didn't say no.

"Been wonderin' what you three were gettin' up to," he'd muttered, watching Frankie a bit dubiously, brow furrowed, arms crossed, "Ben says you're, uh... good."

"I'm good," Frankie had promised softly, bringing his hands down to tug at Will's boxers, "Promise."

Will had watched as Frankie brought his already hardening cock out of his underwear, kissed the tip gently and then brought it into his mouth. "Oh fuck," he'd heard Will gasp out, immediately reaching up to cup the back of Frankie's head. And then there were three.

But three stayed three. Tom did find out about it, considering every single night somebody seemed to be getting their dick sucked. Any discreetness had gone out the window, especially when two of them would jack themselves off to the sounds of Frankie slurping and sucking, groans and the heavy slap of skin echoing throughout the large room. But despite the knowledge of what his friends were doing, the leader of the group was seemingly disinterested in having a go with Frankie.

There was one disastrous evening wherein the others managed to convince Tom to give it a shot. But Frankie bobbed on his cock for a solid five minutes before realizing he just wasn't getting him hard, and Tom had pushed him away and turned in bed with a low sigh.

"It's just not for me, Fish," he'd muttered, "Pretend it never happened."

"He doesn't know what he's missing," Santi had murmured ten minutes later as he watched Frankie suckle on the leaking tip of his cock, "Huh, Francisco? Doesn't know you've got the mouth of an angel, huh?"

Frankie had continued to suck, eyes closed, breathing deeply in and out as Santi stroked his hair.

Things were easier for a while after that. The training was strenuous, oftentimes near impossible, but there was always pleasure at the end of it, always something to look forward to. Every night Frankie would take up residence in someone's bunk, usually after a quick game of rock paper scissors or a straw draw. Each of his friends were different in their own way, and Frankie took a lot of joy in being able to have those moments with them, be what they needed. It felt like he was floating, dreaming; he'd never realized how badly he wanted to be submissive like this until it actually happened. Being their shared prize, their plaything, it was fucking incredible.

Sometimes he'd have all three in one night. He'd deepthroat Benny's cock and swallow him down, then stagger to Will's bunk and do the same. With his own erection aching in his underwear he'd finally crawl in with Santi and allow his closest friend to pull down his briefs and notch the head of his cock into his ass. Santi was the only one who fucked him, the only one who held him close afterwards and sometimes fell asleep with him.

"You my good boy, Francisco?" he'd murmur in Frankie's ear as he fucked him slow and deep, fingers digging into his hips beneath the sheets, "You like feelin' that cock in your ass?"

And god, did he ever.

The first real mission was brutal.

It was tame compared to the things they'd eventually do, but for what it was, they were stressed out of their minds. They spent weeks planning, training, preparing. They'd find themselves so tired at the end of the day that their nighttime habits became a thing of the past, if not something that only happened once in a blue moon. And in its own way the lack of it had begun to affect everything else, their comradery, their abilities, their drive. The day before the mission was set to begin, Benny stood up at dinner and proclaimed, "We've gotta get our shit together."

"Sit down, our shit is together," Tom grumbled, "We're gonna be fine."

"We are not gonna be fine," Benny argued, expression genuinely fearful, "We're gonna fail the whole fuckin' thing and then we're out on our asses."

"There's truth to that, you know there is," Will pointed out as he pulled Benny back down, "There's somethin' missing here. We're not on our A game."

"What, 'cause Morales isn't getting sucked and fucked?"

Frankie's head had gone up, ears tinging pink as he looked over at Tom along with everybody else. There had been a beat of silence, and then-

"Nobody said that," Santi had stated calmly, "And don't be a dick."

"I'm not being a dick. It's fine what you all get up to in your own time, whatever. But it's not the be-all and end-all of our fucking team," he'd shrugged and looked at Santi with a frown, "I mean, come on, Pope. We're prepared, with or without the extracurriculars."

"We are," Santiago had agreed with a nod, turning to Benny, "It's gonna be fine, man. The nerves are just kicking in now but that's normal. We've trained for this, we're ready."

But Frankie could tell he wasn't being entirely truthful.

That night, despite the tiredness of the last day of training and the anxiety of what was to come - Frankie found a solution. He told Santi first, whispered it to him in his bunk and grinned at the expression on his friend's face, awestruck and aroused all at once.

"You're sure?" Santi asked him quietly.

"I'm sure. I think it'll help us de-stress."

Santi had leaned forward and tilted Frankie's cap up, pressed a firm kiss to his forehead and murmured, "Me sigues sorprendiendo, Francisco." You continue to surprise me.

A moment later he was climbing the ladder of Santi's bunk, coming face to face with Benny. "You wanna do something kinky?"

The younger man's eyebrow raised, "Kinkier than usual?"

"A blowjob is not kinky, Ben."

"Getting one from a guy is."

Frankie rolled his eyes and went to pull himself back down the ladder but Benny stopped him, reaching out to touch his wrist.

"What'd you have in mind?"

And that's how he'd ended up on his knees.

Will and Benny stood on either side of Santiago, all three men looking down at their submissive friend with unbridled arousal in their expressions, dark and anticipatory. There was silence at first, not necessarily awkward but full of a definite tension that was more than palpable.

Until-

"Tie him up," Santi murmured to Benny. Frankie's eyes went hooded almost immediately, lips parting as he peered up at his friends and felt his heart pound at the thought of what Santi was asking.

"How so?"

"His hands," Santi clarified, "There's some string in the first aid kit, tie his hands behind his back so he can't touch himself."

Benny followed his orders without question, heading toward the bathroom to grab the kit while Will gave Santiago a confused look. "Why can't he touch himself?"

Santi smiled, tilting his head a bit and peering down at Frankie's already debauched form. He walked forward and kneeled down in front of him, levelling with him as he reached for his waistband.

"'Cause he likes it," Santi murmured, "Haven't you noticed something about Frankie in all the months we've been doing this?" As he spoke he pulled down Frankie's pants to his knees, exposing his bare thighs to the room. He was already hard, the long shape of his cock protruding from his black briefs. "He doesn't touch himself," he continued softly, stroking his thumb gently against the V of Frankie's hips, "He always comes in his pants when he sucks our dicks."

Hearing the words aloud, stated so matter-of-factly, Frankie realized in that moment how fucking well Santiago had come to know him. Not once had Frankie voiced this, told him anything about what he really liked, what he craved. And yet here he was, having his desires told directly to him, like it was the most casual thing in the world.

"And when he gets fucked," Santi continued, fingers trailing downward to ever so gently cup Frankie's cock, "He only lets me touch it. Ain't that right, Francisco?"

Frankie nodded slowly, a lump forming in his throat.

"Why?" Will asked again - always wanting clarification, an explanation.

"'Cause it feels good, doesn't it, Frankie?" Santi cooed, releasing Frankie's bulge and bringing his hand up to place a finger under his chin, "Feels so good to come untouched, huh? Feels good to let go when you've got a dick in your mouth, to fall asleep with your underwear all wet and your cock all sticky?"

Frankie nodded again, cheeks blooming pink. He felt someone behind him pick up his hands, start tying them together - Benny.

"Come to think of it, I've never seen his cock," Benny admitted, voice already rough with anticipation, "I mean... I guess I had other things on my mind."

"He's got a fucking great cock," Santi murmured, "Why don't you show 'em, Francisco? Let 'em see what you've been hiding under here, huh?" His finger dug into the band of Frankie's briefs, and all Frankie could do was nod again, unable to speak with the way his thoughts had begun to melt away, brain going fuzzy.

Benny finished tying his hands and walked in front of him again to stand alongside Santi, eyebrows going up when he watched Frankie's cock be freed from the confines of his underwear. It stood at attention immediately, long and hard, pink and flushed at the tip. It smacked wetly against his belly, balls hanging heavy and full as Santi pulled his briefs down entirely.

"Now look at that pretty cock," Santi breathed, almost just for Frankie alone, "Look how it's dripping."

And it was dripping, already pulsing and bobbing against his belly button with every rise and fall of his chest. The three men watched in silence for a moment as Frankie took deep breaths, his cock twitching and stuttering in front of them without being touched, simply exposed to the cool air of the room and their interested gazes.

"I kinda wanna...." Benny started to say, but trailed off, blushing a bit as he took a step away from his brother.

"I'll stay between you," Santi offered quickly, "Pull 'em out, it's fine."

There was no more hesitation after that. Frankie watched under his lashes as his three friends reached into their pajama pants and pulled out their cocks. Will was still mostly soft, though you could tell he was starting to harden with the sudden gravity of the situation. Benny was already stiff and leaking as he fisted his own, and Santiago's hung heavy and thick between his legs as he carefully circled the head with his thumb.

"We're gonna come all over your face, Frank," Benny told him quietly as he jerked his cock slowly up and down, "You know that, right? You're sure you're cool with that?"

It was like he was underwater, still unable to speak; he hadn't said one word since he'd gotten on his knees. It was as if the submissive part of him had taken over completely, mind going blank.

"Say yes or no, Fish," Will said, voice strained as he squeezed himself gently, "Wanna hear it."

"Yes," Frankie had finally managed to whimper, knees trembling against the cold floor, "Yes, please."

Santi grinned, "Well boys, I think we got our answer," He tilted his head again to eye Frankie from where he stood, "Let's get a little closer, shall we? I think he wants us up close and personal."

Within a few seconds Frankie was suddenly face to face with three cocks - it was like fucking Christmas morning. His mouth popped open and drool immediately began to collect in the corners of his mouth, eyes trailing back and forth to look at absolutely everything he could. He stared at the weeping tips, the fat heads, the thick shafts where his friends pumped and fisted. Without any thoughts in his brain he opened his mouth and laid his tongue flat against his lower lip, staring at Benny's cock - arguably the biggest - with pleading eyes.

"Yeah, you wanna suck on it, don't you?" Benny asked, a smile in his voice, "You go ahead, Fish. Suck that cock."

He did not need telling twice. His lips wrapped around the pink mushroom head of Benny's cock and his eyes rolled back as he began to suck, tongue lapping at the tip and devouring everything it had to offer. God he loved having his mouth full, loved hearing Benny's groans as he pushed his head forward and enveloped more and more of the cock in front of him, began to slide his lips up and down the shaft and cover it in his saliva.

"So pretty with a cock in your throat, Francisco," Santi told him, voice full of praise as he watched Frankie sink down even further on Benny's cock, 'til his nose was buried in his pubic hair. "Tell him how pretty he is, Benny. He wants to hear it."

Frankie anticipated some hesitance, maybe even a sarcastic comment, but Benny did no such thing. Instead, Benny's hand came up to cup the back of Frankie's head, holding him still on his cock as he breathed, "You're so pretty, Frankie."

A high keen of a whine made it's way from Frankie's throat, vibrated around the cock in his mouth. Benny trembled a bit, tangling his fingers in his hair and helping him bob a few more times before pulling him off completely. Frankie gasped for breath, tears in his eyes as he stared up at his friends.

"Your turn," Santi murmured quietly to Will, "Stuff him full."

"He fuckin' loves being stuffed," Will replied with a low chuckle, yanking Frankie forward by his hair and shoving his now fully hard cock into his mouth. It was the kind of rough Frankie was already well acquainted with when it came to Will, and he welcomed it with gratitude. He closed his eyes and allowed Will's cock to sink into his mouth like Benny's had, then swallowed around it, tightening the walls of his throat and gagging around the large intrusion.

"Yeah, choke on it, baby," Will muttered, gripping both sides of Frankie's head with a groan, "Baby boy."

Baby boy. That was a new one, especially from Will, but Frankie certainly wasn't complaining. He swallowed around him again, feeling his own cock bob against his stomach as he continued to worship Will's dick. There was only so much of the sensation that Will could take, and before long he too was pulling out of Frankie's mouth and resuming his slow strokes, breathing heavily.

"M'your baby boy," Frankie murmured to the three of them, Will's words still echoing in his mind. His voice was already completely shot, rough and scratchy from the two large cocks that had invaded his throat.

"You are," Santiago cooed, leaning forward to gently tap the head of his own cock against Frankie's bottom lip, "You're our baby boy, Frankie. Our good, pretty, perfect boy, huh?"

Yes, Frankie wanted to whisper, it's all I am. It's all I wanna be. But his mouth was already being filled a third time, this time by Santi's cock - the thickest of the three. His vision blurred with tears as it stretched his lips, the masculine taste dripping on the back of his tongue and down his throat. He'd had Santi's cock in his mouth the most out of everyone's; had fallen asleep a few times suckling on the tip of it while Santi murmured praise, like a comfort, a constant.

He knew exactly what Santi liked, what he didn't, how to tease him, how to get him there. Immediately, Frankie curled his tongue around the wide head, dipped the tip of it into Santi's slit and carefully fucked it in and out while suctioning the rest. He kept his eyes open this time even though they burned with tears, allowing himself to meet Santiago's gaze just how he knew he liked it.

"Oh, good boy," Santi praised softly, thumbing Frankie's cheeks and letting the head of his cock sit just inside the wet heat of his mouth, "Suckin' on that cock like it's my thumb, huh? Just how you like it?"

Now that was something unbeknownst to Benny and Will. They knew Santi liked to fuck Frankie sometimes, but they didn't know much about the logistics, the positioning, the way it worked. More often than not, Frankie would suck on Santi's thumb when he was being fucked, liked the feeling of having both his holes full at the same time. It felt complete somehow, safe. God, what would it feel like now if Santi were to fuck him and let Benny or Will fuck his throat? What would it feel like to be truly filled up like that, the way he'd always imagined? His cock twitched against his belly again, still untouched, still pulsing, and he moaned around Santi's cock.

"I think our baby boy needs a little break," Santi murmured softly, "Shh, it's okay, Frankie, it's alright," he slowly pulled his cock from Frankie's lips and allowed him to catch his breath, chest heaving. He felt multiple hands petting his hair, stroking his cheeks, thumbing his temples. Someone brushed one of his nipples, pinched it ever so gently and then did the same to the other one.

"Sweet little things," Will murmured, and that answered that.

"He really is a fucking godsend, Pope," Benny breathed, disbelief and awe playing at the edge of his voice, "Softest mouth I've ever felt."

"His eyes are what get me," Santi replied, and Frankie felt him take his cap off and toss it to the side, then a pair of lips kiss his forehead, "He's got the prettiest brown eyes, look so beautiful when he's got that wet mouth all full."

The way they talked about him, like he wasn't even there, like he was just a toy, something to play with, an object - it was so much. It was too much. He leaned back on his haunches and whimpered, eyes fluttering open as he looked up at his friends, still standing in front of him with their now very wet cocks in their hands.

"Put them on my face," he begged, voice broken and haggard, "All of them, please."

"Fuck," Benny gasped out, and without hesitation he placed the entire length of his cock along Frankie's cheek and forehead, tapping it a few times and hissing, "There you go. There it is, baby boy."

"You go around the other side," Santi told Will, knowing he wouldn't want to touch Benny's cock, "Put yours upside down on his other cheek, I'll go middle."

Benny was still slapping Frankie's face gently with his cock, hissing and groaning out words of praise. Santi slapped his own down across the center of his face, along his nose and lips. His cock settled up against Benny's, and for the shortest of seconds Frankie noted that they rubbed them together without speaking, without looking at each other. Will joined them on the other side, his balls hanging low on Frankie's forehead and his tip jutting out near his chin. Three cocks, side by side, covering their friend's entire face.

"Slap him with them, he likes that," Benny said through gritted teeth, doing it again and again and reveling in the whimpers and whines Frankie was making below them, "Ohhh, he fuckin' loves that."

"I don't think I can last," Will spit, voice more strained than it had been before, "This is too much, I'm gonna blow my whole fuckin' load any minute now."

"No one's stopping you," Santi encouraged, "Doesn't matter when we come, what matters is we do it all over his face. Cover him with it."

"Oh, he's gonna be fuckin' drenched," Benny groaned, eyes closing as he stilled his slapping movements to hold back his own orgasm. His voice was wild now, desperate, "I wanna come in his mouth, I call dibs."

"You hear that, Frankie, baby?" Santi murmured with a sly smile, "Benny called dibs on filling your mouth."

Frankie wouldn't have responded even if he could, just let out another whimpering moan and dropped his jaw, lolled his tongue out so his friends could take turns tapping the heads of their cocks against it. He was covered in precum, felt it dribbling down his chin and forehead, collecting behind his teeth and dripping down the back of his throat.

"Let him suck," Will hissed, "Let him suck mine one more time." At his words, Benny and Santi moved out of the way as best they could, Santi tapping Frankie's eyelid with his cock while Benny smeared more precum into his forehead. They watched as Frankie carefully suckled Will's tip into his mouth, closed his lips around him and hummed.

"Put it in your throat, baby boy," Will told him firmly, "Swallow around it, there you go. Thaaat's a good boy."

Gurgling sounds were coming from Frankie's gag reflex but he didn't stop or pull away, kept doing exactly what he knew Will needed as he swallowed him down. It took barely any time at all for it to be too much for Will to handle, and before any of them knew it he was pulling out and pumping his cock furiously over Frankie's face. Benny and Santi stepped back - they all knew what was coming.

"Don't come in his mouth, I called dibs," Benny warned, and Frankie could have sworn he heard Santiago chuckle.

"Keep your eyes closed, Fish," Will muttered, directly in front of him now as the wet sounds of his fist slipping up and down his cock filled the room, "Gonna paint that pretty little face and those sweet little nipples."

Franke whimpered, keeping his eyes closed as he continued to listen to what was going on around him. He could hear Santi and Benny still jerking themselves a few steps away, but Will's grunts and groans were the most prominent, the most present. And only a few seconds later he felt the first splash of cum hit his face - his left cheek.

"There it is," Santi egged Will on, "There he goes."

Another rope of cum landed on his forehead, dripped down onto his eyebrow. Then another on his chin. He listened as Will let out one more groan, still pumping his cock as he aimed at Frankie's bare chest. He felt two more spurts trickle down both of his nipples, sensitive and hard, and that was it.

"Fuck," Will groaned, satisfaction plain as day in his voice, "Fuck, Frankie."

He opened his eyes and was met with Will's cock, tight in his fist. Without hesitation he leaned forward and brought the tip gently into his mouth, licking off the excess cum as Will brought his hand down to play with Frankie's curls. He sucked for a few seconds, placed a soft kiss to the tip - his favorite spot - and then looked up to meet Will's gaze, a dazed little smile playing on his lips.

"Give it one more little kiss, baby boy," Will murmured, "Just one more." Frankie did as he was told, eyelashes fluttering as he kissed the sticky tip once more, and then Will was backing up to let Santi and Benny back into their spots.

"You're a good boy, Fish," he murmured, tucking himself back into his pants. "Mind if I watch the rest?"

"Please stay," Frankie managed to breathe, and the movement of his face caused some of the cum in his eyebrow to trickle downwards, dipping into the crevice of his nose. Will smiled and nodded, crossing his arms and leaning against the wall to observe.

"Won't be much longer now, Francisco," Santi told him softly, shuffling forward to carefully fill Frankie's mouth again with his dick. He watched with fascination as Frankie slowly bobbed on it, like muscle memory as he breathed evenly through his nose. "M'close. I think Benny's close too."

"You look so fuckin' good with all that cum on your face," Benny told him, voice almost pained, "Gonna look even better with more."

Surprisingly, Frankie pulled off Santi's dick without being told to do so and peered over at Benny with hunger in his eyes, "Can you... can I..." he cut himself off, going bright red as he looked back to Santi for reassurance.

"What is it, baby?" Santi asked softly, brow furrowing, "You good? You need to take a break?"

Frankie shook his head quickly, "N-no, I just...I..." he bit his lip and hoped his sudden idea wasn't about to be shot down, "Can you put them both in at the same time?"

A beat of silence. Then-

"Fuck," Benny groaned, "Fuck, that's hot." There was no doubt in Frankie's mind now that Benny had quite liked having his dick so close to Santi's, so it made him grin when Benny moved forward to stand beside his friend and jut his cock out toward Frankie's mouth.

"Open up, Fish."

Dropping his jaw once again and staring wide eyed up at his teammates, cum still fresh and sticky all over his face, Frankie allowed Benny and Santi to slide both their cocks into his waiting mouth. The feeling was insane. The taste was insane. All masculine and heady and musky and wet, the smell of sweat and raw sex invading his nostrils as they both pushed their dicks further in alongside each other. Frankie felt two hands in his hair, one of Santi's and one of Benny's, holding him still.

"Oh fuck, I need a picture of this," Benny groaned, blinking furiously as he peered down at where he and Santi's dicks jutted out from Frankie's mouth. "Will, grab Pope's camera, I'm serious. I need to remember this."

As Will made his way to the bunks, Frankie continued to blink slowly and languidly, tongue almost lazily swirling along the fat heads of the two big cocks in his mouth. They were dripping everywhere, warm and sticky, layering the back of his tongue with all of their arousal. And he was so fucking overwhelmed.

"Two cocks," Santi breathed, thumbing a bit of Will's cum that had begun to dry on Frankie's cheek, "Two fat cocks for Frankie, huh?"

"Look at how his lips stretch," Benny added, pushing his cock in the tiniest bit further to watch how Frankie's mouth adjusted to the size, "S'like he was made for it."

"He was made for it," Santi agreed softly, pushing some hair out of Frankie's face and tucking it behind his ear, "Huh, Francisco? Were you made for this?"

Another slow blink and an even slower nod, careful not to dislodge the appendages in his mouth. Benny assessed the door Will had left through and then hesitated for a moment before turning to Santi and whispering, "You feel good, Pope," under his breath.

"So do you," Santi replied with a smile, "Y'got a nice dick."

Benny seemed a bit flustered, avoiding Santiago's gaze as he muttered, "Thanks."

Will rejoined them a few seconds later, Santiago's polaroid camera in hand. Frankie watched with pleasure as Will brought the camera over his head and faced it downwards, preparing the shot.

"Chipmunk cheeks," Will murmured fondly, snapping the picture with a smile, "This'll do great for the annual Christmas card, huh boys?" It was a joke of course; they all knew that what was happening right would more than likely never leave the base, but Santi and Benny laughed nonetheless, pushing their cocks just a little bit more into Frankie's mouth.

"He's full," Benny murmured, "All filled up."

"Not entirely," Santi chuckled, "But close enough."

Their teasing words, their smiles and their laughs, it was making Frankie crazy. His untouched cock was still bobbing on its own accord, twitching and dripping as they talked about him like he wasn't even there. He was going to come soon, he just knew it, and the thought alone made him whine around his friend's dicks, his eyes rolling back.

"Shh, it's okay, Francisco," Santi reassured him softly, "Just give us one more minute to enjoy this, okay? Will's gonna take a few more pictures. You just stay still and keep suckin' on those cocks."

"You got this, Fish," Benny murmured, "You can do it, you're a good boy."

I am, Frankie thought to himself as he closed his eyes and heard the snap of another photo, I am a good boy.

Will took two more pictures with the camera so they'd each have one, tugging the polaroids out as they developed and waving them in the air. This was better than any porno magazine they'd ever be able to stow away, something real and raw, perfect spank bank material.

"I want the first one, where his eyes are open," Santi told Will when he was done, "Calling dibs."

"You got it."

Finally, Benny and Santi pulled themselves slowly out of Frankie's mouth, leaving him nothing but a drooling, lightheaded mess on his knees in front of them. He gasped for breath, head going down as he coughed and spluttered. He felt Will's hands patting his back, helping him through it as his chest heaved.

"Gonna come all over that pretty face, Fish," he heard Benny groan, "Open that mouth again, gonna fill it up."

With all the strength he could muster, Frankie tilted his head up and shakily opened his mouth again. His jaw was sore and aching but he knew he could last a little longer, knew he could give his friends what they needed before he collapsed in a heap on the floor. He watched as Benny jerked his cock in front of his face, watched the way his precum bubbled and spilled at the tip before being replaced with ropes and ropes of hot cum. If Benny was known for anything when it came to their little extracurriculars, it was certainly the ridiculous amount of spend he was able to produce.

"Right in the back of his fuckin' throat," he groaned, watching as it spurted into Frankie's open mouth, "Knew I had perfect aim." He redirected the head of his cock to further paint more of Frankie's face, covering him with thick white all over his cheeks and lips. "Don't swallow it, Fish," he managed to moan out, "Keep aaaall of it in there for me like the good boy you are."

A few more spurts along his neck and chest, one more in his mouth, and then Benny was tapping the head of his cock against Frankie's tongue again, watching as the last few drops spilled out onto it. Frankie peered up at him with heavy lids, a low moan emitting from the back of his throat.

"Yeah," Benny breathed, tapping his tongue again, "That's for you, s'all for you." He pulled his cock out and took a step back, nodding toward Santi, "Go ahead, man. I think he's spent."

"He'll be okay," Santi said softly, shuffling in front of Frankie again and pressing the sticky tip of his cock to the corner of his cum-filled mouth, "Huh, baby? Can you last a little longer? Just a few more minutes for me?" Frankie nodded and he smiled, "Open wide, baby boy."

"Come on, I don't want him to swallow it yet," Benny said a little exasperatedly as Santi slipped the head of his cock past Frankie's lips, the tiniest bit of Benny's cum dribbling from the left corner of his mouth.

"He won't swallow," Santi murmured, "He's just gonna get my dick a little wet." He looked up to share a knowing look with Benny, like a little secret between them, and Benny turned bright red.

At his words, Frankie swirled Benny's cum around the head of Santi's cock, coating it in the salty substance. He gazed up into Santi's eyes as he did it, almost like he was silently whispering to him, pleading; I'm ready now, I'm ready for you to give it to me.

"Okay, Francisco," Santi whispered, just for him, "Lo has hecho tan bien." You've done so well.

He pulled out of Frankie with a pornographic squelching sound and began to work Benny's cum and Frankie's saliva up and down the length of his cock, still staring directly into Frankie's deep brown eyes. He bit down on his bottom lip, brows furrowing as he brought himself closer and closer to the edge.

"Ask for it," he said quietly, edged with something unhinged.

"Please," Frankie breathed, voice garbled and muffled by the cum in his mouth and the ache in his throat, "Please come on me, Santi."

And that was enough.

"Mierda," Santi groaned out, stomach tensing as his thick cock twitched in his grasp. Frankie didn't close his eyes this time, kept them locked onto Santi's as cum drenched his face. It splashed along his cheek and nose in short bursts, dripped down his neck and collected in the corners of his mouth. Without being able to help it, he popped his mouth open one final time to allow Santi to add more cum to the cocktail on his tongue.

"Christ," Will muttered a few steps away, "Would ya look at that?"

"This," Benny sighed, a smile in his voice, "This is what we needed. Fuck Redfly, man."

In any other circumstance Santiago probably would have smacked Benny on the back of the head for disrespecting the team leader, but he was a little more than preoccupied at the moment. He was still staring down into Frankie's eyes, lost in a daze as Frankie tugged him back into his mouth with his tongue and sucked the last remaining spurt of cum from the tip of his cock.

"C'mere, watch him swallow," Santi gestured for the others to join him, and they all resumed their positions in front of Frankie with heavy lidded eyes as they watched him suck.

"Show us first," Benny murmured, "Come on, Fish, show us what's in your mouth, huh?"

Releasing Santi's cock with a pop, Frankie carefully opened his mouth to show his friends the pool of cum swirling on his tongue, dripping down into the soft pockets of his cheeks. Practically in awe, they all stared as he played with it, twisted his tongue back and forth and moving the thick globs of cum from one side of his mouth to the other.

"Swallow," Santi whispered, and Frankie obeyed.

It felt like heaven going down his throat, thick and warm. His eyes rolled a little, tongue darting behind his teeth to lick any that he'd missed, swallowing again and then dropping his jaw to show them his clean tongue, mouth empty.

"Good boy."

They stood there in silence for a moment, almost in reverence. Frankie was a mess, covered in three thick loads of spend and still on his knees with his cock bobbing against his stomach. He was so aroused it was almost painful, the head of his cock pulsing along with his heartbeat as he waited for an order, a command. He whined a little, waiting for someone to do something.

"Untie him," Santi finally told Benny with a smirk, "I think he's ready now."

Ready was an understatement. So much of an understatement in fact that Benny had barely brushed against Frankie's hands to untie the string when Frankie was suddenly letting out the loudest moan of the night, high and unbridled and full of pleasured desperation. Benny practically ripped the string from his hands to turn around and get a better look, watching with wide eyes as Frankie started to come with his cock completely untouched.

It was truly a sight to behold. His three friends stood frozen with their eyes glued to Frankie's cock as it bobbed and twitched of it's own accord, slapped repeatedly against his own stomach and dipped into his belly button. They watched as thick ropes of cum began to spill from his weeping tip, painting his stomach and chest, his chin, the floor. His balls shivered and tightened, more spurting out again and again as he writhed and shook on his knees, making the most pathetic little sounds as his eyes rolled.

Four loads now.

They were all in shock. They'd known he could do it, had felt him come in his pants untouched more than enough times at that point to know it was possible for him. But Christ, they'd never seen anything like it.

The room went silent as Frankie caught his breath, as he came down from his untouched orgasm and his loud outburst. They all watched as his cock continued to twitch with aftershocks, Benny letting out a soft groan when a little more cum dribbled from the tip. And then it was over.

More silence, save for Frankie's gasps and whimpers. And then Will took a step forward.

"Thank you, Fish," he told him earnestly, patting him on the shoulder and squeezing it gently, "That was... fuck. Thank you. You're fuckin' incredible."

Frankie looked up at him through fluttering lashes and nodded with a small smile, and then Will disappeared back to the bunks.

Benny was next. He got down on Frankie's level and came face to face with him, a grin on his face, "You're so pretty, Frank," he told him softly, "And you did so good. S'at what you needed?" Frankie nodded and Benny ruffled his hair a little bit, "Thanks, man. Thank you. We're gonna kill it tomorrow."

He followed his brother back to the bunks, leaving just Frankie and Santi alone together. Just like Benny had, Santi kneeled down to meet Frankie at eye level, picking up his cap along the way and carefully placing it on top of Frankie's head with a smile.

"Did I do good?" Frankie asked him softly, voice hoarse.

Santiago smiled even wider, pulled the cap down a bit further and murmured, "Si, Francisco. Perfecto."

A sleepy and sated grin lit up Frankie's cum-coated face. He could still feel everything, the thick layer of spend on his cheeks and chest, his slowly softening cock, the ache in his jaw - and he loved all of it. It felt right. So fucking right.

"Can you take a picture?" he suddenly asked, eyes alight, "Of me? Like this? I wanna... I wanna keep it. To remember it."

Santi's eyes softened even more, hand coming up to gently stroke Frankie's bare shoulder, "I can do that."

Santi grabbed the polaroid camera, held it front of his face and peered down at Frankie with a fond smile as his friend looked up at him softly, tiredly. "Show me those eyes, Francisco," he murmured, and Frankie halted the fluttering of his lashes to give the camera his ultimate fucked-out expression, a smile playing at his lips. The camera flashed and Santi pulled out the developed picture, waving it in the air as he settled back down in front of Frankie.

"Look at all this," he murmured softly, reaching up to gently thumb a bit of the cum on Frankie's face and scoop it carefully into his friend's mouth. Frankie sucked Santi's thumb with ease, sleepy and docile.

"S'yours," Frankie breathed when Santi pulled it back out.

Santi raised an eyebrow, "Mine?"

"What you just put in my mouth," Frankie clarified with a flush to his cheeks, "That was yours."

"You can tell?"

Frankie nodded with a soft chuckle, "Yeah, I can tell you all apart."

And if that wasn't the hottest thing Santiago had ever heard in his life.

Getting up from the floor was a bit of a task, but Santi helped him every step of the way. He lead Frankie to the showers where he let him lean against the wall, let him bask in the warmth of the hot water and the feeling of soap and shampoo as Santi worshipped him in a different way, a new way. Pressed kisses to his temples and his forehead, took his time lathering Frankie's arms and legs, gently cleaned his coated face and spent cock. And when he was done, Santi wrapped him in a towel and brought him back to his bunk, laid beside him and kissed him slow and deep until it felt like all that existed was just the two of them, nobody else.

He'd placed the polaroid in Frankie's bedside table and stroked his hair, murmured those familiar soft and gentle praises as he drifted to sleep.

Needless to say, their first mission was a success.

You're lying down with him now. It's well past midnight, moonlight streaming in through your bare-bones new bedroom as you peer at him quietly from under your lashes. He looks tired - he's been talking for over an hour now.

"There's more," he murmurs, eyes drooping, "More happened after that, a lot more, but I-"

"You've told me more than enough," you whisper, "You've been so honest, Frankie." Your thumb comes up to stroke his cheek, your mouth turning up slightly at the corners when his eyes start to close, "Thank you for telling me about that."

He hums, breathes deeply as sleep slowly starts to find him. You can't help but stare at him, watch his face turn peaceful, the lines in the corners of his eyes smoothing out, his full lips relaxing into a natural frown. He's so beautiful. He's so.... good.

You think of him back then, the way he probably used to be. So unsure, so new to the real world and so close to facing things he'd never anticipated. You picture him lying in his bunk with Will above him, Santi and Benny beside him, Tom somewhere else, somewhere distant - it makes sense now. It all makes sense.

And now he's lying in his own bed, in his own house, years later - with you. You, the only thing you think has really made sense to him for a long time, the only thing that's helped him overcome some of life's worst obstacles, the pain and the trauma from the shit he's dealt with throughout his life.

But despite all of this, despite the past few years you've spent together, you suddenly can't help but wonder where he'd be right now if you hadn't met.

Would he be in Santiago's bed?

You slip out from under the blankets and grab your phone from your nightstand, making sure to turn out the light before heading to the kitchen. Your nostrils are met with the smell of fresh paint and leftover chow mein as you flick on the overhead and settle yourself on one of the stools at the kitchen island.

Unsure exactly why, you unlock your phone and scroll through your contacts, biting your lip as you search for Santiago's name. When you finally find it, you tap on it, feeling something odd sink in your heart when you see the lack of messages. You've never texted him? Not even once? You lean back and try to think of the last time you even had a conversation alone with him without Frankie or the others there, just a one-on-one interaction... and you come up blank.

He'd been such a huge part of Frankie's life. And still is now - still sees him on weekends, goes to games and bars, came over to the old apartment for drinks and dinner pretty regularly. He's been there for Frankie in ways you never could have imagined or guessed, took care of him and comforted him, would probably take a bullet for him - hell, he actually might've for all you know.

You look back down at your phone and stare at the blank space where words should be, feel that guilt from earlier rise in your chest and make a home in the form of a lump in your throat.

You start typing out a message.

#frankie morales fic #frankie morales smut #frankie morales x triple frontier boys #PPCUGiftExchange2024 #frankie morales x reader #*

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hwallazia · 3 months

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SIREN – 최산

synopsis . in which too many words aren’t needed to get laid with your dream man.

pairing . choi san & fem!reader

genre . smut (mdni!), strangers to lovers ??? (or smth like that), tooth rotting fluff at the end (ofc, it wouldn’t be a hwallazia work otherwise), non idol!au

taglist . @bro-atz @purplenimsicle @vampzity @iykyunho | apply to join my taglist ♡

word count . 4,1k

DISCLAIMER! sub!san (in the beginning he acts all tough but he’s just a shy man who needs to be taken care of), dom!reader, unprotected sex (wrap before tap fellas), dirty talk, lots of teasing (reader taunts our poor needy sannie way too much), dacryphilia?, overstimulation, cowgirl position, blowjob, dry humping?, begging oh so much begging, creampie, squirting, petnames (sannie, baby, love, darling & more), softest!dom san at the end ((⁠╥⁠﹏⁠╥⁠))

NIC’S NOTES this is totally inspired in bruno mars & cardi b’s “please me” music video (song rec for the fic ofc!). firstly, i thought of writing this for yunho, but the idea of submissive san is just... *sighs* makes me go feral. i have no more words. so well, i hope you enjoy reading.. whatever this is <3

laughter echoing, heels clicking against the ground, and jewelry shining with the intermittent city lights. the night out with your girls was a total success, with a couple of boys dripping over themselves from just the look of your slim, god-sculpted figures and playful, perfect grins, teeth white as pearls. of course, a few sluts jealous of all the attention you and your crew were receiving —you think that one of the boys who asked for your number was some plastic blondie’s boyfriend. saying that you felt absolutely unreachable was an understatement, your red lipstick sticking perfectly to your desirable lips, your not-so-covering outfit fitting your body just right and your siren-like eyes making the legs of every man you ever landed your gaze quivering in anticipation. the effect you had was supernatural and the smooth masculine attention made your stomach jump in excitement and narcissism, your mind clouded by a god-complex fog.

even though some of the men who approached you with clear second intentions were hot and you’d understand if he had a queue of girls who wanted to get laid with him, you didn’t find any of them good enough for you. it’d be just a one-night thing but still, you wanted to look for a man that made your heart flutter just with the sight of him. unfortunately, that didn’t happen in the club, so you and your girls retired once the clock hit 4.

you all were still too hyped and too beautiful to go to your houses, so you decided to go to a taco place since your friend, mia, was craving some good tacos. with a fifteen-minute walk, you got to the restaurant. as your friends kept laughing loudly over something you wouldn’t understand even if you were sober, you pushed the door open, the bell above it making an annoying sound for your intoxicated brain. you analyzed the place: cookers doing their thing behind the counter, being the ones to blame for the fire coming from pans and the toe-curling smell of meat and fried condiments; a lovey-dovey couple sitting in the table of the corner, way too far from your location; and a few tables full of people of all ages. but there was this one table that your group couldn’t help but watch intently: four gentlemen talking about god knows what and drinking their “corona” brand beers occasionally. one of them noticed how his intense and siren-like gaze was above them, his legs sloppily kicking their friends under the table.

“ow! wooyoung what was that f—” the tall, bulky-figured man called san whined before he turned around and saw you and your group still standing right next to the entrance. holy fuck, he immediately thought. he had never seen a woman as flawless as you, your curves making his hands itch from the solely and uncontrollable desire of touching them. he licked his lips in anticipation.

“fuck, look at that girl.” who kicked his leg, wooyoung, expressed out of breath the moment his eyes landed on your friend, hana. heat suddenly running up his neck and ears, the same happening to the tallest of them, yunho, when he fixated his black orbs on hana’s sibling, yoona. “finest woman i’ve ever seen.”

“same here.” the second tallest sitting at the table, mingi, agreed as well as he analyzed mia’s figure; his bottom lip caught between his perfect white row of teeth, eyes telling not very biblical tales.

“i think i got hard,” wooyoung said and lowered his head to meet his non-erected crotch, earning a slightly harsh fist landing on the side of his shoulder, courtesy of yunho.

“how old are you, man? really” san spoke hypocritically. his dirty mind was playing the same or worse scenarios wooyoung’s had been thinking of with hana but with you. he was already picturing you naked, bent over his kitchen counter, your notorious plump ass completely under his mercy, drawing all the faces you could possibly make as his cock rammed roughly inside you, the flesh of your ass bouncing every time his hips met yours. even though he hasn’t heard your voice yet, he can imagine the divine, cute moans you would mutter with his cock still pistoning against your wet and incredibly tight—

“san? you good, man?” mingi swung his hand right in front of his reddened face, a laugh coming from his friends the moment he slightly shook his head, waggling the sinful thoughts away.

“someone was fantasizing” wooyoung teased in a singsong tone, mingi and yunho chuckling as well.

“hell. we gotta take those ladies home.” san uttered rapidly before his mind could process his thoughts. the men’s eyes fixated on your group, which was already sitting at a table near them, mia and hana enjoying two tacos each while you and yoona kept drinking a cocktail. they didn’t know what you and your friends were laughing about, but they desperately wished they could be part of the conversation. and they would.

“okay. fellas,” wooyoung started, his friends turning their heads. “follow me and my charm.”

san, mingi, and yunho sighed in unison. they didn’t know when the day would come when they would put up with at least half of the narcissism of their friend who was standing up, by the way, drawing hana’s attention, who had been watching him since he entered that restaurant. he made his way to your table, the rest of his friends following his steps like a toddler looking up to his older brother. although the boys would never have wooyoung as a role model.

“well hello ladies,” he pulled out the most charming, gravel-like voice he could, his friends choking a laugh since they perfectly knew that wooyoung was overdoing it. but if it gets them the results they’re expecting then they’d let him be. “do y’all mind us sitting here?”

the eight of you weren’t stupid, you knew what you wanted. and you and your girls, especially, were desperate for those men’s attention. dancing and twerking over completely random strangers just to get their cocks hard and leave was exhausting and unproductive since none of them were good enough for y’all. so the four of you didn’t waste another second and stood up from their places, each of you approaching your desired man: yoona with yunho, mingi with mia, wooyoung with hana, and you with san.

you grabbed his wrist, guiding him to a different table, far from your and his friends’ location, your unfinished drink left on the table. you sat first and san did the same thing, making himself a place next to you, his gaze locked with yours still without saying a word. you both just let your eyes talk for you, a fire ignited inside san’s dark orbs.

you both turned your heads to the exit door the moment you heard the ringing of a bell, wooyoung and mia disappearing behind it. before he could totally abandon the place, he looked at san and gave him a thumbs up holding a champion grin drawn on his face. once the door clicked shut, san chuckled deeply, your skin trembling just from the sound of it.

“hah, wooyoung really knows how to play.” he exhaled looking down for a bit but not doubting a slight second to return his eyes to yours, your absurdly captivating eyes.

“oh so wooyoung is his name?” you asked, a hint of seduction hidden in your voice.

“yes, why’re you asking?” he replied hiding his nervousness in fake bravery. aren’t you interested in him? why’d you ask for his friend? his best friend?

“he’s cute.” you smiled as if it wasn’t a big deal.

san’s insides were hollering with your response. “cute?!” his desperate mind screamed. he cleared his throat for a second before responding what moments ago he thought he wouldn’t be able to answer. “then why’d you come up to me instead of him?”

his little jealous act made your heart tender. was he already jealous of you calling other men “cute” when he doesn’t even know your name? adorable.

“’cause you’re cuter,” you said leaning close enough to him to pinch the tip of his nose, you didn’t miss the little scrunch he did. oh, this man was going to be the death of you. you pulled away with a grin before continuing. “so...” you trailed off, expecting him to complete your words with his name, still unknown to you.

“san.”

“san,” you repeated in a velvety tone that made san’s ear and belly tingle. “where do you wanna take this?”

san’s nervousness was quickly replaced by all the thoughts he had earlier when he first saw you. now he was the one who smoothly bent his figure over yours, cornering you between the wall and his bulky body. “as far as you allow me” his honey-dripping, but still sinful voice rang inside your eardrums, making you want to hear it all night long.

you smirked at his complete willingness and couldn’t help but kiss his lips. san hummed in the kiss, feeling relieved since he had been wanting to devour you the moment he saw you come through that door. his excitement won over his conservative side so he acted accordingly, his right hand made its way up to your jaw to insert his hot, skillful tongue inside your cavity; a soft whine from you was heard. you didn’t want to wait for his other hand to grab your waist, so you straddle his lap, your tiny skirt lifting up consequently, almost revealing your lace panties. san, like the gentleman he is, let you settle comfortably on him before reaching your skirt and pulling it down, so it could at least cover the important parts.

you finally broke the intense, breath-taking kiss just to mutter right on his lips. “let’s get out of here, hm?”

a few minutes passed and you both were already abandoning the place, getting in san’s car. you had agreed to go to san’s place, and san was more than pleased to take a woman like you home. the ride to his apartment was full of lingering touches here and there that were more than just skin-to-skin contact. your hand caressed his thigh dangerously, your long nails faintly stroking his hardened bulge. the self-control that san had to not jerk his hips upwards was supernatural, and you found this very amusing and hot.

you straightened your back and leaned over him, one of your breasts touching his arm faintly, which was gripping the gear lever with all the strength he had. “you’re very good at keeping it cool. let’s see if you still can when i suck your cock.” you sentenced, finally stroking his tight crotch, the hiss coming from his lips only feeding your eagerness to keep touching him, apparently, the way he likes.

“ugh, please” the fact that he was driving prevented him from shutting his eyes and throwing his head back, the feeling being too good to be true. what were you doing to him? you didn’t even have your hand wrapped around his dick, so why was he already panting like a bitch in heat? “p-please, i can’t—ugh—”

“don’t tell me you’re gonna cum with just a couple of strokes?” your teasing tone made his body shiver even more, this action not going unnoticed by you. a smirk was drawn on your lips, the effect you had on this man was even hot for you.

“n-no, i’m not.. ’s just that—hmph!” you grasped his cock tightly, his eyes rolling to the back of his head in satisfaction.

“eyes on the road, sannie.” your velvet voice enveloped him even more in the cloud of your attracting effect. something inside san, warm and glowing at the praise, made his hanged-open mouth to let out the most precious mewl you’ve ever heard. you touched him three times more before releasing your grip on his cock, the silhouette of a slightly wet tent made your pussy clench.

“w-why’d you stop?” he whined at the loss of contact, his leg bouncing up and down in desperation.

you smiled, fingers brushing over the soft skin of san’s cheek. “let’s get home first, cutie.”

and he didn’t have to be told twice, his feet stepping harshly on the accelerator, your back hitting the car seat in consequence. “so desperate” you muttered under your breath, san being unable to hear your words.

finally, you made it to san’s place. he urgently rummaged through his pockets, looking for his apartment key. he inserted it on the lock and twisted it, opening the door. behind it, a dim-lighted, minimalistic, and quite spacious studio apartment was hidden, you entered before san did, looking all around you. “well uhm. this is my—mph!” he spoke while turning around to face you, but he was suddenly interrupted when you threw yourself at him to kiss him once again. you had become addicted to it on such short notice. you walked forward so he was walking backward, your eyes opening a little in the middle of the kiss to locate his bed. the moment you introduced your tongue inside his cavity, he knew it was over. he definitely wasn’t going to be the dominant one tonight. you guided him into his own bed, and when his calves hit its frame, he knew he could sit. you analyzed him before straddling his lap. god, san must’ve been sculpted by the heavens, all broad shoulders and chiseled muscles and a tapering waist that you had been a little obsessed with from the moment you landed your eyes on him.

you finally settled just fine on his lap, already making yourself a home in it. san instinctively grabbed a few handfuls of your ass before getting rid of your annoying top, your bra being the only piece of cloth attached to your body. but san was growing impatient, his lips desiring more than anything to suck your breasts. and fortunately, no words were needed since you could read him like a book. your hands reached your back and unhooked your bra in an instant, giggling at san’s excited mouth which didn’t waste much time before wrapping his lips around your nipples. hips stuttering at the feeling.

eventually, san included teeth and tongue to his ministrations, your back arching in response. “oh fuck, sannie. keep going,” you stroked his locks of hair and his nape tenderly. you continued speaking, “sucking a nameless woman’s tits. what does that have to say about you, darling?” you teased.

oh fuck you were right. you had asked him for his name, but he didn’t even bother, way too desperate for your body to even start with the formalities. he stopped his movements and unattached his lips from your nipple, it became erected when the cold air of the room passed through it, a shiver running down your spine. he stopped pleasuring you, but your hips were still rocking against his bulged cock, pants leaving his and your mouth. “i-i’m sorry. what’s—hah—your name?”

“yn, love.” you simply answered and brought your lips closer to the curvature of his ear, continuing your words in a faint whisper. “but you can call me whatever you want tonight” you tilted your head to the side and attached your lips to his neck, spreading sloppy kisses and licks all along it.

he was getting more and more excited as the minutes passed, which seemed to pass tortuously slowly. your bouncing hips placed significant pressure on his crotch, making his insides scream for relief. whines started to leave san’s mouth.

“a-ah, stop please.. it hurts” he pleaded with a broken voice, his aching cock begging for release. you stared at him from above, his sparkling eyes melting your heart.

“need something, baby?” your teasing tone was driving him over the edge. he didn’t want, he required your mouth on his cock. and now, otherwise, he’d explode.

“touch me, please” he whined. “i can’t take it.”

you were starting to feel sorry for the tightness you felt perfectly underneath you, but a small part of you wanted to keep messing with him for a bit longer. “but i am touching you, dear. need you to be more specific.”

he let out a shameless mewl at your words, closing his eyes for a second. suddenly, san on the verge of tears “just touch my cock! suck it, or fuck me. i don’t know, whatever you please but do something! please..”

a loving sigh left your lips as you caressed san’s cheek tenderly. “aw, baby. i’ll give you just what you want.”

you promised and complied. you moved off his thighs to get on your knees, shyness not being a feeling. the perfect fit of your figure between san’s toned legs made his cock twitch. your manicured hands trailed their way up to his pants, your fingers unbuckling his belt and pulling them down in a fast movement. you were desperate too, you had been craving his touch —and other prohibited things— all night. and finally your wish would come true.

you stroked his exposed member before running your tongue all over it, still not putting it explicitly in your mouth. his angry, reddened tip leaked drips of pre-cum, making it look like tiny pearls. you were impressed by the length and girth of it, the sight being completely mouth-watering. you didn’t make the poor man above you wait any longer, so you opened your mouth widely to finally dive in, enveloping his cock with your welcoming heat.

the sensation was overwhelming for san since his cock was sensitive from all the teasing you had done before. then he was forced to put all his weight on his arms which, located at his sides, tightly gripped the white sheets that would soon be soaked.

“oh my—fuck—” he choked out, sweat running down his temples.

your head bobbed up and down his length, what you couldn’t fit inside your mouth was being attended by your skillful hand. san’s high-pitched and breathy moans started to get louder when your nails caressed his balls gently while you took him all the way down, his cockhead hitting the back of your throat.

“close.. ugh, so fucking close” he exhaled, still grasping the sheets underneath him. because he couldn’t bring himself to touch, like you’re fragile, and everything will shatter if he does. even though he was the openly desperate one, he’d let you go at your own pace, politely petting your hair. “i—ah—i’m gonna cum, wait” he warned frantically and breathlessly, his hand pushing your shoulder gently, he didn’t want you to get dirty with his cum. such a gentleman even in a situation as lewd as that.

but you didn’t seem to care, way too immersed in his throbbing, addicting cock. you were committed to making his cum. and you did, a broken holler leaving san’s lip, swollen and red from biting them so harshly as your cavity was filled with hot spurts of his cum.

but that wasn’t enough for you. so you kept pumping his dick slowly as you got up, san’s hips jerking underneath you, shrieks coming from his mouth resonated across the room. after getting rid of your skirt, you resumed your initial position and placed your knees at his sides, his tired hands immediately resting on the outer sides of your thighs. you didn’t give him much time to recompose as you aligned his cock to your wet, unattended entrance.

“uh—wait yn, i just came. give me just a min—ahh!” he begged the moment he saw your body lower on his sensitive member. but it was too late, you had already pushed your panties aside and started bouncing up and down his length.

once again, the overwhelming sensation overcame san, and he surrendered, collapsing onto the mattress. a rush of coolness ran down his spine as the cold sheets met his sweat-drenched back, sending shivers through his entire body. you took advantage of his vulnerable position, resting your hands on his firm, plump chest. you began to bounce even harder, determined to milk every last drop of cum from his cock, feeling the tension build with each movement.

at that point, san was only blubbering nonsense underneath you, delirious, fucked out of his mind, his eyes glassy and lewd whines leaving his slick lips. “fuck—’s too much, too much, ahh!” he shamelessly moaned, not caring even a little bit about how loud he was. he’d probably lots of complaints from his neighbors. but he’d take care of that tomorrow, right now all he could this about was you and your wet, warm, and pulsating cunt squeezing his cock divinely.

“keep screaming for me, pretty boy” you expressed, unashamed as well. “make the whole building know who’s making you feel good.”

san whimpered even more loudly in response. “fuck—yn, please”

“who’s making you feel good?” you repeated just to get another couple of whispered ‘please’ as a response. but those weren’t the words you wanted to hear. “answer.”

your stern tone sent a warmer heat down his belly. “you, yn” he managed to respond but in a faint murmur. and still, that wasn’t what you were looking for. in consequence, you lifted your body up to only envelope his red tip with your walls and squeezed them on purpose, earning a loud, prolonged cry. “ah! yn, please!”

a smirk was drawn on his lips, satisfyingly going down him again. “please what, love?”

“make me cum! please, make me cum again” he mewled, a couple of tears streaming down his cheeks.

“isn’t that too greedy from you? you came not long ago.” you taunted him for the last time in the night.

“yes, i’m greedy! i just—ahh! i need to cum, pleasepleaseplease” he whimpered, repeating his prayers like a mantra.

you, enlightened by his begging, smiled sweetly and trapped his right nipple between your index and middle finger, playfully twisting them. “then cum, sannie. make a mess inside me.”

and those were the only words he needed, his cum even spilling out of your ravished cunt, mixed with your warm, clear juices. a sigh left your lips, your insides filled to the brim. “ahh, good boy, sannie. goood boy.” you trailed off your words as you fondled his cheeks, covered in sweat and tears.

your tired state made your body move faster than your mind could process and you laid down next to him. a few minutes of silence were necessary to stabilize your breathing and regain a normal body temperature. the cold night began to show its effects on each other’s skin, both suddenly feeling your hair stand on end.

“ooh” you uttered at the rushing cold breeze that ran through your legs up to your spine. “it’s cold.”

san didn’t say any words and just stretched his arm to reach the least dirty blanket and cover your bodies with it. he brought your figure closer to his as he enclosed your shoulder with his strong arm. a weird feeling of safety drowning your insides. it was such an intimate and loving moment even though the only thing you knew about each other was the other’s name. still, you didn’t want to move, you strangely enjoyed his company more than you expected.

san, after moments of complete silence, spoke, “wanna go out tomorrow?”

“mm? go out?”

“yeah. even though i only know your name, you’re the most beautiful, breathtaking woman i’ve ever seen in my life. and don’t get me wrong, i loved this, i think i might have an obsession with your body now.” you both chuckled, “but it’d be my greatest pleasure if you let me take you out on a date tomorrow.” he stared at you for a moment before continuing, “wanna know more about you.”

your still dumbfounded mind didn’t let you think clearly, so you could only mutter a few words, “apart from my name?”

he giggled softly, your heart melting as the sound reached your ears. a warmth spreaded through your chest consequently. “apart from your name.” he confirmed.

you didn’t have much to think about. this had never happened to you with any of the guys you had slept with, and it had always been your dream to find the one. the one who, in addition to your body, is interested in your soul, what you have to give. and it seemed like your dream man was right next to you, wrapping you with his captivating, safe arms. then your response was automatic, tenderly silent. “yes, i’d love to.”

san smiled fondly. “it’s settled then.” he brought his lips to your forehead to place a short, sincere kiss. “thank you, princess” he whispered in a low, sweet tone. your cheeks and heart warming at the sound of it. “let’s get some sleep, hm?”

you hummed lowly in response, nestling comfortably in his chest. reality hadn’t hit you yet, but it would soon. tomorrow! more specifically. but, for the moment, you just dedicated yourself to sleep soundly, trapped between the love of your life and wet sheets.

| masterlist

#© hwallazia #ateez #ateez smut #choi san #choi san smut #san smut #san x reader #choi san x reader #san one shot #choi san imagine #ateez scenarios #ateez x reader #ateez imagines #ateez fanfic

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broshot · 1 year

Text

chubby girl chasers??? (jjk men who would LOVE to have a chubby gf!!) part 1 (part 2 link here and it's also at the end)

cw/tw: mentions of body image issues, mentions of nsfw in some (all??) parts, all characters are of age, (idk what else to put but english isn't my first language so sorry for bad writing)

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gojo satoru

if you've ever seen my posts you could've guessed this tbh (I live love laugh gojo) he's so lovely

would hype you up NONSTOP and oh my gosh if you decide to wear more revealing clothes (or clothes that cling to your body) he'd be ON HIS KNEES worshipping you tbh

he just loves your plush and soft body SOO MUCH (he loves you as a person more ofc) but the way he can just come home after a long day and lay his head (or his whole body..) on top of you, he absolutely loves it. he loves all of you, seriously, he sees nothing wrong with you. you're perfect and he definitely tells you that too. not a day goes by without him calling you perfect.

and he loves when you dress up. tight clothes are his favourite because they allow him to see your perfect figure, and don't worry, no one would even have a chance to say anything bad about you or even look at you in a non-positive way. he's the strongest, he'll personally make sure that no one can make you feel bad about yourself.

missionary is his go to position. he wants to see your gorgeous body and gorgeous face as he fucks into you. you feel waaaay too good around him, he thinks he's lucky to be the one who gets to fuck you. you look so beautiful under him (you always look beautiful) and he's so lucky to be the only one who gets to see you like that. he's a praiser in and out of the bedroom, I swear. and if you wrap your legs around his lower body.. he loses it.

(read these fics (fic 1 is my personal fav) if you wanna know how I picture gojo in bed: fic 1, fic 2)

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toji fushiguro

OH he would just love grabbing your plush thighs as he buries his face in between them and eats you out. would make you sit on his face (doesn't care about suffocating, he's strong so you don't weigh anything to him really). would love laying on your soft thighs and your stomach (makes you play w his hair, he's such a softie for you).

if you're insecure about yourself because of your body he'd praise the shit out of you (he'd praise you no matter what you're insecure about, if you're insecure). bro would surprisingly be your personal hype man tbh

"what did you just say about my gorgeous girlfriend? repeat that and you're dead." no one is allowed to say anything bad about you (there's nothing bad in you ((except for him, get it, nothing bad in you and he's bad and he's in you.. yeah not funny is it)) so why would anyone have the right to say anything bad). he makes you wear clothes you want to wear, makes sure you can have the style you want to have because no one should have the right to make you feel uncomfortable in clothes that you love. if you want to wear the tightest clothes there is, do it! he makes sure no one says anything to offend you or make you feel bad. he's famous of being capable of THINGS :heart: so no one would even dare to say anything but positive things about you- there's nothing but positive things about you.

---

yuuta okkotsu

bro was in love with a curse I don't think he really cares about looks LMAOO no but this man would literally love you more than anything. your weight is not a problem for him, why would it be? he loves everything about you, your personality, voice, looks, humor, style.. just everything.

his favourite thing is to fall asleep on top of you (his head is usually on top of your chest, stomach or thighs. I don't make the rules, he LOVES falling asleep on you. he's shy with his words tbh but he hypes you up despite that. you're insecure about your body? why? you're perfect, what is there to hate? he doesn't get it, you're the most gorgeous human being in the whole world. (prettier than everything else too, don't get me wrong). and he definitely will tell you what he thinks about you. endless praising tbh

he loves when you ride him; the feeling of your thighs on each side of him as he fucks his hips upwards into you?? he's in heaven, overstimulated by the pleasure and he loves it. will definitely tell you too (I'm a whiny submissive yuuta believer, he whimpers). he loves how soft you feel inside (and outside). he'll def massage your thighs when you ride him (or at least grab them).

---

megumi fushiguro

are we surprised? no we're not!

fav hypeman! he'd literally blush whenever he sees you, you're just way too out of his league (he thinks you're too gorgeous to be in love with someone like him) and he's your boyfriend?? he's the luckiest man alive.

he loves how you look all the time, especially when you're confident. if anyone dares to make you feel insecure about yourself, they will face the consequences. and trust me, no one wants to face those consequences (they're both painful and awfully humiliating. megumi knows how to make people regret things). he's shy about his feelings tbh but you'll hear endless compliments from him. he compliments you when he first sees you in the morning and throughout the day too. there won't be a day when he doesn't compliment you. he loves to see you when you're confident and loves to make you feel confident too.

and he loves your hands; he loves how they feel, he loves how they look.. he just loves your hands SO MUCH. he loves holding them and caressing them and kissing them. he loves how they feel and look around his dick...

he loves kissing you. his hands will be caressing you while his lips are sealed onto yours. if his hand is on the back of your neck, he'll softly pinch it (he loves the extra softness on it, I hope yall know what this means). he'll pinch your back too, your thighs, the sides of your stomach.. it'll definitely be a bit ticklish but you can't blame him, he loves everything about you way too much.

---

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAA I love chubby chasers tbh (I love chubby women pls) also I don't really like how this fic turned out but that's okay (it makes me wanna cry tbh but I hope yall enjoy!!!)

I got lazy so lmk if you want a part 2 (I have a lot of characters in mind for this)

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blingblong55 · 9 months

Text

Little black dress- Simon 'Ghost' Riley NSFW

Photo credits: @ave661

Based on a request:

hey! just binge read all ur fics and I love them so much😭 saw that your taking requests rn and I had one, reader and ghost had gotten into an argument right before a party and so reader puts on her shortest dress and purposely tries her hardest to make ghost jealous, then gets fucked senseless by ghost when they get back😋 (Dom!ghost, consensual ofc) love your writing ur so creative with it! (just a request you don't have to do it^^)

---- F!Reader, established!relationship, smut, 18+, MDNI, unprotected!sex, dom!Ghost, rough!sex, slapping, choking, jealous!Ghost? ----

It was possibly the worst argument in your relationship so far, he and you saying horrible stuff towards each other and worst of it all is that you both had to attend some stupid party. The drive there was silent and awkward, especially when you wore that tight little black dress. The same one that showed him every beautiful curve of yours, he adjusted himself in the seat, an annoyed sigh as he tried to focus on the road ahead. You, applying that red lipstick and fuck did he need to have your marked lips on him.

The party was shit, he didn't expect more from it but when one song in particular came up, he had to adjust his trousers as he watched you move. That body was graced by the gods, moving your hips, hypnotising him like a siren. His bulge grows bigger by the second, and your cat's eye on him is like prey. He shook his head, Simon knew you well, knew the tricks you did to mess with his head. And fuck you because it was working. There is one thing he loves when in public settings. That being that every guy in the room looks at you, wanting to fuck that cunt of yours but when you sit on Simons's lap, let him kiss your neck or you kiss his neck, he knows every man in that room envies him.

No other man in that crowded space can fuck you, touch you but all they can afford is to imagine you, imagine how tight that cunt of yours is, how your pretty tits bounce when riding, how your moans sound. Simon Riley, a man who knows his pretty toy is for his use, who knows he eats you out, makes you come, scream, whimper and beg to come all over again. "Mate, y'alright?" And suddenly, he is back in that party. He nods, your stare still on him as your body keeps moving, he becomes frustrated, how can a pretty thing like you make him this way? Why can't you just bend over his lap, let his calloused fingers in your cunt, and make every man in that space know you are his slut, no one else's.

And then he saw it, another guy trying to flirt with you. He isn't insecure of himself, very much the opposite but to even think of a man as pathetic and not as strong as he dares to flirt with you? Yeah, not happening on his watch. Simon knows you are loyal, he is secure in your love and knows you don't have eyes for anyone else but him, but it's time Simon shows once and for all that just because you aren't grinding on him at this party doesn't mean you two ended. He gives you that look, motions with one nod for you to come over and with some hesitation you do, "Simon, don't start-" His lips cut you off as he kisses you, his hand possessively on your waist as the other holds you by the back of your neck.

"You're my-..fucking...girl," he reminds you between kisses. Of course, this reminder wasn't really for you, but for those around who think they have any chance with you. As stated before, he isn't insecure, he adores when you wear small dresses, when your curves are for all to view but to not touch, he loves to know that at the end of the day, you go home to him and that no man can change that. Simon encourages you to wear those outfits, he can fight and he can certainly kill for you, so wear that dress, be a slut and wear it because in the end, he belongs to you and you to him. Blood-covered knuckles won't stop the romance you two have.

He grabs your hand, takes you back to the car and drives home. "I didn't get to finish talking with my friends, Si," you look at him and he shakes his head. "Doesn't matter, you can see them tomorrow, if you can walk that is." His hand is on your thigh as he drives. Fingers caressing the softness of your thigh. "I'm sure you can tell them all about how you got a proper fuck, right darling? Since you love to gossip and they too, so, tell them, tell them your boyfriend fucked you and covered your pretty body in his cum."

Once home, he carries you to the bedroom, tearing the dress apart as he nibbles on your neck. His cock was hard, swollen and needy for some attention. You look at him but all he does is turn you around, push you to the bed, and slowly rip your panties, his tongue lapping at your wet cunt. Your eyes shut as moans escaped your lips, you look back and he shakes his head, and slaps your ass. "No no, you don't get the privilege to look at me," he sits up and pushes your face to the mattress. His heavy cock slapping at your cunt before he pushes his tip between your thighs, your cunt already aching for him.

Your hands behind your back, his strong hands holding your wrists as he begins to slowly push himself inside of you. "Oh fuck, lovie, s'tight," he moans and begins to increase his speed. Your cunt spreading for his size, your eyes leaking mascara-stained tears. You begin to moan louder the harder he pounds your sore ass. "Shut the fuck up," he slaps your ass once more, making you let out a whiny moan. One of his hands wraps around your neck, making sure to choke you just hard enough. Your voice is hoarse as you continue to get your tight cunt pounded.

"C'mon, lovie, just take it." He whispers into your ear and begins to leave love bites on your neck. "Si," you cry. His marks beginning to hurt just right. "It's okay, pretty baby, let me just fuck you raw and then let me take care of you, yeah?" Simon whispers. His cock is buried in your sweet pussy, and your back begins to arch the second his hand travels down and slowly rubs your clit. Your moans are loud, and you begin to moan his name, cursing him as you begin to get closer to your orgasm. "Come for me, I know you want to, lovie," Simon taunts, his fingers slow, letting the build-up increase and the second you grew quiet, your cunt clenching around him, he knew you had cummed.

Your whimpers get low as he pulls out, begins to stroke himself and grunts, his cum painting your back. "Oh, that's my girl," he moans, fingertips spreading his seed all over your soft skin, you squirm and he lifts your chin. "Open your mouth," he says and lets you clean his fingers, your tempting stare and the way you make subtle moans what a way to ask him for more. He picks you up and snuggles you under the sheets. "You did such a good job, darling," he smiles, Simon's warm lips meeting your forehead. Your legs still shaking, trying to calm down, ass is so red you wince when he massages your ass. "You'll be okay, I'll take care of you," he whispers and wraps his strong arms around you.

A/N: my brain melted mid way through this so I'm sorry if its shit

Tags:

@liyanahelena @ghostslillady @unicorngirly1 @under-the-dirt @emotion-no-hot-yes-hotel-trivago @goldenmclaren @moonsua1 @rvivienner @krinoid24 @iruzias @frizzseaberries @frazie99 @idklols @katybaby00 @night-mare-owl-79 @saoirse06 @vampsquerade @alxexhearts @Juneonhoth @tiredmetalenthusiast @jinxxangel13 @strangepuppynightmare @defnotlpuluvyou @enarien @simonssweetgirl @luvecarson @nellsbobells @willowaftxn83-87 @greatstormcat

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meowzfordayz · 3 months

Text

to be in love

Author’s Note: not much to note… 😅

to be in love

Tomioka Giyuu x Reader

Word Count: ~900

CW: mild sexual content

Emergency Request Fulfilled: could you write a comfort fic about Giyu?? (only if you have time ofc)

~faqs~

“What’s on your mind?”

You eye Giyuu for a long second, not quite focused on how blue and earnest his stare is, softness flickering from your face to your hands to your face again. He’s used to waiting. Used to long stretches of doubt and hesitation; of watching the gears turn in your head as you calculate the pros and cons of showing yourself to him — the reassurance you seek tempered by a deep, creeping fear of But what if I don’t deserve it?

“Nothing?”

He raises an eyebrow as you wince at your questioning inflection, your lie clear as day, his fingertips calloused and cool as they reach for your wrists.

“I don’t know,” you amend your response, “It doesn’t matter.”

“It doesn’t matter to you,” he asks lightly, “Or to me?”

You shrug, “I mean, I guess it matters to me,” your wrists twisting in his grasp, thumbs stroking his pinkies, “But it doesn’t have to matter to you.”

With a low chuckle, Giyuu lifts a stern finger to your chin, coaxing your heated cheeks to meet his searching gaze. He adores these moments, seated across from you at the dining table, sometimes curled up together on the couch, occasionally lying side by side in bed, his eyelids growing heavy as your tentative voice murmurs in a familiar tone Giyuu? As much vulnerability as you’re willing to give him is how much patience he has. He’s greedy, after all, for your trust in him — for the intimacy of overcoming that ringing weight of Am I enough?

“Talk to me. Please.”

“You’ve been in love before.”

He’s quiet, your statement quivering in his chest, frowning when he realizes just how bright your eyes have become, tears threatening to burst through your delicately kept tension.

“I have,” he says, heart clenching as you struggle to look away, “But they weren’t you.”

“Giyuu,” you deadpan, cracking a wry smile even as tears finally begin to fall, “That has got to be the most cliche answer in the book.”

“Oh?” he smiles back, smearing your tears with tender fondness before they drip off your jaw, “There’s a book?”

“I know it shouldn’t bother me because we both lived plenty of lives before we met. I know that. I know that what’s past has passed, and that I should be grateful for that past. I should be grateful for the lives that led us to each other. But I… can you really, truly be in love with me? With your whole heart?”

Silence seeps between your damp skin and Giyuu’s touch, your words processed and contemplated, inspected and prodded. You hold your breath, a bird perched to take flight, his faint smile and adoring eyes never leaving your own watery stare.

“I am really, truly in love with you. With my whole heart.”

“How can you be su-”

“Yes. I have loved before you. I have loved hard. I have loved with what I believed was my entire being. And yes, I have been heartbroken. I have yearned for what was no longer mine. I have wished to reverse time, to try again, to prove I am better than, more than, whatever separated me from my lover.” His smile broadens, undeniable warmth caressing your tears as he continues, “But my heart is complete. There are not bits and pieces of it lost to regret. There is not a single speck of my soul lingering, stalling, hoping to be with anyone else. I am in love with you, and I intend to spend the rest of my life this way.”

“This way?” you whisper.

“Just like this,” he murmurs, kissing your forehead, “Here. In love, with you.”

“But what if-”

“There is no what if,” he interrupts gently, “Not for me. There’s your amazing laughter and your gorgeous smile. And your eyes, so beautiful, so full of love. There’s how cherished I feel by you, and how much I feel I can cherish you. There’re so many things about you, about who I am with you, about us… I can’t guarantee much, but I do know there’s only one of you. And I know how lucky I am to be loved by you; how lucky I am to love you. I find, as we spend more and more of our days together, that I care less and less for what if. You, you’re it.”

Giyuu can tell, the moment your tears begin to glisten with affection and hope. The moment the hardness in your gaze begins to dissolve, the insecurity and coldness in your demeanor melting to a radiant glimmer. He understands how difficult it is, accepting love that you feel is beyond your right — accepting love that you still struggle to believe in. And he knows it’s possible. Knows it’s possible to be loved so completely, so effortlessly, with all the effort in the world, that there isn’t room for fear, for loss, for doubt. That is how you love him.

“I love you,” you grin, licking at the corners of your mouth, saltiness coating your tongue, “I love you so much.”

“I love you so much,” he declares, a brilliant, endeared sound, enamored with the clarity of the emotion in your eyes, “I love you.”

You kiss him slowly, hands cupping his face, another shared laugh closer to forever.

#giyuu tomioka #giyu tomioka #tomioka giyuu #tomioka giyu #giyuu x reader #giyu x reader #water hashira #one shot #modern au #kimetsu no yaiba #demon slayer

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calliopesdiary · 4 months

Note

hola!! would you be able to write a one shot with your first date with remus? maybe you’re both a little shy and nervous and just trying so hard to impress one another and there’s a lot of blushing and cute moments :)

hii! ofc, lovely! (screaming cause i got my first request 🥳🥳)

—•—

Check Yes, Juliet

synopsis: when Marlene sets two polar opposites up to go on a date

contents: fem!reader, reader likes bows, badboy!remus, just cute adorable idiots in love (:, mentioned dorlene!, readers favorite color is red

warnings: none!

a/n: this fic is inspired by the song “Check Yes, Juliet” by We The Kings! thanks for requesting!

“MARLS… ARE YOU SURE THIS IS A GOOD IDEA?” you ask from your position in front of your mirror, carefully tying red ribbon into your hair.

“of course it is, y/n. he’ll love you! besides, opposites attract!” Marlene assured you, carefully applying red lipstick to her plush lips.

“i was a little… hesitant when Pandora insisted I go on a date with Dorcas, y’know, cause we were so different. but look at us— we’re about to hit our eight months!”

you nodded silently, checking yourself out in the mirror before finishing your eyeliner.

once Marlene had gotten picked up from your shared flat, you laced up your shoes and got your things together.

and that’s when you heard the knock.

the special knock.

the knock you had been waiting three days for.

your hand nervously gripped the doorknob and twisted it open.

“hi.”

you didn’t mean to say “hi” in unison, now what do you say? crap he was supposed to say hi first and then—

“you look gorgeous.”

you got broken out of your thoughts, your eyes hitting his with an awkward gaze.

“me?”

he chuckled, “who else would i be talking to?”

“o-oh, right, o-of course.” you blushed out of embarrassment.

you could cue some crickets here, you could tell he was nervous, you’ve never seen the resident bad boy so nervous.

“these are for you.”

he held out a bouquet of luscious roses, red, your favorite color.

“w-wow… Remus… these are beautiful…”

“just like you.” his cheeks lit up in a rosy shade, almost as if a painter had graced him with his paintbrush.

he’d definitely rehearsed that.

you let out a soft giggle, before stepping out the front door and walking with him to his car.

you guys ended up going to this adorable vintage diner near his house, you felt like you could talk to him for hours, except you were so nervous.

he even paid for the food, he paid! (even though the guy should totally pay on first days but that’s just me 🤷‍♀️)

“don’t worry, darlin’, i’ll pay”

“Remus i was gonna pay—“

“shh, keep sipping on your slushy” you blushed, you needed to get this blushing problem under control.

“so, do you have any hobbies?”

sweet of him to ask, but you felt as if you were a bit basic.

“oh, i play electric guitar so.. i guess that’s my hobby, what about you?”

you smiled, god he already loved your smile, it was so sweet, especially since your tongue was red from the cherry slushy you had been sipping on.

“you play guitar? sick!— i mean— cool.. i play bass.”

“bass? i’ve always wanted to play bass!— i mean— that’s super cool, maybe we can play together sometime?” you were quick to get flustered by your own words.

damn, you were being bold.

“i’d like that.”

he tossed some stones into the river underneath the bridge you guys had found, your legs dangling gently off the edge as you sipped on your slushy.

“do you read at all?” you asked, reading being one of your most favorite things.

“i do— actually.”

“really?

“i know it seems unlikely, but yeah, i do.”

“well.. what are your favorites?”

“it’s hard to choose, but i’ve always liked the classics— you know, like.. Romeo and Juliet.”

“Remus, you can’t seriously expect me to believe that you, the coolest guy in town, reads Romeo and Juliet.” he let out a chuckle.

“it’s true.” he shrugged, flashing his signature grin at you.

“do… you have a favorite?”

and just like that you both had spent quite a few hours just sitting on that bridge and talking, you never thought it could really get better than that.

“i know we already talked about hobbies, but have you got any more?”

“i mean— i skateboard, ”

“you skateboard?! damn, i’m really trying to make myself sound cool here but you aren’t helping.” you teased, nudging his shoulder.

“oh come on, it’s skateboarding, it’s not that cool…” Remus itched his neck sheepishly.

“i’m sure there has to be something cool about you.” he teased, his big hand ruffling your hair.

“i don’t know what that could possibly be.” you shrugged.

“well… you wear these beautiful bows everytime i see you walking down the street, and you told me that you like to stay up all night and play video games.” he remembered everything..

“that’s not cool, that’s being a loser.”

“you are about the farthest thing from a loser, y/n.”

you froze a bit, that was so… sweet.

“t-thanks.” you blushed, again. (no surprise)

“i’ll have to teach you how to skate, though.”

“i’d love that.”

the drive back to your apartment was nothing short of a dream, music blasting, turns out you both had similar music taste.

“billy joel has to be a gift from the heavens.” you remarked loudly, your hair blowing in the breeze, the top down on his convertible.

“i can play uptown girl on guitar!” he responded, a wide smile on his face.

“really?”

“yeah!” the excitement in his voice made you blush almost the same color as your slushy.

“that’s so cool!”

he smiled wider, looking over to you, your pretty face lit up with street lights.

“i write poetry.” you confessed, you’ve definitely come out of your shell.

“you need to show me, sometime.” he pulled into the parking lot of your apartment complex.

“i… had a great time with you today.” you were so smiley.

“i had a great time with you, too.”

as the gentleman Remus John Lupin was, he walked you to your door.

“i guess this is goodbye.” he sighed lightly, not really wanting his night to end with you.

“thanks for.. everything—“

before you could even finish speaking, his lips were on yours.

your brain imploded, your eyes fluttering shut into the soft kiss Remus had just blessed you with.

your lips tasted of cherry and lip gloss, but he really didn’t mind. his nimble hands crept to your waist as your hands fell to his shoulders. just before he pulled away.

“i’ll see you around, Juliet.”

you smiled at the given nickname, blushing at the suddenness of that kiss still.

“bye, Romeo.”

he chuckled, before quickly walking down the hallway.

Marlene was right, opposites attract.

#marauders era #fem!reader #remus lupin #sirius black #james potter #marauders #poly!marauders x reader #fanfiction #remus lupin x reader #check yes juliet #romeo and juliet

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artydonsgf · 5 months

Note

Hey love💕 could u do an arthusband! fic??

hi sweets! i’m in the process of writing husband art but i didn’t wanna keep you waiting so i wrote out a headcanon list! i also included a small nsfw portion for my own delusional giggles, enjoy~

Art Donaldson as your Husband

- when yall start dating, it’s apparent that you’re his first real girlfriend

- he’s fooled around with people before but the eagerness of his kisses and how quickly your touch sends him over the edge makes it clear it was never serious

- you like it though, it’s cute how embarrassed he gets when you stare at him and call him handsome

- amazing bf, top tier communicator

- you discover early one that art does not play about you so he really tries his best to avoid any arguments that aren’t constructive

- extremely gooey and tells you that he wants to marry you in the future like a week into your relationship

- despite how good of a communicator he is, he also gets in his head very easily

- constantly worried that he’s somehow not enough for you and you’ll find someone better

- these worries die down pretty quickly but it sits in the back of his mind sometimes

- said i love you first and he said it after 6 months

- he later told you that he knew after a month but didn’t want to scare you away

- after a year of dating, he gives you a promise ring and swears that he’ll propose to you the moment you guys graduate

- two years in, you guys move in together

- six months later and true to his word, he gives you his grandmother’s ring while you’re both still in your caps and gowns

- the wedding happens quickly since neither of you wanted something big

- your wedding day is the best day of his life, something he tells you a million times throughout the day

- he cried like a baby when you walked down the aisle

- in all of your wedding photos, he’s looking at you like you are the center of the universe

- art settles into married life with ease

- in his mind, you guys have already been married since the moment you agreed to be his girlfriend

- sharing a last name with you is the best thing ever in his mind

- sometimes he’ll call you mrs donaldson just to hear you respond to it

- laughs into his hand when you respond but you already realized what he was doing forever ago

- a true romantic

- leaves flowers and other cute trinkets at your bedside table when he comes home from traveling for games

- he’ll be dead asleep beside you but you’ll always find a small bouquet, breakfast, and a souvenir from whatever town he passed through

- constantly thinks about you

- facetime warrior, he will call you at any time just to hear your voice

- if he’s lucky and you’re able to come with him to games, he spends any spare time curled up in your arms and ask you to just speak

- loves it when you run a hand through his hair, he’ll twist himself into an uncomfortable position if it means you’ll keep scratching his head

- the annoying guy who mentions his wife at any given moment

- “ah yes, my WIFE, also enjoys hiking”

- his idea of a date is dinner and cuddling the whole night

- seems to forget that he can kiss you whenever because he always asks if he can kiss you

- needs you like he needs air, bro is insane about you

- patrick knew about you before he even met you because art spoke about the beautiful girl with the kind eyes and sweet smile for a month before he actually asked you out

- bro was yearning like crazy

- his biggest issue is his jealousy

- starts plotting murder whenever a man speaks to you for too long

- or woman, he’s equal opportunity jealous

- ofc he doesn’t have to worry because you’re always quick to flash your ring and name drop him as your husband in convos

- he’s a very good husband who loves you an insane amount and makes sure to communicate that to you 24/7

NSFW

- legit will do anything you ask of him, so he’s very into experimenting

- your pleasure > his every time

- he enjoys oral but doesn’t really ask for it since he’d prefer to give

- submissive by nature and is happy to let you take charge

- only really dominant after a particularly tough day on the courts

- aftercare KING, he’ll get you cleaned up in two seconds flat so he can keep you in his arms for the rest of the night

- very needy in bed, he wants your constant attention

- total praise kink, he can hardly breathe when you tell him he’s doing a good job

- he had to learn how to control his pace because he used to come immediately

- despite his quickness at finishing, he has insane stamina and will keep you up the whole night

- it’s always you >>> any of his obligations

- more times than you can count, you’ve had to pry him off of you because he had important things to do the next day

- loves quickies

- likes it when you pull his hair

#challengers #challengers headcanon #challengers fic #challengers imagine #art donaldson #art donaldson imagine #art donaldson headcanon #art donaldson fic

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tacobacoyeet · 3 months

Note

pleaseee right more harry fluff!! heres a list of ideas i have, ofc if you don’t want to you don’t have to!!

-bf headcanons

-sfw alphabet

-him during umbridge detention and she like makes him watch y/n do the quill

-something going along to the song slut! by taylor swift ❤️❤️

and ofc js anything is fine😭

good harry writing is hard to find on this app

slut! | h.p.

a/n: a short and sweet little fic based off of my interpretation of slut! by taylor swift. it might be a tad too on the nose but @ssturniolo92 i hope i did your request justice!

warnings: there are a lot of different harry personalities across tumblr- this is my interpretation of him. cursing, harry james potter being just the best as always, a touch angsty, NOT PROOFREAD!

beautiful hues of gold, white, silver, and all sorts of colors were the first things that caught your attention as you stepped into the yule ball. your hand held harry’s arm as your heels clicked on the floor. you were dressed in a beautiful aquamarine gown, which glittered in the candlelight of the stunningly decorated ballroom. the chatter in the room grew quiet as everyone’s stares locked on you and your boyfriend… the coveted hogwarts triwizard champion. there was not much time for you to survey the room before professor mcgonagall steered you and harry off for the champion’s waltz, but it was enough time for your ears to catch the whispers. whispers of how harry looked ‘absolutely ravishing,’ how your dress was ‘...certainly a choice,’ and whispers of how you were probably only ‘using harry… what a slut!’ you sighed deeply, forcing yourself to stand tall as the two of you took to the dance floor.

“look at me,” he whispered, forcing you to meet his eyes as he guided you around the dance floor.

“it’s just you and me.”

you smiled weakly at him. what else could you do? a gaggle of girls nearby whispered loudly about what they would’ve done to be on harry’s arm for the night.

“god, he’s just devastatingly handsome, isn’t he?” one of them asked, eliciting a cacophony of giggles.

he sighed softly, taking notice of the thin layer of tears in your eyes. suddenly, he pulled you close, into his chest.

“i’m all yours.”

a little later in the evening, you found yourself several drinks in, a soft buzz coursing through your body as you people-watched, but all you could think about was how much you loved your boyfriend. you’d been dating for almost a year now, and the two of you truly couldn’t get enough of each other. when he first asked you out, you told him he was making a mistake.

“dating someone like me is going to blow up in your face, harry! people like you don’t date people like me.”

he never took that as an answer, though. and to be fair, it didn’t exactly blow up in his face as much as it had in yours. the whispers, the rumors, they were all an attack on you. but that was a price you were willing to pay for the man you loved to never pay it himself- but that was just because he was the boy who lived.

your thoughts ran rampant as the alcohol flowed through your body, leaving a fire in its wake. you glinted your eyes as you surveyed the room. you’d cry about the people that hated you later. right now? you looked fine as hell, and you intended to do something about it.

it wasn’t long until you had found harry and planted a deep, long kiss on his lips.

“what was that for?” he asked, a small smirk on his lips.

“i got all dressed up and i look amazing. i don’t care what people are saying about me, or you, or us, because they’re looking at us and how great we look and that’s all that fucking matters.” you slurred ever so slightly, a determined smile on your face.

“you’re drunk as hell, gorgeous.” harry laughs softly, his hand softly caressing your cheek.

“and i love you so. damn. much.”

you spent the rest of the ball in his arms, in the center of the dance floor, much to harry’s happiness. he loved showing off his partner, but he cared about your feelings more than anything, so he never wanted to do anything that would shine the spotlight on you too much, as he knew that most of the time, the words of others really did impact you.

a few hours later, he held your hair back as you knelt over a toilet, the alcohol you boldly downed earlier making its way back up.

“is it really worth it to get this drunk, love?” he smiled softly at you, planting a kiss on your head as he rubbed your back.

“for once?” you started, “it was. and if i’m going to be drunk… i might as well be drunk in love.”

#a writes #harry potter #hogwarts #harry potter imagine #harry potter x reader #harry potter fluff #harry potter angst #harry james potter #harry james potter fluff #harry james potter x reader #harry james potter angst #taylor swift #1989 tv

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chaos-and-sparkles · 1 year

Text

In Which I Ramble About Pavitr's Character Design and the Indian Cultural Stuff Related to It

DISCLAIMER: I'm an Indian, and these are all my thoughts and analyses, but I'm also just one person and by no means am I speaking for everyone. I am not all knowing, and I am not immune to being wrong sometimes. These points are all my own thoughts and stuff that I know through my lived cultural experiences and some history and book knowledge, but I've not particularly researched any of these. I'm just out here giving my take from what I know. This is mostly just going to be me rambling, okay? Okay. Let's go!

Anyway okay so I just wanna go from the top down:

No. 1:

First of all his hair

His fucking hair

This is one aspect that i k n o w I'm overthinking and probably wasn't as significantly thought out in the design but it just Spoke to me and by all accounts I'm not the only one

But I'm so glad we have him with his thick gorgeous fricking hair, especially them being like curly/wavy and slightly long instead of straight and cropped or whatever

Like. Indians usually have very thick and luscious hair, not everyone ofc but generally it's a thing, and it's considered a point of pride to have long dark thick hair.

And the thing is for the longest time the beauty standard in India was to have very straight and shiny hair, all the actresses and heroes were doing it, even though that's literally not the realistic case for a lot lot LOT of Indians. There's a pretty big variety of hair texture in India; some of it is regionally concentrated too, eg. in South India you get a lot of frizzy, tightly coiled hair that's rough textured, whereas curly hair is usually silkier and looser curled as you go Northwards,, Bengalis tend to have very wavy thick hair,, etc. By no means a rule or anything, it's just a thing that there's a lot of curl variety and a lot of it was for the longest time considered ugly and unkempt (there are some classist/regionalist elements to this stereotype also unsurprisingly) still is by some people,,, bc the standard was Shiny Straight Hair. It's a standard that's slowly shifting. It's currently leaning more on the wavy and voluminous side. But it's def a thing still.

All that to say, it makes me so so happy to see Pav with his curly-ish lush hair that he wears with such pride and style,, that are a symbol of his own pride and self care too!!!

Also the line about "coconut oil, prayers and good genetics" - I LOVE THAT REFERENCE AHAHABSSK, using coconut oil for the hair is a very common thing here, it's so so good for the hair and the scalp alike and it's relaxing to massage it in too.

I've seen people try to write Pavitr in fics as "quickly brushing some coconut oil through his hair" as part of his morning routine and. Um. That's not how it's done askaskjas, I don't mean to be rude to the writers at all, everyone does the best with what they know and no one knows everything, but also practically speaking that would be greasy and awful.

There are multiple ways to apply coconut oil, ofc. Coconut oil is often massaged into the scalp and rubbed into the hair like an hour before washing, sometimes with lemon juice mixed in, and then washed off when bathing. Some people, especially those with drier and finer hair, apply it as a regular after-hair-wash thing, too, but even so it needs to be rubbed in.

A really beloved thing we have is coconut oil champis, too! This is basically when you sit down cross legged in front of youe mother/grandmother, and she massages the coconut oil into your scalp and hair in a way that literally cures all tension and headaches and leaves your head reeling and is so so good for hair and stress and everything. It's a family bonding thing more than just a hair routine. It's not always done by the mom/grandmother ofc, it's just how most of us first experience it, and they have a technique that none of us can ever quite replicate to the same effect later. As we grow up, we often do it for ourselves and for others. It's a weekly or monthly or even just occasional thing depending on who you ask. But yeah that reference was great I love it dearly!

Also about the hair length

So in the current modern "civilized" standard (Indian schools and society in general tend to do a lot of shit trying to assimilate us into western culture and stamp out our own,, for example all my life I've been in schools where speaking Hindi and Telugu and stuff in class or in the hallways was Wrong and Forbidden and We Must Speak Only In English Bc We Are Educated And Cultured. This is so fucking hypocritical bc they would also have Hindi and Telugu classes and then criticize us for not getting it right or whatever), boys are meant to have short hair. Teachers literally single boys out in class for leaving their hair longer, not the exact length they set as the limit. This was my entire school experience; thankfully it doesn't seem to be the case in college, but that may just be bc I'm in an artsy college. In the workplace it's less stringent but it's still a thing.

HOWEVER, historically and culturally, long hair was considered good and even Important for both men and women. There's huge regional variations in this ofc; Maratha peshwas and higher classes and stuff for example wore a "pilaka" (idk what else it's called), which is the head shaven clean except a tuft in the middle that's sometimes braided. Brahmins still do it too.

But my point being, long hair was considered good for the most part, at most it would be worn in a bun for fighting and working,,, braids are a pretty big deal too. Having to cut your hair short=a symbol of dishonour and/or exile, or reserved for menial workers and so called "low classes".

(This is not stuff you even get explicitly told btw. This is stuff I've mostly inferred and studied from history and mythology and stuff , so there's no guarantee I'm 100% right)

Also, in Sikkhism (I'm not Sikh myself so correct me if I'm wrong, this is just what I know) having long hair is super fucking important for men. The hair is wrapped up in the turban, and the turban is a symbol of honour and pride and literally considered life. The long hair is considered sacred.

Removing the turban is basically a symbol of literally losing your honour pride and sense of self,, not just in Sikkhism, just generally at this point. Cutting your hair? Insult on injury.

Pavitr doesn't have particularly long hair ofc

But having grown up with such rigidly enforced things abt boys having very short cropped hair, it makes me so happy to see an Indian character who defies that.

Also!! Quick tangent about braids and their significance,, they're considered very beautiful and another symbol of pride, intricate buns and what not too! Just wanna drop this to give you an idea of what i mean:

In the Hindu myth of the Mahabharata, Draupadi, the wife of the Pandavas (she's a very interesting and important and beloved character, regionally also considered a goddess, she was a princess born of fire married to five princes and the vengeance for her honour literally fuelled the war for righteousness etc etc) vows never to braid her hair again until she has washed it in the blood of Dushasana, a man who forcefully tried to disrobe her in court (it's a whole myth of its own). At the apex of the war, Bheem, her husband, brings her his blood. She washes her hair in it and then for the first time in thirteen years, she braids it.

Braids are not as significant now but it was basically a Pretty Big Deal and I just wanted to talk abt it.

In Hinduism too the gods are portrayed with long hair, it's a Thing.

No. 2:

Okay so moving more downwards,, I have a bunch of Thoughts abt Pavs mask design!

Okay so obv we have the spiderweb-pattern that's a given.

But. The interesting parts are these:

The bindi-like design on his forehead.

Bc my point is

Sure that looks like a bindi. And that's beautiful in itself but I HAVE ANOTHER TAKE

Bindis are traditionally worn by women as a symbol of beauty, prosperity, and again, pride. But while nice, that's not quite a symbolism that fits imo

You know what else is ver similar where my mind immediately goes? A tilak.

The shape is kind of off for a tilak actually, a tilak is more of a U or a V with a dot or a flame-like stroke in the middle. So in that case it looks more like a bindi

But i really like thinking that it's inspired by a tilak too, bc

While a bindi is a decorative mark stuck or painted on a woman's forehead as a symbol of beauty and prosperity

A tilak is basically a mark that's finger-painted on the forehead of , usually a man but there's a softer smaller version for women too and ofc there are women warriors who got tilaks, for auspicious and blessing reasons. So in a Puja or ceremony, a tilak is put as a blessing and an auspicious thing, also meant to impart strength. The head of the household usually gets the most striking or biggest one.

Pandits usually wear tilaks for blessing purposes too, although their design is different and more elaborate than the ones given to others

Gods and goddesses had their own tilaks, some of them very distinctive like Shiva's

The part that applies to Pav is the warrior tilak

Basically before a king or warrior went to battle, it was customary to do a small sending off ritual and for the wife or mother to put the tilak for them and say "Vijay bhava" (may you be victorious)

It's still done for big undertakings and challenges like exams and new jobs and stuff.

It's basically for strength, bravery and victory

The main difference in a bindi and tilak is the intent:

Bindi is for beauty

Tilak is for valour

Which. For a HERO. Just. Chef's kiss.

2. the markings around his eyes!!

I'm sure this has been said before, but it's very very reminiscent of kathakali makeup.

Regionally there's a lot of eye makeup stuff also btw. There are some absolutely beautiful tribal designs and regional designs with a lot of colours but I cant remember specifics rn

Also!! The very distinctive black lines around Pav's eyes?? I love them sm bc they feel so so based in kohl and kajal. Another huge beauty and often pride related thing.

There's even a whole thing where a mother or older sister will often rub a bit of her kohl off on her fingertip and press it behind their loved one's ear so that "buri nazar na lage" (no one's bad gaze catches you). It's called a kaala teeka

The idea being that you're so beautiful and/or cute and bright and lovable and nothing should jinx that and nothing bad should happen to you. It's very rare now and I've never experienced it myself but it's so so precious <33

3. the white markings on his cheeks!

I've seen that explanation of how it's reminiscent of Ganesha, the elephant headed god who is kind of a symbol of new beginnings, intelligence, prosperity, and a ton of stuff I don't even know how to explain honestly, but he's very cool and beloved and has a lot of Good Vibes™ and i love him basically.

I personally am reminded more of kathakali makeup again!! But that explanation is very cool too and i like it!! I don't know if I agree bc i think it m i g h t be a blasphemy to have that imagery on your face, afaik no one here does it for any reasons and we have literal festivals and pujas dedicated to Ganesha

But then again I am a human with limited knowledge and i don't know everything

I personally think the tusk like designs are very cool. However, I also think it would be a bit of a No No for religious reasons. I also think it reminds me more of classical dance face makeup and stuff.

I also think if they meant to make it a Ganesha reference, then he should only have a tusk on one side, bc there's a huge deal about Ganesha being "ekdanta" (transl: one toothed) bc he has a well known myth of breaking off one of his tusks to write a mythologically and culturally significant epic.

There are also a lot of actual cultural face painting things in India that are way cooler than the Ganesha thing in my opinion. So while that theory is cool, I don't personally agree with it. I could be wrong, again, idk what the design intent was exactly.

No. 3:

Next thing: this is a very very small thing and i only have a sentence on it, but i really appreciate Pav's neckline in his suit.

The neckline here? That's the kind of cut that's most typical of kurtas. Especially more ceremonial, kingly, wedding sherwani, or generally festive attire; a regular kurti might have a v-neck or something, but this curved collar? Very Indian and classy in a way I can't fully explain.

No. 4:

This next thing I'm going to go completely ballistic about, everyone hold on to your seats!!!

THE FUCKING MOTIF ON HIS UPPER ARMS. IT'S EVEN ON THE MEHENDI-ISH PATTERN ON HIS WRISTS AND HANDS. THE SPIDER SHAPE TOO. I AM NOT NORMAL OKAY

LISTEN.

LISTEN TO ME

TBIS IS CONFIRMATION THAT KRISHNA PAVITR IS CANON

HE IS SO SO KRISHNA CODED

Idc if I'm delusional, i DARE you to look at that blue design and tell me it doesn't look like a peacock feather

THE SHAPE OF HIS FUCKING SPIDER IS OH SO SUBTLY CURVED TO BE PEACOCK FEATHER SHAPED TOO

There is no human way for me to be normal about this i need a minute

Okay for context:

Krishna is a very important and beloved god in Hinduism. I cannot overstate the love I have for him, even being mostly non religious myself.

There is SO MUCH about him he is such a big deal and thanks to him being made a character in popular Indian cartoons and so many animated and live action movies being made about him, he is literally woven in the fabric of our collective consciousness and love for our culture

He's a mischevious and fun and chaotic and lowkey antiestablishment kid deity. He contains the literal universe. He has a deep abiding love for his people and his family and loved ones and the world he serves. He is a dancer, flute player, sweetheart, lover of life. He has a thousand wives, yet one Radha who he never married but is his literal immortalized soulmate. He guides heroes to duty. He is full of wisdom but also silly hijinks. He is so so beloved.

The peacock feather is his symbol! You could see the peacock feather anywhere and it's immediately OH KRISHNA! He wears a peacock feather, famously. In all his iterations, from childhood to adulthood. Peacock feather is his emblem.

Krishna is depicted through the peacock feather. It's become a very common motif in arts like mehendi and various textile arts to have peacock feather and peacock patterns; I'm sure that existed before Krishna too in several cultural circles but he is definitely a huge part of it since. There is a chikankari motif that is very recognisable that's reminiscent of peacock feather but I'm mostly unsourced on that, going off my own interpretation

But there's a definite link between peacock feather=Krishna=inextricable part of culture and art.

At least in North India. He's less of a big deal the further south you go. Still very widespread and overall loved tho.

So anyway seeing that peacock feather type motif on Pav?? Mixed with his Spiderman identity??? Is so amazing to me.

Krishna coded Pavitr real ✨

(Also yeah people have already pointed out that Pav's hand designs are based on mehendi so I don't need to go into that askjasjkas)

No. 5:

Also. Huge fan of his arm cuffs. It's just another Indian warrior thing; often in ye olde times and in mythology, the cuff would be a lot simpler, often just a thread with an amulet to grant you protection. But it steadily became fancier, and now it can be decorative or a valour thing or both

Very often just decorative now actually. Often seen in weddings and ceremonies too

No. 6:

Okay about his bangles now:

I absolutely LOVE THEM I love them so much I am so obsessed with them actually!!

So. First of all

I remember there being a confusion in like earlier fics especially on whether they were bracelets or damrus or bangles or what

And i have Thoughts

So first of all

They are not damrus/damarus.

Damarus are a musical instrument made of wood and with two beaded ropes to beat on the small drum-like ends. They're also symbols of lord Shiva who uses a damaru.

They are very different from what Pav wears and i remember my fucking whiplash when earlier fics called his bangles damarus. I think i choked on my maggi.

I don't mean to be rude to the writers ofc, they were doing the best with what they knew. But it's just very jarring to me to hear that

I think an explanation I heard was that Pav's web shooter design was inspired by damarus? Which yeah I get that and I actually wanna talk about it bc I very much see it. But they are very much NOT damarus themselves

First of all i personally have never seen nor heard of the kind of bangles Pav wears which appear to have a strip of cloth in the middle? While being gold cuffs on both ends? Which is new and interesting actually and opens up aspects abt his character that i find really interesting

Bc first of all: that implies he made them himself from stuff he already had inspired by things he saw. It seems, at least to me, like he used bangles/kadas he had to make the shooters he uses, which are designed the way they are for easier slinging and his cool tricks with them which would be harder if they were solid gold, and also the shape when he does the cool yoyo-y trick and hits The Spot with it and everything is very damaru shape. Which is also pretty cool if it's meant as a reference to Shiva and his damaru (he's a very fierce god with the damaru) or a reference to the street performers who use it nowadays.

Either way - and also additionally the fact that PAV LITERALLY DOUBLED HIS BANGLES AS WEB SHOOTERS WHICH IS SO CREATIVE AND SMART - and developed his own whole signature skillset with it?? And made his own bangle/shooters as I said before????

My boy is PEAK jugaadu

He is the embodiment of jugaad

Never has anything been so true to the Indian spirit than jugaad

Okay so for context, the jugaad that I keep talking about:

It basically means makeshifting and/or inventing stuff you need from the limited stuff you have. That's a very simple way of explaining it. Just imagine that, but up the silliness level x100.

For example, a guy jugaaded a showerhead by poking holes in a sprite bottle and putting a hose in it and routing it to the tap.

Jugaad can be both very smart, and very funny and silly

And it usually involves combining useless stuff/trash/just stuff you had lying around to make smth that you didn't wanna waste money buying, and often ends up having more functions than the stuff it was meant to replace. This but it's also very crackheaded. Like idk how to explain. It's basically makeshifting, but it's just developed into such an Indian Spirit Thing™ that we have a word for it

So i love that Pavitr's bangles do all of that. He is a true Indian boy to his core!

No. 7:

Okay I have thoughts on his dhoti too!

So.

Blue.

I know why they used blue for his dhoti, what with the spiderman colours, the need to complement his bright red with smth softer, and everything. I get it and i love it so so much. What I'm about to say next is not a complaint against this at all, it's very good design imo

But.

Everytime I look at him in his fucking blue dhoti

I just remember all the times my grandmother has apprehended me and made me go and change for trying to wear blue or black at a Puja

Bc they're apparently unholy colours ;_;

Basically yellow, saffron, red are the appropriate holy colours. Now that i think about it, I've never seen a god or mythological king depicted in a blue dhoti or generally blue clothing either - farthest they go from the three i described is pink or green

I never really thought about it until my Nani pointed it out. I'm still not sure if anyone except her even knew or cared about it.

But that is the memory that bonks me on the head every time i Perceive the blue dhoti

Bro upgraded from funeral colour (white, which is his dhoti in the comics and absolutely infuriates me on a visceral level) to unholy colour askaskjjska it's so funny to me

Purple was still a luxurious colour, but generally warmer and/or lighter colours are The Done Thing. It's an old notion and the cultural connotations are now very diluted by Western influence and also none of us Caring about a lot of it anymore (not necessarily a good or bad thing particularly)

Indigo also has. Loaded connotations.

Because Britain did a Colonialism and a lot of Indians suffered for it. It's a whole history lesson.

I would rather not get into the whole details but basically Indigo (the plant from which the dye was made) was a valuable commodity and Britishers essentially forced farmers to grow only that, ignoring their need to grow food or sustenance or care for the land in general, especially in the Bihar-UP regions. There were eventually a lot of revolts where many people, esp farmers, died.

Basically a double whammy of starvation and death as a direct result of colonialism. It was a major part, historically, that sparked rage for the freedom movement

If you wanna learn more abt it you can search up Champaran farmer revolts!

Also about the drape of Pav's dhoti:

I've seen a couple of memes and reels abt how Pav, in an emergency, suiting up for Spiderman duty, would be taking an hour to drape the dhoti and stuff

And those are hilarious and i love them

But also

That's literally not even a proper dhoti -

So the thing pav wears is basically more of dhoti-pants with a cummerbund.

So okay I need to explain this better hold on

A dhoti is basically a sheet of fabric that is draped around the waist and down. The elaborateness of the cloth can vary vastly from intricately patterned silk and brocade, to plain white cotton with a thin gold border optional

The drape of the dhoti varies even more depending on region, occasion, occupation, and status. You can have everything from the casual simple towel like drape and tuck that some men wear to relax on a daily basis, to an intricate thing with many folds and pleats and tucks and the middle part that hangs (I forget the name for that) that would actually legitimately take hours and is often adorned with jewellery . To a thing that's flexible to move in and also looks very pretty and is genderneutral some dance forms call for.

Basically. The drape varies vastly. And it's all one cloth, maybe a second one for a separate cummerbund sometimes, I'm not that well versed abt dhotis tbh.

But the thing Pav wears?? It doesn't seem to me to be folded the way I've ever seen any dhoti

The way it's folded and shaped is not how those style of dhotis work. There would be a lot more pleats and folds, for one. But it's not shaped the way to match the less-folded dhotis either.

Now, I'm no dhoti expert, but that leads me to believe that's not a full on dhoti. What it's more likely to be is dhoti-pants

Dhoti pants are this fusion thing. It's in the name. I haven't seen it much but I know/think/am pretty sure its a thing, bc most Indian guys now don't know how to drape a dhoti either and it's a good solution. Worn like a pant, looks like a dhoti. Simple. A cummerbund for the middle drape, and you're set!

Also side note: the fold with the distinct two legs and the middle drape that Pav has? Is the most commonly depicted warrior and king drape,, at least in North and Middle India, I'm not as well versed about the South but I think it's the case there too. The gods are depicted in that drape too

I have fewer comments on his leg design, I like that it's reminiscent of mehendi even on his feet bc yeah that's also done on the feet, although rarer now and also a bridal thing

No. 7:

He has gold cuffs on his ankles that I really like!

Okay so here's the interesting thing:

I could be wrong, but

But that kind of thick ankle cuff is not actually an Indian thing?? At least not in the warrior hero context that a lot of his design seems based on. At least not of that shape and width.

What we do have though are very simple metal ankle cuffs put on (I think) one ankle of young kids for protection,, again a tradition I'm not very familiar with, it's more localised

The other thing we have that's more interesting tho:

We have payals and ghungroos!!! Which opens up so many exciting prospects to me because those are both dancer things

Like. The payals are ornamental. They are beauty things as well. All women would wear them, their elaborateness and style depending on status, money, and region ofc

They double as dance and performance things too ofc

But ghungroos are specifically dance things

Very very sacred and honoured to the dancers, too. Quite personal

(These are all little bells on the ghungroos btw!! Hundreds of them. They ring out when the dancers dance)

This is what Pav's ankle cuffs most remind me of. It's not the same thing ofc, and idk if the designers were even thinking of this.

But it would be really cool if he was inspired by ghungroos to have cuffs of similar thickness and placement on his legs. Perhaps even familiar to him hmmm?

This is me theorizing HARD to support my headcanon, but combined with Pav's classical dance-n-martial-arts-y moves, i present to you: Pav learning classical dance when he was younger (a thing that a lot of Indian kids do and only a few seriously continue for their lives) is real.

I rest my case

Like yeah it's known at this point that Pav's moves are based a lot off the martial art of kalaripayattu. Which is SO AMAZING AND I LOVE IT SO MUCH!!! But I also think this would be a cool influence alongside that, bc it really feels visible too.

No. 8:

The fact that Pavitr is barefoot is so so important and dear to me!!!

In Indian culture, you're supposed to take your shoes off as a mark of respect, before entering the ranabhoomi (literal transl: battleground, but not in an actual war with swords and shit ofc)

Being barefoot for pujas and in temples and on sacred ground in general is very important

As is being barefoot when you're walking onto a kabaddi or wrestling ground,, basically any fight that's supposed to be important and/or with honour. It's a respect thing for the opponent and for the earth you fight on.

There are a lot of contexts where being barefoot is important or a given

There's the prayer ground bc it's sacred and holy and you can't be dragging your dirty ass shoes there it's super disrespectful. You gotta enter with clean feet specifically, dirty feet are considered disrespectful too. that's also why there wil often be feet washing areas outside of temples here

Then there's the ranabhoomi that I just said, which is more of respect for your opponent and the earth. Respect to the earth especially is very important in the combat forms and sports I know of at least

Then there's the basic respect and tbh the hygiene thing too, of always taking off your footwear before entering another persons house. That one is more flexible, sometimes you can take it off inside, but the done thing is to take them off outside generally. Especially if you're a guest who's not particularly close. You'd be considered really rude if you didn't take them off at all. But again that still varies by person,, the older generations are way stricter abt it

Then the bride thing,,, it's actually a whole small ritual. The bride and groom will enter the groom's house for the first time,, which is considered the bride's new home bc misogynistic tradition so yeah. But basically it's supposed to be an auspicious beginning to a new home and life. (Btw being barefoot during the wedding ceremony is also generally required)

Usually, at least in North Indian tradition, a small vessel of rice is kept at the threshold that the bride must tip over with her foot when entering. It's for prosperity. Then she steps directly into a plate of a red liquid I forget the word for, but it's basically a sindoor paste type of thing. Her first steps into the house must be taken leaving those red footprints behind. That's for auspicious beginning

So Pavitr being barefoot is so so cool from a cultural and a character building standpoint

He takes his job seriously, he does it with respect and honour!!! He seems so chill and happy go lucky, but he's deliberate and respectful abt it!! And he's super connected to his culture too, bc you could just Not and no one would care, but it's so important that he does!!

So yeah!

That has been my full ramble askjasjkas. If you made it this far, have a cookie! Thank you and I hope this was interesting <33

556 notes · View notes

riiwrites · 1 year

Note

Can I request dazai confessing his feelings to reader and reader doesn’t believe he’s being serious? Thank you 💕

seriously. - d. osamu

a/n : ofc anon! tysm for your request! <3 i apologise if it isn’t good writing. this is my first full fic but I really do hope you enjoy it 💗

genre : fluff

warnings : none

wc : 1k

If you had to describe Dazai Osamu with a few words, it certainly wouldn’t be earnest.

He just wasn’t known to be that serious kind of man, you knew that of course. You’ve been working alongside him for as long as you can remember and all you seemed to get from him was just incompetent behaviour.

You have never once in your whole life of working at the agency seen Dazai be or at least try to be serious, at least not with you.

His way of communicating with you would always end up with him initiating a flirty gesture or phrasing something poetic about your ethereal beauty. Although you didn’t mind it, a part of you wondered if what he was saying was actually true.

“You’re oblivious, you know that right?” Ranpo said, eating away and interrupting your rant about the whole situation between you and Dazai.

“He is in love with you.” He continued.

“He may not act serious but trust me, the eyes don’t lie.”

He wasn’t wrong, he’s Ranpo. He was never wrong and with the way Dazai looked at you when he thought you weren’t was truly something.

But still, you just couldn’t believe it, you couldn’t believe Dazai would actually be serious about loving you, it was all just fun and games after all, right?

It was quite a lonely night for you back at the agency. Everyone had clocked out for the night and you were filling in some leftover paperwork that had to be done for the week and then you’d be finished.

As you were too zoned in on the sound of your own pencil scribbling the paper you didn’t seem to hear the tiny creak of the door behind you slowly opening up.

Dazai slowly peaked through the door, spotting you and entered your working space, being gentle with his movements as to not get your attention just yet.

He slowly stepped forward— practically tiptoeing his way towards you from behind, eventually placing his hands on your shoulder before whispering.

“Whatcha doing, Bella?~”

It took a quick second for your heart to skip a beat when you heard that specific nickname only one person called you. You snapped out of your focus before swiftly turning around to him with a sigh of relief when you can confirm it’s just him.

“Dazai..”

You let out another exhale of relief. “You scared me there.”

You added on with a small smile to your face, a pink hue slightly tinting your cheeks as you tried to adjust yourself from the sudden change of scenery in-front of you as you hadn’t moved out of your chair for what seemed like hours.

“Aw, my apologies Y/N! Just wanted to check up on you, you’ve been glued to that desk for the past few hours y’know~” he teased, basically confirming that theory as he took his hands off your shoulders and walked over next to you, propping himself up to sit on the desk you were currently working at.

“Well, i guess I’ve just been pretty busy.” You replied, spinning back around in your chair to take a look at him once again, scratching the back of your head sheepishly.

“Why don’t you come on a walk with me? Clear that pretty little head of yours?”

He had that mischievous wide smirk on his face that you had always noticed. You would constantly take note of the tiniest things about his features that you just absolutely adored about him. The pink hue on your face became more visible as he spoke, word after word it made your face practically glow with pink. After a few seconds of contemplating wherever or not to say yes to his suggestion, you sighed as you look back at your paperwork and then back at him with a slight smile before replying.

“Sure then, let’s go.”

The walk was beyond peaceful surprisingly enough. Dazai was walking alongside you with his two hands behind his head, taking small glances at your expression as you looked up at the stars, seeming so in awe with them.

“You like them?”

He leaned forward with a smile as he tried to get a more clear look of your facial features, taking every little detail in. There was a long pause before your answer as you nodded slowly, admiring it all.

“Yeah, they’re beautiful.” You said in response.

Dazai took in how soft your voice was, how gentle your facial expressions were as you stare in admiration at the sparkling dots in the sky. He took a sharp breath before saying something else in reply.

“You’re breathtaking, you know that right?

You paused for a moment, still staring at the midnight sky as you then turned to him with a playful smirk, rolling your eyes to his flirting.

“Thank you, Dazai.” You replied sarcastically, expecting another one of his flirtatious and foolish remarks.

“No, Y/N listen to me.”

He took his hands off his head and stood in-front of you, taking your hands into his own whilst staring at you with such a fond expression.

“You are- absolutely breathtaking.” He repeated his words once more, waiting for a response.

You took a few seconds again, confused as to what was happening and thinking it was just Dazai playing tricks on you once again.

“I- thank—“ you tried but before you could’ve even gave a response back, he just blurts it out within an instant.

“I love you, Y/N.”

There was a long silence shared amongst the two of you, the only thing heard was the wind bristling against the trees and a few cars bypassing. You were the one to first break the silence, not by speaking, but by literally laughing.

Dazai stood there stunned for a moment, letting go of your hands with a look of confusion riddled across his face as you hugged your chest, laughing hysterically.

“Oh- ahah! Oh Dazai you are- so remarkably funny!” You gasped out in between laughs, absolutely losing yourself.

“W-what..? Y/N what are you talking about?” He asked, a look of concern also struck on his face.

There was suddenly another long pause when you eventually stopped laughing as soon as he said that. Your sudden wide eyes shot up to look at his sort of hurt expression and you tilt your head.

“You- were joking were you not?”

“No?”

Well now you looked like a complete fool.

You took a few steps back, processing this and just refused to believe it.

“I don’t believe you.”

“Y/N I’m serious.”

God, even just the word ‘serious’ rolling off his tongue felt so wrong but oh, just the way he looked at you with that genuine expression had you weak in the knees and second guessing everything for a moment.

“Do you not see the way I look at you? God, Y/N I’m so in love with you I’ve never been more serious in my life.”

He stared at you with his beautiful brown eyes piercing through you like bullets, not breaking any eye contact whatsoever. You felt a cold shiver run down you, although it could’ve been the gust of wind, you didn’t give it a second thought before responding.

“Seriously?”

“Seriously.”

He replied within an instant, seeming so sure about that.

“You own my heart L/N.”

That statement sure was bold and you absolutely adored it, you adored him.

You took a step forward, taking his hands into your own and smiling down at the sight, intertwining your fingers with his and gave him a soft smile as you tilted your head up.

“You own my heart too Osamu.”

Once you replied, Dazai had to take a breather, letting go of the breath he had currently held in for about a whole minute of waiting for you to reply with something not so negative.

“Whew! Y/N don’t leave me on a hanger like that ever again- that was seriously wounding.”

He said, chuckling nervously but smoothly covered it up with a composed expression on his face.

He’s secretly dying on the inside though.

He moved his hand forward pulling you closer to him, embracing you tightly and wrapping his arms around you fully, looking up at the sky like you had done. Once you pulled away from the tight embrace you looked up at the brunettes face as if you were analysing something about him. he glanced right back at you.

“What?” He asked, quirking his eyebrow up in question.

“I think that’s the first time I’ve ever seen you be so serious..” You admitted.

“What?!" He gasped dramatically, placing his hand on his heart, acting as if you’ve wounded him.

“Absurd! I’ve been serious more times than you can even count!”

He huffs. You cocked your eyebrow up at him in response.

“I mean, if that’s what helps you sleep at night.”

You began to smirk and glanced back up at the stars. He then let out a dramatic exhale before returning the same smirk you had on your face.

“Don’t make me take back my words, dear!"

There it was again. The same unserious mischievous scheming bastard of a man who somehow stole your precious heart.

Who knew a man like him could actually be so serious?

Damn, you owed Ranpo so much money.

main page ❤︎︎ want to be added to my taglist?

#bsd #bsd dazai #bsd headcanons #bsd x reader #bungo stray dogs #dazai osamu #osamu dazai #bsd osamu dazai #dazai x reader #dazai x you #osamu dazai x reader #fluff #i feel like this was written really badly I apologise 😔

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chaoticfandomgirly · 24 days

Text

The Stupidity of hating on fanon, featuring Jegulus.

Alright folks,

Welcome to another one of my rants because I found out that there are jegulus haters on tumblr. I have not encountered one but I saw it on my mutuals' page and I had some words (a lot of words) to say.

So let's get started...

One of the main complaints is saying that 'James would never fall for Regulus.' Umm...child, do you know what fanfic is? What fanon is? If not let me spell it out for you- it's made up. Something that is not canon and created by fans by employing their imaginations. We are not saying that James would fall for Regulus in canon at all, so please don't come barging in with your opinions. So yes, we don't really care about canon anyways.

Secondly, the argument of 'Regulus being a terrible person and pureblood supremacist' is really weak. Alright, he was a pureblood supremacist and was involved in terrible things. But do you know what else he was? He was just a 17 year old boy who grew up in an abusive household. A boy who had lost his big brother and had to learn survival at an age too young. He grew up before his time and was so traumatized that he always wanted to please his parents and do as they wish. Regulus was just another victim and he also was the one who ended up being the catalyst to Voldemort's defeat. As someone who studies psychology, viewing a person on the surface is the biggest sign of ignorance and it really shows. As for 'being terrible' then let's not forget that canon James wasn't all sunshine and rainbows either. He improved ofc, but he was still an asshole when he was young. Also, we really don't have enough background on canon Regulus to place him in one box. I love that some people want to believe him as good and fill in the blanks by writing something redeeming.

Then comes the 'it's a misogynistic ship'. Now, I won't argue it fully because I do think there are some people out there who don't like Jily bc they hate Lily. But, from what I've seen majority shippers ship both of them interchangeably or in a polyarmorous sense too. In fact, most jegulus shippers are also Marylily and pandalily shippers too. I really can't see anything misogynistic in it. I've actually read some great fics where Lily is a strong independent woman who is fierce and an overall queen.

And, if the 'canon' of it bothers you too much, then you should check out early Jegulus fics like Choices where nothing is sugar-coated. James still ends up with Lily. But in the end, it leaves you thinking and rooting for them anyways. The more new Jegulus fics are on a fluffier side but that fluff came in after bearing the pain of the full of angst fics like Choices.

Another thing should be noted is that these characters are also a big part of queer community. I've seen so many fans exploring themselves through these characters. Like Regulus as Trans is becoming a popular headcanon and it shows that through creative expression people are finding a safe place to explore. And if you're a bigot then...that is frankly a you problem. One I, or jegulus fans, don't want any part of.

In the end, my motive is not to convince you of shipping these two. It clearly started as a crackship, one even I stumbled upon accidentally. But the fandom has made it into something really beautiful and I think instead of spreading hate we should accept it. There are more problematic pairings to be concerned about, trust me. This one is the least of them all.

Thank you for listening to my rant. And if you have anything negative to say, kindly don't because it would just be proof of your own stupidness. There is no point you can argue about with anything substantial. Because in the end it's fanon. Let fans do what they want and if you don't like it then ignore. No one is forcing it on you.

@corwnvus I hope this covers it all. Also, I love your art. Did I mention that, already?

#pearl rants #jegulus #james x regulus #the marauders fandom #regulus black #james potter #all the jegulus haters #please grow some sense #fanfiction #fanon

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violentdelights-violentendss · 6 months

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you couldn't keep me off for long 🤺🤺

how about the same three (dazai aku and fedya) but with a reader that runs super cold ?? i love this idea for no reason because dazai would tease, akutagawa would just be funny because haha sickly victorian children, and fedya has fuckign anemia so ofc he's cold 24/7 as well. ur writing style is also delectable i would like to eat it tysm

(me when i read ur things)

OMG I LOVE THIS! (Bro thank you sm i seriously feel like my writing style is shit but I love you…and please never fend off)

to the anon requested the bsd men and cold fic it is underway, I currently have written half of it…the ones with all BSD men take longer to write 😞😞

off I go to writing this ✨✨

BSD Men With a Reader That Runs Cold

In this post: 💃 Osamu Dazai, Ryonosuke Akutagawa, Fyodor Dostoyevsky💃

Pairing: Fem!reader/BSDMen

Synopsis: BSDMen and a gf that runs cold.

Osamu Dazai

Dazai is a man that burns with joy and passion in his everyday life. Consequently, his body temperature almost always runs high. And as the saying goes, opposites attract: you’re almost always cold, and Dazai, the man of your life, seems to have fire licking his skin constantly. He eagerly appoints himself to be your personal furnace, wrapping you in his arms when you shiver, and lending you his coat without you even having to utter a word. But his gestures come with a small price. Your boyfriend always teases you, his cat-like eyes smiling fondly as you glare at him, bundled in a mountain of covers and still needing his body heat. Dazai’s favorite joke is to propose sex as a way to warm you up. No matter how much he teases, however, he will always be ready to rescue you from the freezing cold that claws at your skin, enjoying the time he gets to spend holding you close to his heart.

You walked through the streets of Yokohama, shivering like you were experiencing your own magnitude level 5 earthquake. You were bundled up in a large coat, a scarf and gloves, even a small hat adoring your adorable face, and yet, you were still shivering so hard your teeth chattered.

Your boyfriend, Dazai, was walking leisurely in front of you, wearing only his usual trench coat, seemingly unaffected by the cold that held you tightly in its claws.

“D-Dazai!” You called, feeling as if you couldn’t take another step without shattering into a myriad of tiny ice shards.

“Yes, my belladonna?”

“M’ cold…”

Dazai sauntered over to you, leaning down to peck your nose. “Such a rare occasion, isn’t it, Bella?” He cooed mockingly, caressing your lips with his thumb.

You swatted his hand away, whining. “Stop teasing. I need solutions, not problems.”

“Okay, I have a great solution.” Dazai declared, looking in your eyes very seriously. You nodded, listening, blowing some warm air on your freezing hands, which still felt on the verge or falling off, even with your gloves on. Dazai’s hands took yours in his, warming them up with his own personal heat. “We go back there, and I fuck you so good — ”

“DAZAI!” You shouted, afraid someone could hear you. You rapidly checked around the both of you, terrified that a little kid might have been lurking in a corner. Returning to look at your boyfriend, you found him doubled over, laughing.

“I’m sorry, baby. I’m sorry.” He said, a hint of laugh still dancing in his tone. “Come here,” he said, opening his trench coat. You slid inside, instantly feeling warmer. Dazai closed the coat around you, holding you tightly against him, feeling a little proud when you stopped shivering. “When we get home, l’ll make you some warm tea.” He promised, already seeing your apartment complex in the near distance.

“And then we cuddle on the couch.” You said, starting feel your ears again.

“And then we make out on the couch, yes.”

“DAZAI!”

Your joyful boyfriend started laughing, and you soon joined, your laughter intertwining into a beautiful melody, as you two walked home. Throughout the walk home, Dazai made sure you were completely covered by his coat, a perfect bundle of warmth. He promised himself he would always be there to hug you till you weren’t shivering anymore.

Ryonosuke Akutagawa

Akutagawa was a normal person, who never felt too hot or too cold. When you burst into his life, all joy and laughter, he had to get used to you, and all your wonderfully eccentric behavior. But the one thing he struggled most with, was your abnormally low body temperature. Whenever you told him you were cold, he would stare at the various layers of clothes you were wearing, as well as the winter coat you had thrown over your shoulders. Akutagawa just…couldn’t understand you. He didn’t try to be mean or anything, his mind just couldn’t make sense of it. Akutagawa soon realized that his body heat helped the perennial cold that seemingly nestled, like a frozen rose, in your heart. Whenever you would be shivering at night, Akutagawa would tentatively wrap you in his arms, and warm you with his body heat. He would crank the heat up in your apartment, despite your protests about the price (he had enough money to spend). Soon, you feeling cold became another quirky aspect of your relationship, and also gave Akutagawa the opportunity to always keep you in his arms without explicitly voicing his desire to do so, which suited your touch-starved boyfriend perfectly fine.

You were at the Port Mafia’s annual Christmas Party: an event that lasted all night long, in one of the many ballrooms owned by the criminal organization. The floors were made of polished wood, and the ceilings were decorated with wonderful paintings, and delicate flowers engraved in the dark wooden beams that supported the high ceilings. The moonlight filtered in through the mosaic windows, coloring the partygoers in different shades.

You were sitting at a table, a glass of glittering champagne in your hand. You were wearing a black slip dress Akutagawa had gifted you. It adorned your body perfectly, a slit exposing your right leg. You looked gorgeous, and Akutagawa stared at you for a good 5 minutes without being able to say anything when you had come out of the bathroom, finding you the epitome of beauty.

The night had been fun: you had successfully dragged Akutagawa to waltz with you, holding you close. You could feel Akutagawa’s heart beat against your chest, a small smile twinkling on his lips. The moment had abruptly ended when Mori had called Akutagawa to raise a toast to the Port Mafia with the rest of the high executives.

You, being a low-level Port Mafia member, had given him a kiss to send him off, and had gone back to sit at your designated table. All the dancing had made you sweat, and now the droplets were cooling on your skin, making you already colder than you always were. You had decided to sip on your champagne to warm yourself up, but your exposed arms were not helping. You had started shivering, setting the flute back down on the table, and wrapping your arms around yourself to try and create a little heat.

“Are you feeling cold, (Y/N)?” Akutagawa asked, dragging a chair to join you. You nodded, sheepishly. Akutagawa glanced at you for a few seconds, his eyes zeroing on your shivering shoulders. He exhaled, not believing he was about to do this.

Slowly, Akutagawa removed his coat, an item of clothing that was seemingly fused to his body: he rarely took it off, and only in the comfort of your home, where he knew the both of you were safe from any danger.

You watched him in utter disbelief as he draped it around your shoulders: it was the greatest act of trust Akutagawa could ever commit towards you.

Seemingly not having moved you to tears enough, he scooted closer with his chair, wrapping you in his arms and holding you tightly against him, trying to transfer some body heat.

Akutagawa was known for not liking any form of PDA. You knew. He knew. The whole Port Mafia knew, which explained the shocked glance Chuuya threw your way.

But honestly, you didn’t care, and nuzzled your face in Akutagawa’s chest, glimmering tears sliding down your cheeks and ruining your makeup: Akutagawa always found proclaiming his love to you to be extremely difficult, but clumsily, through his actions, he always found a way to tell you how much you meant to him.

Your boyfriend felt your shoulders shake, and mistook you to be still freezing. He held you even closer, until he noticed the wetness on his chest, harshly pulling you away from him to check on you. “(Y/N)? What’s wrong?” His panicked tone made you laugh through the tears.

“You’re just perfect, you know.” You whispered, bringing his hands to your mouth, leaving a red lipstick mark on his knuckles. “I couldn’t have gotten luckier.”

Now it was Akutagawa’s turn to feel his heart melt, his eyes suddenly watering. He coughed, looking away, trying to maintain his cold persona.

“Akutagawa, it’s our song!” You squealed, suddenly hearing the melody play. “Let’s go dance!” You excitedly grabbed his hand, almost dragging him to the middle of the dance floor, his coat still around your shoulders.

Akutagawa almost protested, but the smile that was engraved in your eyes the minute you started swaying in his arms was a force too strong for him to resist. You two ended the night in each others arms, singing the song’s romantic lyrics to one another, the mosaic windows coloring each part of your faces with a different color.

Fyodor Dostoevsky

Listen, Fyodor is anemic, he’s always cold. Russia’s harsh winters must have infected his body, because this evil mastermind is always shivering. And when the two of you got together, and you told him you were a person that generally ran cold, Fyodor smiled, saying he was the same. The two of you share the same struggles on a daily basis, and try to rely on one another for warmth, but with little to no results. The heat in your apartment is always cranked so high that Nikolai directly comes in shorts whenever has to come over. Whenever you two sleep, you have at least 5 covers and huddle in each other’s arms. Whenever you whine that you’re cold, Fyodor does hug you, but you both know it won’t be enough, so he throws a cover on both of you, and only then can you two start to warm up. A warm tea, or a warm milk, are mandatory every night, and you have a multitude of hot water bottles stashed in the kitchen. You use one almost every night. Still, even if Fyodor knows that hugging you won’t change much, he secretly adores sleeping with you in his arms, because the love that you so clearly feel for him is enough to warms his heart.

“Fyodor, I’m still cold,” you whimpered, trying to huddle in his arms. The two of you had been cuddling in bed for thirty minutes, bundled underneath an avalanche of covers and duvets, each of you holding a warm water bottle. Fyodor was feeling…okay. Not warm, exactly but not as freezing as you were. You must have been tired: you usually felt colder when you were tired. Fyodor tried his best to rub his arms against yours, but to no avail.

“I can tell, myshka…you’re shivering,” he cooed, trying to tuck the covers around you. But nothing seemed to be working that night. Fyodor leaned back, trying to figure something out, his already fast mind moving at inhumane speed. “What if I draw us a warm bath?” He asked, caressing your cheek with the back of his hand.

Your eyes shot open, a glimmer of hope in your smile. “Yes…please,” you scooted out of his embrace, watching as your boyfriend braved the cold, sliding out of the sheets. You instantly felt colder, now that he was gone. You hugged his hot water battle as well, watching as his tall form slid inside the bathroom. You heard the water running. The harsh sound of water on marble soon changing to water sloshing on water.

You waited impatiently, jumping out of the bed when you heard his sweet voice calling you. You ran to the bathroom, trying to avoid the cold’s claws that reached for you. You almost threw yourself in the bathroom, closing the door behind you to not let the heat from the heater make its escape.

Fyodor looked at you lovingly, helping you slide your clothes off. You didn’t wait for Fyodor, almost throwing yourself inside the large bathtub. You instantly felt the cold hidden in your limbs wither and die, finally feeling at peace. The water sloshed around you as Fyodor joined you in the tub, his pale skin almost taking a pearl-like shade in the dim lights.

You happily swam towards him, falling into his arms. Fyodor welcomed you with a small smile, glad to see your cheeks flushed with heat for once. “We should do this more often,” you thought out loud, playing with your boyfriend’s hands.

“Noted, milaya.” He purred, feeling a drowsy sense of relaxation spreading throughout his body. “This sure is peaceful,” he murmured, sinking further in the bathtub, eyeing your naked body underneath the trembling surface of the water.

“Stop,” you laughed, noticing his gaze, swimming away from him and flicking some water in his face with your foot. Fyodor moved uncharacteristically face, grabbing your ankle and tugging you toward him, and pressing a kiss to your soft skin. You giggled shyly, hiding underneath the water.

Fyodor dunked his head underneath the water, meeting your eyes. You smiled at him, and he wrapped his arms around your waist, dragging you against him. He pulled both of you out of the water, watching as it cascade down both of your bodies. You laughed merrily; Fyodor laid his head on your chest, closing his eyes and humming quietly. You caressed his head, diving back in the water when you felt a sudden chill caress your spine.

You kissed Fyodor lazily, watching with half-lidded eyes as he opened the tap to let more scalding water fill the tub around you.

You two cuddled in the warm water for hours, sometimes kissing, sometimes just laying in each others arms.

You were falling in and out of consciousness, and barely noticed Fyodor lifting you out of the now lukewarm water, drying you and slipping your pjs on you. He then carried you to bed, tucking the both of you in, carefully. You snuggled against his chest, and peacefully fell asleep, finally warm, Fyodor’s hand held tightly in yours.

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