#something something kindness is not softness. softness is not weakness. weakness is not a moral wrong | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

mamayan · 8 months

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You up? Give us some delicious yandere stuff 🙏 let's say... Fae King yandere and changeling darling 😏✨

This turned into a full fic :3 ~★ In honor of some monster fucking!

Yandere! Dark Fae King x Darling! Changeling

tw: NSFW • Obsessive/Possessive Themes • Non-Human Morality • Kidnapping • afab Reader • Dubcon • Oral (F) • Grooming (reader is of consenting adult age) • Forced Mating • Imprisonment • Violence (not toward reader) • Implied Murder • Rough Sex • Praise • Overstimulation • Dumbification • Belly Bulge • Size Kink

Part Two: Here

“…hic…sniff…”

Dark eyes glanced into the cool night, curious as to what creature was disturbing his evening.

“…hic…” it came again, much to his chagrin.

The still lake reflected the full moon like a mirror. To his left, not too far off, he honed in on the disturber. Something small and curled up. Shaking. The oddity enough to catch his full attention as he stood silently. The night his home and prison as he swiftly left in a puff of smoke over to the location of his intruder.

You.

His first instinct to end your miserable life, a human somehow entering his domain and crossing his barriers, but upon a closer look… he realized you were of his own kind.

A changeling at that. An abandoned fae left to die in the hands of mortals. Few if any live to maturity like this, but your short human stature led him to believe your growth was surely stunted due to neglect. Young fae needed abundant love and care in their infancy, the first 100 years of life incredibly crucial for their development. Least they end up like him and his kingdom. You were even younger than full maturity, though your physical body had completed it’s growth, your magic was weak and juvenile.

You were making odd noises which drew his curiosity, moving closer to your form, face buried in your lap as you hunched over your drawn up legs. Your feet were bare as the edges of the water lapped at them. Clothing sparse and tattered, rags unfit for even a human, let alone a Fae nearing maturity.

“Noisy little thing,” he hums aloud, startling you as you jolt and nearly throw yourself into the water. Your neck snaps up, pretty face swollen and blotchy from tears looking up and up until you saw a creature looming over you.

Your scream is cut off by a clawed dark hand, slapping over your mouth and muffling the cry as you try to jerk away in fear and panic. He watches in mild amusement, snickering as you realize your struggle is futile and efforts dying down. “Scream if you like, but none other than I will hear it out here.” He assures ominously, thin onyx colored lips pulling back to bare his razor sharp canines and pearly teeth at you. His grin savage and delighted in your terror.

He watches curiously as your wide doe eyes well up with tears, the crystalline droplets spilling up and over your cheeks, soft lips quivering beneath his palm. You reminded him of an animal imploring their predator for mercy by revealing their underbelly. There was a word for it…

Cute. His mind conjured at last. He found you cute, a changeling bold enough to intrude into the kingdom of the corrupted. You hadn’t even dropped the mirage covering you, old magic from your biological family still covering your natural appearance to mimic the human you parasitized off the life of.

“Why do you cry little one?” He asks softly, attempting not to terrify you further and avoid his questions.

You hesitate, but his molten gold eyes seem to melt through your defenses despite his dangerous and beautiful appearance. “I’m wrong,” you sniffle, grateful when he removes his enormous hand off your face, the sharp claws tipped in gold frightening against your soft breakable skin. “All wrong… and I don’t know what to do.” You curl back up around yourself, as if he too will cast judgement upon you.

He awkwardly mimics your stance, curiosity blazing as watches you in fascination. You find the way his monstrously large form contorts to sit like you somewhat baffling and amusing, less frightened now that he doesn’t seem to wish you harm.

“How are you wrong then?” He pries further, cupping his defined jaw and leaning into his hand as he observes.

“I’m not…I’m not human—I’m a—a—,” you stumble, unsure if this night is even real anymore. The shock so great you’re still trying to cope.

“A faery?” He supplies, amused by the way you gesture with your hands, expression so open and easy to read. “A changeling raised amongst humans to feed off their happiness?” His deep voice purrs it happily, as if he’s glad for it.

He is. His hatred of humans not something he feels the need to hide.

You appear devastated though, “I didn’t mean to—I don’t want to hurt or make anyone unhappy.” You mumble miserably, tugging at your hair and skin, as if that will dispel the magic which hides your true appearance.

“That’s just how our kind is, we need that happiness to grow properly.” He rubbles, eyeing your shocked expression. “We also happen to be fickle creatures ironically, and if a newborn is thought to need too much care, it is pawned off on humans who have more patience.” He clarifies, smiling as you seem to take him in with new eyes.

“You— are you a faery too? You just seem…” he chuckles as you awkwardly trail off.

“Evil? Centuries ago humans once called me the devil,” he laughs, his dark hair falling into his face like a waterfall as he shakes the loose fluffy curls, his pointed horns jutting from the top of his forehead jet black and smooth like ivory. He was too beautiful to call a devil, though you supposed it could be because of that which he was deemed so. His every feature seeming to catch your gaze with it’s beauty.

“I was going to say different…” you trail off shyly. “You don’t seem evil to me at least.”

He pauses, taking you in again as you regard him with those harmless eyes still wet with drying tears. It’d been centuries too since he’d left his kingdom, the entrance to the veil this lake he occasionally comes up to lounge by. He hasn’t seen a human since then, let alone a changeling or uncorrupted little faery like you.

He likes those pretty tears. He finds it annoying you shed them for humans you should guiltlessly take from.

His smile widens, eyes glittering mischievously and nearly glowing as he leans closer. The smell of sugar and cinnamon wafting off of him as you breathe in, nearly gasping as your mouth waters.

“How’s this little one? I’ll teach you how to be a faery, to show you there is nothing wrong with you.”

His eyes, where they should be white are entirely inky black, golden irises with reddened pupils framed by dark thick lashes, looked sincerely upon you.

He seemed genuine and kind despite his towering humanoid figure which looked to be capable of killing you easily.

It warmed you though, the thought of wanting to belong strong as you nod with a smile.

“I’d be eternally grateful.” You nod.

Sealing your fate.

“Tell me your name.” He asks sweetly, because despite his menacing size and sharp teeth and nails, your new friend was nothing but kind and gentle with you.

“Y/N” you reply easily, letting him playfully ruffle your hair as he picks out the leaves which got tangled in your locks from your travels here.

When he repeats it though, wonderful shivers shoot down your spine. He smiles, cooing at you like one might a baby as a he teases, “Such a cute name for a cute faery.”

You weakly protest, but fall into easy laughter as he swiftly changes the subject.

He was discussing proper fae etiquette. The basics, to not say please or thank you or I’m sorry. They all meant you expected more from the other or wouldn’t reciprocate, and that was just bad manners.

His soft hands, which could easily cover your entire face, were settled on your upper arms, having sat you in the grass against his chest.

He liked holding you close. Your little figure so soft, and from the dark circles beneath your human appearance, he assumed the neglect from the humans you resided amongst was growing worse. It was bad for your development.

“You should come live out here, they are vile creatures you know.” He comments every time you visit, though he never forces you to stay with him.

“It’s because I make them unhappy…” you explain sheepishly.

He shakes his head, thick brow arching as he rolls his eyes. “You are nearly completely mature now, you suck no happiness from your surroundings anymore silly girl.” Your confusion was palpable as he sighs and further explains, enjoying the squish of your tender flesh as he lightly squeezes you.

“While it is true fae infants are quite the hassle to raise, it isn’t as tortuous as humans make it out to be. In fact, most fae will take their child back if not treated well by their human surrogates.”

You hum, relaxing back against his warm chest and breathing in his sugary scent.

“So why wasn’t I—,” you stop short, brows furrowed but no longer speaking.

He doesn’t pry further, leaning his chin atop your head as he looks out at the lake.

“You won’t tell me?” You push, annoyed how he dances around your question endlessly. Your companion close enough that you feel insulted he won’t reveal it.

“My name is not to be uttered aloud, least calamity befall this land~” he’s teasing, you know he is, but still he refuses to divulge his name. “I gave you mine,” you argue again, huffing as he chuckles and lightly shoves you to your back on the grass, leaning over you and caging you in beneath him.

The moon is bright like the first time you’d met, illuminating his other worldly beauty.

“If you wish to call me something, call me Master,” he laughs, his sharp teeth no longer scaring you, but making your thighs squeeze together whenever he flashes them. He acts nothing like an immortal being, too immature and jovial to resemble someone having lived for thousands of years.

“So why do you get my name, but I don’t get yours?” You question in annoyance, avoiding his kiss to your cheek by jerking your face away. He huffs, sharp gaze daring you to dodge again.

You do. Earning yourself a warning nip to your collarbone as you yelp.

“Mean!” You cry, pushing at his chest as he snickers.

“Yes little flower, I am very, very, mean.” He rumbles, chest literally vibrating much like a cat does to purr.

“You give me weird nicknames…” you mutter, giving up as he licks your cheek. You don’t fight it, even as it feels foreign to you, trying to accept this side of your culture.

He licks your neck, lavishing the point where your pulse races with wet kisses and you tremble and struggle to act unaffected beneath him.

His smile is dangerous outside your view.

“Star!” You giggle, his rumble of irritation not the least intimidating to you as you roll away.

“That is an awful nickname.” He hisses, face twisted in disgust as you throw out the most horrendous names you could conjure in your pretty head at him.

“Lumi!” He growls.

“Then… Kitty?” He nearly bites you, careful not to play too roughly as he lightly tackles you down.

“If I give you a nickname, will you cease your little game?” He feels his anger fade as he wraps his arms around your smaller figure, easily pulling you into his lap. You don’t even flinch, too engrossed in your amusement to care where he handles you. You nod happily, your wish finally being fulfilled.

“Very well you stubborn creature,” he chides, “In addition to Master, you may also call me King.”

You frown. Clearly displeased by the lack of intimacy in the name. He laughs, amused by your obvious dislike. He kisses your puffed cheeks, over your pouty lips, and down to your vulnerable neck. Snickering as he goes, adoring how you so easily become pliant for him.

“I am teasing pretty flower, there was a time long ago I was called Ava, will you settle now?” He asks, voice husky as he sucks a mark into your skin, your little whine flaring his desires.

A strong urge to press you down and mate you nearly overpowers his control, but he merely holds you close and breathes your floral scent in to calm himself.

“I still prefer Kitty…” His eye twitches.

“Ava… this feels weird…” he pauses, looking down at your small form still cloaked like a human. Weak beneath him, partially nude as your skirt is pulled up to your soft belly. Your thighs are spread and shaking, his lips sucking another mark onto the thin skin of your inner thigh while you writhe.

He had your wet dripping slit open to the night air and his lustful gaze, begging for his tongue to taste.

“You don’t want to please me?” He asks, purring as you pout but deny. You were such a good little girl for him after all, so eager to learn and soak up his attention.

He resumes, licking down your thigh until his face rested above the warm mound you so sweetly offered him.

“You’re being so good for me petal, can you keep your legs open or should I help you?” He doesn’t need to look up to know you’re shaking in arousal and embarrassment. He can feel the tremors through the air as you struggle to keep your thighs spread as he asked.

“I-I need help…” you admit, feeling terribly hot as he keeps licking you, except where you seem to ache for him to lick.

He easily shifts forward, arms wrapping around you and letting your legs rest over his shoulders as he finally lets his tongue slip out to taste you.

You glance down, choking at the sight and feeling as he lets his entire tongue come out, the appendage inhumanly long and colored purple. It feels strange, the wet slimy feeling of his tongue slithering through your folds, but when he nudges the tiny nub hidden above your slit, you moan.

It sends jolts of electricity through you, hips canting up so he can to lick there again, earning you a hearty chuckle as he obliges. Licking and even curling his tongue around it, riling you up as your tiny hole leaks arousal and drips down your ass to the earth below.

“You’re making a mess petal, do you feel good? Should I stick my tongue inside you this time?” You moan, feeling the muscle prod at your unused vaginal entrance, too hazy to bother responding. He doesn’t wait for your answer, letting the thin tip of his tongue lap and taste your heady desire before poking and wiggling inside you.

It has your legs shooting straight, back arching as he holds you down with one large hand placed over your belly and chest. He groans as he feels the molten texture of your insides struggling against his intrusion, trying to force him out of your tight heat as he surges forward.

The tip of his tongue curls, swirling up and knocking the air from your lungs as a rush of hot liquid spills from your insides for him to drink down.

You shook and twitched, moaning and curling your hands around his curved horns like a handle.

The touch sends blood racing to his cock, as he moans and loudly slurps your cum down with audible squelching, enjoying the cries you released into the quiet night.

He lets you rest as he pulls back for just a moment, your body limp and panting as your high comes down.

“Good girl~” he praises, leaning over you to kiss softly at your sweaty skin, licking that too and tasting the sweet and salty mixture.

Then he’s pressing his lips against yours, forcing them open to sneak his long tongue inside your mouth, filling it and claiming that space too as his own. You’re helpless to resist, delirious on pleasure as he devours you, wiggling muscle curling and rubbing erotically around your own.

He tastes like sugar and something heavier, more musky, as you come to realize it as your own taste.

“Is this… really normal…?” You can help but ask as he pulls away, his lips still sticking close to trail kisses across your skin.

“It’s quite normal little flower, are you shy still?” He asks curiously, lifting one of your small hands and bringing it to his face, his size dwarfing you considerably. He lightly nibbles on your fingers, making a giggle bubble up as you smile and then squirm when he grins and licks your hand instead.

“A little…” you admit honestly. Always so honest and open.

He nods, as if completely understanding.

“That’s alright, we’re in no rush, I’ll teach you slowly…” there’s something else not said in his words, and you’re left drunk on his pheromones and lips as he distracts you. Then he’s kissing down, discarding your clothing and leaving you naked for his mouth and curious fingers.

Your breasts are lavished in his saliva, pebbled nipples sucked until standing upright before poked down with the tip of his tongue playfully. Always so playful, Ava nips and teases your skin, blinking innocently when you moan and glare accusingly.

“It’s not my fault you enjoy this so much petal~” he pouts, looking comical and so harmless, his glittery gold wings, almost translucent behind him, fluttering as if indignant to your silent accusation.

The golden tattoos which marked his skin more visible tonight, his clothing more minimal in his wish to feel more of you as he explores and plays.

Then he’s parting your thighs and throwing you into ecstasy again.

“Who did it?”

You sat curled around yourself, terror and dread swirling inside of you at the new side of Ava you’d never been graced with before.

The side you supposed was reserved for his enemies, but now showed to you.

Despite your fear, the tears spilling down your cheeks, and the injuries you bore, you still remained stubbornly silent.

He was going insane with rage and anguish.

You truly were a flower. So delicate and easily destroyed.

“Y/N… while I am being reasonable…Tell. Me. Who. Did. It.”

For all the times he’d made himself smaller, less alarming and more charming than his true nature called for, it made this time more appallingly. He stood to his full height, like an unwavering tree he did not budge or allow you to leave, golden eyes flaring and mixing with his red pupils to create something alarming. Even the markings which covered his dark skin seemed to glow and match his eyes, magic crackling in the air and silencing the night further.

As if the stars and moon were frightened too.

Still, still, you did not speak, even as he closed in on you, your fear so strong it almost choked him. Almost. He was too angry, too furious with the humans he liked to cast out of his mind. They needed to be taught a lesson it seemed. Their fear of the Fae renewed. They were becoming arrogant, as if their species was even in the same standing as them.

Your pretty injured face and form, battered from abuse and humiliation, was all the information he truly needed.

If you wanted to protect them, and not tell him, then he’d just punish them all as if they were the culprits.

It soothed him finally, his decision made as the ominous energy around him faded slowly. He let his rage dissipate, worry and concern bleeding through now as he crouched and shuffled towards you, claws spread and outstretched towards you.

“Come here Y/N, keep your secrets, but allow me to hold and comfort you…” his eyes darkened, the glow leaving behind almost a copper color, somber as he looks at you. There’s not pity in his eyes though, as you swallow and sigh in relief, grateful to crawl into his warm embrace where it feels safe.

He’s gentle as he wraps you in his arms, lips and tongue soothing as he tastes your tears and blood.

He grits his teeth, focusing on your scent and the feel of you to calm himself again, before letting his magic seep into your skin. You easily absorbed it, soaking it up like a sponge as your pain and injuries heal.

“Ava—?” Your eyes widen, amazement in their depths which stroke his ego as he taps his forehead against your own. His horns slightly tangling in your hair.

“Do you not want to drop the illusion on yourself?” He asks softly, staring at the human image your portray. He didn’t want to admit it, but it enraged him to see you still trying to live amongst them.

You seem surprised, before looking away nervously.

“It just feels strange… to not see myself anymore,” you confess, burrowing deeper into his chest while enjoying his ability to heal and soothe you. His sugary smell lightening your heavy heart.

He nods slowly, eyes staring at nothing over the still lake.

He holds you a little tighter.

Then you’re asleep.

The burns and screams of the people echo, the night come to life with flames and chaos.

Ava stands leisurely, smile filled with fondness as he watches the human village he’d followed and found to be your residence burn.

He’d spent all night playing with them, listening to them confess the awful things they’d done to you, said to you, and tried to do to you. They even thought of sacrificing you to some nonexistent deity, which only prolonged the nightmare he’d turned the populace into.

He laughed as the sounds swirled into music for his ears, the sharp points curling in delight as he hummed a tune older than the trees towering in this forest.

The night was still coming to an end sadly, and he’d need to return to your unconscious body still where he’d left it.

He didn’t want to let you wake in your new home alone after all.

His body covered in the blood of mortals he’d torn into and feasted on, Ava left them to perish.

Alone you woke. In a bed four times the size of any normal one, within the walls of a palace you’d only ever seen depicted in stories told by faraway travelers.

You glanced down, at hands unlike ones you were accustomed to seeing. You were nude, unable to hide from yourself as you felt tears begin to sprout. The illusion magic wasn’t working, and you couldn’t understand why.

This body was your true form, not that of the human you continuously tried to convince yourself you were. You hadn’t showed Ava, too afraid he’d see your appearance and dislike you for it.

While he was magnificent, you felt puny and odd.

A hiss snatches you from your self loathing, eyes flicking up to land on the one you’d just been thinking of.

He was covered in something, though you weren’t entirely sure what until he moved closer. The pearls lining his chambers glowed softly, his appearance more vibrant as he closed the distance between himself and the bed you laid on.

You sucked in a breath, realization dawning as the red contrasts against his skin. His lower face completely smeared in it, but his lips seemed clean. Until he grinned, red stained sharp teeth with chunks of dark meat stuck in between.

You remembered briefly him mentioning being mistaken for a demon.

You finally understood as a strange fear blossomed in your gut and you scooted away. Confusion and terror consuming you, but your body not catching up with your mind, because it recognized his scent and touch. You didn’t move quick enough, a clawed hand easily curling around your ankle and tugging you close. You slid smoothly over the cool silk, brought close to his body radiating heat. He only wore trousers, his taloned feet bare and ankles revealed as he’d cuffed them up to avoid bloody human fingers trying to grip them.

“Oh my little flower, look at you,” his eyes are swirling melted gold, enchanting and so disorienting. His beauty becoming savage with the blood and human flesh he adorned.

“A-Ava…” you want to ask, but you also don’t want the answer.

Did he find out who hurt you? Or was it unrelated? It seemed too coincidental.

Your chest constricted painfully as he stared down at you in wonder. Your true form so lovely it took his breath away, your image so fitting for you it was a wonder why you didn’t prefer this over your human mirage. Your ears, pointed like his own, were curled down a little with your emotions, as his eyes traced your face.

The shape was the same, your body still so small, and your eyes still expressed every little thought without fail.

He hated to admit it was even cuter, though he mused it was likely because he was the first to see your true form.

An abandoned young changeling, one he only took mild interest in, had him so thoroughly ravenous for all of you now.

“Isn’t this more comfortable petal? Instead of masquerading as a filthy human, aren’t you happier to just be you now?” His callous words seem off, but you can’t quite fathom it all as the shock settles in.

“My precious flower faery, are you scared?” Yes, you wanted to scream, as his bloody face and body near you, his sugary scent over powered by the scent of iron and death. Fae hated iron. He shouldn’t be comfortable.

You choked, jerking back and trying to crawl away from him, but he still had your ankle caged in his hand.

He laughs, but it’s empty and devoid of any true humor as he stares down at you with something dark in his gaze.

He yanks you back, harshly and sending a jolt of pain up your leg as you cry out, pulled back beneath him as he crawls onto the bed over you.

He’s too close, nausea consuming you as you smell and see the gore adorning him.

He finds your useless fear amusing and annoying all at once.

“I asked you a question little flower.” He grips your face, smushing your cheeks and making you look at him.

He rolls his eyes as the tears you so love to shed spill down your cheeks.

“Yes… I-I’m scared…” his smile softens, almost becoming sweet and familiar.

“Good. You should be.” Your blood runs cold.

He has the mercy to bathe, but not alone. You watch as the spray of water from some sort of piping turns pink as it disappears through tiny holes in the marble floor.

He’s nude, like you, and even though you cower and try to turn away, he easily stops any and all retreats with hardly any effort.

“I thought you didn’t like the blood? I’m still not clean petal.” His fluffy curls are flattened by the water falling above, the warm spray soaking you both as you try not to wonder why the sticky redness won’t just wash away with the water. The dried portions difficult to get off without physically touching and rubbing him with your soapy hands. You wanted to know why he was doing this, being so mean.

His ears look more distinct with his hair flat, onyx horns prominent against his forehead as his lashes hold droplets of water to frame his golden eyes.

You try not to show it, but as the blood clears and his dark smooth gold lined skin is revealed, you notice the hard lines of muscle and purple veins which protrude.

You only come up just below his chest, and you can’t look down, least you see it again.

He was making you nervous and scared on purpose, but you couldn’t understand why.

Like a coward you didn’t ask either, because you feared the answer even more.

Ava shifts, fingers coming up to cup your face in his hands and tilt your head up as he leans over you and blocks the water falling. His claws jut out beside your head, one lightly tickling your pointed little ear.

He licks his lips, loving the sight of you soaked and naked, your pretty form so enthralling to his eyes he struggles to contain himself.

“Do you want my help…?” His tone is condescending, eyes uncaring in the least about your inner turmoil.

“Here,” he drops one hand, engulfing your wrist and forcing you to plant your hand against his abdomen. “You have to wash like this—,” he teaches patiently, like none of this was happening and everything was fine. He moves your soft little hand back and forth, the soap quick to wash away as the water continues to fall. “You need more soap petal.” He informs gently, moving to stop the warm spray and letting you both stand in silence now, drops of water falling the only noise besides your breathing.

He sighs when you don’t move, your eyes trained on the corner of the spacious bathing room, where an in ground bath rests. He would take you to the hot springs later.

He fills the hand he has control of with soap, and amuses himself with using it like a washcloth, your little fingers curling as your lips tilt down into a frown.

“Since you need the help,” he goads, watching as those sweet familiar doe eyes flash up a glare from the corner of your eye.

He smiles, a nasty grin filled with something sinister as he chuckles darkly. “Don’t want to be my good girl anymore?” It’s a loaded question you’re unsure of how to answer.

It hardly matters as he forces your hand down, until you jolt at the change in body part you were touching. He forces your fingers to close around his throbbing length, unable to touch or fully wrap around it as your head jerks instinctively to look at what he was making you do.

“A-Ava—,” you try to pull away, but to no avail. He only hums, the soap like lube as he uses your hand to jerk his cock, amused as you stare in shock. He won’t let you go, not when the sight of your smaller form holding his leaking rod is so arousing he comes a minute a later. Hips thrusting with the timing of the squeeze he forces your hand to hold, hot ropes of his seed shooting out onto your chest and belly as he cages you with his free arm from moving away. He allows his purple tapered tip to smear the remaining pearls of his seed on your skin, ignoring your whine of protest as he paints you.

“Fuck, that’s it, be good for me pretty girl,” he growls lightly, chest rattling as he releases his pent up frustration on your confused form.

Really, you couldn’t be more adorable covered in his release looking dazed.

His golden eyes heavy lidded as he crouches down to catch your lips in a heated kiss.

You swallow nervously, staring at Ava as he stares at you from across his bed chambers.

You’d fallen asleep after… after bathing, if you could even call it that, and awoken later to find yourself alone again. Ava missing and your body covered by fine silk sheets while you slept.

You’d scrambled about the room looking for escape, finding nothing but a single exit locked, which Ava now stood before.

He wore a pair of silken sleep pants, tailored to his enormous figure as well as a matching robe left loose and revealing a majority of his chest and abdomen. His wings weren’t physical but a magic which naturally formed behind him, you’d learned.

The gold markings on his body were duller than earlier, his eyes less vibrant and more cool as he looks at you.

He seems more… familiar. Less of the Ava covered in blood and flesh of humans and more of the one you’ve befriended.

He’s silent, unmoving as he stands still in the doorway.

You don’t want to make the first move, unsure in this new environment, but you similarly disliked all of this distance and miscommunication between you both.

You moved cautiously, much like the skittish animal he likens you to in his mind, off the bed. You’d wrapped yourself in one of his sheets, his scent clinging to you the only thing stopping him from tearing it off you in annoyance. He stays put, muscles taunt and jaw clenched as you approach him like he might harm you.

He debated it.

Briefly showing you why you should be obedient and just listen, but dismissing it in favor of you liking him at least to some degree.

When you reach him, he merely stares down at you, face impassive unlike your nervous and awkward expression.

“Ava…?” He finally shifts, leaning down to close the distance a little but still not touching you. It’s you who initiates, because he’s certain he’s trained you well enough in your past touch starved state that you can’t resist the comfort and warmth he provides. You wrap your arms around his waist, pressing your figure to his while looking up with those honest eyes he adores.

He finally relaxes, your touch so addicting he was unable to resist wrapping you further into his embrace while lifting you up. Your legs wrap around him instinctively, warm bare cunt now pressed against his abdomen while your arms come around his neck. The sheet loosening and falling down to pool at his feet. He finally smiles at your flustered state, not letting you climb down to grab it, instead moving you both towards his—your—bed and easily laying you down to drape over you.

“You’re calmer than I imagined you’d be…” he murmurs against the skin of your neck, kissing up to your jaw. “Should I prepare for your wrath later little flower?” He muses, lifting up to look at your expression.

“Was that blood… from a human?” You look guarded but he isn’t surprised.

“Yes.”

“Did you kill them?” He affirms again.

“Was it because of… me?” Those sweet eyes looked so haunted as you asked, as if you knew what he was going to say.

“No. It wasn’t because of you.”

You check his face, as if he were a human and would lie to you as they do.

“Then why did you do it?” You breathed, sagging in relief beneath him. His lips twitch, molten eyes shining with adoration as he looks upon you.

“They greatly offended me.” He answers vaguely, but it was the truth. They offended him by breathing and walking the earth. It was a direct insult to him. They only met misfortune because they caught his attention.

You seemed happy to accept whatever rid you of any guilt, looking up at him less fearfully now that he was clean and not being mean to you. Though, you both shared very different definitions of being “mean”.

“Am I staying the night?” You asked him curiously. You had thought he’d brought you here as he didn’t know where your home in the village was when you’d fallen asleep.

He shook his head, lips curling higher.

“You’re staying forever.” He declares, sweet scent filling your senses as he comes close enough to kiss you.

Then he does.

You thought his teasing was funny, lips tilting up finally as the awkwardness dissipates and familiarity rises.

This is your Ava, warm sweet Ava that smells so good it makes you crave sweets you cannot afford.

He presses you further into the unfathomably soft bed, his lips demanding as you open for him.

“Ava,” you break the kiss, breathing heavier as he growls and nips at your bottom lip, a shiver wracking you as he leans back enough to meet your gaze. “What we’re doing… it’s what lovers and spouses do isn’t it? At least, this is what human lovers do…” your voice becomes smaller as he stares down as you with an expression you couldn’t name.

“And?” He encourages.

You look away for a moment, gathering your thoughts before remembering out of all the cruelty in the world, Ava was the outlier.

“Is that what we’re doing? Like lovers?” You felt too embarrassed to directly state it, to say it aloud, and equally scared this isn’t anything different than exchanging a handshake with another faery to him. It was different to you.

“Do you want it to be?” He leans down, placing a feather soft kiss against your temple so you couldn’t see his eyes glowing bright. “Do you want us to be like lovers little flower?” His voice is deeper than usual, strained almost as he holds himself perfectly still above you.

You take the time to think, much to his displeasure, but when you answer it was everything for him.

“I do.”

He places a chaste kiss to your lips, his own tilting higher and higher until he’s grinning gleefully.

“Then that’s what we’ll be.” He confirms, and you miss it.

You miss every little trap he’d laid, each tiny piece of the puzzle forming around you like a cage. You miss everything and it’s too late to go back now. Ava muses wickedly, as he kisses you more sensually, lets his claws drag so delicately down your soft skin, he thinks how stupid you are.

“I’ll be all yours if you ask for it Y/N,” he speaks directly into your pointed ear, hot breath making the tips curl as you whine. The way he says your name is different than usual, more serious and seductive. You realize this seems wrong somehow, the way he’s making you melt so easily like this, how your panic and fear evaporated so quickly. You aren’t given time to think further, when he shifts and sits up. He sneers when you attempt to cover yourself again, gripping your wrist and lightly pulling you up too. On your knees, you face his chest, eyes looking up to see his heated expression.

Ava cups your jaw with one hand, and pokes at your lip with the other.

He doesn’t ask before his thumb invades your mouth, and you fight not to bite down or jerk away with his pointed claw inside.

He’s exploring, squeezing your cheeks until you open wide so he can playfully run over your sharpened canines. Curiously playing with your tongue until he leans down licks it with his own. It felt strange and erotic, your body vibrating with nerves and budding arousal as he explores you.

“Ava…” you wanted to touch him too, but he didn’t seem to be listening as he lets his hands trail down to cup your breasts, thumbs rolling over your nipples as your back arches into them.

So you let your own hands wander, bolder than usual as you feel his solid form beneath you. His skin is much softer than it appears, strange markings and golden symbols flat. He had no softer points aside from that, muscles like stone and occasionally uncomfortable to lounge against due to it.

He squeezes your waist, smiling mischievous as you yelp and glare at him. He does it again, finally chuckling as he lets his hands slip to your ass.

This time his squeeze makes you gasp, as he parts your ass cheeks and allows your heated core to be exposed to the air. His claws so careful not to tear your skin open as he drags you taunt against him, rutting his hardened cock against your soft belly.

He moans aloud as he sees the tip poke out between you, your breasts above a delicious sight as he does it again and again.

“You drive me wild pretty faery,” he smiles, licking your cheek as he easily lifts you up to toss you to the center of the bed. You sink in, huffing but giggling as he crawls over you, looking like a dark angel as he covers you completely to capture your lips in a much more filthy kiss.

“I want to devour you,” he purrs, licking and kissing down your neck and chest, spreading your legs. “Make you mine completely,” you moan, feeling delirious as he finally licks your sloppy pussy.

You moan when you feel his fingers prod your entrance, sharp claws gone and retracted as he pushes one inside you while he laps at your clit. It feels different and firmer than his tongue, able to rub and stretch you better as he begins sucking on your puffy nub and purring deep in his chest. “Your little nub is hard~ are you feeling good?” He teases, wiggling the tip of his tongue over your engorged clit.

Then he’s pressing a second finger in, a mild burn heating your core as you gasp and try to shift away to no avail. “So sensitive,” he murmurs, spearing them into you, your soft gummy walls forcefully spread around the two digits as he noisily slurps. He’s being messy and a bit rough, but your moans spur him on as he groans into your pussy when you begin clawing at his hair and whining.

“Ava! S’too much! Can’t—!” You squeak and almost bite your tongue when you cum, pussy sucking his fingers deep and massaging them as you soak his hand and face.

He doesn’t stop, eyes glowing bright molten gold as he watches you squirm and babble senselessly while he stuffs a third finger into your poor overstimulated cunt. Your little hole stretched wide around him, and he’s content to watch as your greedy lower mouth takes it as he pumps them into you.

You’re less amused though, body thrumming as the pleasure becomes overwhelming and you panic.

“Stop, I’m gonna make a mess, Ava stop—!” You cry out, eyes watering before tears fall as you struggle to stop the powerful pressure building in your core, hurting you with the intensity as he pushes you further and further. “Your insides are steadily swallowing and sucking my fingers in, aren’t you a little lewd?” He asks, unaffected by your dull nails digging into his forearm, eyes trained on your drooling hole below.

He’s got an iron grip on your hip with his other hand, nails digging into your flesh every time you try to squirm away. “You’re so lovely like this petal.”

He’s fascinated when you break again, clear fluid squirting up and out from your squelching pussy as he continues to shove his fingers in.

You cum so hard it nearly causes you to lose consciousness, eyes rolling back as you twitch and moan as the dam inside you bursts open.

You whine as he pulls free, hand dripping in gooey arousal as he brings it to his lips and slurps it up without any decorum, appearing almost starved as he gazes down at you with the eyes of a predator. “Messy girl~ I’ll teach you though,” his lips pull back to reveal his sharp teeth, “When you feel so good you think you’ll break, you’re supposed to say I’m coming, do you understand?” He asks darkly.

“No more…” your weak plea only makes him smirk, kissing you softly as he slides forward and uses both hands to cover your hips and lift your lower half up.

Your eyes feel heavy as you force them open, slow to realize that his enormous cock is now laid over your pussy, pulsing and dragging back and forth through your slick folds. The thick veiny appendage causes your trepidation to rise, realization dawning that he intends to fit that inside of you.

“It won’t fit—,” you weren’t being cute or coy, because while you may not be human, your form was still the same size as one. He was much, much bigger, and his cock certainly fit his proportions. You try to catch his attention, unable to close your legs with his body between them. “Ava,” He’s truly not hearing you at all, too enthralled and excited as he lubes his massive length up with your juices. He’s shaking a bit too, heart beating rapidly in his chest as he coos down at you mindlessly, golden orbs almost unseeing at this point as he lines up with your entrance.

“So good for me petal~ you’re all mine aren’t you?” He breathes, and you feel the weight and pressure begin as his tip breaches.

“Wait, stop Ava—!” You whine as the sting becomes a burn and then you’re being filled to the point of excess as you struggle to breathe anymore.

“Shh—♡,” he hushes you, pained as well due to the pressure around him, strangling him as he grimaces and drags back out a little before surging forward. “You’re mine now petal,” he groans.

You’re unable to form words as he works his cock into you like a piece which doesn’t quite fit, bullying and stretching you open to forcefully fit himself.

He leans more weight down onto you as you struggle and writhe, noisy cries falling on deaf ears as he feels himself slipping deeper as your body finally gives up on keeping him out. His tip touches your cervix, before shoving even further and smashing it up as your stomach aches in protest.

You lay limp as he finally bottoms out, twitching with your mouth open and drool pooling down your chin as you feel nothing but the feeling of him inside you. He huffs a laugh, the way you look ruined before he’s even gotten started.

You look like a doll in his grasp, his cock extending your stomach a little as it twitches inside you. Your thighs ache as they’re naturally forced up, unable to spread fully enough for him to settle so he’d merely folded you and pressed you down to prevent escape.

“You did it pretty girl, look at you~” he grins, one hand leaving your hip to press on your belly, making your eyes widen and roll back as you whine. “You took every inch of me in this cute cunt didn’t you?” This male over you isn’t familiar, even as his sugary scent seems to increase and smother you, he seems foreign in his words and actions.

The inconsistencies are difficult to track as he drags himself out of you, the fullness replaced by feeling each ridge and bump of veins decorating his cock as he slides out.

Then he’s pushing in again, stealing your breath and ability to think as he starts to fuck you.

“Don’t worry petal, I won’t hurt you,” you can’t quite understand as he pushes his thick rod inside you, brain shutting off as you go pliant in his hold. “I’ll go nice and slow so you never forget,” he moans as you tighten and jerk, “who owns you.” He’s holding back with all his might as you spasm and grip him in inside of you, walls sucking him back in as he moves to exit.

You make him forget.

As you slick his cock up with your juices, he begins to slip in easier, folding you down further into a mating press as he looks down at your teary face. You make him forget all the time he’s spent alone. Your moans increase as he picks up the pace, pounding nice and deep inside of you and ridding you of any thought beside him. He slips a hand down between you both, claws retracted completely as he softly presses on your swollen clit and throws you reeling into another orgasm around him. “Say it petal,” he grits out, the feeling of you tightening drawing his own end. He’s hardly able to move inside you, short thrusts all he can manage as he drags you over the edge.

“I’m coming—!” Your head tips back, neck bared to his eyes as you cum for him obediently.

He fills you up right after, heavy engorged balls drawing up as he pumps his first load of the day into you. His thrusts not stopping as he rocks forward, expression relaxing as his magic swirls inside of you, his mating mark slowly sinking into your soul as he works to keep his seed deep within your womb. You’re too fucked out to notice, the pleasure and pressure overwhelming your senses as you try to rest now.

Except his cock doesn’t soften.

He thrusts hard once he’s sure his bond has settled, feeling you so much deeper in his soul as he drags his cock out almost all the way. “It’s like your little hole misses me already,” he smiles, watching as you flutter around his tip as if to tell him you don’t want him to leave. “Tell me petal,” he slides back inside, jolting you awake as you stare incredulously down at where you both connect. The slick sounds of him slipping into your sticky wet entrance haunting as you whine, hands digging into fine silk as you try to push away.

He only presses you down harder, cock burrowing deep as if to anchor you. His eyes are wild and swirling, the color so bright it’s almost blinding in the dim room. “How does it feel to lose?”

You blank. His question not making any sense as the room spins and you’re overcome again with pleasure so intense it makes your toes and feet curl in the air where they rest.

“How does it feel to be utterly mine for the rest of eternity?” You gasp, tearing at the sheets as he picks up the pace, balls slapping against your ass as he begins to truly fuck you now. Enormous cock working you into a frenzy as you yelp when two fingers pinch painfully around a nipple. “You’re not going back pretty girl,” he laughs, face wicked and beautiful as you look up through blurry eyes spilling tears. “You’ll not return to that filthy human village,” he releases your sore nipple in favor of loosely gripping your throat, feeling your pulse beneath his hand. “You are not in the land of Fae sweet flower,” he lets his lips ghost over yours, his tip bullying your cervix as you writhe and move to claw at his shoulders. “You are in my kingdom, ours, where the corrupted Fae separate themselves,” you’re lost, eyes crossing almost dumbly as you come again, choking as you cry out his name.

You can’t move even an inch, unable to even squirm as you’re forced to take each punishing inch of his cock and he ruts into you.

“Your pussy keeps tightening up when I tell you all the ways you’re mine. Do you like this?” He delights in your pathetic attempt to push at his chest, clearly finished despite his balls still being heavy with his seed he intends to spill into you.

“A-Av-Ava!” You struggle to form even his name, let alone any sentences as he keeps up his fast and brutal pace. Though, from his perspective he was still holding back as he moans and spills himself inside you again.

“Yes flower?” He coos, pushing your hair out of your sweaty face as he pulls out just enough to grip your thigh and turn you on your side, sliding back to the hilt again. He hugs your leg to his chest, working his cock at a new angle in your abused pussy still spilling cum from earlier. “I’m listening,” he chuckles, knowing you can’t speak, aware his cock was keeping you like this.

Words die down as he uses his hand not holding your leg up to grip your hip, holding you still while pushing his hips forward, railing himself inside your exhausted body. Your head rests against the bed, mouth open as your saliva soaks into the sheets, eyes staring at nothing as you feel another impending orgasm approaching.

Ava doesn’t mind, adoring the cute cock drunk expression as he uses you like a toy, filling you up over and over while you slowly lose your mind. “I’m sorry—Ava please, I’m sorry,” your slurred speech and delirious voice make him laugh. Genuinely amused by your rambling, “Why are you sorry petal? I’m not mad,” he catches your lips, tongue invading and swallowing your cries. He finds you so cute.

His cute, stupid little changeling, so trusting and unaware of his unsavory intentions.

You lose consciousness and count when he comes with his hips pressed deeply into your ass, pressing you belly first into his hand as he keeps you angled up to meet his thrusts. Your sensitive chest rubbing against the silk below, body limp as your world goes black and you convulse around him.

This time he lets you fall flat into the soaked bedding, taking his still hard cock out so he can pry apart your pussy lips and watch his release ooze out of your gaping hole.

His golden eyes flick up to your sleeping form, lips pulling as he coos, “Cute~♡” before he’s stuffing you full again, merciless as he leans on one arm to keep from crushing you as he continues to drill into you.

Even when you regain consciousness, trying to crawl away from his torturous pleasure, he only grips your arm and twists it gently behind you to hold. “You’re soaked and so hot inside, do you know how crazy you’re making me?” He groans, almost sounding like he’s in pain as you squeeze and come again. “I’m not letting you go, stop trying to run. You’ve already lost sweet girl.” As he lifts his hips, tip still encased by your wet hot heat, he eyes the slick mess which coats you both and connects you to him. “Go ahead and go crazy too, be good and listen.” He laughs, slamming back in and making your back arch as you nearly scream, feeling him so deep it makes you wonder if he’s going to break you. You really will go crazy, it’s a fleeting thought stolen by his cock once again, but you truly worry as he drowns you with euphoria and madness.

He’s hunched and leaning over your back, letting his tongue and teeth tease your ear so sweetly while he pounds you stupid, whispering to you things you won’t remember.

“You wanted my name so badly, didn’t you my lovely mate?” He knows you don’t understand, but it doesn’t stop him from speaking on, husky voice lulling you as you cry and lose yourself to pleasure. “I’ll tell you since you’re being so good, taking my seed so well~” he lets a little more weight settle on top of you, his cock nestling into your deepest parts with it.

“I am Avarice.”

Post dividers by @cafekitsune

#Dark Fae King x reader #Yandere Fae King x reader #Yandere Fae #monster smut #Greed x reader #Fae smut #faecore #yancore #yandere x reader #fae king #yandere smut #Dark Fae #kinktober fun #request filled #afab reader #Fae x reader smut #changeling #changeling reader

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moonlit-heartbreak · 1 month

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Love Languages

Xaden, Liam, Bodhi, Garrick x Reader Warnings: Slight spoilers for FW and IF, some suggestive comments and themes but nothing too explicit a/n: I love these men a little bit too much, so now you all get to enjoy my takes on each of their love languages for my first post🤭. It’s a little short and all over the place, but once my finals are over expect some longer works. Definitely let me know what you all think!

Xaden - Acts of Service

Listen, he's an important guy both as wingleader and a lieutenant and now in being on the front lines of a war, so he has to make sure to keep everyone's respect, and of course keep them all a little scared of him, so he can't get all lovey-dovey with you in public

Instead I see him being big on acts of service. Leaving you an extra piece of bread he grabbed at breakfast that morning, sharpening your swords/daggers so you're set to go for training, things of that nature

He would want to be there for you and let you know that he's looking out for you and acts of service is the perfect way for him to do that subtly but still being more involved in directly making you happy

Don't get me wrong though, when you're alone the acts of service definitely don't stop and he's good at what he does. With this I don’t mean JUST sex (even though it’d be amazing), but he would also love to brush your hair, give you a massage, whatever he can do to make you feel loved and cared for after a long day of classes and training

If there’s something specific you liked back home like a specific snack or item just know that once he finds out he’s going to be bribing one of the fliers to get it for him during a supply run so he can surprise you with it just so he can see your face light up

It works out perfect for you because not only is he making you feel like the most special person in the world with everything he does for you and how well he knows you, but getting perks like him keeping you off the schedule for your least favorite chores doesn't hurt either

The moral of the story is that he would literally do anything to make you happy, and despite how tough he acts you've got him completely wrapped around you finger

Liam - Words of Affirmation

For someone who's experienced so much loss before, he still manages to be SO kind and caring and this would 100% come through in the way he acts with his significant other, especially in terms of how he speaks to them

In public this would probably come off more as supportive and encouraging comments, helpful tips for training, or even just a quick compliment thrown in here or there. He's one of the more laid back out of all of the guys, but he still knows not to let his kindness be mistaken for weakness or allow anyone to try and use you against him, so he's careful to keep a good balance of keeping his guard up and being sweet with you

With that though, neither of you really have anything to worry about. He's the strongest cadet in his year and he trusts that you can hold your own so he'd still be pretty open with you in public

He's the type of guy who would never want to say goodbye without an 'I love you" thrown in there, even if you'd had a disagreement or you're (somehow) upset with him. Words are so important to him and he's going to make sure to tell you how he feels no matter what

I mean think about it, with all those letter he wrote to Sloane this man is a master at communication and he knows how to do it well

SO good at reassuring you. Ever doubting yourself or your abilities? Worried you’re not being a good enough partner? Nervous about opening up to him about something? He knows exactly what to say to calm you down or make you feel better every single time without fail. He just has such a way with words, and when he speaks to you in that soft "everything's going to be alright" voice there's no way you wouldn't feel at least a bit better

I have no doubt in my mind that he would have the sweetest nicknames for you and know exactly what to say when you need it, he’s just the sweetest thing to grace the continent and you’ll be reminded of that every time he speaks his sweet words that make your heart flutter

Bodhi - Physical Touch

This man... I definitely see him lovinggg physical touch. He needs you like he needs air to breathe and he isn't afraid to let the rest of the world know it

He's a confident guy so naturally he'd love to show off his significant other; walking with an arm slung over your shoulder or around your waist, sitting right next to you during meals so that your arms and legs brush against each other, holding hands or even just loosely linking your fingers together while you study, he loves it all

You two have definitely been told to get a room once or twice during training when your sparring sessions get a little too intense (gods bless the innocent bystanders who have to bear witness to that, especially the poor boys who are practically his brothers)

Obviously he knows how to balance his leadership responsibilities with spending time with you so he knows when he has to take a step back and get serious, but trust me, every chance he gets he's finding a way to be right next to you

When you guys are alone... oh boy get ready to be next to him all night long. Whether you’re laying together on one of your beds just talking before you settle in to sleep for the night, sitting on his lap while you both work on your own assignments, showering together, he’ll find a way to make everything a team effort just to be as close to you as possible

Don’t worry though, he knows when to give you your space so if there’s ever a day where you simply want a little alone time he would never push any boundaries and would respect whatever you wanted. However, if you’re trying to avoid him because you’re upset or anything of that nature he’s going to figure out what’s wrong and make sure you’re alright

Bodhi Durran the man that you are... At the end of the day he would be such a sweet partner to you and all of his actions, from full on cuddling to just brushing past each other briefly in the hallway, proves to you every day that he adores you

Garrick - Quality Time

Garrick is definitely more on the serious side, especially in public, but don't underestimate him as a partner because this man knows how to make you feel loved

Being close to you serves multiple purposes for him; it lets him keep an eye on you to make sure you're safe, and it simply brings him the sense of comfort he always gets from being near you

He’s super secure in himself and you, not doubting either of your abilities or your love for one another but just getting to be around you makes him happy. Whether it be sitting together to study, you talking his ear off about whatever antics you and your squad got up to that day, or even just training at the same time even if you’re on opposite sides of the gym sparring with different partners. Spending time with you or just being near each other is how he shows that he's there for you and that he loves you so he'll take whatever time he can get

With spending so much time with you and the fact that he’s a very observant guy, he would be able to read you like a book. There’s no hiding how you’re feeling because he’ll pick up on all of your little tells and know exactly how to go about making you feel better

Along with how observant he is and how deeply he knows you, I also feel like he would give amazing advice too. Disagreement with a friend? Not able to get the hang of a new weapon you’ve been training with? Stressed about an exam and not sure how to study? He has advice for all of it, and he knows when to step in and help you but also when you’ll want to be left alone to figure things out yourself

Whenever you both get a day off (which wouldn’t be often, I mean you have a war to prepare for) it’s always spent together. When you’re able to get some time together in Aretia, he’d take you to some tucked away corner of Riorson House him and Xaden would hang out in as kids just so you could get a few uninterrupted moments alone together, which you both cherish more and more as you inevitably get busier

He might be one of the most intimidating out of all of his friends and arguably out of most other riders as well, but underneath that sexy muscly exterior, he’s got a crazy soft spot for you; and while it might not be fully apparent to anyone who isn’t looking closely enough, you know just how much he loves you and that’s all that matters to the two of you

#fourth wing #fourth wing x reader #iron flame #iron flame x reader #xaden riorson #liam mairi #bodhi durran #garrick tavis #xaden riorson x reader #liam mairi x reader #bodhi durran x reader #garrick tavis x reader

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demidokuriya · 1 month

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Maybe it's just my speculation, but it seems to me that AFO has a soft spot for a certain type of person.

That moment when Mineta talks AFO out of stealing Tokoyami's quirk always struck me as very strange. AFO really had no reason to pass up the opportunity to steal a powerful quirk, but he looked into Mineta's tear-stained eyes, while also remembering Jirou's tear-stained face, and suddenly changed his mind. We don't know what AFO was thinking at that moment. All we see is a meaningful "…", after which he leaves, because "every precious second counts now".

Although, to be honest, it seems to me that this whole situation looked like he was looking for an excuse for himself not to steal Tokoyami's quirk. He pretended that he just didn't have time to get a quirk, but I think that's bullshit. AFO is definitely fast enough to steal multiple people's Quirks in a matter of seconds. He had already done something similar when Eri's quirk first started affecting him.

He definitely could have taken Tokoyami's quirk, but he decided not to.

I suspect that the students reminded him of Yoichi when he was still a child: a weakling with tear-stained eyes. The reminder of his brother made him feel uncomfortable, so he hurried away.

Maybe this weakness for people who remind him of Yoichi will play a role in the near future. After all, Izuku has a lot in common with Yoichi: Izuku is small and weak/worthless (according to AFO), but more importantly, Izuku is very stubborn and he is hopelessly kind, just like Yoichi. Izuku, like Yoichi, is a gentle person, but he has strong moral principles that he will stand up for if he has to. They have similar personalities, and I think Izuku is really very similar to little Yoichi.

I don't expect AFO to get redemption or anything like that. Unlike Tomura, who was manipulated from his birth, AFO committed evil knowingly and deliberately. AFO is the real villain and after everything he's done, he doesn't deserve to be forgiven. However, I believe that until AFO accepts his brother's death and admits that he regrets the way he treated him, he will not leave Japan alone. Even now that AFO has accepted that Yoichi's death has left a hole in his soul, he still views his brother's death as a tool for achieving power. "It is tragedy that makes people stronger" is what he said.

But at the same time, AFO spent nearly a century trying to bring back his dead brother, only to lose him again, this time perhaps for good. Regardless of what AFO says, this is indeed a major blow to him. And as long as this wound bleeds, he will be a threat to heroic society. Someone needs to help him heal this wound so he can leave.

I'm guessing that Yoichi might return at some point to talk to his brother one last time, but I'm not sure how that could happen considering Eri's quirk failed to return OFA to Izuku.

Even if Yoichi doesn't end up coming back, I think Izuku will still make an attempt to talk to AFO to help him. Whether this attempt will be successful or not.

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pinknipszz · 19 days

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“hello sweet precious,” you croon at the warm bundle in your arms. hardly three weeks old, it fusses a little when you lift the sand-washed silk to gush over its bonny face. “i wish i could keep you forever. you’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

the summertime sun is your company—aside from the newborn babe and your ichor-stained husband, who meditates beside you on the decorated blanket with his legs crossed, an ankle over his shin in quarter lotus. the air is thick with the smell of fresh-cut fruit. there is sake too, brewed in oak barrels, courtesy of uraume.

you lean over the edge to pluck a white iris from the earth. a wail comes from underneath you at the sudden movement, but you hush it quickly and say: “this flower makes for exquisite perfumes that smell sweet and slightly herbaceous. i want to wrap you in silk that is exactly this color.”

roused from his thoughts, your husband cracks an eye open, leering. “do not waste any more energy on that wretched vermin.” his voice rumbles in the cavity of his cruel, muscle-bound body, each word punctuated by equal amounts of scorn. “it does not matter what kind of silk you wrap it in, wife. i will get rid of it later.”

you huff and turn your sweeping gaze over the vast expanse of scattered flowers. right. you did not give birth to the thing in your arms—a servant did. a foolish one who had slept with the arborist who trims your chestnut trees, or so uraume had told you over barley tea. you had been delighted; your husband, not so much.

but a small part of the king of curses is still human, still weak to the whims of his darling wife, so he let you keep the parasite that had been propagated by his bastard servants. you lean against his imposing figure and sigh woefully. something must have changed his mind. “will you bring it back to its parents?”

a large tongue peaks through the gash in his stomach as he settles into a more comfortable position, picking up a plate of tangerines and throwing a few slices into his mouth. you watch him bite into the soft flesh with sharp teeth, already copper-stained from his recent venture. “no,” he says. “i will eat it.”

you understand him, then, and peer up into the sky. your vision burns a bit just to see the summertime sun perched perpendicular to the horizon, high above maple trees where kodama and kitsune come alive. when a plump slice is brought to your lips, you briefly wonder if tangerine tea would pair well with iris.

a question dances on the tip of your tongue, and your husband, in all of his omniscience, seizes it with a searing kiss before you can lock it away and throw the key. you cannot help but mirror the wicked grin on his face.

(masterlist) | (a/n: morally gray reader ig? anyways the baby doesnt have a specific gender but there were subtle hints that it was a boy if anyone caught them. also there was more to this but I got lazy. rip!) tag: @lem-hhn

#💐🎴#jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen sukuna #jjk sukuna #sukuna x reader #sukuna ryomen #sukuna ryomen x reader #ryomen x reader

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whatsnewalycat · 2 months

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Designated Person | 9

Pairing: Francisco “Catfish” Morales x F!Reader

Chapter 9: Where The Wild Things Are

Rating: Explicit (18+ only)

Word Count: 8.6k+

Tags / Warnings: alternating pov, infidelity, past romantic & sexual relationship, angst, food mention, jealousy, alcohol & alcoholism, lying, conflict avoidance, crying, internal conflict, birthday party, a low-key dudes rule moment (bros! bros! bros!), tried my hardest hardest with Spanish but I am a white girl I’m sorry if its wrong pls let me know, a lot of dialogue like so much dialogue fuck, children, toxic relationships just bad all around

Notes: WELL HI, long time no see! I know it’s been over 6 months since I’ve updated. I went on a warpath with another series (Psychomanteum—it’s finished if you wanna check it out). But I’m back to force these two dummies to walk through hellfire 💘

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Nothing seems right.

For what has to be the hundredth time, you sift through the sparse collection of t-shirts and dresses hanging in your closet. Each time you push a hanger aside to consider a potential outfit, your brain falls into the same pattern.

First, you wonder if Frankie would like it. Granted, if you showed up wearing a cardboard box he’d still want to fuck you.

You want him to like it more than that, though.

You want him to see you and get all weak in the knees. You want him to look at you in that way he does sometimes. That soft, magnetic look that tugs at every part of you. The one that argues against logic and speaks to intuition instead. That can't-eat, can't-sleep, reach-for-the-stars, over-the-fence, World Series kind of look.

After considering this entirely reasonable and attainable goal, you picture yourself wearing the clothes through Angie’s eyes.

You dissect each potential outfit as she would. This dress too low cut, that one too frumpy, the other too short. A critical chorus of slut slut slut plays in the back of your head, accented by the memory of her manicured hands wrapped around your throat, the growl she let out when she squeezed around your windpipe.

“You little slut, I will fucking kill you.”

Throughout this whirlwind of turmoil, snippets from this morning rise to the surface and drown out everything else.

Frankie’s lips on yours, hungry and certain. His strong hands on your body, digging into your skin. The way he talked to you, voice low and strained—Whose pussy is this?

Every time these words repeat, your heart hammers in your chest. Tingles trickle out from between your legs and work up your spine.

The time before this, right after he moved in, when you fucked on the couch… you felt dirty afterwards. It sent you into a spiral of self-guilt that gnawed away at you for days. It reminded you of how sex was towards the end last time. Like you could have been anyone. Like he needed something to make him feel alive, and you were just the most ready and willing participant.

But it felt different this time.

Intimate in a way it hasn’t been in so long. It felt like an act of something bigger and stronger, like he needed you specifically. Not the rush of endorphins. Not just the heat of another person. Not a substitute for the love his wife wouldn’t give him. It felt like he needed you and nothing else would sate him.

“I won’t do that to you again, mariposa, I promise. I’ll fix it, I promise I’ll fix it, ok?”

Right about here is when indecision ties your brain off in a knot that seizes the production of valuable output.

Then you return to yourself, staring into the closet like it’s fucking Narnia, and slide the hanger aside to do it all over again.

—

Frankie collapses into a patio chair with a groan, running a hand through his sweat-soaked hair before replacing his cap, then tilts his head up towards the blazing sun and closes his eyes.

When he trekked through the Andes with his team, there were nights where he felt the cold so deep in his bones, he wondered if he would ever be able to get warm again.

Right now is the opposite of that.

Right now he would give up fistfuls of cash to feel that bone-deep freeze.

He casts a longing glance at the cooler and fantasizes about drinking a cold beer. That psssch-ahsound it would make when he opened the tab. He imagines the condensation cooling his heated skin and the alcohol calming his fried nerves.

Fuck, that sounds perfect.

Through the open window to the dining room, he can hear Angie and her sister Marta gossiping to each other, talking about how so-and-so is dating what’s his face again and blah blah blah. His ears perk up when Marta segues into their personal life.

“Speaking of people getting back together… How are things with you and Frankie?”

Angie doesn’t say anything, but must make a face at her sister because she follows the question up by giggling, “What, can I not ask?”

“Ay, Marta. No seas metiche.”

A beat of silence passes. Marta must non-verbally pry, because Angie speaks again, quieter this time.

“We’ll see.” Then quickly, almost defensively, she adds, “He’s getting his act together, you know. He quit drinking, and he’s doing this parole program. It seems like… it seems like he’s trying.”

“Mmm. Is he still living with that girl? Su amante?”

Frankie knows Angie well enough to know she rolls her eyes in response.

Marta tsks, but any further conversation is cut off by a sudden commotion of squealing and bickering.

He looks down at his watch, reading 1240, and guesses that Angie’s friend Carmen arrived with her five children.

His eyes clamp shut and he fantasizes about drinking a beer. Maybe three. Hell, make it ten. Ten would do just fine. Ten would anesthetize him just enough to let him clear his head and make this whole ordeal manageable.

“Just get through today,” he tells himself, “Just one more goddamn day, then you can be done with this fucking charade.”

The backdoor opens, releasing a burst of chaotic noise. Angie and Carmen step out, and he stands at attention.

“Oh wow, look at all this,” Carmen tells Angie, “Damn girl, you really went all out, didn’t you?”

“We don’t really know what the situation will be next year, with Frankie and everything,” Angie’s eyes flick to him, and she shrugs, “So I figured, make it memorable. For all of us.”

“Sure,” Carmen nods, concern creasing her brow, then she acknowledges Frankie with a quick head-to-toe scan, “Francisco, how’re you doing?”

“Better than I deserve,” he smirks, and gestures to the gift bag hanging off her wrist, “Let me take that for you. Want anything to drink?”

She hands off the present and glances at Angie, then back to Frankie, “Can I get a beer?”

“Sure,” he nods to Angie, “How about you, amor?”

“I’ll take a beer, too.”

“Two beers coming up,” Frankie calls behind him while descending the stairs.

As he walks to the 10’ x 20’ white canopy tent, he tries to eavesdrop, but the two women talk to each other in hushed tones. He has no doubt it’s about him, though, because he hears Carmen exclaim, “Oh shit, really?” then, quieter but still distinguishable, “Good for you, mamá.”

After dropping the gift bag on the designated table, Frankie goes to the cooler to grab two cans of beer and a bottle of water, then returns to the deck, where Angie and Carmen both lean against the railing. They both murmur a thanks when he hands them their drinks.

He rubs between her shoulder blades, “Need anything else?”

“A fucking Xanax,” she jokes while cracking her beer open. He watches foam bubble up from the mouth of the can and his pulse surges green with envy. She takes a long sip, then sighs, “Mmm let’s see. Food is done, Mamá and Marta are bringing everything out. Your mom should be here with the cake any minute. You got everything set up in the tent?”

“Yes ma’am.”

“Alright, well,” she takes another swig and shrugs, “Wanna get the slip ‘n’ slide going? We can get the kiddos changed into their suits.”

“You got it.”

He starts away, but she grabs his shirt to stop him.

When he turns back to her, eyebrows raised in question, her golden brown eyes meet his, then drop to his lips, “Thank you.”

His hand finds her waist and he nods, “Not a problem.”

She kisses him, and he kisses her back, thinking of you—always fucking thinking of you— as he tells himself: One more day.

—

Leah picks up on the second ring.

“Hey, what’s up?”

“Tell me I shouldn’t go to this party.”

She releases a big sigh that makes you grimace, then says, “Tell me you’re not actually thinking of going.”

You glance up at the Morales residence through your windshield, sinking down into your seat when you spot Benny, Will, and Dani making their way up the driveway.

“I’m outside in my car.”

Leah is quiet for a moment before she asks, “Do you want to go?”

“Yes and no,” you watch the Millers open the door and go inside the house, “I want to see Sarah, and I wanna be there for Frankie, just because… I don’t know, everything, but…”

“But Angie?”

You nod, casting your eyes down to your hands to pick at the frayed cuticles, “I’m afraid she’s going to say something or do something to retaliate against me.”

“You did have an affair with her husband—”

“I’m well aware,” you snip.

The silence that follows wrings guilt from your stomach. A burning sensation works up your throat behind your eyes, so you pinch them shut and hang your head.

“Fuck, sorry. You’re right. She has every right to despise me. I deserve it. I shouldn’t go, it’s stupid.”

Your words come out all pathetic and warbled by tears, but you continue anyway.

“I feel so torn. I care about them a lot and I wanna be there. I want it to be better so that… fuck. I don’t know. Nevermind.”

“Why do you want it to be better?”

“It’s stupid.”

“No, I want you to tell me.”

You take a deep, shaky breath, tilting your head up towards the drooping ceiling of your car. The answer pulses through your body and tingles on the tip of your tongue. If you speak it you might shatter to dust.

Instead, you offer up a consolation prize to distract her.

“I did something I shouldn’t have,” you whisper, then swing your head down to stare at your steering wheel, “I… had sex with him.”

Leah snorts, “I fucking knew it.”

“Shut up, you did not,” you scoff, “It just happened this morning.”

“Rach owes me $10.”

“You bet that—God, you are the worst.”

You hang up on her, then stare at your phone for a few seconds before sending a text to Frankie.

< ME: < Are you sure I should come? I feel nervous

A few unresponsive seconds go by before you flip the visor down to inspect your reflection in the mirror. Not terrible. Some black smudges around your eyes. Could use some lipstick.

You remedy these problems while trying not to think too hard about what you’re about to do, lying to yourself in hopes that you can somehow warp the truth.

This will be fine.

—

By the time Frankie gets the hose hooked up to the slip ‘n’ slide, his mother- and sister-in-law are setting the last few food items out on the long folding table under the tent.

Two of Carmen’s sons dash across the deck in their swimsuits. As he passes them on the stairs, he ruffles the older one’s scraggly dark brown hair, calling after them, “Soda and water in the cooler if you boys are thirsty.”

They holler an acknowledgment as Frankie makes his way inside.

The relief of stepping into cool, conditioned air quickly dissipates as the commotion hits him.

At least a dozen conversations meld together in this wall of indistinguishable sound. He can’t quite focus on any of the vaguely familiar faces or isolate one single voice from the warble of people talking.

A heavy, frantic pounding starts in his chest. His hands start to tingle. Noises disappear completely for a second, replaced by a high-pitched ringing in his ears.

Jesus fucking Christ, I’m losing it.

He pulls a chair out from the dining room table and sits down, praying nobody notices him clench his eyes closed to inhale a deep, wide breath.

Then another.

Everything starts to come back into focus, and he tunes into someone asking, “Fish, you ok?”

He startles when a broad palm settles between his shoulder blades. Looking towards the source, he finds Will’s dusty blue eyes studying him with concern.

“Shit,” Frankie mutters, running a hand over his face before he clearing his throat and standing, “Sorry, yeah. Think I got too much heat or something.” He gives his friend a quick, one-armed hug, “Good to see you, man.”

When Will parts ways with Frankie, he gives him a look that says he doesn’t buy it for a second, but doesn’t push the subject.

His wife, Dani, approaches with a cautious smile, “Frankie, good to see you.”

“Good to see you, too” Frankie gives her a hug, “Thanks for coming.” They separate and he asks Will, “Benny here yet?”

“Yeah,” he smirks, jerking his head towards the living room, “Shooting the shit with your mom.”

“Figures,” Frankie chuckles and shakes his head, “I gotta go make my rounds, but, uhh,” he gestures from the gift box in the crook of Will’s arm to the back door, “There’s a gift table outside. Food and drinks and all that, help yourselves.”

“Catch up later, yeah?” Will nods.

Frankie mirrors the action as a few waist-high kids race past, budging in front of them when Will opens the door.

He notices a cluster of aimless partygoers lingering between the dining and living room, and starts directing the halted human traffic out to the backyard. It prods them into action, thinning out the crowded common area as he makes his way to the couch, where he finds his mom sitting with Sarah in her lap and Benny at her side. Benny says something to Sarah that makes her and her grandmother giggle.

“Is this guy bothering you?” Frankie asks, unable to stop the smile from spreading across his face.

“Francisco!”

She passes Sarah to Benny and struggles to get to her feet.

“Christ, mamá, let me help you” he mutters while taking her well-worn hands in his to pull her upright.

She’s always been a woman of small stature, barely measuring up to his shoulders once the growth spurts petered out and left him as tall as he’d always be. But each time he sees her, she seems to have shrunk a little bit more.

As soon as she steadies herself, she kisses his cheek, then pulls him down into a surprisingly tight embrace, telling him, “I missed you so much, mijo.”

“Missed you too, Ma.”

She pulls back from the hug, but holds onto his arms to look him over, “How have you been?”

“Fine,” he nods, looking away when her keen dark eyes narrow, “What about you, hmm? How was the drive?”

“Bien bien,” she waves off his questions and takes a step back to smile at the birthday girl, “She’s getting so big, Pancho. Such a pretty dress.”

Sarah grabs at the puffy hem of her skirt and giggles at the attention.

Frankie snorts in admiration at his daughter, then asks her, “You wanna go see your party, princesa?”

“Yes!”

He looks at Benny, “I gotta see if Ang needs me to do anything, do you wanna…?”

“Escort these lovey ladies?” Benny winks at Julieta, “Shit, I’d love to.”

“Jesus Christ,” Frankie mutters, then tells Sarah, “Go with Uncle Benny, I’ll be there in a minute, ok?”

She jumps off Benny’s lap and runs to the back door, leveraging her weight against the knob. It swings open and she escapes, sending Benny chasing after her, laughing, “Hey, wait up!”

Julieta starts after them just as Sarah’s bedroom door opens, and two little girls come charging towards the back door. Carmen and Angie trail behind, the former carrying a baby tucked into her side, the latter looking around with a puzzled expression pasted to her face.

“Everyone outside?” Angie asks her husband, slowing to a stop a few feet away from him while Carmen continues outside.

“Yeah. I, uhh, got the slip ‘n’ slide set up, all the food is out—anything else you need me to do?”

“Is your girl here?”

She smirks and tilts her head at him, like she’s joking or teasing, but the humor doesn’t reach her eyes.

His skittish heart skips in his chest.

Sensing a trap, Frankie searches her face and shakes his head like he doesn’t understand.

Angie raises an eyebrow at him, “Don’t act like you don’t know who I’m talking about.”

So fucking sick of this.

“Whatever,” he blinks, “No. I haven’t seen her yet. Anything else?”

The forced amusement immediately drops from her face and she stomps outside, slamming the door closed behind her.

He takes a deep breath, pulling his hat up to run a hand through his hair, then glances at his watch.

1308

He shakes some of the nervous energy from his fingertips and starts to pace the living room.

What if you decided not to come?

Honestly, it would make today much easier. He could just go out there and play his role. Put on his mask and blame his disposition on the ongoing legal battle. His mother, wife, and friends, they’d be none the wiser.

Something inside him lurches at the thought.

Suddenly and very clearly, he understands that if you don’t show, nothing will change. He will drive this ship into the ground.

As if on cue, the doorbell rings.

He jogs down the steps, swings the door open, and there you are, wearing a pretty floral sundress and a nervous smile.

“Hey,” he backs up to allow you entry.

“Hi,” your smile grows wider, and you step past him as you enter the house, “Long time no see.”At the foot of the stairs, you turn to face him, “Where’s the party?”

“Backyard.”

“Oh.”

When you glance down at his mouth, one hundred butterflies start chittering away at his stomach. He licks his lips and notices himself gravitating towards you. It doesn’t help that you’re doing it, too. The subtle way your body bows in his direction, inching so close he can smell the bright burst of your perfume and the damp musk of your sweat.

“Is everyone out there?”

“Pretty sure,” his eyes flick to the vacant upstairs, then back to you, “Why?”

Just an inch away, you clamp a grin closed and shrug, “No reason.”

“Uh huh,” he raises an eyebrow, daring to rest his hand on your waist. The contact floods his body with a hot, thudding pulse he can taste.

Searching his face, you slide your palm over his heart. Beneath your touch, the muscle pounds at its seams.

Against his better judgment, he leans in to capture your lips in his. Warmth spreads out from his chest through his limbs. You hook a hand behind his neck and pull him closer, your body curving flush against his.

Only hours have gone by since he last saw you, but it feels like months. It’s like that with you. Timeless when you’re together and an eternity when you’re apart.

Pulling back, you look at the floor and shake your head, “Sorry.”

“For what?”

“We shouldn’t, umm,” you swallow hard, shaking your head again as you glance upstairs, “Here, now, you know…”

He glances at the back door, “You’re right. We should get to the party.“

“Yeah,” you take a big step back and clear your lungs with a deep breath, then hold up your gift bag, “Where should I put this?”

“Right this way—”

“Wait, look at me,” you chuckle, tugging at his hand.

He faces you, asking, “What?”

You cup his cheek and lick the pad of your thumb, bringing it to his bottom lip, “Lipstick.”

Your brow furrows in concentration, tongue poking out the corner of your mouth as you scrub off the evidence.

It’s kind of adorable, the way in which you do this. Doting, almost. Reminds him of the times Mamá would catch him with a dirty face in public and try to make him more presentable.

Briefly, he pictures you as the matriarch of a rowdy crew of children. Driving a minivan to school drop-offs and extracurricular activities and family outings. It suits you.

He can’t stop his lips from curving into a smile.

“What?” you grin, eyes flicking to his.

“Nothing,” he murmurs as you tilt his face around and inspect him. “Better?”

“Better,” you nod, “How about me?”

He pinches your chin and looks you over, correcting a smudge before telling you, “All clear. You ready?”

You give a half-hearted shrug, looking around at the ground, then ask, “Your wife isn’t gonna like… yell at me in front of everyone or pelt me with produce, right? This isn’t an elaborate revenge prank?”

“Is that what all the tomatoes are for? Shit,” he teases, earning a chuckle and an eye roll from you. “No, but really. She agreed to be nice.”

“Ok,” you nod, “So I’m like allowed to talk to you and everything without worrying she’ll try to murder me?”

Frankie snorts, “She wouldn’t murder you—”

“She has literally told me ‘I will fucking kill you.’”

“That was—” he shakes his head, then brings his hands to your shoulders and stares into your eyes, “It’s gonna be fine, mariposa. We’re gonna go bullshit with people and eat some food, and then we’re gonna home and watch a stupid fucking movie. Ok?”

You laugh, dropping your gaze for a moment before returning with a bashful smile, “Ok.”

—

As you make your way down the food table, piling tamales and Spanish rice and fresh fruit on a flimsy paper plate, you feel eyes on the back of your head. Whether it’s just one set or ten, you don’t care to know, but the feeling sends a shiver up your spine.

When you reach the end of the line, you take a deep breath before turning to find a place to sit.

Like every other party, the crowd is mostly separated into cliques.

Parents from around the neighborhood stick together at a few long tables, bribing their children to eat and drink water before returning to the slip-n-slide. At another table sits Angie’s family, including the queen herself, whose pointed stare you gloss over, ignoring her and Frankie at her side. You find some familiar faces at a table near the edge of the big party tent: Benny, Will, and Dani. With them is a small, elderly woman who must be Frankie’s mom or an aunt or something, due to the striking resemblance.

The whole thing reminds you of choosing a place to sit in your high school cafeteria. Much like you did in those days, you gravitate towards an empty table nearby, but halt when some calls your name.

Frowning, you look around to find Benny waving at you.

“Over here,” he pulls out the chair beside him.

You approach with a smile, the tension held in your shoulders dissolving just a little as you take the open seat and greet everyone.

“Thanks. I didn’t know if, umm… it was ok,” you chuckle nervously and drop your eyes to your plate, shaking your head.

“Oh, come on now, you’re always welcome with us,” Benny grins, leaning back in his chair to reveal the tiny graying woman on the other side of him, “Have you met Frankie’s mom, Julieta?”

“I have not,” you reach across Benny to shake her hand, “Good to meet you, I’m—”

She waves you off and pushes her chair out behind her. You half-expect her to furiously walk away at your presence, but instead she wobbles over to you and holds her arms open.

“I know who you are. Come here, mija.”

You stand to accept the invitation, stammering out, “Oh—ok—”

Emotion wells up in your chest when her bony arms squeeze tight around you and she tells you, “Thank you for taking care of my boy.”

Not sure what to say, you just hug her back for a few long seconds. The embrace says it all. It feels maternal and earnest and brings a few tears to your eyes. When she pulls away and smiles at you, you notice she’s a little misty-eyed, too, and you smile back at her. She gives your cheek a few pats before you both return to your seats.

“How’ve you been?” Dani asks.

You contemplate the question long enough for Benny to interject.

“Well, she’s keeping Fish out of trouble so I’m sure she’s having a hell of a time.”

You shrug, “It’s nothing compared to some of the toddlers I’ve had to deal with.”

Your audience chuckles, then awaits a follow up.

“No, I, umm… I’m doing ok. Going through a breakup, so that’s tough, but… mostly I’m good.”

Why did I say that?

“A breakup?” Benny leans back and drapes an arm over the back of your chair, “What happened?”

“Oh, we don’t have to—” you laugh at your plate, stabbing a chunk of watermelon.

“Come on, give us the dirt,” Benny prods.

You shove the watermelon in your mouth and wrinkle your nose at him, shaking your head.

“Let the girl have some privacy,” Dani scolds, “If she doesn’t wanna talk about it, she doesn’t wanna talk about it.”

“If she didn’t wanna talk about it she wouldn’t’ve mentioned it,” he counters.

“It’s fine, it wasn’t even a big deal. We were only dating for a few weeks and it wasn’t a good match,” you explain, glancing around the table, “I don’t know why I said it, sorry, I’m just, umm… nervous.”

You notice Will studying you and hold his meticulous gaze for a moment before dropping your eyes to your plate. He speaks up then, drawing the fire away from you.

“Hey, that’s alright. Not like Benny has room to criticize,” he gives his brother a lopsided grin, “Remember that girl that tried to stab you?”

“Not this again,” Benny groans.

“Ok well now you have to tell me,” you say, flashing a grateful smile to Will before nudging Benny, “Come on, give me the dirt.”

“Well, if you’re gonna twist my arm about it.” He visibly shifts into storytelling mode, sitting up straighter as a glint of mischief sparks in his eyes, “First of all, I had no business dating her to begin with. She had a PT Cruiser with whiskey plates. If that’s not a red flag, I don’t know what is.”

—

Trying to be a halfway decent host, Frankie makes his way around the party checking in with people, introducing himself to all the unfamiliar faces and making small talk, recycling the same lines.

Drinks are in the cooler if you’re thirsty. Thanks for coming. I’m doing great, how about you?

Meanwhile, Ang seems to have taken on his former role as the champion beer drinker of the party. Every time he glances at her she’s either guzzling it down or popping open a new aluminum can.

When she and Carmen start directing slip ‘n’ slide traffic and seem sufficiently distracted, he walks up to the table where some of his favorite people are seated and takes the open chair next to Will.

“Look who it is,” Will smirks at him, “We were just talking about you.”

“Christ, do I wanna know?” he leans forward to rest his elbows on the table.

“Probably not, I was talking mad shit about you,” you tease, looking at him with a grin that makes his heart swell.

“Figures you would be,” he shoots back.

You chuckle and shake your head, “No, actually I was just telling them about how I’m teaching you to cook.”

“Oh yeah,” he looks around the table, “Did you tell them about the stir-fry?”

“Ok, you tried with the stir-fry and it was almost edible—”

“Almost edible?” Benny laughs

“Somehow the rice was both undercooked and burnt, and the veggies were mush,” you share, sitting up taller when you meet his eyes, “But it could’ve been worse. You’re learning!”

“I’m just impressed you could get him in the kitchen in the first place,” Benny says, then turns his attention to Julieta, “Mamá, you didn’t make him cook anything growing up?”

She tsks and waves him off, then explains, “His father wouldn’t let me. He was very traditional, you know, said it was women’s work.“

“It’s ok, Ma,” Frankie assures her.

“I am glad you’re learning now.” A smile stretches across her face, “You must be grateful to have such a good teacher.”

“I am, really,” he nods and glances at you before admitting, “I’d be a fucking mess without her.”

Everyone at the table seems to sit with this information in silence for a moment before Will clears his throat and asks, “Are you still working on that car?”

Frankie leans back in his chair and crosses his arms, “Here and there. Lately it’s just been collecting dust.”

“Mind if I check it out?” Will inquires, “It’s been, what, a year and a half since I’ve seen it?”

“Sure,” he frowns, looking over at you and your creased brow as if seeking permission, at which point you give a shrug, then he squints up across the yard and spots Angie talking to her mom and dad. “Let me just tell Ang so she doesn’t lose her shit if she can’t find me.”

The three men stand from the table. Frankie gives you one more glance before starting off towards his wife. With each step he takes across the grass, he wishes more and more that he could kiss you again. Give you reassurance that you’re doing great in this precarious situation.

Angie’s father glares at him as he approaches, which isn’t abnormal. Angie follows his line of sight, wobbling a bit as she lays eyes on him. Surprisingly, she smiles, “Hey!”

“Hey—”

She throws her arms around his neck and kisses him, the action so unexpected he stumbles back a step. Her lips taste of beer and poor judgment. When he pulls away, he plasters on a fake grin and says, “The guys wanna look at the car, is it ok if I slip away for a few?”

“You boys and your toys,” she rolls her eyes, “Fine, just be back for presents in a couple minutes, yeah?”

“Alright,” he searches over her shoulder, “How’s Sarah doing?”

“Good, good,” she nods, “She’s playing with Carm’s kids in the sandbox.”

“Make sure she gets some water, I don’t think she drank any with—”

“She’s fine, Francisco. I’ve got it,” she insists, patting his chest.

He studies her for a moment, then says, “Ok, I’ll be back in a minute. We’ll be in the garage if you need me.”

“Give me a kiss,” Angie demands, her long nails scraping at the nape of his neck. He leans in and presses his lips to hers, feeling nothing but irritation and disgust.

—

When Frankie and the Miller brothers disappear into the house, so does your social armor, leaving you exposed.

For a while you make scattered small talk with Julieta and Dani, discussing Sarah and the party and the weather. You watch Sarah play with her friends from a distance, not wanting to disrupt their sand castle building by approaching. Every once in a while, your eyes cheat to Angie.

A vile, familiar sensation sits heavy in your stomach.

He warned you that it might be difficult seeing them together, but you forgot how bad it hurts to witness.

The way she kissed him doesn’t help. Hanging off him, looking at him with bedroom eyes.

It’s not the same this time. He’s different now.

The foul thing in your belly goes dead weight, making you lurch.

What if he’s not?

Before you can spiral too much, you hear, “Chacha!” and realize Sarah is running towards you

“Hi, pumpkin!” you smile and outstretch your arms to catch her as she slams into you.

“I’m not a pumpkin, I’m just a girl,” she giggles.

“Are you having fun at your party?”

She grunts out an “mhmm” while you pull her up onto your lap. Her face is flushed, skin all heated and damp with sweat.

“You look like you’re hot, do you want some water?”

“Um. Ok!” she smiles.

“Ok let me get you—”

“I got it,” Dani stands and starts towards the cooler.

You murmur a thanks and return your attention to Sarah, “Thank you for letting me come to your party. I’m having so much fun.”

She giggles in response, leaning into you.

“How are you liking daycare? Do you get to play with your friends?”

She nods.

Dani returns with a cold water bottle, twisting the cap open before handing it to you.

“Here you go, sweetie,” you bring the bottle to her lips and slowly tip it back as she takes big gulps of water. Periodically, you pull it away and let her catch her breath, then start again until she pushes it away.

“Better?”

“Much better,” she nods.

“Maybe she should go inside and cool down for a minute?” Dani suggests.

Julieta leans over to feel her forehead, “Too much sun, hija.”

“Do you wanna go inside for a minute?” You ask, tucking her hair behind her ears.

“Chacha will you go with me?”

“You want me to—oh, um… should we ask your mom…?” You frown at Dani, who grimaces, then Julieta.

“Just take her,” Julieta insists, “I’ll tell Angelica if she comes looking.”

“Ok. Ok sure. Let’s go, sweetie.”

You rise from the chair, sliding Sarah to your hip, then carry her up the stairs into the house. Once inside, you sit on the couch with her for a few seconds before she wriggles away and scampers off down the hallway.

“Chacha come see my room!”

“Oh my fucking god,” you whisper under your breath, glancing nervously up at the back door before following her, “Ok, but just for a minute, then we should go back out to the party.”

—

“Are you seriously calling him?” Frankie blinks, leaning back against the workbench.

Will shoots him a look while raising the phone to his ear.

“Unbelievable. It’s like six o’clock in the morning there, you’re gonna wake—”

“Hey Pope, I’m gonna put you on speaker.” Will presses a button and sets the phone down next to Frankie, “Now I want Fish to tell you what he just told me and Benny.”

Gnashing his jaw back and forth, he stares at Will, then Benny. They both watch him expectantly while Santi speaks up, his voice groggy from sleep.

“Alright, let’s hear it.”

Frankie clears his throat and rubs his mouth before saying, “I’m gonna ask Ang for a divorce.”

“Oh shit, ok.”

Will prods Frankie further, “Tell him the other part.”

“Will you just—Fuck, ok. I’m… seeing someone.”

On the other line, Santi chuckles a little, “Uh-huh.“

“Any guesses on who that might be?” Benny asks.

“Oh, I have one—”

“Wait wait wait, let me give you a hint,” Benny grins while scrolling through his phone, pushing off the hood of the car to grandstand, “On June 10–only seven weeks ago, mind you—Fish said about her, and I quote: It’s not like that, we’re only friends. To which you said—”

“—I said bull-fucking-shit!” Santi finishes, then howls, “That is fucking delicious, thank you.”

Frankie crosses his arms and shakes his head at Will, “See, this is why I didn’t wanna tell him.”

“How long?” Santi asks.

“How long what?”

“How long have you been sleeping with her?”

“It’s… complicated, ok?”

Benny giggles and repeats, “Oh, it’s complicated.”

Santi questions further, “Sure, well, let me ask you this: How long have you been in love with her?”

“Why does it matter?”

“You do, though, right? You love her?”

Frankie crosses his arms and glares at the phone, “Yeah.”

“When did that happen?”

Heat flares through his veins. He wrings his neck and mutters, “That’s a stupid question.”

“Why’s it stupid?”

“Cuz, Pope, that’s like… that’s like asking how long ago mankind came to exist. Or asking what point a chrysalis becomes a butterfly. I don’t fucking know, man, it just does. I just know that I do, I love her, and I have for… a while.”

The two men before him are silent, along with the voice on the phone. Frankie, on the other hand, finds momentum in his confession. He continues.

“And Ang… Jesus Christ, I don’t know how long it’s been since I’ve felt like this with her. And the longer I think about it, the more I convince myself I never did. Not this way, like I can’t live without her, you know?” He taps his fingers against his lips, then shrugs, “Maybe I could have at one point, if I tried. But even then… I don’t like who I am when I’m with her. It doesn’t feel right. It’s like I’m wearing someone else’s skin and it doesn’t fit me.”

He glances up at Benny, then Will. Their faces are somber, but understanding. Benny approaches, leaning on the workbench beside him to rope an arm around his shoulders and give him a supportive squeeze.

“When are you gonna tell her?” Will asks.

“Soon. Not today, but this week probably.“

Benny withdraws his touch and crosses his arms in front of his chest, “She’ll go right for the jugular. You know that, right?”

“I know.” Frankie takes off his cap to run a hand through his hair, then puts it back, “She’s gonna try to take Sarah. Fuck, I’m gonna need another goddamn lawyer, aren’t I?”

“Can you afford that right now?” Will furrows his brow, studying him, “Be honest.”

“Probably. Well, maybe. I haven’t thought that far ahead yet.”

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but is now the right time? You’re on parole and looking to add felony charges to your wrap sheet. Not to mention the infidelity. On paper, your custody case is shit.”

Frankie shakes his head, “If I have to keep living like this… all this lying and pretending… I don’t know, man. I can’t do it anymore. Something inside me is about to break. I can feel it.”

The Millers exchange a look.

“I don’t think I’m speaking out of line by saying we all just want what’s best for you, Fish,” the voice over the phone tells him, “We want you to be happy. If you need to get out, get out.”

Frankie glances up at Will, who nods in confirmation.

“Thanks. It-it means a lot to me,” he shifts his weight to one leg, looking down at his wristwatch, “We better get back to the party. Talk soon, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Santi says, “Hang in there, buddy.”

After hanging up the phone, Will gives Frankie a pat on the shoulder, “We’ve got your back.”

As they file out of the garage into the entryway, Angie walks out from the bathroom. When she notices them climbing the steps, she calls, “Hi boys.”

To his credit, Benny puts on a convincing smile and greets her with a high five, “What’s up, Angie?”

She steps aside to let him pass, then fixes her glassy eyes on Will, “How’s the carcocha looking?”

“Better than the last time we saw it,” Will shrugs, glancing over his shoulder at Frankie, “Just needs a little TLC.”

“Needs to go to the scrapyard if you ask me,” she snorts and tilts her head at her husband as he reaches the top of the stairs, “Hey handsome.”

He gives her a half-hearted smirk, then frowns, “Where’s Sarah?”

“She’s fine, still playing. Francisco,” she tugs on his shirt, so he comes to a stop.

Jesus Christ, her breath smells like a brewery.

His eyes flick to the Millers stalled at the back door. After waving at them to clear out, he raises his eyebrows at Angie, “What?”

“I need your help with something.”

“Sure, what?”

Instead of answering him outright, she takes his hand and leads him down the hallway. His stomach twists with understanding when she pulls him through the doorway towards the bed.

“If you wanna lay down for a bit, I can take care of every—”

She turns to face him, placing her palms on his chest and sliding them up to his shoulders, “I want you to fuck me, Francisco.”

“Ang,” he chuckles with exasperation, shaking his head, “We have a backyard full of guests here, come on.”

“They’re all having fun, no one will notice.” She takes his hand and guides it to her face, gently folding down all his finger but the index and pouts, “Please, Frankie.”

He swallows a groan when she wraps her full lips around his digit and sucks. The wet hot plush of her mouth makes his eyelids flutter and weakens his resolve.

“I don’t think—”

She pulls his finger from her mouth like a lollipop and bats her eyelashes at him, cooing, “Don’t you wanna fuck me like you did the other night? Didn’t that feel good?”

“Well, yeah—”

“We can be quick.”

As she reaches for his belt, something moves at the edge of his vision.

“Mommy, Daddy!”

He looks at the doorway to find Sarah in the hall, holding one penguin toy in each of her pudgy toddler fists. A big, toothy grin spreads across her face and she giggles, galloping into the room.

Thankful for the diversion, Frankie smiles and takes a big step away from his wife, crouching down to ask Sarah, “Hey sweetheart, what’re you doing in here?”

“Showing Chacha my penguins,” she tells him, holding up her toys, “This one is an emperor penguin, and this one is a macaroni penguin!”

“Chacha?”

Something inside him drops to the floor. He looks up and sees you emerge from Sarah’s room. You pause briefly in the hallway, glancing at Angie before meeting his gaze. The pained look on your face rips his heart in two.

“I, umm…” you stammer, dropping your eyes to the floor and shaking your head, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to intrude, I was just—leaving. There’s a thing and-and I have to go.”

With this, you flee down the hall, then the stairs, your footsteps still echoing heavy in his head while the front door slams shut.

—

“Whiskey coke?”

You look up from the bar top’s glossy wood finish to give Bubba a nod.

“Ain’t seen you around here in a while,” he comments while scooping ice into a glass.

“Yeah.”

It surprises you a little, how hoarse your voice sounds. A self-awareness passes over you and you straighten your spine, glancing around the bar before digging a compact mirror from your purse. By the time you finish rubbing the bleeding mascara from your swollen eyes, Bubba is placing your drink in front of you.

You exchange the mirror for your wallet, but when you fish out your card and hold it out to Bubba, he shakes his head.

“On the house.”

“What, do I get the sad sap discount?”

He chuckles a little at this, then shrugs, “If that’s what you wanna call it.”

“Thanks.”

Leaning forward onto the bar, you pull the glass closer, then stab the ice with your straw a few times. Little bubbles of carbonation fizzle up to the surface and release the gassy scent of rail whiskey. Nostalgia sours your stomach.

“Everything alright?”

A deep ache branches out from the weight beneath your sternum and curls around your shoulders. Every cell in your body feels heavy and burdensome.

Staring at the glass, you shake your head.

“I’m all ears if you wanna talk about it.”

“It’s a long, messy story.”

“I got time.”

You glance up at him, studying his concerned expression, and sigh, “You know that guy who meets me here sometimes? Brown hair, usually wearing a hat? Started a fight that one time?”

“The vet?”

“Yeah,” you nod and swallow down the thickness in your throat, then tell him, “We’ve been off and on for years. He’s, umm… he’s married. I was their nanny when it started. I fell in love with him. He made it clear he didn’t feel the same and he wouldn’t leave his wife, but I kept seeing him because I’m an idiot.”

“Sounds like you kept seeing him because you loved him, not because you’re an idiot,” Bubba observes.

“Same difference,” you shrug and tilt your head at your drink, “He’s an alcoholic. After his wife caught us fucking, he went off the rails completely. Still kept seeing him even though he kept me at an arm’s length and drank himself dumb every night. The thing is… I never believed him when he said he couldn’t love me like I loved him. I felt it, and I thought…”

Tingles work up your throat behind your eyes, and everything becomes blurry as you choke out a sob.

“I’m sorry—”

“It’s ok.”

You shake your head and wipe away your tears, but they keep coming.

“I thought if I kept loving him he would see how good it could be and come around. I thought he would admit to himself that he does love me like I love him. I wanted that with him so bad, I just couldn’t fucking let go. Then, umm…”

You clear your throat and take a deep, shaky breath.

“I had to give him an ultimatum. Her or me. He picked her. I cut it off and tried to move on with my life. He called me a few months ago from jail and asked me to bail him out. I got roped into being his custodian while he’s on parole, so he’s been living with me. We agreed not to get involved in, umm, that way again.

“He’s been sober and opening up emotionally while working through this shit. It’s been really hard. But it’s also been good, you know, because we’ve had to hash out all these problems that we’ve ignored for years. I’ve been able to see the real him, and… I love him more than I ever have.”

“Uh-huh,” Bubba raises an eyebrow at you, crossing his arms above his beer belly, “So what happened that’s got you in a fuss? He still doesn’t love you back?”

The question pierces your heart.

Your voice balances a tightrope as you confess, “I thought he did. I really did this time, I was so fucking certain. He promised he would fix it, that we could be together—and I fucking believed him—”

Waves of emotion swell in your chest and flood your eyes with hot tears. You fold forward, burying your face in your hands, releasing sob after sob as you replay the last two months in your head and wonder how you could be so fucking stupid to think it was real.

The world around you melts away until it’s just you and that dense, pulsing pain. Like it’s always been. Like it always will be.

It doesn’t matter how hard you try to help him. It doesn’t matter that you love him more than anything else in this world. It doesn’t matter.

Nothing matters, because he doesn’t love you and he never will.

A hand rests on your shoulder blades and pulls you back to reality. So lost in your self-pity, you didn’t notice Bubba come around the bar to console you. You sit up and wipe your eyes, mumbling out an apology.

“It’s fine, darlin’. Can I do anything to help?”

Sniffling, you shake your head, “I’ll be ok.”

“You sure?”

You inhale a shattered breath and give him a weak smile, “Fifty-fifty.”

He furrows his brow and studies you for a moment before nodding, then taking a step back.

As he makes his way back to his side of the bar, you stare at your drink. A fat droplet of moisture rolls down the thick condensation lining the glass and gets swallowed up by the cardboard coaster beneath.

You wish you could forget about him.

You wish you could feel nothing.

You wish you could hurt him the way he’s hurt you.

So, you pluck out the straw, raise the cup to your lips, and start drinking.

—

The setting sun paints the wispy clouded sky above a brilliant shade of orange. Beneath his feet, the soles of Frankie’s shoes scuff against the driveway. He glances down at his mom, with her arm hooked in his, and says, “Thanks for coming out, Mamá. I hope you had a good time.”

“It was a very nice party, mijo.”

She gives him this stifled polite smile like she’s holding something back. So he prods her.

“What?”

She waves him off, “Nada nada.”

“Come on, Ma.”

They come to a stop at the driver’s side door of her car and turn to face each other. She studies him a moment, then gives in with a huff, “You have been like this all afternoon. Why?”

“Like what?”

“So stormy.”

He deflates, “Don’t worry about it.”

Her lips purse as she tilts her head at him. The ‘don’t make me smack you’ look.

“It’s messy, mom. How I’m feeling,” he wrings a hand behind his neck and shrugs, “I don’t know. Everything is a mess and it’s all my fault.”

“All your fault how? Did something happen?”

“No—well,” he catches himself, swallows, then corrects, “Yeah. I did something bad. And I lied about it. Then I got caught in the lie, and, you know…”

She nods slowly, waiting for more.

“I think I might be a bad person.”

Her expression softens when Frankie says it. She cups his cheeks and stares straight into his soul. Suddenly, he’s five years old all over again, Mamá comforting his bruised heart.

“There is a good man inside you. I know him well because he’s my son. Let him be brave.”

He absorbs this for a moment, then croaks, “Ok.”

“Give me a hug.”

He hunches over to hug her, burying his face in her neck, “Quiero mucho, mamá.”

“Yo a ti,” she squeezes him, then pulls back and asks, “Will you call me tomorrow?”

“Sure.”

He waits for her to get in her car and drive away before returning to the house. Inside, he finds Sarah and Benny reading a book on the couch, while the siren song of the party still roaring out back rubs at his nerves.

Frankie pulls out his phone to confirm you, predictably and rightfully, did not respond to his messages or calls. Reconciling with you will be a fucking nightmare. Going home to face the consequences seems less appealing with each passing second.

He starts to consider other options.

He could stay and drink. Join the party. Doubtful that Angie or any of her people would give a shit. Hell, they would probably encourage him.

Better yet, he could stay and drink by himself in the garage. There’s enough booze laying around, nobody would notice if he drained a bottle or two in order to reach that blissful numb.

He plops down on the couch next to Sarah and brings his attention to Benny’s reading.

“—‘Now stop!’ Max said and sent the wild things off to bed without their supper. And Max the king of all wild things was lonely and wanted to be where someone loved him best of all. Then all around from far away across the world he smelled good things to eat so he gave up being king of where the wild things are.

But the wild things cried, ‘Oh please don’t go—we’ll eat you up—we love you so!’ And Max said, ‘No!’ The wild things roared their terrible roars and gnashed their terrible teeth and rolled their terrible eyes and showed their terrible claws but Max stepped into his private boat and waved goodbye… and sailed back over a year and in and out of weeks and through a day… and into the night of his very own room where he found his supper waiting for him… and it was still hot.”

Benny flips the paperback closed and looks down at Sarah, who yawns and rubs her eyes, then to her father.

“Still want that ride home?”

Frankie considers this for a moment before nodding, “Yeah. Let me put her to bed and talk to Ang, then we can take off.”

#designated person #frankie morales #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales x you #frankie morales x ofc #francisco catfish morales #frankie catfish morales #francisco morales #triple frontier #frankie morales fanfiction #frankie morales angst #x reader #pedro pascal character fanfic #pedro pascal #pedro pascal character #pedro pascal character fic

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fear-is-truth · 3 months

Text

𝜗ϱ 𝑨𝑵𝑻𝑯𝑬𝑴 𝑶𝑭 𝑺𝑼𝑪𝑪𝑬𝑺𝑺 ── kai anderson

꒰ 𝒌𝒂𝒊 𝒔𝒆𝒆𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒉𝒐𝒘 𝒔𝒕𝒓𝒆𝒔𝒔𝒆𝒅 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒂𝒓𝒆 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒔𝒄𝒉𝒐𝒐𝒍 ꒱

˚₊ ⊹ 𝒓𝒆𝒒𝒖𝒆𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒅 𝒃𝒚: @yoursweetestgirl ˚₊ ⊹

𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒄𝒂𝒏𝒐𝒏 𝒕𝒂𝒈𝒔: college student!fem reader. legal age gap. sfw + nsfw content. probably ooc. typical kai behaviour (toxic, controlling, sexist ) talks of murder, blackmail.. spanking

𝓐/𝖭 : sorry it’s super ooc.. but i heavily relate to being stressed out by school, so here you go.

𝜗ϱ

imagine yourself stressing over a very important exam:

okay first of all, kai would use this as an opportunity to mansplain his philosophy on “self-growth”.

you know, that speech about “a larvae bee has to shed its skin to become queen”. etc.

and if you’re crying, don’t expect kai to go soft on you. he’d tell you point blank to stop being so weak.

then, he’d do a pinky power ritual with you and ask: “how bad do you want this?”

you can might as well kiss your moral compass goodbye because kai is very persuasive and there’s a good chance that he’d successfully corrupt you.

“in an unfair world, there's no such thing as ‘cheating.’ it's a quicker, smarter path to success. if you don’t seize the opportunity, someone else will take it.”

being a man of action, kai will do anything for you. fuck morals (as if he has any, ha)

given his computer programming skills, he'd hack into the system to steal the answers for the upcoming exam.

also ‘modify’ your grades a bit while he's at it, maybe even sabotage other peoples’ too.

if you’re immune to kai’s gaslighting and insist that you want to study yourself, then fine. he’d let you skip a couple of cult meetings.

when you’re studying in the house, kai would tell the rest of the cult members not to stick around after meetings.

you’d have to make up for it, though. like clean up the trash or something.

——————————————————————————————

imagine yourself in danger of failing your worst subject:

failing your classes? leave it to kai. he would find a way to blackmail or threaten your professor into letting you pass.

if the subjects that you’re struggling with happens to be mathematics or science, you’re in luck because he’s very good at it.

fair warning, kai is not the most patient teacher. he’d get frustrated and think that you’re stupid if you don’t get it right.

——————————————————————————————

imagine yourself being bullied at school

if someone at school is giving you shit, he’d stalk them on social media and send winter to spy for him.

a few days later, that person won’t be bothering you again. or breathing.

——————————————————————————————

imagine yourself experiencing study burnout:

on more than one occasion, you experience study burnout, skipping meals and pulling all-nighters.

kai would get super pissed. like how dare you wreck your body over something stupid like this?

the unhealthy lifestyle will affect your reproductive hormones and menstrual cycles, ultimately reducing your chances of fertility success. (sorry i had to add this)

he’d enforce a bedtime on you. lights out at eleven thirty– no ifs, ands, or buts.

“if you're incapable of handling your own sleeping schedule, someone else has to step in and do it for you. bed. now.”

and more mansplaining:

“why’d you seek academic validation to prove superiority? a perfect gpa or fancy diploma won’t help you change history-”

despite being his annoying self, kai would still take care of you. in his own way.

he makes sure that your basic needs are met, like having three meals a day, staying hydrated etc.

kai doesn’t cook, (kitchen work is for women, in his opinion) so he either orders takeout or microwaves pizza for you.

kai very skilled at reading people, to the point that it’s kind of scary. he can easily pick up on your frustration just from the smallest signs– a faint furrow of your brow, the way you purse your lips or tap your foot.

when this happens, he’ll snatch away your textbook or laptop and insist that you take a quick shower.

“get yourself cleaned. no point in sitting here, growing mold and not achieving anything.”

kai joins you in the shower, saying that he was gonna do it anyways and you might as well shower together to save water (oh so now he cares about the environment)

he washes your hair for you, acting like it was no big deal. needless to say, one thing leads to another..

- venturing into ˚₊ ⊹ NSFW ˚₊ ⊹ territory, mdni!! -

kai has an very… interesting method of helping you improve your memory.

he’d have you over his knee and quiz you with textbook material.

you’d get spanked for every wrong answer.

every time you make a “breakthrough”, for instance finishing that assignment or finally grasping the difficult material, he'd glance at you with the faintest hint of approval in his eyes.

followed by celebratory sex. (a win-win situation)

after a long study session, you can count on him to fuck the stress out of you.

TAGLIST: @slvt4jamesmarch @kaismanwich @maddaline @evpeters87 @lacucarachapisser @officerballs @howtobesasha @lissasharp @feefymo @stveharringtn @nickrhodeslittledarling @bluerthanvelvet444 @r8ttenapples @nahoyasboyfriend @taintandviolent @babygorewhore @kai-slut @doll3tt33 @babydollxxblood @coentinim

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poppy-metal · 2 years

Note

"we shouldn't be doing this" sex with Eddie where he's been trying to leave you alone so your reputation doesn't get ruined but you keep trying to hang out with him and he's so obsessed with you that he caves every time. When you finally sleep together he gets sooo drunk off your pussy but he's still mumbling a moaning "we shouldn't- we shouldn't do this-" into your neck, into your chest, into your mouth, but he keeps going. He doesn't stop. You beg him to fuck you harder, tell him you want him so bad and he tells you you shouldn't but complies anyway. Your cunt is so wet that you're soaking his happy trail and your whining is addictive and you keep looking at him like he put the stars in the sky just for you. Your panties are tucked away in his back pocket as a memento because he's so sure that he won't let this happen again, for your sake, but when you keep coming back for more... with your pretty smile and bedroom eyes... how could he resist?

eddie trying so hard to be valiant and failing because he can't say no to you is my favorite thing ever in the whole wide world.

he's shocked by how much you dont care because the anxiety of people being mean to you because of him eats him up inside. he's all about non conformity and fuck what other people think until it comes to you because the thought of people saying the kind of things they say about him to you? it makes him feel violent and he doesn't consider himself a violent person at all.

so, all this to say, he puts up a fight. hes not standoffish, because hes weak to your smile, it makes his legs feel like jello, but he puts up boundaries at first. doesn't let himself sit too close to you, doesn't share the blunts he rolls you because then he'll get stuck in his head about indirect kisses because, yes, his crush on you is that bad. he doesn't let himself hang out with you after midnight, or brush your hair behind your ear like he wants to when it falls into your face.

you push though.

you ask to see him for longer, you scoot closer into his space because you're interested in what he has to say, you pluck his own blunt from his lips and take a hit, completely ignoring the separate one he made for you, you show up at his trailer in your skirts and high thighs with your twinkling lips and soft eyes and curiosity about his life and just him in general and hes pretty much your slave.

he hears himself stuttering when you lean in to kiss him, hears him choke out some shitty excuse about not wanting to ruin your reputation or hurt you. he says all these things, and still you move closer and its like his brain shuts off the second you settle yourself on his lap and ask him to "touch me eddie, please." the moral part of his brain goes bye, bye, and by the time it clicks back on, all fuzzy, your legs are around his head and hes got a mouth full of your wet cunt. he pulls back, your eager little clit throbbing in protest from where he'd been tonguing it hungrily, god he'd been eating at you like some kind of animal, but fuck you'd loved it. his lips are shiny with you when he has the wherewithal to say,

"we shouldn't be doing this. you shouldn't be letting me do this."

but do the words even matter when hes shoving his jeans down as he says them, pushing your thighs out and up so your pussy plumps up to him? he doesn’t think so. still, he shakes his head like this is bad, bad, bad, and he knows it, his hair shifting around his pale shoulders, as he rubs the fat head of his cock through your weeping slit, taps it lewdly against your little button just to see you jerk.

you say, "want you to be my first. want your cock inside me, eddie please, show me what its like. want you to fuck me."

there goes his moral compass again. clicked off. he thinks he says something like, "aw, hell." before hes shifting his hips, and his cock is enveloped in the warm wet hug of your cunt.

its just sensation after that. warm. tight. hot. wet. so fucking wet and tight, like a vice around his cock, you're gripping him like your pussies hungry for it, dripping all the way down to his fucking balls, and he can hear the loud wet slap of them, god, you're more slutty then he gave you credit for, all those school girl skirts and high thighs and stuffed animals are jusr a ruse, huh? just a little ruse trying to disguise the fact that you're a naughty girl with a dirty cunt that wants to be fucked.

he must be saying all this out loud, babbling it probably in some delirious haze your pussy has cast over him because your eyes are crossing and you're nodding like you're agreeing.

you guys shouldn't be doing this, yeah, but hell, if an angel walks willingly into a demons lair, what do you really expect to happen?

#ask #eddie spaghetti #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x reader

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gunpowdercarousel · 8 months

Text

I feel like BG3 has some really interesting themes of emasculation

Throughout the game it's rare to find a major male character that's depicted as traditionally strong or even 'strong' in any way without having some crippling weakness or insecurity. Even just beyond the simple fact that all three male origin characters have EIGHT STRENGTH, there's deeper stuff.

Wyll: The legendary Blade of Frontiers, a folkloric hero and champion of the people, who is powerless before his master - a woman. She literally treats him like a dog - a puppy even - and is always there to drag him back down the instant he gets too confident in himself. His questline is mostly defined by his sense of powerlessness, especially in the face of the seemingly untouchable woman he serves.

Gale: Used to make love to a literal goddess, only for her to dump his ass. He nearly killed himself trying to figure out a way to win her back, only to be left with a curse that's basically ruined his life. And the first interaction between them we see in the game is her telling him via messenger to kill himself for her sake. And he is totally willing to do so.

Astarion: On the surface, he seems like a suave and confident flirt; a rake. He's full of himself, has a zest for life, loose morals, and overall just seems like a debaucherous playboy, when in reality he's deeply traumatized from two centuries of being tortured, abused, and used. He feels broken and powerless, and is so thoroughly desperate for some degree of power that he'll try reading the Necronomicon without a second thought just in hopes it'll help him.

Ketheric Thorm: A man defined by his relationship to the women in his life. He lost his mind when his wife died and somehow lost it AGAIN when his daughter died. He gave up everything he had - his own identity - to try and bring her back, only for her to hate and scorn him. And in the end, his skull is crushed to pulp by his daughter's girlfriend. The same woman who he drew his immortality from. His awesome power - his indestructability - was something he siphoned away from a woman.

Raphael: The scheming, suave, smooth-talking devil who seems untouchably powerful and impossibly smug throughout the entire game. And yet, when you finally infiltrate his House of Hope, you find out he's really completely terrible in bed, has low self-esteem, and is desperate to prove himself. In many ways he's pathetic. Impressive in the beginning, certainly, when you're utterly powerless before him, but by the time you actual visit his manor you see him for what he truly is: an angry, little man full of hot air.

Cazador: A victim of his own master, who's just desperate for power. Despite being a terrifyingly powerful vampire lord and one of the most powerful and influential people in the city, he just comes across as pathetic and whiny when you finally meet him in person.

Meanwhile, if you look at many of the women in the game - Vlaakith, Mystra, Zariel, Mizora, Shar - they're god-like in power, if not the most morally righteous people in the world, to say the least. Hell, the main villain of the game - the Absolute - is depicted with a feminine voice.

It's just kind of interesting to me how the game depicts so many men in the game as being weak, ineffectual, or pathetic. And yet for the Origin boys it doesn't do it in a scornful or negative way. It just depicts them as flawed people and victims, either of themselves or of circumstance. It doesn't try to show the male heroes being especially strong or cool, it's more than happy to depict them as soft and weak and vulnerable.

It's the seemingly impressive male villains that the game likes to tear down and expose for being pathetic weaklings, which - of course - I'm fine with xD

I'm sure I've missed some other characters, like Gortash or whatever, but these are the main ones that came to mind.

Anyway, just a random thought.

#baldur's gate 3 #baldur's gate iii #gale #gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #wyll #wyll ravengard #wyll bg3 #bg3 astarion #astarion bg3 #astarion

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risuola · 18 days

Text

i. you were beautiful like this // suguru geto x f. reader

contents: blood mentioned, reader discretion is advised — 0,3k

a/n: so, uhh... i really wanted to write something for geto, my beloved little psycho meow-meow and i came up with this kind of dark story, but hey... damaged, morally grey reader is still reader am i right? consider this a prologue.

𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚌𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚕𝚢 𝚌𝚞𝚛𝚜𝚎𝚍 || masterlist

“You’re beautiful like this.”

The whisper just barely loud enough to reach your ears left his mouth and your world stopped at the gentle touch of his rough knuckles against the bruised curve of your cheek, accompanied with the soft-spoken praise. You were breathtaking in his eyes, with red streaks of violence drying slowly over your tender skin and with hair stuck to your sweaty forehead and neck. You were stunning, with your chest heaving and the sound of your heart rambling so fast below your ribcage made him swoon in desire.

“So incredibly beautiful.”

He spoke right into your skin, pressing his hungry mouth against the pulse above your collar bone, following the line of muscles until he reached your jaw, your chin, your lips. Sweet taste of nothing but iron spread over his tongue and he darted it forward craving more.

You gasped, the breath shook in your chest and your eyes fluttered shut but you melted. You wanted to melt, to have him possess you. You felt hot and cold at the same time, dizzy from the intense events that you went through, that he made you go through. You felt weak, exhausted. Ecstatic.

“Thank you for joining me.”

He made it all worth it. His voice, as soft as ever, made your heart swell and a smile tugged on your lips, despite the pain you felt in every cell of your body. His name filled every thought you had and a soft sound left your mouth when his thumb entered it, slipping through your parted lips and pressing on your tongue. The rest of his fingers curled around your chin, held your face up for him to see, to examine, to take in.

You were a vision. To him, you were everything he wished for, and much more.

Beautiful.

Loyal.

Blind.

Obedient.

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autistichalsin · 5 months

Note

Both Karlach and Halsin are buff capable adults with strong morality, but inside THEY ARE KIDS FULL OF JOY TO BE ALIVE IN THE WORLD FULL OF WONDERS as Oak Father Intended

So strong, so fragile, as life itself LET THEM LOVE LET THEM BE

GOD BUT THIS PART.

They're adults, traumatized, with both having experienced the worst the world can offer, having their freedom and autonomy denied to them, socially isolated. Both have the Outlander background. Both lost their families, both are war veterans.

Yet they both are still so full of love and joy. Halsin is unable to show it the way he wants to when we meet him, while Karlach never wavers from it, yet at the end they're both able to show who they are. How they love LIFE itself more than anything, how they're so full of kindness and compassion and love to protect the weak.

Karlach isn't certain she wants kids at first, but Halsin is- yet when you bring the idea up to her, she warms to it at once. She also teases the idea of getting a "really mean goat." You know who loves all life, all animals? Halsin.

If you bring Karlach to the love dryad and are asked where she'll be in 10 years, you can say "worshipping Selune"; Karlach responds that she's nice, but Karlach is more of a sunshine girl herself.

Sunshine.

What is Halsin's quest about again? Bringing something back to a certain cursed land?

... Right. SUNLIGHT. "If the sun shines on this place once more..."

Sunlight is essential for life. Essential for plants to grow. Halsin wants to infuse life and light back into the Shadow-Cursed Lands, and Karlach alludes to the god of sunlight as being perhaps the only one she'd consider becoming a follower of.

AND YOU KNOW WHAT ELSE? If Karlach asks Halsin for stories, he mentions how while everyone wants the most exciting chapters, he spends plenty of time hibernating in bear form. Karlach gets excited, saying "sleep AND adventure! Maybe I'll come back as a bear in some future life!"

IF THAT ISN'T SYMBOLISM, I DON'T KNOW WHAT IS!

Both are protective of those who need it most. Both have a great deal of empathy. Karlach is more childish in many ways than Halsin, but this could help him let his playful side out more, while Halsin's maturity could help ground Karlach when she needs it. Karlach is always raring to go for a good fight, never straying from what needs to be done, while Halsin is more pragmatic and able to understand when a fight will accomplish nothing. They offset each other in so many good ways while retaining the same core personality- warm, loving, full of life and care and compassion.

Both are touch-starved; you can see how Halsin reacts to being hugged in the epilogue, stating that he always needs a hug and if he ever refuses one, to assume he's been replaced by a doppelganger, while Karlach went without for TEN YEARS. Both are socially isolated, Halsin having been made a sex slave, lost his family, endured the Shadow Curse, and then forced into a leadership role, while Karlach lost her family too, was dragged into hell to fight for ten years where none of her "comrades" would have been worth talking to, and now faces a terminal illness on top of that.

In all the party banters in the Shadow-Cursed Lands, it's KARLACH who shows the most concern for Halsin's mental state, who is horrified when he talks about what he witnessed and how it still affects him. A soft "poor man" in one, and a "stay strong, bear man, we're still here" in another. Karlach is able to see that just once, Halsin wants to be soothed the way he does for others. And similarly, it's Halsin to tell her he "will not try to soothe her with gilded words" but that he "is still here" for her when Karlach finally realizes the truth of her impending death, because Halsin can see that in that moment, Karlach doesn't want to be told it'll be okay; she wants to be told that she isn't alone, that her presence, for however short a time it'll linger, will be cherished by those close to her. Instinctively, they understand these needs the other has at their worst, darkest moments.

I just love them a lot, okay?

#halsin #halsin silverbough #karlach #karlach cliffgate #bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #furioso

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pedroshotwifey · 8 months

Text

Bad Idea

Pairing: Frankie Morales x F!Reader

Word Count: 3.3k

Tags/Warnings: NO use of Y/N, sex pollen, dubcon but not rly (just putting this here bc of the pollen), piv sex, softdom Frankie, smut, fluff, friends to lovers, Frankie is a fucking sweetheart, oral sex (f receiving), breeding kink if you squint, unsafe sex (wrap it before u tap it, babes), ill add more shit later if I missed something

Summary: While on a mission, you and Frankie find yourselves covered in some kind of pollen and realize that there is no chance you'll be able to resist each other.

A/N: Sorry it took so long for me to finish this, I hope it was worth the wait! I'm not really sure what compelled me to make this so fluffy, but it's there, so, like, I hope you people like fluff. Likes, comments, and reposts are extremely appreciated <3 (Also feel I would love to start getting some requests in if anyone's up for it)

***

You knew this was a bad idea.

It always is, accepting any kind of job that Santi offers you. But the asshole knows your weakness. He mentioned Frankie would be there and you were in. Suckered once again. He, and the rest of the group for that matter, seem to be well aware of your infatuation. Except for Frankie, of course. He’s never really seemed to pick up on it. Which, honestly, you’re not sure is a good thing or not.

You’ve been harboring a massive crush on Frankie since the first time you were introduced. You and Santi–against your better judgment–had been longtime friends when he brought you to a local bar to meet up with some of his other buddies. You had been away on a job for the last year or so, so when he heard you were back in town he jumped at the opportunity. You hadn’t expected much, already knowing Ben and Will meant that you would only be meeting two guys you wouldn’t be familiar with.

What you really didn’t expect was for one of them to be a devilishly handsome and ridiculously charming bachelor. Frankie had absolutely taken your breath away the first time you laid eyes on him. You two had hit it off immediately, practically separating from the rest of the group as you polished off drinks and told stories from your military days for the remainder of the night.

Fortunately, you kept in touch through mutuals and occasionally worked together on smaller jobs–thank god for Santi. (But also fuck him.) Unfortunately, nothing ever came of it. Frankie never showed any kind of explicit interest in you, so you never pushed it. You were perfectly content to just be friends if that’s all he was willing to give you.

That's exactly why it’s such a problem when you find yourself coated head to toe in some kind of powder, right next to Frankie, who received a dusting as well. Your walkie is going off at your hip and you briefly register Tom’s voice coming through the receiver. He is positioned right behind the two of you and got the perfect view of whatever the fuck just happened. One second the two of you were walking, looking for any signs of landmines or traps around the building you are targeting for the mission, and the next your vision was completely compromised by a soft yellow pollen.

“Fuckkk,” you hear Frankie mutter next to you. You look at him with wide eyes as the powder settles on your skin, eliciting a tingling sensation wherever it touches. The said sensation, however, becomes the least of your problems when you feel the amount of slick that suddenly coats your panties. Your knees buckle and you have to drop your gun to hold your balance, which doesn’t seem to help much as you continue your descent to the forest floor. Frankie’s hand quickly shoots out and steadies you by your elbow but it only makes it worse.

The feeling of his skin on yours acts as a balm on your quickly overheating flesh and you moan involuntarily at the feeling. He retracts his hand as if you had burned him and the action would have embarrassed you if not for the moan that slips out of Frankie’s lips, as if he had felt the same thing. At least it’s not just you. At the sound, you feel another wave of arousal coat your already-soaked panties, the wetness growing extremely uncomfortable as the fabric starts to stick to your cunt.

“Uh, F-Frankie,” your voice sounds weak as you call for him. You have no idea whether or not he heard you, but you take a guess based on the pained groan that escapes his lips. The sound is like heaven as it reaches your ears.

Your vision grows slightly blurry as a sudden need to be fucked takes over all of your senses. Without Frankie’s hand to help you up, you let yourself fall the rest of the way so you can lie down on the ground beneath you. You watch as Frankie’s blurred form follows suit with a groan. You start to inch toward his writhing body until you hear Tom’s voice again, this time it sounds much clearer, like the connection is getting better as he gets closer to you. You struggle as you pick up your walkie and press the button.

“D-don’t come any closer, we're covered in some kind of f-fucking pollen.” You have to take a breath before explaining further. “It’s itchy and it’s everywhere, stay where you’re at.” You don’t bother listening to his panicked response as you tuck the walkie back into the clip on your pants. Your skin feels tight and you can feel your clit starting to throb between your legs. It feels like the smallest amount of friction would grant you an orgasm, and as good as that sounds right now, you would rather not cream your pants in front of your crush.

“Fuck,” Frankie repeats his statement from earlier, his voice strained and raspy. “We need to get out of here.” You nod your agreement and crawl your way toward him, ignoring the way his skin feels so cool against your own as you reach out to help him up. The both of you use each other to get back to your feet. By the time you’re standing, the feeling is less overwhelming than it had been at first, enough so that you’re able to hold your balance this time. You pick up the weapons you had dropped while Frankie comms the rest of the guys to let them know what happened

You definitely got the most of the blow, as you were the one who had stepped on whatever the fuck that plant was. Frankie had only been a few feet behind you and had been exposed to a good bit, but likely nowhere near what you had been covered in. At least one of you is lucid enough to figure out what to do next. You hear the tail end of the conversation before Frankie signs off of the walkie and bends down next to you.

“Alright, Hermosa, I’m going to get you out of here, okay?” You hiss as Frankie wraps his arms around your sensitive skin, picking you up bridal style.

“Fuck, Frankie, it hurts,” you whine and tuck your head into his neck, breathing in his scent. He is shaking slightly and even you can feel the way his skin has started to heat up. “I know, sweetheart, just hold on for me.” You nod into him and close your eyes, only opening them when you feel your body being set down in what you assume is the passenger seat of Frankie’s truck. He leans over you and you have to resist the urge to grab onto him as he buckles you in.

You close your eyes again and wait until you hear Frankie get into the driver’s seat before you speak.

“I think I saw a motel a few miles from here.” Your throat feels like sandpaper as you struggle to get the words out. “I think I saw it, too.” Frankie’s voice doesn’t sound much better. The entire way to the motel the only thing you can focus on is how your nipples are rubbing painfully against your bra and how fucking bad you want to suck this man’s cock. Your thighs keep clenching and rubbing together and you have to bite down on your lip so as not to moan at the slight pressure. You feel like you’re going to explode.

“Think you can walk, sweetheart?” You nod at Frankie’s question as he turns the truck off. His voice still sounds pained and you’re not even sure if yours will work at this point. He keeps one arm around you just in case as the two of you walk into the motel. He gets keys for two rooms and you feel a twinge of disappointment. It only lasts a second though, because you can’t think of much else than the fact that everything feels hot and sensitive.

As soon as Frankie gets the keys, he leads you to the rooms. They're side by side so you won’t be far from him, and the fact that he will be in such close proximity, likely doing exactly what you’ll be doing, is enough to cloud your judgment again. And fuck, now you’re thinking about his cock again. You know it has to be big, there’s no way it isn’t, not for a man like him. Frankie sets one hand on the small of your back and leans over you to unlock your room for you. You gasp to cover your moan as you suddenly feel something else against your back, definitely not his hand this time.

“You’ll be okay?” Frankie’s concerned tone cuts you out of your spiraling thoughts. You look up into his own lust-blown eyes. He looks fucking wrecked. God, you would get on your knees in the middle of this dirty hallway for him right now if he only asked. “Yeah, you?” You ask when he doesn’t. He nods slowly, and you let your eyes fall to his plush lips before trailing back up to meet his gaze again. He says your name lowly, like a warning, and you lick your lips, ignoring his tone.

You roll your hips back against his while keeping eye contact, watching Frankie groan as you grind on him. His hands fall to your hips and he begins to guide you against him. “W-why don’t you come inside?” You ask him breathily. “Are you sure that's what you want?” He steadies your hips and brings his face down so he can whisper in your ear. “If you let me in there, I’m not letting you leave until I’ve properly taken you apart.” You shiver at both the way his words elicit another gush of slick from your cunt and at the way his tone turns dark so quickly, letting you know he means it.

Instead of answering him, you turn on your heel and crush your lips to his, your hands going up to wrap around his neck and thread your fingers through his hair, knocking his hat to the ground. Frankie moans deeply and grabs onto you as he guides you backward into the room. His tongue finds its way into your mouth as he slams you against the door once it's closed, both of you grinding against each other like desperate teenagers. He only breaks apart once he hears you whine in pure desperation.

He steps back and takes in your disheveled appearance, his hand flying to the front of his pants to rid himself of his belt. “Strip, get on the bed.” You don’t need to be told twice. You practically rip your clothes off as you stumble through the room. Each article removed feels like a relief, allowing the cool air to kiss your skin, sticky with sweat. Frankie does the same, both of you completely naked by the time you reach the bed. The sight of his cock hanging flushed and heavy between his molded thighs makes your mouth water.

He quickly climbs on top of you and you both moan at the way your flesh brushes together, temporarily soothing the burning sensation. Frankie wastes no time in lowering himself to a position easiest to lick into your aching cunt.

The first stroke of his tongue makes you scream out and you bring your hand up to cover your mouth. He immediately starts eating you out like a starved man, licking and sucking and fucking you with his tongue like there’s no tomorrow. You throw your head back as your free hand buries itself in Frankie’s hair. He groans when you tug on the strands and you swear you can feel the vibrations run up your spine.

You feel the knot in your stomach growing embarrassingly fast, your entire body tensing as you reach the edge.

“F-fuck, Frankie, fuck-” you unsucessfully attempt to get a sentence out. “God, don’t stop, please, god!” You feel him smirk as he continues his assault, before taking your clit into his mouth and sucking hard.

You think you scream as you climax, but you can’t be sure. There is nothing you can feel, see, or hear other than the orgasm Frankie is currently riding you through. It’s the most intense thing you have ever felt, and you don't know if it's because of the pollen or because it’s Frankie. Probably a good bit of both.

He continues to eagerly lap up your release until you pull him away when the overstimulation starts to become too much. Hand still in his hair, you guide him up your body until you can look above you and into his eyes. Your heavy breathing catches in your throat when you see the sticky liquid dripping down the lower half of his face.

“Oh my god…” you trail off as his smile widens, his tongue coming out to lick his bottom lip. “Look so fuckin’ beautiful when you squirt, Hermosa.” He brings his lips down to yours in a bruising kiss and you sigh as you taste your release on him. Needless to say, you get over your embarrassment pretty quickly.

Despite your orgasm, your skin seems to burn even more than before, and your clit seems to throb out of control. All it takes is one look to know that Frankie feels the same way. His eyes are filled to the brim with tears getting ready to overflow and you have no doubt that your expression matches his own.

Before either one of you gets a chance to say anything, Frankie surges forward and encases your lips in his own. He kisses you sloppily as he pushes you back even deeper into the mattress.

“Gonna f-fuck you now, Hermosa,” he says, his voice bordering a whine. “Need to feel this soft fucking pussy.” You whine in a way you hope signals your agreement, your arms wrapping underneath Frankie’s to let your fingers claw at his back. “Just f-fucking hurry,” you manage to squeak, your skin burning as you grasp at him.

He listens, immediately scrambling to grasp his weeping cock and guide it to your sopping entrance while keeping one forearm settled next to your head for stability. There is almost no resistance as he slips in, bottoming out in one frantic thrust. The two of you moan in unison, capturing each other's desperate noises.

Frankie wastes no time in setting a hurried pace. The force of his thrusts makes the headboard of the bed slam against the wall but you can’t find it in you to care. Your eyes roll to the back of your head as he immediately starts to hit something heavenly within you. The pressure is already building up in your abdomen.

You open your mouth to scream but you find that the punch of his thrusts are restricting your ability to make any kind of sound. Your eyes close as your second orgasm sneaks up on you. With two more frenzied thrusts from Frankie, you’re coming undone around his thick cock.

Frankie hisses as you squeeze around him, the added sensitivity from the pollen enhancing every small stimulant.

“God, not gonna last long in this s-sweet cunt, pretty girl.” Frankie’s voice is pitched an octave higher than usual as he tries to stave off his own orgasm–damn well bordering a whine. You can feel how close he is by the way his dick pulses with need and by the way he clings tighter tighter to the bedsheets beside your head.

“Go ahead, Frankie, need you to come inside me.” He practically whimpers at the request but shakes his head to juxtapose the noise.

“N-no baby, give me o-one more first.” He’s shaking with the amount of effort he’s exerting to hold off. Almost as if your body is listening to his demands before you can process, you find yourself arching your back as you spasm around his cock once again. It takes you by surprise–you didn’t even realize you were that close.

Completely fucked out, you let Frankie use your body to chase his own end. “Come on baby, mark me, come inside,” you slur your permission for a second time. He lets out a guttural groan as he lowers his head to nuzzle into your neck. His strokes get deeper with the lower position and you wince from the overstimulation, though you want more at the same time.

“Yeah, Hermosa, that’s what you want, huh? Let me come inside this pretty pussy, let everyone know who you belong to now? Let everyone know that you’re fucking ruined for any other man?” His pace gets more frantic as his own words spur him on. You whine at the thought of the people knowing that Frankie fucked you, laid his claim on you, made you his.

“Yes, Frankie, God please,” you keen into his ear as you bring one of your hands down to tangle your fingers into his curls, bringing him closer into your neck. “I’m yours, all yours, take what you want, baby.”

Your words push Frankie off the edge and his teeth lock onto your neck while he comes to a stop deep inside you. You pull him closer still, encouraging him to leave his mark. As his seed floods into your cunt, it feels like you jumped into a pool of cool water. Your entire body relaxes further and by the way Frankie settles his weight onto you, you figure he feels the same way.

After his dick stills and softens inside you, the two of you lay there for a moment. You run your fingers through Frankies messed hair while he licks over the mark he made on your throat. It feels like the most natural thing, laying there with him tangled in your arms, his head on your chest, both of you on the verge of sleep. You’re about to drift off when Frankie interrupts the silence in a gentle tone.

“Been wanting to do that for so long, pretty girl,” he says quietly, his voice filled with sleep. Your eyes open and are immediately filled with tears.

Frankie must sense the way you tense up because he quickly lifts up to look at you. You can see the panic that blooms in his eyes as he meets yours. Before he is able to say anything, though, you surge forward, wrapping your arms around his neck and planting your lips onto his.

You feel a few tears drop from your closed eyes, but you ignore them as you continue to kiss him and push until he’s forced to lay on his back, pulling you with him. When you finally separate, you stare into eachothers eyes, both of you with lopsided, love-drunk smiles.

“Me too. I’ve wanted you for so long, Fish, you have no idea.”

“You’re right,” He huffs a laugh as he says it. “I had no idea, I never thought you could feel that way about me. You’re so fucking perfect and I don’t deserve any part of you. I'm just…” he trails off and looks down for a second before meeting your gaze again.

You give him a slightly confused look as you answer him. “I thought I was being so obvious,” you laugh quietly in return. “I’m nowhere near perfect, sweet boy. Even if I was, you deserve anything you could ever want. I want you, Frankie. Do I deserve you?”

He doesn’t miss a beat before he has you pulled into his chest. “Of course, angel, you deserve everything, I’ll give you anything.”

You’re crying again and you wipe away your tears before saying what you need to say. “I love you, Frankie.” You look into his eyes to see that he is tearing up as well.

“I love you too, my perfect girl,” he says softly as he pulls you into a hug and rocks you, his one of his hands on the back of your head, tucking you into his chest. You close your eyes and breath in his scent, knowing that this is where you belong.

pt. 2??

#pedro pascal #fan fiction #ao3 #smut #pedro pascal smut #frankie morales #fluff #triple frontier

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colourstreakgryffin · 8 months

Note

can you do Tanjiro x fem reader where he finds out that she’s been getting bullied and he comforts her?

if you’re not comfortable with that it’s ok, no pressure:3

Oooh! Okay! I think I can definitely do this one as I have a idea for Tanjiro this time. I love this boy so much! I assume this is set in a more Kimetsu Academy AU-based world!

Kamado Tanjiro- Protection Squad

Right from the very beginning, Tanjiro could tell something was wrong with you but he couldn’t place his finger on WHAT the problem actually was. The way you enter the class so gloomy and cry over your lunch in privacy

Who is hurting you?! … and what is their address?

Tanjiro doesn’t like to snoop, even on his crush. To him, it’s offensive and invasive but his concern for you elevates his morality. After a few days, he finally finds out the cause of your misery

Bullies… of course. Why didn’t he see it sooner? Your hidden bruises, the way you pull down your skirt. You have girls picking on you ruthlessly, and he couldn’t protect you from them

He was the worst. Such a idiot, why was he oblivious to your pain?! What kind of boyfriend would he make if he can’t even notice your distress

Tanjiro won’t accept that, girls find you annoying or ugly, in the slightest, his first priority is cheer you up then get those girls disciplined. Tanjiro immediately marches to you and pulls out of the room to talk with you alone

Your bawling breaks his heart into several crumb-sized pieces but he stays strong for you

“Hey! What is going on here?” A familiar yet angelic voice barks out firmly but politely from behind the backs of the typical popular girls that crowded you. It was like this everyday…

The girls would track you down, corner you, pull your hair, harass you, tell you to commit seppuku and berate your sense of self-worth. It has gotten so bad that you cried almost everyday and you never thought anybody would notice your wails for help but with the ways the girls snapped to face the voice, your sore puffy eyes lighten up, almost brighter than the sun as Tanjiro pouted firmly with his arms crossed

“Are you five bullying your junior? That is cruel and inhumane, you should know better! If have a problem! You should just talk about it!” Tanjiro pipes out, stepping closer without letting his eyes wonder off the group huddled over you. Despite his cute friendly face, gorgeous plum red eyes and sympathetic beautiful smile, Tanjiro always emitted this strange yet intimidating aura when he was angry and you could tell that he was angry

You could tell it was effecting the girls as a number of them shivered and cowardly tried to curl into themselves. Tanjiro would never raise a fist to a woman, rather they be cruel to another woman but he wasn’t above scaring them off. Once he had reached the miniature wave of people, his eyes gestured to the obvious black stump on the roof

The security cameras. Tanjiro must have had everything he seen himself be recorded, so he could have solid evidence

The group of over-blinged monstrous seniors rushed off, the blonde leader pulling at their wrists with a angry scowl, she devoted that ‘this was not over’. Once they had waddled away with their tails inbetween their legs, you felt your weakened knees collapse and Tanjiro reacted and acted much faster than you could process what happened and caught you before you could thump onto your knees

“Dokusha. Are you okay? Are you hurt? How long has this been happening? Why didn’t you tell me anything! I could have protected you sooner! Taken you to class every single day until they face punishment” Tanjiro let his heavy concern bleed out of him like a rapidly spilling wound, finally releasing from his tightening heart from it’s shackles as his arms continued to support you and lift you to your weak feet. Not even faltering one bit, Tanjiro kept gazing into your eyes with a soft smile

Those… gorgeous, sympathetic plum reds made you feel warm, fuzzy and glowing. As if all the hate and negativity over those girls’ harsh words were being vacuum-sucked out of your systems. You weren’t alone anymore, Tanjiro is here now and he knows everything but he only wished he knew sooner

He had failed you but no more, he refuses to fail you again

“Let it out, Dokusha… I promise, those girls won’t pick on you again. I will always be with you” Tanjiro gently spoke, treating your emotions as if they were as fragile as glass as he crouched down to pick you off your feet to better hold you in a defensive manner. You would have blown up in hot red blush and hysterically stutter at your longtime crush basically carrying you like a groom does to his bride but you were too upset to realise it, sobbing deeply and covering your face with your dainty, bruised palms

Tanjiro couldn’t standing have to hear your crying, each tear shed and sharp breath felt as if a knife was repetitively shanking his heart and it made him cringe at imaginary pain. You didn’t deserve to be in this much pain, you’re amazing. Why can’t those girls see that? See what he sees in you? You’re so sweet, so kind, so welcoming, so talented, so….

Beautiful

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sweetingseva · 6 months

Text

Jacks, The Boy Who Swore to Never Love ❤️‍🩹🍎✨

Happy Belated Birthday, Jacks! 🥳

I wanted to post this on his actual b-day, but time got the best of me and I wanted to perfect this post with everything I wanted to say about him. Sorry that I took this long, but at least most people have most likely have read ACFTL.

This will have spoilers from Legendary, Finale, Once Upon A Broken Heart, The Ballad of Never After, and A Curse For True Love.

🩸🍎✨~~~🩸🍎✨~~~🩸🍎✨~~~🩸🍎✨

I actually cheated when I first read him. I started reading Legendary but then I stopped and I had forgotten about the Prince of Hearts mentioned in the first few chapters. When Once Upon A Broken Heart came out, I met Jacks again and I instantly fell in love with his character. He was funny, ridiculous, and beyond reckless. The line that sold his character to me?

Jacks had stopped the wedding by turning everyone to stone.

But before I continued with his story in OUABH, I jumped back into Legendary where Jacks was much the same careless boy who wanted royal power because it was the closest to having his full Fate powers. But other than Jacks being stuck inside a deck of cards, we didn’t know much about his story other than he was a dangerous Fate with the one of the most deadly stories out there.

The Prince of Hearts’s kiss was deadly to all. He only had one weakness—his true love—who could survive his kiss of death. As he sought her, he left a trail of corpses.

One could imagine the kind of life Jacks led before he met Tella. Was he a flirt? Did he kiss just any girl? Did he even care about them? Was he still searching for true love? Did he still believe in it?

I had assumed that Jacks was broken to the point that he simply didn’t care anymore. He kissed so many potential lovers, but in the end, none of them made it. We learn in A Curse For True Love that the girls must have truly loved Jacks, which is why all of them fell into the same fate as his first fox.

Until Tella changed the course of his beliefs in Legendary.

His heart started beating. Tella survived Jacks’s kiss despite him delaying her death.

How did this happen? To Jacks, it didn’t matter. Hope washed over him and led him to pursue Tella (even if it was 2 months after the fact). It was clear that Jacks believed in the story and was something he had faith in again. But Tella was in love with someone else, which is the sole reason why she survived Jacks’s deadly kiss.

In ACFTL, Aurora Valor had said that only a person who would never love him can kiss him and live.

That was the true version of his story. Not that his true love could kiss him, but someone who was destined not to be with him. I felt so much for Jacks when I read this. Aurora had cursed him twice, leaving him heartbroken beyond belief. His heart was something that could be owned, not something to be earned.

Before I move on with his reservation for love, I want to dive in deeper in Jacks’s relationships, especially his friendship with Castor Valor (Chaos).

Chaos 🩸🧛🏻

There were three of them—Lyric Merrywood, Castor Valor, and Jacks of the Hollow—that made up the Merrywood Three. Jacks’s old friends who he cared about a lot. In a way, they were like brothers. In The Ballad of Never After, Evangeline opened a curious book and read about the Merrywood Three and a specific Archer who resembled Jacks.

And being human looked good on him—or maybe it was just that he looked happy. In the picture, Jacks was tossing an ordinary red apple and laughing in a way that lit up his entire face. He never looked this happy now, and she couldn’t help but wonder what had changed… His resemblance to the picture was uncanny, and yet the feeling she got from looking at him now was entirely different. It was as if a sculptor had taken a dagger to who he had once been and curved out all the softness.

Jacks was once foolish with hope and love. As a possible Merrywood, he might have been raised with the same generous morals. He believed in doing the right thing, that everything would be all right. It was this selfless faith that pushed Jacks to save his friend, Castor, who had been stabbed in the back. Trying to be the savior, Jacks took a half-dead Castor to Honora Valor who could heal him with her healing magic. But it was too late. Other means had tranformed Castor to a bloodthirsty monster.

Jacks blamed himself for what had happened to him.

Castor was the only friend Jacks had left. Lyric Merrywood and the rest of his family had been killed. The Merrywood Manor was destroyed, and the village was left abandoned. After the Valors were locked up in the Valory behind the Valory Arch, Jacks had became a Fate so that Castor wasn’t alone. This showed that he was a good person.

One of the reasons Jacks had allowed himself to be turned into a Fate was so that Castor wouldn’t be alone. Then he’d started the rumor that Castor was Chaos and that Chaos was a Fate, so that the world wouldn’t figure out he was the last remaining Valor.

This act is one of the most beautiful things about Jacks’s character, and one we shouldn’t ignore. Even though Jacks is known for being callous, cocky, and selfish, his gentle side is the most important facet of his character. It is what drives many of his decision. But behind this decision, Castor had caused so much death and pain. Tragedy after tragedy that no one can take back. This reality must have affected Jacks.

It isn’t weak of Jacks to display these kind of vulnerabilities. I think Stephanie did a great job showing Jacks’s vulnerable side in TBONA and especially in ACFTL. It’s what I always wanted to see from him.

Tella 💙🗡

I remember the first time I saw Jacks pour his heart out and it was in his plead to Tella to love him in Finale.

“You were supposed to be my true love. You were supposed to want me, not him. You were supposed to be as obsessed with me as I am with you… When I told Legend I’d kill you if he didn’t give me the power I needed, I didn’t mean it—I wouldn’t have done it. A part of me even hoped he’d say no, so that you would walk away from him and choose me. I’m selfish, and I want you, but I would never harm you.”

The way he spoke here was such a surprise. Until then, I always thought Jacks was a pest, wedging in between Tella and Legend, but perhaps it wasn’t just about this. It was about Jacks’s need for love, to crave it so much that it didn’t matter that his immortality was at risk. Jacks did everything to win Tella, even to the point that he would rather put a love spell over Tella for her to stay with him if not at all.

Finally, after years and years, Jacks finally found the answer to his curse. A girl had kissed him and made his heart beat. What a sick joke that Aurora pulled on him since this fierce hope eventually caused him pain when the girl stabbed him and chose someone else. His walls stacked up all around his heart and his love again.

No doubt that this was the greatest heartbreak Jacks had ever felt.

But this is just one of the many.

Jacks had lost his first fox girl, his family, his friends, and the soft nature of his heart. Dozens of girls had fallen for him and died, one survived his kiss and made his heart beat but left him heartbroken, and then Evangeline, the girl he truly ever loved, died.

Evangeline 🦊💘

Evangeline Fox is the closest person to who he once was when he was just Jacks of the Hollow. Since the beginning, Evangeline felt gulity when she put her trust into a Fate and turned all of the wedding guests into stone. But it was her belief in love who brought her to Jacks, the Prince of Hearts. Because she believed he knew about heartbreak and unrequited love, Evangeline thought he would be understanding to her plight.

Which she isn’t entirely wrong.

Jacks knew heartbreak, loss, and unrequited love.

But he knew to cover his pain behind this flirtatious and wild personality well.

After Evangeline returned, Jacks was cold as ice. He had lost the only legitimate chance of love. Who wouldn’t be dejected after a rejection? He said it himself, that heartbreak “turns you into a masochist, making you long for the thing that just eviscerated you until there’s nothing left of you to be destroyed.”

It seems like hope is not all lost since Jacks is in search of the stones once more to get back to this “love.” To have another shot with Tella.

Once again, Jacks’s past self shines through with this hope for true love that seemed awfully familiar. But it was the idea of love, not love itself, that Jacks was chasing here.

It was the chance that everything could be good again. That he didn’t need to be alone.

Evangeline was the kind of soul who helped open his heart. In the crypt, Evangeline wasn’t afraid to ask him questions about his story and his heartbreak. Both of them had a common ground, which made it easier for them to talk about their failed chances of love. I truly believed that it was this scene that helped Jacks drop his guard and forget Tella for just a little bit.

For the first time in a while, he had thought of someone’s needs before his. He wrapped Evangeline with her cloak. I’d never forget that gesture. The firsts of the firsts. And it didn’t stop here.

In TBONA, Jacks continued to show that same care toward Evangeline. He protected her against bloodthirsty vampires, her mean stepsister, bratty gossipers, and even curses. Without any catches. He did them without asking anything in return. Without knowing, Jacks had warmed up to Evangeline. They teased each other, got under each other’s skin, and compromised like equal individuals.

It got to the point that their attraction to each other was so clear that LaLa thought Jacks was going to kiss Evangeline in the middle of her engagement party. What was sweet to me, that even though Jacks passed himself as dismissive villain to Evangeline, he truly cared about her and searched for a way to remove the curse bestowed on Evangeline.

He’d told her not to look for a cure to the Archer’s curse. He’d repeatedly said it was pointless. But it seemed as if he was doing just that… Evangeline couldn’t let herself think that Jacks’s search for a cure meant he cared for her. She knew this was true, yet it was getting a little harder to fully believe it. Because she was starting to care for him.

Like Jacks knew more than anyone that the Archer’s curse was unbreakable and yet he still tried to find a way…for Evangeline. My heart can’t take it. I’m seriously swooning all over again. Jacks cares about Evangeline. It’s so tender and soft and selfless that it captures the true aspect of Jacks’s character.

When Jacks and Evangeline are in the Hollow, their relationship develops into something more. Something beautiful and hopeful and a page out of a fairytale. We come to know in ACFTL that their time there was Jacks’s happiest day. EVER. I am distraught. Jacks opens up a little more about what happened at the Merrywood Manor.

Guilt clinged to him as he recalled trying to save Castor, as he tried to be a hero that night. Saving Evangeline was not him being a hero. Which is such a sad thought for him to have and yet it made total sense why he would feel this way. Because he couldn’t be a savior that day, he probably believes that anything he does isn’t enough. He could never save anyone again.

It opened up that raw part of him that we only ever see when he’s with Evangeline. She tries to understand his past and make him realize that he had done kind things for her, like holding her as she cried, carrying her as she bled, and bandaging her wounds when she was lashed via mirror curse. Jacks had been there for her.

The Hollow was the last place he was after he became Fate, which meant it was a place that he couldn’t find himself to return to because of all of the memories. Yet it was the place Jacks allowed himself to live in the moment with Evangeline. Being with Evangeline helped him drop his guard and do things that made my brows jump.

He cuddled with her, had breakfast and lunch with her, and lived a peaceful moment in the middle of all the cursed chaos.

In the morning, you can forget it. You can go back to pretending you don’t like me, and I can pretend that I don’t care. But for tonight, let me pretend you’re mine… If it’s easier, you can pretend, too. You can pretend that I’m still Jacks of the Hollow and that you want to be mine.

Evangeline thought he was being delirous but Jacks quickly set the record straight and denied that he was. It was probably the most genuine request he ever had.

Without a doubt he was in love. So in love. Nothing else was important. You can actually feel the happiness and hopefulness from the page. As much as this was Evangeline's happiness, this was also Jacks's.

Then there comes the moment Evangeline lets him go, tells him what he's feeling isn't real, and that it would all be over.

This was crushing.

Jacks's eyes were red. A flicker of pain passed over his features. He wanted to kiss Evangeline. He knew what he was feeling and yet the girl he has come to love has told him that whatever she was feeling for him was because of a rock.

One-sided love. Like the Hollow once Evangeline took the mirth stone, Jacks turned cold and brushed off Evangeline. He was harsh. He was hurt. When he got back to Chaos's Underground Lair, he turned his room upside down and ate so many apples.

With Evangeline's rejection, Jacks firmly believes that the love meant for him is with Tella. Even if he didn't love her. Even if Tella didn't want him.

The whole confrontation between Evangeline and Jacks revealed to us what Jacks wanted exactly. To go back to Tella, his "true love." Because she was the only who survived his kiss. This was the girl the curse promised him. It was her or no one.

Evangeline thought otherwise. But it didn't matter. Jacks cared so much about her that he rather they never met. Because if they keep going down the path, Jacks will not be able to hold himself back and kissing Evangeline.

His love would destroy her. His kiss would kill her. Jacks would do anything to prevent her from becoming another fox.

Despite what he tells her, Evangeline has become the most important person to him. Nothing has been so clearer than when Jacks's final words to Evangeline before she passed away.

“Evangeline—” His voice was hoarse. “Come back to me.…”

Side note, this was my favorite quote. I think this has to be my most favorite one in all of the books. I remembered gasping when I read it. My jaw literally dropped. It was the most truthful thing that Jacks has ever said.

Come back. To him.

Like, WOWWW!

Unable to accept Evangeline's passing, he took the stones and made a decision. The stones can only grant one wish. He was planning to use it to go back to Tella. But he took them and went back in time to save Evangeline.

“There is nothing of equal value to me.”

HE REWROTE HISTORY. HE CHOSE ANOTHER ENDING FOR THEM.

IS THERE ANY LOVE MORE TRUER THAN THEIRS? We’re finally at that part where we know, without a doubt, that Jacks loves Evangeline. If the “You’re not her” scene left any doubts, then they were long gone at this point. They could be endgame, this could be it, we could finally see a happy evajacks.

Until Apollo Acadian came in possessing a magic given to him by Aurora and tore Evangeline and Jacks apart by taking Evangeline’s memories of the past year.

Now we all know what happened behind the scenes here, so I’ll skip right ahead to the subject on hand. Guilt.

Jacks’s Guilt 💔

This is where Jacks’s heart has been, in a cold and unforgiving place surrounded by thick, tall walls made of steel. Since the beginning, all that Jacks has ever known was tragedy and remorse. When he learned that Evangeline had forgotten her memories, he believed it was because of his fault. Queen Honora had warned him against him going back in time and stopping Castor from killing Evangeline.

“That is not a small mistake to fix. If you do this, Time will take something equally valuable from you.”

Jacks thought that Time woul take it on him. Never Evangeline. He was to blame for Evangeline’s lost memories.

Guilt. It is the reason for the next steps he took in ACFTL. He still thinks that he isn’t a great fit for Evangeline because of his cursed kiss and the possibility that he could kill her if he wasn’t careful. Evangeline is safe with Apollo, happy even, where she should have been if it wasn’t for him. Apollo and Evangeline would have the fairytale love that Evangeline always wanted. Once he knew she could fend for herself, then he would leave forever and throw his heart into the fire of the Phoenix Tree, where he’d never have to feel this much for anyone or anything ever again. This way Evangeline could be safe from him.

If only it was that easy.

Jacks can’t seem to leave Evangeline alone. She’s always in his sight. He loves her, and when Evangeline sees him again, it hurts him to know that she’s not looking at him like before. That she had forgotten everything about him. Despite what Jacks had planned, he wants her to remember him and know him. He has hurt everyone, even her, so it shouldn’t make sense that he deserves a happy ending.

I think this is the most heartbreaking and most truthful thing about Jacks’s character. Because he couldn’t be a hero when Vengeance Slaughterwood killed the Merrywoods, he thinks he deserves so much worse. He deserves nothing.

He’d been brokenhearted. Not in the same sense that most people thought of, as if one person had broken his heart. Jacks’s heart had been broken over and over again unti it was no longer capable of hope and care and love.

Chapter 41 gives us the true reason for why Jacks is the way he is and more. Basically, everything I have listed above communicated between Evangeline and Jacks’s dialogue.

“You died, Evangeline. I held you in my arms as it happened.”

“Jacks … I don’t know what you’re talking about. I never died.”

“Yes, you did. The night you opened the Valory. The first time you did it, I didn’t go with you.” I couldn’t say goodbye. “It was only you and Chaos. As soon as his helm was off, he killed you. I tried to stop him—I tried to save you—but I couldn’t. When I got there, he had already bitten you—and he’d already taken too much blood. You died as soon as you were in my arms. The only thing I could do was use the stones to turn back time. I was warned it would cost me. I didn’t imagine it would take from you.” I’m sorry.

“You don’t need to be sorry, Jacks.”

“It’s my fault.”

Reading this whole exchange broke my heart. I could feel his guilt and suddenly realize that he’s been hiding his guilt behind this confident and careless act. Here, we could see this was another awful thing he did to Evangeline. Before Evangeline went with Chaos, Jacks had hurt her by telling her that he wanted to go back to Tella and that she wasn’t the one he wanted. When Evangeline opened the Valory for the second time, Jacks was yelling at her to leave, being rude to her so that she’d live. He’d been cruel. And that was how it ended between them before she really forgot everything.

I love Evangeline Fox so much. It has been really rare to find a character like her whose strength was her kindness and hope for greater and impossible things. Though this was a story centered around her search for true love, this was Jacks’s culmination of his pain and guilt.

Above everything else, Evangeline chose him for who he was and is. He was the villain, he was her monster, but he was also her true love and hers. This beautiful faith that Evangeline had in Jacks was what ultimately broke his curse. Jacks said “I love you” openly to Evangeline and you can see it as the truth. Sometimes something so simple is so poignant. There’s nothing to say but the truth of it all, and that was how I interpreted Jacks’s confession to her.

When Jacks confronted Apollo about Evangeline’s memories, it was met with fisted hands and brutal curses. I’m so glad we got to see Jacks pour out all his anger on him and let go for once. It was so cool to see. And I think he needed it.

Jacks chose Evangeline. His heart was with her. It didn’t matter to him where they went, as long as it was with her.

Conclusion

Pain is what made Jacks. I used to think he was being dramatic when he said it to Evangeline in OUABH. How could I? Haha. I even believed he was heartbroken because of Tella. But his pain wasn’t just about her, it was about everything that happened in his past. Lyric. Castor. The First Fox Girl. The girls he kissed and killed. Evangeline’s death and lost memories. His failure of being a hero.

In the Caraval trilogy, Jacks was aloof, troubling, and selfish. He wanted power. Then his heart started beating soon after it was clear Tella survived his kiss. He wanted love, no matter if it wasn’t real. Unlike the other Fates, Jacks wanted something simple and beautiful as someone choosing him because they loved him.

Even when he found that love, Jacks had selflessly chosen Evangeline’s safety over his desires because he cared about her. At heart, he had always been a caring and hopeful person. In the end, Jacks found happiness and Evangeline found her great love.

Nothing can stop them now.

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vainvenus · 2 months

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hey freaky ppl. my request is really simple bc i need to recover from this angst fic i read of sejanus LMAO

so i was thinking of peacekeeper sej and covey reader, but the way they meet is completely different. he would catch the reader sneaking off over the fence with a bag of supplies.

i’m thinking that someone at the covey had gotten ill and the reader was met with the task of gathering herbs needed outside of the fence.

i feel like sej would first be what any other peacekeeper would be and follow and be like “wtf are u doin” but then like he’d understand and let her keep running off into the woods and meadow. IDK I THINK THIS IS CUTE

⌲;꒰ Fence girl. ꒱

Pairing :: Peacekeepers!Sejanus x Fem!Reader

Synopsis - Sejanus catches someone sneaking over the fence and tries to do his job ( he doesn't).

Includings :: Covey member!reader, sejanus hating his job AND being bad at his job, he has a soft spot for (everything) reader, horrible first impressions, mostly fluff, this is kinda short

An :: Sorry this took so long...jumping from fandom to fandom is NOT for the weak

Sejanus never truly wanted to be a peacekeeper, yes he wanted to help people but obviously not in this kind of way.

Peacekeepers were often cruel and stern, they stood their ground for what they stood for and their morals were aligned in a way that didn't quite align with Sejanus's.

But it was far too late to turn back, he already was at twelve and already buzzed his curls so he was stuck here with a job he hated. Not much could be done.

And Sejanus did try to do his job, he tried to be like his friend Coriolanus who was stern and took the job very seriously but of course, there were times where he struggled.

Like right now, he was frozen with confusion as he watched a girl with [h/c] hair scaling one of the fences. She had a dark brown bag around her shoulder. His brows furrowed even more as he wondered what was she doing.

But then he had to remember his job and how what the girl was doing was very much something he had to report.

No one was allowed beyond the fences because one, it was seen as dangerous because they were made to keep wild animals.

And two, it was seen as rebellious since at some point if anyone was able to get far enough they could leave the district and start their own life far far away from all of this mess.

Sejanus looked around, slight panic wavering in his eyes as he realized he was the only one who had noticed the girl climbing up and over the wall. She was almost out of his sight, her dark green skirt blending in with the scenery.

He cursed under his breath as he started to climb up the fence, hopping over it and looking in the direction of the girl. She seemed to be in a rush as she looked around the field.

"Excuse me! You know you're not allowed to be here, right?"

His voice seemed to have startled her as she jumped a bit, she looked him up and down quickly. She clenched the brown bag as he eyes glanced to the gun he was holding and he saw how she tensed up, her eyes growing wide.

She looked scared– no, terrified. Like a rabbit behind hunted by a fox.

That was another thing Sejanus hated about being a peacekeeper, no matter what he was always going to be feared because of that stupid uniform and the firearms they had to wield while on patrol.

It didn't matter how gentle he was as long as he was in uniform.

"Please...don't hurt me."

"Hurt you? I..I wasn't gonna- look, you're not allowed to be past that fence. I won't report you or anything, I swear. But you could get hurt or lost-"

"I know where I'm going." She had cut his worried rambling short, grip tightening on her bag.

His brows furrowed in slight curiosity. "And just where is that?"

"There's a few herbs down from here near a river." She replied. "I need to get them for a friend of mine...she's sick and we can't exactly afford medicine at the moment." She murmured the last bit but loud enough for Sejanus to frown.

He knew he shouldn't. He knew he should have done his job and escorted her back over the fence.

But of course Sejanus's heart always won over his brain so before he could even stop himself he had said;

"Alright. You can go."

A warm smile had spread onto the features of the girl in front of him, her eyes glistening with hope as she uttered; "Really?"

Sejanus nodded, looking over his shoulder just to be safe. "Yes, really. But, I have to walk with you and you need to make it as quick as possible."

"Deal! I'll be quicker than two shakes of a lamb's tail." She giggled and Sejanus couldn't help but smile as he followed beside her.

As they walked, Sejanus took small glanced over at her. Her sense of style didn't seem to fit twelve, everybody remotely dressed the same with mostly dull colors or neutral tones but she had a much more lively pallette with splashes of red, orange and yellow.

"Starings rude, you know."

He quickly looked away, pressing his lips together in a thin line as she had cracked another smile before laughing and playfully hitting his arm.

"I'm just playing around! Jeez, for a peacekeeper you sure are sheepish." She hummed as she looked up at him and he glanced back over at her.

"Yeah, I'm horrible at my job I know."

"I'm not complaining, just glad I got one of the good ones." She smiled before she realized they were near the river and she crouched down near one of the nearby trees.

Sejanus watched as she pulled out a small jar and began picking dark purple berries, careful placing them into the jar. He tilted his head a bit while he watched her like a curious child.

"Elderberries." She spoke and his brows knitted together before she continued to explain. "Help with the immune system. We crush em' and brew em' into a real sweet tea."

Sejanus nodded as he knelt down. "Can I help?"

"You really are different, hm?" She tilted your head up at him, giving a teasing smile. "Kind, thoughtful and helpful? Are you sure you picked the right job?" She asked as she handed him one of the small jars and he shook his head.

"I wanted to be a medic." He said as he carefully picked the berries, putting them into the jar and the girl beside him hummed in amusement.

"That's surprising. What made you change your mind?"

"A friend. I'm only here because of him, oh and a little bit of rule breaking back home.." He sheepishly admitted and she giggled, standing up.

"Well you are just full of surprises, huh?"

Sejanus shrugged with a smile as he placed the jar carefully into her bag. "Guess I am."

As the two had walked back to the fence, Sejanus had picked a perfect spot where there was no one on patrol at the moment. It was like she had never even went over the wall.

He helped her over it, giving her a small boost up before climbing over it himself and he dusted off his uniform as he placed her bag back in her hands and she hummed a 'thank you' as she put it back over her shoulder.

"Y'know, I hope we meet again. Under better circumstances, of course."

"Me too- wait, I never caught your name."

She giggled, turning on her heel. "I never threw it!"

|★|

It had been a couple of weeks since his run-in with that [h/c] haired girl. Weeks since and he hadn't seen her again, he hoped that meant that her friend had gotten well enough that she didn't have to sneak over the fence again.

He was still thinking about her as he sat with Coriolanus, sitting at one of the tables as he was watching Lucy Gray perform. He was never as wowed, mainly because unlike those in the capitol he grew to already appreciate music.

"Whoops! Coming through, Blondie!" A familiar voice giggled as a girl with [h/c] haired brushed past the two to set some drinks off at the table next to them and Sejanus's eyes widened.

The fence girl.

He immediately stood up and walked over to her and as soon as she had turned to face him her face broke into a smile which he copied.

"You again!"

"Me again."

She gave him a skeptical gaze yet there was a playful smile on his face. "Are you stalking me?"

"Yeah. And it was just so hard because you never tossed me your name." He sighed like a damsel in distress, shaking his head.

She had giggled, holding out her hand. "[Y/n]."

He shook it, keeping a gentle yet firm grasp on it. He thought that maybe being a peacekeeper wasn't all too bad now.

"Sejanus."

#the ballad of songbirds and snakes #tbosas #tbosas x reader #tbosas x you #sejanus plinth #sejanus plinth x reader #sejanus plinth x you #sejanus x reader

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qveerthe0ry · 3 months

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Lions Ain't the Kind - Part Two

Summary: You and Frankie can't get each other off your minds'. He asks you on a third date. It's a success. Word Count: 5,741 Pairing: Frankie Morales x NB/Gender-fluid! AFAB! Reader Rating: 18+ Explicit Warnings: 18+ mdni, subby!Frankie, soft dom!reader, a few brief mentions of alcohol, talks about gender non-conformity, talks about gender dysphoria as it relates to sex, amab terminology for afab genitalia, kissing, making out, oral (afab receiving), dirty talk, premature ejaculation, Frankie has a praise kink, no use of y/n, no physical descriptions of reader A/N: Special shoutout to @for-a-longlongtime and @perotovar for letting me bother them about this part while I was writing, love you both dearly <3

Frankie calls you later that night.

You helped him clean up after, popped some popcorn, and rewound the movie. He snuggled sleepily into your side; the orgasm apparently settled his nerves from before. You both joked about how not-so-great the movie was over a few beers, and then you sent him off with a buttery goodnight kiss.

But your phone rings as you’re settling into bed for the night, and you think maybe something is wrong, like his car broke down, or he left something at your place.

“Hello?”

“Hey, it’s me. I just made it home.”

“Is everything alright?”

“Yeah, no, everything’s fine. I just— I wanted to thank you.”

You laugh. Sweet boy, calling to thank you for getting him off.

“Was it that good?” You joke.

“No— I mean yes, yes it was. That’s not what I meant though. I’ve never been… Well, you know, I’m not so good at this stuff. And I’ve never felt like… this. And I like it. And I like you. So… thank you.”

Your face burns at his words, at the thought you could give this man something he needs, this man that you’re quickly developing a habit for.

“That’s sweet, Frankie. I like you too. A lot.”

You hear him huff through your tinny phone speakers and in a moment of pure weakness you wish you would’ve asked him to stay over.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, yes. I really do.”

He laughs, and you can imagine it in your head, what his dimple looks like, the way his curls would look as he shakes his head.

“That’s awesome.”

——

Frankie’s a busy guy, you come to find out. He works fairly long hours at his mechanic shop, and he has custody of his daughter every other week, and he also attends community events, he calls them, every Wednesday.

Your business is relegated to the eight hours a day you spend in your office, and maybe a few hours here or there when you need to take work home with you.

And you’re not blaming Frankie for it, but the distance makes you want him so much more. He texts you all day long, staggered back and forth when you both have the time. He’ll call you some nights, when his daughter goes to bed early, just to talk about your days. But it isn’t enough.

It’s not enough because you can’t stop thinking about how he looks in your lap, and how desperate his sounds are, and how his skin feels under your palms.

It’s driving you mad, replaying that night over and over and craving even more from him.

It really isn’t just about the sex, though, either. You find yourself thinking of him at the grocery store, wondering if he likes the scent of your favorite deodorant or if you should pick something new. You see an old Ford Ranger as you’re driving to work and wonder if Frankie’s inside. You find a new show on Netflix to watch but pause it after the first five minutes because you think Frankie would like to watch it too, with you.

And Frankie’s just as bad, if not worse off than you are.

His days are long and busy but occupied with thoughts of you, even as he’s changing brake pads and tinkering elbow-deep in the hood of another car.

When he picks up his daughter from school and asks how her day was, he sends off a quick text to ask you about your day, too.

And after he gets her to bed, and finishes laundry and the dishes and brushing his teeth, he crawls under the covers only to feel like his queen sized mattress is way too big, way too empty.

That’s when he texts you, Saturday night, heart beating just a bit too fast and feeling a tad heavier than normal.

I miss you. Are you free tomorrow?

I miss you too, sweet boy. I’ve got nothing going on all day.

Can I pick you up for brunch after I drop off the kiddo? Around noon?

Sounds perfect, can’t wait 😘

And he hardly sleeps because of the anticipation, wondering if this whole thing has just been a fluke. One whole week of not seeing you has his insecurities skyrocketing, despite the texts and phone calls.

The clock on his bedside table reads 5:36am and he can’t for the life of him tamper down the feelings to fall back to sleep. So he trims up his facial hair, and showers for longer than he usually likes to. He makes a big breakfast for his daughter, and dresses in his nicest jeans and a collared shirt while she giggles at some Sunday morning cartoon.

It isn’t until he’s halfway to her mom’s house that he realizes he’s a dead giveaway. He winces when she answers the door with her eyebrow raised, greeting cut-off halfway through.

“Are you going to church now?”

He laughs and rolls his eyes as she waves him into the foyer.

“Not quite. I think church usually starts earlier than noon, though.”

“So… court?”

“Oh my god, is it that unbelievable that I have a date?”

“At noon?”

“Brunch date,” he shrugs, shoving his hands deep into his pockets.

“You haven’t dated since we broke up.”

He shrugs again, and can feel the heat beginning to rise to his cheeks.

“Is this new? Where’d you guys meet?”

He huffs at the interrogation, though he knows there’s no malice behind it.

“Um… Tinder… couple weeks ago now.”

An amused look spreads across his ex’s face, and he wants to die.

“Interesting. You’ve met in person, then?”

“Yeah, twice already. Last week.”

“Well, sounds like it’s going good then, yeah?”

He takes a deep breath in, and nods, and then shrugs.

“I hope so. Like… I really hope so.”

Her face softens, and she smiles a sweet smile that lets him know he looks even more vulnerable than he feels, which must be a feat.

“Then I hope so, too.”

——

When Frankie knocks on your door a little past 12, he surprises you. Gone is that apprehensive look you’ve grown so used to seeing on him. Instead, he’s beaming, a precious and pearly smile splitting his face when you open the door.

“Hey,” he says, slightly out of breath, like he may have ran up the stairs at a less than leisurely pace.

“Hey, smiley.”

He huffs when you tease him, but his smile doesn’t falter.

“Sorry.”

“Don’t be. Looks good on you.”

Everything looks good on him, actually. His shirt hugs his chest and his tummy, and his jeans are sucked tight to his thighs, and his hair is that perfect mess of haphazard curls that makes your fingers tingle with the urge to touch.

“You ready to go?”

He shifts in his spot on your doorway, and you bite your lip as you admire the view.

“Not yet.”

His mouth opens to respond, but the words don’t get a chance to leave his lips because you’re pressing your own to them.

Warm, soft, minty.

His hand finds your waist and yours cups his neatly groomed jaw, and the simple touches make the wires in your system short-circuit.

Simmer down, you remind yourself, you have to at least get through brunch.

His smile is still wide when you pull apart, softer now, but no less giddy. He gives you a once-over, taking in one of your favorite outfits you picked out of your closet just for today.

“You’re gorgeous,” he whispers.

“So are you.”

He shrugs, and you let your hand fall from his face to rest on his collar, and then farther down, where his top button lays open to reveal his smooth chest.

“Brunch?”

He squeezes your hip when he asks, and you try and fail to hold back a heaved sigh at the prospect of having to be decent in public with this man.

“Yep. Brunch.”

He chuckles, kisses the corner of your mouth as soft as ever.

“Back here for dessert?”

It shocks you, but it delights you.

“Francisco, you dirty dog.”

He backs away with his hands up as you make your way outside, letting you lock up.

“I’m just trying to ask for what I want,” he mumbles.

He looks sheepish when you turn back to face him, but also proud. You think he should be.

“I know. You’re being a very good boy for me.”

You smirk all the way to his truck at the way he tugs at his collar and clears his throat, and how his hand feels sweaty in yours.

——

He takes you to brunch by the river, a place you’ve heard about but you’ve never been to. He’s really sweet, opening doors for you and asking if the table on the patio is alright and turning his entire attention toward you while you wait for your food to come.

Though you’re both quite handsy, linking your calves together under the table and playing with each others’ fingers on top of it, you really don’t want to go home by the time the check comes.

He pays this time, of course, and when you’re standing up to leave you suggest taking a walk along the river. His enthusiasm for your suggestion makes your insides feel all sticky and hot, that you’re both on the same page, that even something so little can excite him like it does you.

The thing is, you don’t do this often. Okay, maybe you’ve had many dates that end up exactly like this, walking off a meal and chatting. But it’s very very rare that you get to do it with someone you click with, someone who gets you, someone who makes you feel comfortable in your own skin.

Frankie does just that, has since day one when you spent hours talking on that godforsaken dating app. And especially now, as he slinks one arm through the loop of your own and uses the other to caress where your sleeve rides up your bicep. His body is warm where it presses into you, only adding to that fuzzy feeling from the couple of mimosas you drank with brunch.

And when you turn to face him, the happy look on his face is everything. You get tripped up in the sunlight glistening in his brown eyes, the hints of ochre sparkling as his head shifts, before you determine you need to tell him.

“I like the way I feel with you,” you say earnestly, though the champagne has surely given you a bit of a push.

“What way is that?”

His pace slows on the little pebbled pathway, like he really doesn’t want to miss what you say next.

“Like I can just… turn my brain off and be.”

He chuckles, squeezes your arm.

“I feel the same. Like I don’t have to pretend to impress you or anything. Like I don’t need to impress you.”

You hum as you let the words sink in, and lean a little heavier into him as you walk.

“You do impress me though,” you tell him.

His breath hitches, you can feel it where he’s pressing into you from chest to hip.

“You impress me too. I uh— I think you’re probably the most impressive person I’ve ever met.”

“Weren’t you like, in the military?”

He laughs, then, full, you can feel it shaking his tummy against your arm.

“That doesn’t really count. Besides, my military buddies’ skills are limited to the field. I don’t think between the three of them they have more than a handful of civilian brain cells.”

“Harsh,” you laugh, pinching his side between your knuckles.

��I say it with love, of course. They’re good guys, you’d like ‘em. In a way you might like an annoying sibling.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, I’d like you to meet them sometime. Maybe soon. If you’d feel comfortable.”

You don’t know much about this infamous group of guys Frankie’s bonded to, just that they’re his only real friends, and that they’ve all been through a lot. Another gooey feeling spreads through your guts at his proposal.

“I’d like that. Sometime soon.”

It does worry you a bit. You don’t know much about the military, but you’re aware of the stereotypes. Surely if Frankie’s friends with them, then they aren’t bad guys.

Frankie must see the fleck of apprehension in you,

Because he stops walking and releases your arm so he can face you squarely.

“I’m out to them. They’re cool with it. Pope— Santiago— he’s queer too. We’ve been to pride together, all of us. No bad vibes.”

You wonder if they’ve ever met someone like you. You wonder if Frankie’s told them about you yet. You wonder a lot of things in such a tiny amount of time that you sway a bit on your feet and Frankie reaches out to steady you.

“Shit— Are you okay??”

“I’m fine,” you’re quick to assure him, “just… I dunno. What if they don’t like me?”

Frankie scoffs.

“There’s no way they won’t like you. You’re you, you’re kind and funny and smart. What’s not to like?”

“Are you purposefully ignoring the elephant in the room?”

It isn’t heated, the way you ask it, but you’re genuinely curious. Is he beating around the bush, or is he naive, or is it really not a big deal to him?

“Cariño, it’s not an elephant. It’s a— I dunno. A neat… plant,” he shrugs.

You squint at him, and tilt your head at his explanation.

“You know what I mean? An elephant in a room is a giant pain in the ass. It’s much more like a cool plant. Maybe one some people aren’t familiar with, but it’s not— you’re not an elephant, is my point.”

You stare at him for a beat longer than you mean to, but once your giggle involuntarily bubbles up out of you, Frankie’s serious face is cracking into a goofy smile.

“You’re cute,” you tell him, “Jesus Christ.”

Your laughter mellows, and Frankie looks sheepish at your compliments, but he grabs you by the elbows anyway, leans in close to you so that you can smell the way the sun warms his curls and his skin.

“I mean it though,” he says, “I like you. Exactly how you are. The guys will too.”

Your eyes dart around to your surroundings as Frankie’s lips find your temple, then your cheek, then the corner of your mouth. Without anyone ogling, you shift your head just that much more to let his lips press against yours.

He hums, leaning harder into you, pulling you closer with his hands at your back. You melt, pliant and lax in his arms, until he huffs and pulls away.

“Frankie,” you whisper.

“Yeah?”

“I want you to take me home.”

His pupils grow comically large at your request, and this time he’s wobbling on weary legs.

“Anything you want, mi planta.”

Your walk back to his truck is… brisk. You’re not sure who’s leading who by the time

Frankie unlocks the doors, both too giggly to really worry about it. He kisses you breathless across the center console before he turns the key in the ignition, and you roll the flavor of him around in your mouth while he pulls out into traffic.

Frankie’s promise of ‘I like you exactly the way you are’ is rattling around in your head like a pinball in a faulty machine. You’re not sure he can even say that. If he even knows you exactly the way you are. It’s been two dates and a handful of weeks texting back and forth.

Granted, one of those dates had him shaking and crumbling on top of you, but still. He told you he’s never met someone like you. He said that, and now you have to pull the ‘Ol Talk out of your dusty little hat and you aren’t sure how he’s going to react. He’s given you no reason to believe it’ll be negative, but still. Sometimes it just makes you uncomfortable, to have to explain things that don’t often need explaining.

Instead of boiling over with nerves the closer you get, though, the anxiety simmers below the surface as you watch Frankie navigate back to your apartment. His side profile is criminal, with his wide eyes and strong nose and stubbly jaw, that dimple that just won’t seem to go away. His curls tickle the nape of his neck and whisp around his temple and you must twirl them between your fingers. So you do, and his answering hum has you squirming in the passenger seat.

The walk up your apartment stairs is when the nerves start to get the best of you. It takes you two tries to get your door unlocked, and you know Frankie is aware by the way he looks at you when you usher him through the door.

“Are you okay?”

It’s funny how just a week before you were asking him the same question, and now you’re the one who’s a bundle of frayed nerves when you’d only ever been so cool and calm and collected.

“I am, I just— Things are different… with me.”

His concerned brows turn back up when he smiles at you, the softness in his eyes working wonders to ease your anxiety.

“I like different. Different’s fun.”

You huff. He’s so sweet. It’s hotter than it should be.

“Really. I wanna learn you. Let me, cariño. Please?”

And god… those are gonna be a big, big problem, his wide, watery puppy eyes framed by long eyelashes that he breaks out like it’s no big deal. Like you wouldn’t murder someone for him if he made those eyes at you and asked nicely.

You sigh, and nod, and that gets him to drop the eyes at least, replace them with a toothy smile instead.

“Let me get us some waters, if you wanna get comfy on the couch.”

It gives you a second to breathe and gather your thoughts as you meander into the kitchen.

“I missed this couch,” he muses, wistful, and you laugh.

“I’m sure you did, Pretty Boy.”

You barely hear his huff over the trickle of your Brita filter, but then he speaks up.

“I love it when you call me that. Drives me crazy.”

Frankie’s full of this energy you didn’t expect from him, so much more forward now. You suppose the walls have been broken down a bit, ever since your last night together.

He’s sprawled out on the couch when you return with two glasses, leaning back against the corner of it, and his cock is straining at his jeans. You don’t pretend not to notice, and he doesn’t pretend that he can’t see your eyes tracing the shape of its outline in his dark denim. You place your waters on the coffee table, even as you feel your mouth go dry.

“Told you, drives me crazy. You drive me crazy.”

The way he looks up at you makes him look so small. Your pulse jumps about it, the way it makes you feel just minutely more comfortable with the conversation you’re about to have.

And it’s one that you want to have, no matter how un-sexy it feels, or annoying. Because in your experience, when you forgo the conversation until after, they always take it personally when you tell them what you didn’t like. And even though you know it’s bullshit, you can’t stand the thought of Frankie feeling defensive toward you, even if it’s unfounded.

So you curl up next to him, let his arm that’s slung over the couch rest across your shoulders. You bring your knees up to your chest and plant one hand high on his thigh. You’re so nervous that you almost miss the way it twitches under your palm.

“What’s on your mind?”

His thumb rubs tiny loops against your shoulder. Yours mirrors it on his jeans, and it soothes you enough to start speaking.

“Sometimes I don’t like… certain things. During sex. And sometimes I do. It just depends on my mood,” you start.

“Yeah, same. I think that’s everyone, right? Normal?”

You roll your eyes at yourself, because you know he has a point. But yours are a little different.

“Yeah but… You know how I said sometimes I’m both, and sometimes I’m neither, and sometimes I’m one or the other?”

“Yeah, ‘course I do.”

“Welll when I’m… y’know. Sometimes certain words just… turn me off. Make me feel weird, and get in my head and stuff, and then it’s not fun anymore.”

Frankie nods.

“And not like… What I mean is sometimes I like one word, and then another time I won’t like the same word. It’s always different. Depending on what I’m feeling.”

“Guapo, look at me.”

It’s then, when Frankie’s deep voice cuts like a searing hot knife, that you realize your eyes have been darting around everywhere but him.

He’s got a serious look on his face when you finally gaze back, but it’s soft, and it’s comforting, and for a second you think might cry.

“I think it’s my turn to make you ask for what you want.”

He smirks when he says it, and it’s so uneasy and so not at the same time.

You take a deep breath. Release it. Feel the squeeze of your heart unclench a bit.

“I want you to suck my cock. Today. And tomorrow maybe I’ll want you to eat my pussy. Okay?”

“Jesus Fuck—“

“I’m sorry—“

“Shut up, you’re so fucking hot.”

His words steal the breath from your lungs and make your face feel like it’s on fire. Even more so when his free hand presses against his erection over his jeans. It spreads, a dangerous flame that curls around your insides, high in your chest and low in your gut, and you tilt your head so you can taste the little whimper that falls from his lips.

Your hand finds his chest again, like it did that night, and something about his racing heartbeat eases you so much. That he’s just as nervous as you are, even if he’s a bit better at hiding it this time.

He cradles you when he kisses you back, one big, warm hand on the back of your head and his other on your back, wrapped around you, safe. And he’s gentle as he leads you to lie back, even as he growls and nips at your bottom lip.

Safe.

His thighs bracket one of yours as he holds himself above you by an elbow on the cushions. You feel his cock, hot and hard, pressed tight against you, throbbing when he shifts his hips for friction.

You let a noise sneak past your vocal chords, a deeper sigh, and instantly you feel even more vulnerable.

But Frankie just returns it, grip tightening on the back of your head. He pulls his mouth from yours and instead finds your pulse with it.

You gasp, and he curses. His hips jerk against you, and you know you’re about to soak through your briefs. His teeth find skin underneath your collar and you egg him on by lifting your thigh to press even tighter against his prick.

His muttered curse feels hot against your skin, but it quickly runs ice cold when Frankie’s hand sneaks under the hem of your shirt. You grab it quickly, separated by the material, and shake your head back and forth quickly.

“Not right now,” you whisper, “sorry.”

He looks up from his toothy assault on your skin to meet your gaze, hand slipping back out from under your shirt, and smiles.

“Don’t apologize,” he says, hand finding the crook of your thigh instead, “never for that. Always tell me what you need.”

Your breath stutters as he shifts back up to kiss your lips again, his thigh pressing just right between yours as his tongue tastes the roof of your mouth. You grind just like that, and he does too, a hot and damp rustling of fabric as he takes your mouth and whines into it at the friction.

Your hands get with the program, reach around to squeeze his ass and encourage his thrusts against your thigh. Sparks of arousal shoot through you every time you feel his cock pulse against you. It becomes not enough extremely quickly, especially with the noises you’re coaxing out of him and the way his tongue is sloppy and greedy inside your mouth.

“I need your mouth,” you gasp, your slick lips moving against his own as you speak.

He groans, licks at your bottom lip one last time.

“Anything you want.”

You’re hot, flustered and aching when he finally works on unfastening your pants. All the while his wide doe eyes peer up at you, waiting for any direction.

He shuffles a bit, settling between your open legs and huffing when he misses the pressure of your thigh against his prick. You thread your fingers through his curls as consolation, and smirk when he shudders and his eyelids droop.

He gets a hand under your pants, and both of your mouths drop open at the contact to the warmth between your thighs.

“Fuck, you feel perfect,” he sighs, “please let me taste you.”

His voice is gravelly, sends a wave of tingles up your spine as you grind down into his hand and tighten your grip on his hair. His fingers twitch against you as he gasps and pulls against your hold on his locks, and it’s fucking wicked.

Your curse and tug him by the hair to bury his face between your legs. You feel his nose squish against you first, then his lips, a hot breath of air released against you. He groans into you, inhales a deep breath, and you see his hips work frantically against the couch cushion underneath him.

“Frankie.”

He opens his eyes, but doesn’t dare pull his face away from your center.

“Take ‘em off,” you order.

He nods, face still pressed against you, like he’s nuzzling your package, and you have to tug his hair to urge him to get a move on.

“Sorry, sorry. Fuck— can’t help it.”

His fingers tremble, just barely, but noticeable nonetheless, as he hooks them under your briefs. One last look up at you, and you nod and tug at his curls, and then he finally pulls the damned things down your legs and off.

At this point, you don’t have enough wits about you to be shy. You spread your legs, one against the back of the couch, the other dangling off at the knee so your foot touches the floor. The air in your apartment is cool where you’re wet and slick, and your hips wiggle in anticipation.

All the while, Frankie stares at your center, just inches above you, so close you can feel his ragged breaths with every heave of his chest. He’s a fucking vision like this, between your legs, needy and ready to do what you tell him.

“Can I—?”

“Suck my cock, Frankie. Wanna see those pretty lips wrapped around it.”

A stilted breath escapes him as he opens his mouth to press against you. Your hips jolt at the first touch of his tongue through your folds, hot and wet and perfect. He wastes no time following your direction, though, tongue flicking over your cock before he gets it into his mouth and suckles.

Fuck.

It’s so fucking good, he’s so fucking good. Your grip on his hair only gets tighter as you watch his hips grind against the couch in a frantic rhythm. He whines and sucks harder, just shy of too much, tongue circling around your dick in between delicious pulses of suction.

You want to close your eyes and succumb to the pleasure, but you don’t want to miss a moment of this. The way his brow is creased in concentration, his silky curls bobbing up and down in your lap, the fucking noises he makes. The slurps and the grunts and the hums, like he’s getting just as much out of it as you are.

You suppose he is, the way he’s humping the sofa like he’s in heat.

His eyes flicker up to you, a silent question.

Is this doing it for you?

“So fucking good, Frankie. Just like that,” you tell him, fingers dragging through his hair, nails scraping at his scalp.

His eyes close as he hums around you, and yours do too, then, overwhelmed by the feeling. Your hips rock up into his face, fucking it, using him. His grip tightens on your thighs, and your body rocks from the from the way he’s grinding against the couch.

His tongue is wicked and precise, circling your cock, flicking it, circling then flicking, again and again and it makes your whole body buzz, has you out of your fucking mind.

And you suppose that’s why the words just fall from your lips; there’s no filter left, just raw, overwhelmed senses and adrenaline.

“Fuck, good boy Frankie. Letting me fuck your face, like the perfect little toy.”

“Hah— shit,” he whines, hips stuttering between your legs just for a moment as his lips lose their grasp on your dick.

“Prettiest mouth, all for me, right?”

You watch him as he looks up at you and nods, mouth hung open, his tongue sliding up and down your slit at the quick motion. He looks a mess, with his mustache glistening and his pupils huge and dark and his hair sticking up every which way. His eyelids droop and his brows draw up tight and he looks so so perfect between your legs.

With another pathetic noise, he sucks your cock between his lips again. You take mercy on his hair, let your hand find the back of his neck and cradle, massage the tense muscles under your fingertips. You feel him shudder against you, watch as his hips speed up in time with the bobbing of his head between your thighs.

And it’s building, blazing through your system, fiery static that has you breathing quicker, arching your back as your muscles tense.

Frankie’s noises only press you closer and closer to the edge, the way they’re muffled around your prick in his mouth, the way he’s clutching onto your hip and fucking your couch cushion as he slurps and suckles. It’s soaking wet and hot and much better than you’ve felt in a very long time.

“So close, don’t stop,” you beg.

Frankie’s answering noise is strung-out and his grip is bruising on your hip. You lift your hips into his mouth and your hand finds his hair again. You tug and encourage him to suck you off faster, just a bit, just enough.

You cry out his name as you shake. You hope the grip you’ve taken on his hair isn’t too tight, but none of your movements are your own until all the tension leaves your body. He works you through it as his breath puffs faster and heavier against your mound, gradually suckling softer, bobbing his head slower and slower while he groans around you.

Slowly, your muscles relax and your tendons unclench and your eyes open just in time to watch Frankie press a kiss to your swollen, twitching bud.

“Jesus,” you manage through a breath.

His grin is shy as he rests his cheek on your thigh. He strokes you through your comedown, quiet and calm, his fingertips soothing your thigh and your hip.

“How was that?”

You laugh at his question, and he hides his own chuckles in the crease of your hip.

“Incredible.”

He hums, and you ruffle his hair when his gaze turns sheepish.

“What do you need, Pretty Boy?”

He’s flushed, and his curls are a little damp at his temples as he shakes his head.

“I don’t need anything, Guapo.”

You try to muster up as stern a look as you can with your brain still fuzzy and your muscles still lax and gooey. His big brown eyes look up at you, pleading, and his shy look turns embarrassed.

Instead of speaking, he grunts as he sits back on his knees. You take note of the way his teeth scrape his bottom lip before you follow his eyeline, down his still heaving chest and belly.

You try not to let your eyes widen when you see the substantial damp patch soaked through his denim, but you must not have been subtle, because he makes a high, cut-off noise from the back of his throat.

“Sorry,” he says with a grimace.

“Shut up, you’re so fucking hot,” you chirp.

Those little dimples you’ve come to adore rear their heads even as he shakes his.

You sit up to press a kiss to one, then the other, and then his lips. You savor the heady taste of yourself on them, hum happily into his mouth as his trembling fingers stroke your skin.

You both change into comfier clothes. The sight of him wrapped up in your things has a whirlwind of emotions wreaking havoc in your chest. Something primal and something domestic all at the same time, and you have to tug him close in your grasp to tamper it all down to a manageable level.

His body weight tucked half into your side, half on top of you works wonders to calm you, especially as your hand finds his silky curls once more and you feel each strand slip through your fingers.

Frankie sighs, big and heavy, and it tickles your neck.

“What’s going on in that pretty head of yours?”

He chuckles and nuzzles his nose into the sensitive skin behind your ear.

“Thinking it’s kinda crazy, being so into someone I met a month ago.”

Your pulse jumps at his words. You wonder if he can feel it where he’s pressed against you.

“Yeah, kinda crazy,” you agree.

“Feels stupid.”

His curls brush against your face when he shakes his head, huffs again, but you hear the smile in his voice.

“Life’s kinda stupid.”

“It is, isn’t it?”

You chuckle at him as you watch his fingers tap an incoherent rhythm on your stomach.

“Seems fair, doesn’t it? To lean into the stupid when you get the chance?”

He turns to you then, a soft smile crinkling the edges of his wide eyes.

“Sounds fair to me,” he mumbles.

last part / next part

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