#v de winters

[rotting-ink]

Poly and Love Triangles Snippets

Written for if the player is bisexual. If the player chooses only  female love interests, then all the RO's are all women. Same as for if  the player chooses only male love interests.

Poly Groups

“Darling, who is this?” The lady gazed at you, her gloved hand still lingering on Victor’s forearm.

He shot a smile at you, the spell between him and the Soprano broken the moment he cast his lazy green eyes over to you.

“They,” Victor slipped from her fingers and cupped your elbow, his secret, soft smile soothing your beating heart. “Are my companion for the evening.”

“Ah.” She stared at you for just a moment, but in that very moment, there was something dark and cunning and hungry slipped into her own pale green eyes. Then it dissolved into warm sea foam and she extended her hand for you. “Quincy Beaumont. Hope you enjoyed my performance, especially since you’ve stolen Victor for the evening.”

Victor stiffened up next to you a bit but Quincy didn’t even give him a moment to say anything, slipping her arm through yours and leaning in, almost conspiratorially. The hard glint of sea glass that was her eyes before had vanished, and now there was something else in them. Something you couldn’t quite place…

“Poor old J. Couldn’t hold a candle to you, can they?” She whispered, her satin gloved finger momentarily brushing your chin. “What a gem you are.”

You figured it out. In that moment, you realized that they had the same hunger in their eyes. Both looking at you like they could devour you whole.

“No.”

“But-”

“I said no.” Starling finally gave up his act of aloofness. He tossed his book down to the side and sat up in his chair.

“But Star, I’ll be perfectly safe-”

“That’s not the problem.” You almost jumped out of your skin as a cold hand pressed against the small of your back, Zaniyah leaning forward to rest her chin against your shoulder. “The problem is that the good doctor is worried he might end up with someone else dead hanging around him.”

Starling grumbled in his chair, crossing his arms and eyebrows scrunched.

“Z, I-”

“Although…” Zaniyah gave you such a soft, fond look that it seemed to shut the doctor right up as he watched. “You’re less dignified than a bird, my little love. He won’t be able to stand your pawing at his trousers as he sews up cadavers.”

You couldn’t help but laugh a bit and pecked Zaniyah on the cheek.

“There. A peck instead of the dog licks I usually give you.” You teased her softly as she relaxed fully against your back.

You hadn’t noticed Starling’s silence, not until you finally stopped looking at your undead lover. He had a strange look on his face, the same he used to give you when you were bothering him with your questions a few weeks back. Except he was looking at Zaniyah with the same… Reluctant softness.

Oh.

Ambrose’s warm fingers were laid over your knuckles as you slowly woke up, his head buried into your side as he slept, breathing low and soft. You raised your head groggily, just to smile at his sleeping face, so serene, all sternness dropped. Like a slate wiped clean of dust and scratches.

“Didn’t expect him to be a heavy sleeper.” A voice from the doorway said, and you looked over to see Dietrich. “He used to wake up at the drop of a pin.”

You gave the professor a similar smile you gave Ambrose, as he made his way into the room, holding a tray precariously, laden with a pot of something hot and a few pastries.

“When you were kids?”

“Hmh.” Dietrich set it down on the bedside table and started to pour out the contents into two pretty, porcelain cups, leaving the third one empty. “He also had nightmares. Would take my hand in the middle of the night to make him feel better… Guess your hands are the ones he prefers now.”

You glance down at where Ambrose’s fingers were curled over your hand. Secure. Warm. Protective. Just like him. But… You couldn’t shake the almost sorrowful tone Dietrich’s voice carried. Glancing over at him this time, you managed to catch his soft eyes, fixed on your and Ambrose’ gently clasped hands. He felt your gaze, quickly blinking away and instead fixing up your saucer to have a pastry on the side as he handed it over.

His fingers felt soft, warm, against your own when he handed it over. You couldn’t help but smile up at him, and colour rose to his pale cheeks.

Love Triangles

The nightmare wrenched you awake, and for a few short moments, everything was alright in the world. Until it wasn’t.

“Awh, afraid I’m going to take your place by the fire?”

“No. It’s just discourteous for a guest to outstay their welcome.”

“Hmmm. Your owner has allowed me to stay as long as I want.” Saleos’s soft voice lilted as she teased, an edge appearing to make it tip over into mocking.

“That’s because you’re nothing but a fucking tool.” Seir hissed, his voice growing darker with anger. You felt your connection tug. Better to get up and break up the fight. “And they know they can fucking use you.”

“Hmh.” Saleos hummed. “I bet they will. Such a sweet thing they are-”

There was a crash, glass breaking and you sat bolt upright in bed. Fuck.

The two siblings sat on opposite sides of  the table, Luther nursing a glass of whiskey as Emilia tapped the edge of her cigarette off, into the ashtray, smoke curling up into her eyes. The atmosphere was frigid, still. A far cry from when you had met the both of them all that time ago.

It took them a moment to notice you in the doorway. Emilia spotted you first, straightening up in her chair and putting out her cigarette quickly. You couldn’t help but notice that her shirt was very thin and wasn’t wearing anything underneath it.

“Hey, angel eyes.” She grinned at you, exhaling the last bit of her cigarette smoke.

“Em.” Luther grunted, his calloused fingers tightening around his glass, his impressively broad shoulders tensing. “Stop it.”

“Don’t be such a puritan.” She snorted, leaning back in her chair, her eyes never leaving your figure.

#the rot of witchwood #just love interest things #rottedinkspills #e rawlins #l rawlins #saleos #seir the familiar #d woolf #a lancaster #starling knight #z chambers #v de winters #quincy beaumont #story snippets

[muttsandmustelidae]

was taking a video to show the difference in their coats rn and Laszlo decided he wanted uppies

#Nadja decided it was already time to Become Fluff #she’s so soft rn it’s crazy #Laz is a bit slower with his but it’s definitely changing already #hard to tell from this video but i can feel the difference #v excited i love the winter coats #i can start talking to them like i’m cruella de vil again #laszlo #nadja #ferret

[chicinsilk]

"ÉCARLATE" ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

(top left) Christian Dior Haute Couture Fall/Winter 1955-1956 Collection Model Marie-Hélène Arnaud wears "Ecarlate", the cocktail dress, in red silk-faille. Photo by Guy Arsac. "Y" line.

(top right) Illustration by René Gruau.

(below) Specimen on display at the V&A Museum.

(en haut à gauche) Christian Dior Collection Haute Couture Automne/Hiver 1955-1956 Le mannequin Marie-Hélène Arnaud porte "Ecarlate", la robe de cocktail, en faille de soie rouge. Photo Guy Arsac. Ligne "Y"

(en haut à droite) Illustration de René Gruau

(en bas) Spécimen exposé au musée V&A

#christian dior #collection haute couture #fall/winter #automne/hiver #1955-56 #fashion 50s #french designer #french style #marie hélène arnaud #rené gruau #guy arsac #v&a museum #y line #ligne y #écarlate #coktails dress #robe de coktail

[ronibrunn]

Suzi De Givenchy by Winter Vanderbrink for V Magazine China, May 2023

#Suzi De Givenchy #Winter Vanderbrink #v magazine

[melpcmene-a]

ethan tags

[ ic. ethan winters — don't screw with me! ] [ vis. ethan winters — a bloodied visage of trauma ] [ mus. ethan winters — watch over her ; teach her to be strong ] [ hc. ethan winters — quit messing with my head ] [ aes. ethan winters — the dedication to save her ] [ des. ethan winters — don't screw with me unless you mean it ] [ ans. ethan winters — i'm sorry ; but I'm not paranoid. ; just cautious ]

[ v. RE:8 — is this all that's left? from your entire village? ]

#[ ic. ethan winters — don't screw with me! ] #[ vis. ethan winters — a bloodied visage of trauma ] #[ mus. ethan winters — watch over her ; teach her to be strong ] #[ hc. ethan winters — quit messing with my head ] #[ aes. ethan winters — the dedication to save her ] #[ des. ethan winters — don't screw with me unless you mean it ] #[ ans. ethan winters — i'm sorry ; but I'm not paranoid. ; just cautious ] #[ v. RE:8 — is this all that's left? from your entire village? ]

[terrorpenned]

you can fit so much Mrs. de Winter in the Victoria

#victoria winters. #thinking about V wearing that dusty crusty mildewed dress #at least mrs de w (2) got to have a new one made. before the Happenings.

[targaryenrealnessdarling]

A Perfect Score - Epilogue | FigureSkating!AU

Summary: months have passed since the finals with no sign of Aemond, making you wonder if anything has changed | Word Count: 6k~ | Warnings below the cut~

Series Masterlist | Links to my Taglists: General Taglist | Aemond Targaryen Taglist

Warnings: p in v sex, daddy kink, oral (f receiving), degradation, praise, *a finger in the bum*, butt play, ass eating, orgasm denial, creampie, ass slapping, pussy slapping, face slapping

A/N: *don't get emosh, don't get emosh, don't get emosh* I can't believe it's really REALLY the end! I've had this idea for the Epilogue for AGES and can't wait for you all to read the last instalment of our figure skating couple <3 would die for them and hope you enjoy!

"Good, but bend your knees!" You shout to El who's still got her hands outstretched haphazardly, wobbling on the ice as others whizz past her, knocking her off balance.

She throws a middle finger.

Charming.

You laugh as she pushes off to do another lap, reaching down between your legs for the bag and pulling your phone out for any new texts.

Nothing, you sigh.

El makes you jump, bumping into the ledge, "Will you stop being a simp and checking your phone every two seconds? He's going to text you!"

You click your phone off, "I know. I'm just so impatientttt…" you whine, exaggerating your frustration.

El rolls her eyes, "He'll get in, bud"

"Ew, don't call me that"

"Besides, if he gets rejected, he could always be your new manager, pal" she grins.

"You're so fucking gross, you know that?"

She shrugs, a grin that spells victory, "that'd be kinda hot to be fair. Going everywhere with you to competitions, organising your hotel rooms, fucking you over his des-"

"El! For fucks sake" you whisper-shout, heat rising to your cheeks.

A few other skaters on the ice turn their heads in judgment, making your face burn with embarrassment.

"Gods, so uptight" El jokes, a mischievous grin on her face.

To tell the truth. You missed Aemond. In all aspects.

You hadn't had sex since being in Dorne. And you hadn't seen him since the hospital.

Even though you texted most days, after months of seeing him everyday, it was quite the shock to the system.

It felt like there was a hole, conveniently Aemond-shaped, that was deepening the longer you two were separated.

"Oof!"

You both look up, to see Floris on the ice, wobbling her way back onto her feet, grimacing, "I'm ok!" She reassures, pushing off to skate slowly.

You nod in Floris' direction, "Is she okay skating?"

"Yeah, the physiotherapist said it'd be good to get her doing things like this again" El replies, looking over her shoulder at her sister.

She turns back to you, "Your manager doesn't hang around here anymore. Not since Floris has started coming back".

You resist the urge to frown.

Coward.

“Got you”, El smirks mischievously, "will you tell me what happened one day?"

It was something you’d thought about for some time. To tell her, or not? Floris certainly didn’t know the deeper details, but you knew she would have had suspicions.

Aemond was obviously unbothered if such information circulated, having put a very large proverbial wall between him and Otto the moment he was discharged from hospital. And yet, it still wouldn’t feel right, airing out all the Targaryen dirty laundry like that.

Even if he said it was okay.

But maybe, on a deeper level, Floris and El at least, deserved the truth.

"One day" you promise.

The cold winter chill nips at your bones, even through the layers of thermal clothing you've got piled on, the thick socks, boots and an overcoat, it still feels positively freezing.

“Who are you texting, missy?” you tease, bumping El on the shoulder, shoving your hands into your thick coat pockets.

She flushes, from the weather or the embarrassment you are unsure, but she puts her phone away quickly, “Nobody, you nosy cow”

King's Landing Winter Wonderland, Christmas Market and trinket shops, though it's far too early for any of that, it gets the people into the spirit. Stalls line the market square with several of them selling holiday related items as well as food, with an ice rink circling the entirety of the perimeter.

The air smells of mulled wine, cooked meats and the laughter of families and couples alike. With their warm breath creating clouds of white with each exhale.

El has you excitedly tucked into her arm, telling you all about her newest boyfriend, who for all intents and purposes is both hot and a keeper.

Ah, so that’s who she was talking to.

"He's already talking about us moving in together! Before the end of the year" She says excitedly, but her face falls, "but…I don't want to leave you in the lurch paying the rent by yourself".

You scoff, "I won't take you away from good dick because of fucking rent" you smirk, "if you want to, go for it".

She arches her eyebrows in uncertainty, "You sure?"

You pat her gloved hand with yours, "very", you smile, "as long as he doesn't steal you away from me, I want the lowdown".

"Oh you'll get that alright", she laughs.

Having poked your heads into a few stalls, and several sips of mulled wine later, you smirk as El is glued to her phone. Again.

"That your man?" You ask.

She quickly puts it away, biting her lip, "Yup" she replies, "wanna go skating?"

You roll your eyes, "It's not like it's my fucking job, El. Sick of it".

"Oh come on! I won't have to use the kids stabilisers anymore!"

She gives you her wide, puppy-like eyes.

Ones you know you can't refuse.

"Fine" you sigh.

She is far too excited to say that literally a few hours before she was struggling to use her two flippers to stay upright on the rink. Nevermind going backwards.

It’s quite entertaining to see her drag you by the hand excitedly to the ticket gate.

“One ticket for skating, please! Size 5!” she beams at the receptionist, who looks like he’d rather be dead right now.

You furrow your brows, “One? Did you want to go on by yourself and I watch or-”

“Nope! Just you” she grins.

“Me? El, what in seven hells are you on abou-”

She shoves the skates into your hands and practically pushes you past the gate, waving you off, “no questions!”

You don’t even really have time to cuss her out/question the situation, it feels like your brain is in overdrive.

There, either hand leaning against the entrance to the ice rink, where the public are zipping around slowly, laughing, pink in the face, hand in hand, is Aemond. The familiar ribbons of platinum hair that have fallen from the hair tie, now slightly waved from the moisture in the air, sways with the breeze at his shoulders.

He has that slack smirk on his face, his tall broad form leaning on one side, ankles crossed with the low quality skates on, tapping the tip onto the ice.

Even in a heavy looking coat, his hair messily done up and pink cheeks from where the cold had been hitting them, he still looks every bit as handsome as you remembered him.

It makes your heart sigh to see him smile at you with that glimmer in his eye. Blinking slowly and admiringly at you.

"Hey, Princess", he greets warmly.

You almost drop the skates in your hands, the cold wisps of wind making you realise now that your eyes are all wet.

You're sure his name slips out before you crash into his arms, flinging yours around his neck.

He smells just like he used to.

And all those good memories just flood back at once, making that wetness behind your eyes form actual teardrops that line your cheeks.

You feel him laugh a little, one of his big hands on your back, "missed me then?", he prods in a smooth tone.

Fuck. His voice.

You didn't realise you'd missed hearing it so much.

When you pull away, to properly look at his face, he's still smiling, in that classic 'Aemond' way.

You're so engrossed with just looking at him, you nearly flinch when you feel his thumb wipe your under eye softly, wiping the moisture away.

His gaze softens, "don't cry. I don't look that bad, do I?"

Giving a watery laugh, you shake your head, "Just missed you".

His hand is still around your waist, inadvertently pulling you close to him so your hands hover over his chest, "Now, now, don't get all soft on me".

Your cheeks hurt from smiling.

"How?.."

Aemond gestures with his head, "El organised it".

"But…she's-"

"With her new boyfriend, don't worry. It's just us, princess" Aemond smiles, picking up the skates you'd dropped.

"For old time's sake?" He smiles.

And all you can do is blush and smile up at him like a little lovesick teenager.

It feels utterly strange to get back on the ice with Aemond again, even if it is a public one in the middle of a Christmas market. Even more so that he's not flinging you around in all sorts of twists and jumps.

But it feels nice.

Hand in gloved hand, you glide about together, catching up.

Alicent, you learn, has gotten back in touch with her long time friend. Aemond furrows his brows when he recollects that usually she's on facetime with a glass of Dornish Red in one hand and creasing up in front of her iPad at something her friend has said.

Aegon. Well, he's Aegon. Aemond's words, not yours. But he's working on getting a teaching qualification so that he can coach skating instead. It's nice that he was able to find something to use his skills for. Other than womanising.

"Had minor surgery on my nerves…they think it'll do the trick for some years, hopefully forever" he says as you weave on either foot.

"Well that's good" you smile, "does it feel better?"

He nods, "Oh and Hel has a new partner".

You look over quickly, one eyebrow poised, "And? Was I right?"

Smirking, Aemond has to resist the urge to roll his eye, "Yes, you were right".

"Yes! I knew it! I knew she was bi!"

You flush when some families around you look over when you shout it a bit too loud.

Oops.

Aemond tugs you to his side by your waist, humming in a kind of quiet laugh. A comfortable silence descends, just enjoying one another's company.

"I got in", he says suddenly. Stealing your attention again as your feet synchronise in short glides.

"Got in?"

"KLU".

"KLU? Oh my god-" you surge up, his face between your hands, but he doesn't complain, and kiss him fiercely, "Congratulations, Aemond. Oh my gosh, that's-"

You beam with pride.

And you can tell he genuinely loves it, by the way he blushes slightly.

"And" he goes on, his face close to yours, smirking at the confused look on your face.

"And?..."

He licks his lips before he speaks.

"I got a place" he adds, "and was wondering…if you…"

He trails off. And your face settles into realisation. Your heart hammering in your chest, like the engine of an old train.

He shrugs, clearing his throat, “You know, because we basically spent all our time together during the championships…”

You swallow thickly, "Really?..." it comes out weaker than you intended.

He nods, “It’s just out of town, not far from here really” he gestures in the vague direction with his head, the hand that’s resting at your waist dropping somewhat.

Blinking the emotion from your eyes, you swat his chest playfully, “Alright, Mr Moneybags”

He doesn’t laugh, like you expect him to, but he does smile at least. At this point, you seem to have come to a stop, your skates nestled between his to keep you both stable.

His darkened gaze just looks at your face. Studies it.

Like he’s opened a book and is reading through the pages.

When he looks at you like that, you can’t help but feel a flutter deep in your chest. It feels like he is drawing on you softly, like a thousand little butterflies have landed on your face, and are slowly opening and closing their wings.

You shudder when his warm, ungloved thumb brushes against your cheek.

“What?...” you smile at him affectionately.

He hums, a cloud escaping his lips as he speaks, “I’ve missed you”.

All you feel is the ledge of the ice rink press against your lower back and yours and Aemond’s noses brushing against one another as he presses his warm, comforting lips to yours.

He takes his time, moving languidly against your lips with a soft, wet beat, his tongue parting your lips as if he had been waiting all this time to taste you properly.

He tastes just as you remember.

A hint of cigarettes that he’s tried to hide with spearmint.

When you break away, you can’t ignore the warm feeling that blooms in your gut. In all the time you’d spent apart, you forgot how his lips felt on yours, how his hands felt on you, and how his mere presence around you made arousal creep up your thighs.

Gods, it’s been so long.

A blush creeps up your neck to your face, and Aemond smirks.

“Stop that”

Your lower lip catches between your teeth before you reply, “What?”

He leans against the ledge, caging you in with his own body.

“Blushing”

His voice lowers.

“Otherwise I’ll give you something to blush about”

The tension was thick as you and Aemond trudged through the Christmas Market after vacating the ice rink. You tried to lighten it by doing idle things like looking at the homemade ornaments on one stand, to sharing a cup of mulled wine between you, feeling the way the liquid warmed your insides.

That warmth was nothing compared to the way Aemond looked at you.

It reminded you of all those months ago, at the hotel, before the dynamic of your relationship changed. The way he used to stare at you from across the room, in what you wrongly thought at the time was out of disinterest and detest.

How wrong you were.

Shooting off a quick text to El, who you were sure was already back at the flat anyway, enjoying all the ‘assets’ of her new boyfriend, you walk hand in hand with Aemond back to his apartment.

He was very intent on showing you his new place. And your insides fluttered in anticipation, heat crawling up your neck.

His apartment was nice. Not that you expected any less. It was several floors high, showing a good view of King’s Landing and the bright, illuminated Christmas Market in the square below. Even from here, through the tall and wide windows of the living room, you could see the couples zipping around the ice rink, as you both were just a few moments before.

It had that ‘new apartment’ smell, but whenever you brushed past a coat of his or a blanket, it smelled like him. The walls were bare, but you were sure that Aemond would decorate when he was properly settled.

“Is Vhagar going to be coming here?” you ask, cupping the warm mug of tea in your hands as Aemond gives it to you.

“Maybe. She’s quite settled at Mum’s though so…I don’t want to make her anxious”.

You nod, “It’s a nice place”

“Will look even better when you’re here” he smirks, bending down to huff himself onto the sofa, “I’m sure you have better ideas than I do on interior design”.

You simply watch him for a moment, the warmth of his apartment making your previously cold hands feel prickly. Your fingers tap against the ceramic, the sound of Aemond’s playlist rumbling quietly from a speaker in a different room.

Placing the mug on the coffee table, Aemond exhales as your legs rest either side of his torso, moving to sit atop him with your hands stealing beneath his shirt, watching as his pink lips part for breath.

“You’re playing a dangerous game, princess” he murmurs against your lips as he leans up, his large hands squeezing your ass, moulding the flesh to his grip and eliciting a low gasp from your lips.

"Who says it's a game?" You whisper back, teasing him by brushing your lips against his, moving your hips on him and smiling when you feel him harden instantly.

" - fuck - "

You know he hates it, just hates it, when you smirk at how pent up and desperate he gets. But you just can't help it. Not only is it all too easy, it's just too fucking tempting too.

How easily such a large, overbearing and domineering man, can be subdued to a mewling, near-begging mess just by the soft movement of your hips.

"Baby, please -"

Reaching down between your bodies, Aemond outright moans when you palm his erection through his jeans, sitting against his thigh quite obviously. You tease your hand from the base to the tip, squeezing through the denim, seeing the way Aemond almost knits his brows together in barely-contained pleasure.

And any time he tries to reach up, to kiss you properly, you pull back, allowing him to chase you.

"Oh, fuck you-"

You yelp in surprise as Aemond lifts you, keeping your legs around his waist as he pushes his bedroom door open and dropping you onto his mattress. And before you even have a moment to sit up on your elbows, he's on you, kneeing your legs apart and caging you to the bed with his body.

"Can't fucking wait any longer - need you, baby-"

Fuck, even the way he says that has arousal pooling between your legs, the desire to push your thighs together strong, but weakened with Aemond's body keeping them apart.

He's so fast and rough, the way he unbuttons your jeans and pulls the denim down your legs, taking your underwear with it, that you feel for a moment he may have torn something.

He practically fucking growls when he he looks between you, his thumb teasing your clit, finally able to look upon you the way he's wanted to for months.

"Already soaked for me, aren't you?" He coos lowly, teasing your bud in sure, confident circles, before swatting your heat firmly with a wet smack, "such a good fucking slut for me".

You mewl, pressing your lips together, a flush enveloping your face at his words. It's been so long since you were intimate with him, it will take a few moments to get used to it again and fall into that rhythm.

That, and you can't help but flush in embarrassment at the realisation you've not shaved your legs, genuinely not having expected to see him today.

It doesn't seem like Aemond cares.

With a fist over the collar of his shirt, he pulls it over his head, showing his lean and well-muscled torso lit with a warm amber glow from the bedside lamp.

You jolt in surprise as his fingers pull you by your thighs further down the bed, a gasp flying past your lips as his tongue and teeth nip and kiss at the inside of them. The sensation bordering on pain and pleasure at the same time.

"You don't know how long I've waited to taste your sweet pussy, princess"

You have an idea, by the way Aemond mouths at the crease between your thigh and hip. But you don't say it out loud. The anticipation of his mouth so, so close without touching you where you need him most is agonising.

" - fuck - Aemond -"

Your back nearly arches off the bed as he flattens his tongue against your warmth, swirling around your clit first before diving into your folds to feast on you, his fingers digging into your flesh for leverage. The feeling of his grip into your flesh burns pleasantly as he tugs you towards him, your lips parting with hurried pants tumbling out.

Your legs tremble as his low moan vibrates through your core, electricity creeping up your spine as he laps at you with vigour, his sharp nose nudging at your clit as he moves side to side to eventually fuck you with his tongue.

For a split second, you worry if he can actually breathe.

But as your embarrassingly quick orgasm starts barrelling towards you without warning, it somehow gets pushed to the back of your mind, you reach down, threading your fingers through his hair, chanting his name as if it’s all you can say as he groans against your cunt.

His hands hold you down by your thighs, tugging you back to his mouth in soft micro-movements as you shake against him, head thrown back against the pillows with your breath hot in your chest, unable to catch it well enough to form any other sound than moaning unabashedly.

Aemond outright moans as you cum against his tongue, the lewd sound of him licking up everything that comes out makes a heat creep up your neck. But you can’t find it within yourself to be embarrassed. Not when he makes you feel like this.

You can feel the moisture on his face when he takes mercy, drawing his lips away to kiss and nip at the inside of your thighs again, giving one firm bite before he pulls away with a smirk on his face, no doubt happy at the mark he’s left behind.

Your eyes feel heavy as you lift your gaze to him, now perched on his knees as he pops the buttons of his jeans off, the veins on the back of his hand straining, making you feel somewhat lightheaded.

“ - can’t wait to fuck you again - you don’t know how long I’ve wanted be buried inside that pretty little pussy -”

You lick your lips as your mouth goes dry. He always manages to do that. Somehow turn you into a limp, mewling mess in no time at all.

Something you have in common, clearly.

With your heart beating erratically, body throbbing in the afterglow of your orgasm, that feeling is enhanced still when Aemond tugs at his length needily, his shoulders rising and falling with the desire to just stuff himself inside you as deep as he will go.

You can only watch in awe as his fingers wrap around himself, the tip ruddy and desperate, with arousal coating it with every slow and calculated fist. His stomach muscles clench and unclench uncontrollably, his chest muscles moving steadily with each deep breath.

It feels exciting, how utterly small you feel when he leans over you, once again grasping your legs to spread them before him. His long, thick fingers tease your slick folds, before he guides the fat head of his cock to your centre, watching with parted lips at the way your eyebrows furrow in both relief and pleasure as he stretches you around him slowly.

“ - ohfuck - ”, he moans lowly, sinking himself slowly into your warmth and basking in the closeness it offers, “ - fuck, baby, so tight for me -”

Being with him like this again is like sinking into a warm bath, with the rolls of steam batting at your face. And his words are so soft, they’re like dozens of little snowflakes settling on your face in a flurry. All cold and numb, and yet warm and fuzzy at the same time.

It’s completely instinctual, the way you turn your head, slightly embarrassed as Aemond holds either of your legs apart, his pelvis smacking against yours as he eases himself into a steady rhythm.

“ -aw, don’t tell me you’ve gone all shy on me -” he mocks, his eye glimmering with mischief as he looks down at you, “-where’s the needy, little slut I used to know, hm? -”

You gasp as Aemond pushes both hands down, pressing both of your legs towards your shoulders, bending at the knee so that he can kneel higher, using the new position with gravity to fuck down into you faster and rougher.

The new position has you pretzeled before him, completely unable to do anything but throw your head back against the pillows and turn bright red at the wanton, breathy moans that slip out.

“ -Aemond -”

“ - what’s wrong, baby? -” he coos, “ -is this too much for you? Hm? I know you’re more flexible than this -”

Fuck.

Each rough push of his length into you from this angle has the curved head of his cock brush against your sweet spot with devastating precision. With every thrust, the air seems to expel forcefully from your lungs, not helped in part by the fact that Aemond has your legs pressed hard against your ribs.

All you’re able to see through bleary eyes is the way he smirks down at you with his hair stuck to his tacky face, his chest heaving with hurried breath, and every now and then, his neck muscles straining as he tips his head back and groans loudly as you inadvertently squeeze his length when he bullies the end of you.

The air is charged, hot and humid. And you barely register the fact that music is still playing in another room, and that the curtains are pulled back. Though there’s no chance of anyone being able to see you both from how high his apartment is, it still makes your insides tighten that it’s happening so unabashedly with the city right below you.

His hand drifts down your thigh, watching as you squirm beneath him as he presses hard on your stomach, your eyes closing tightly at the feeling of him closing you around his length as it pistons roughly into you. He smiles slightly, almost as if he can feel how deep he reaches inside you.

“ -Oh fuck, baby - can fucking feel you gripping me -” he moans helplessly, leaning over, the sweat on his forehead slightly illuminated by the warm lamp’s light, “-does my girl like being a dirty little slut?”

You barely even register he’s speaking, everything sounding utterly muffled and just too much all at once. His low voice only serves to make that coil wind tighter in your gut, reacting to the way he never lets up his pace once.

You jolt slightly when he taps your cheek twice, a little rougher than you’d anticipated.

“ -I’m fucking talking to you -” he growls, moving his hand from your stomach up to bunch the shirt in his fist, exposing your pebbled nipples to the warmth of the room.

You nod helplessly, “Yes - yes -”

It’s all mindless babbling, and Aemond knows it as he grins, his eye flitting down to watch the way your breasts bounce as he fucks you.

“ -please, Aemond -”

“ -please what, hm? You want to cum, is that it? But you’re too fucked stupid to say it?”

As much as you hate to admit it, his words send a bolt of humiliation through you that does nothing but excite you, your core throbbing around his length with every calculated word he says.

"Aw, poor thing -" he jeers, "- I'm going to have fun with you-"

Wait what?

This isn't said 'fun'?

Oh shit.

Before that familiar coil can wind itself any tighter, Aemond pulls back, grunting as he manhandles your hips to turn you over and his palm cracking against your backside, smirking in victory at the mewl it gets out of you.

The skin there blooms with warmth, more so as Aemond’s tantalisingly hot skin presses against it once more, your lips parting in what can only described as a relieved moan as he slides into you again, his cockhead hitting the spongey end, filling you utterly.

"-Aemo-"

Smack.

"Not my fucking name, Princess. C'mon, you can do it" he purred, pressing his hand against your back, pushing against your spine and forcing your face against the sheets.

A choked moan almost slips out, with him tugging your hips up to him in such a curved position, his cockhead bullies your sweet spot, dragging his length along your sensitive walls, propelling you to an overwhelming orgasm.

"Go on - beg me for it or I won't let you cum-"

The idea of him denying you yet again when you were so close last time just seems utterly unbearable. So despite the humiliation rocking through your core with each harsh smack of his hips, despite the overwhelming heat of the room and most of all, despite your pride.

You do.

"Please - daddy - need it-"

If you could see him, you'd hate it.

Because he grins. Ear to fucking ear like he's wanted to hear it for months.

"Aren't you gonna beg me for permission to touch yourself?"

You suck in a breath, squealing muffled against the sheets as he gives another hard thrust. Clearly, despite appearances, on the verge himself.

"-can I - can I touch myself - please, daddy -"

"-fuck- baby, touch that little clit for me, yeah? - want to feel you cum-"

His voice is strained, pushing you with each thrust further and further against the sheets, your arms near giving out with the weight of him on you. With difficulty, your hand snakes between you and the mattress that constantly dips with how rough Aemond is being, and finds your bud, running the slickness that has collected over it, tying up your pleasure into two feelings.

Aemond’s lips part, staggered breaths the only thing coming out, as he feels your walls flutter around him, looking down at the way your bodies meet with a soft smack every time. You feel so warm and tight, gods he’s wanted to cum since since you started touching him through his jeans.

But now, pulling you by your hips to spear you onto his cock, he’s so so close.

Just wants to feel you first.

“-baby, you’re doing so well for me-” he breathes quickly, his gaze flitting briefly from where he’s pistoning in and out of you, to your sweat slick face, pressed against the sheets, biting your lips harshly as you pleasure yourself in tandem with Aemond’s movements.

As his hand slid down past your hips, his thumb tracing the bottom of your spine, you suck in a harsh breath when he softly grazes over your puckered hole, still fucking shallowly as if to tease you and him into teetering on the edge of a climax.

You're barely able to see behind you, pressed so hard into the sheets, but he looks good fucking you. His chest shines with perspiration, the chain dangling around his neck teasingly, and his abdominal muscles clenching and unclenching with restraint.

And then you see him smile.

"-oh? We've never done this before have we, princess?-"

Oh shit.

After all the exertion of your passion so far, your slick has easily made its way onto your thighs, so Aemond doesn't have to move much to drag some of it on his thumb and circle your hole with light, delicate motions, moistening the area.

Humiliation creeps up onto your face, eyes slipping shut. No guy before has ever really tried to do this. So this is uncharted territory. But despite the brief embarrassment, you have to admit that the feeling of Aemond ever so slightly pressing his thumb against you as he continues to thrust brutally into your cunt just feels new in the most amazing way.

His other hand still grabs the flesh of your ass, tugging you back to his cock in a frantic rhythm. The mewls coming out your mouth now sounding so unlike your own.

Aemond knows by the way your hips move up to meet his touch that you like it, but are too embarrassed to say.

"-how about it, hm? - you want me in both your pretty little fuckholes? -"

"-yes - yes, please daddy, I-"

Making sure his thumb is slick enough, your puckered hole also, he slides in slowly, using the palm of his hand to grasp whatever of your ass cheeks as he can.

You almost hear his choked moan.

"-fuck-, you're so tight here, princess - you gonna let me fuck it one day, hm? - you'd be so fucking good here-"

The batting of his cock against your upper walls has you very nearly sobbing outwardly, combined with the feeling of him in such a new place, pressing in, you'd forgotten you'd stopped pleasuring yourself. Completely embroiled in this feeling.

He chuckles darkly, crooking the digit ever so slightly, leaning over to press against your back "-you'd fucking let me as well, wouldn't you? -"

The curling of his other fingers on the flesh of your backside has him smiling at the sounds it emits from you.

“-did I say stop, hm? Keep touching yourself - cum for me-”

You know that as soon as you do it’s all over.

His voice, combined with all three feelings at once, tugging at that pleasurable spot inside you that has white, hot pleasure soaring through your bloodstream, has a long, choked moan filling the space between you. And you’re surprised to hear that the same sound slips past Aemond’s lips as well, the air of his breath batting against your neck as he tries to bury himself as deep inside you as he possibly can.

You’re trying to suck in breath without really realising it, the earth-shattering orgasm making your body go all rigid for a moment before you relax against the sheets, with the pleasant weight of him above you.

Everything feels warm. His bedroom right now feeling like a large blanket has enveloped you both. It seems a weird thing to think in the moment, with Aemond’s half naked body hunched over you, his cock twitching and pulsing, whimpering as he is still emptying himself inside of you and feeling the aftershocks through your fleshy walls.

All his micro-movements seem overly-sensitive. And when Aemond exhales, lifting himself off your back, lifting your lids to open your eyes feels like the most difficult thing you’ve ever done.

“-sorry-” he whispers cautiously as he pulls his softening cock from you, immediately feeling the warm rush of cum coating your inner thighs.

Warmth blossoms once again to your cheeks as he stays still, and you think he must be staring at the way he leaks from you, sighing in a sort of perverted admiration.

You don’t even have time to open your mouth before his thumb slips out your other hole, only to jolt in shock once it’s immediately replaced by his tongue. All those dulled out endorphins that were dissipating into your limbs feel like they all gather back, and you squeeze your thighs together, fisting the bedsheets so tightly they could’ve torn.

Both of his hands seem to find their home on each asscheek, spreading them so he can easily swirl his talented wet, muscle around your hole, fucking moaning as he does it. All your nerves ring semi-uncomfortably, overstimulation nipping at the edges of the pleasure.

“-fuck, Aemond, no no, please-” you plead, emitting a weary, exhausted laugh when he chuckles and pulls away, landing one softened smack against the flesh.

“-Mm- another time-”

Lethargy pulls at your body as you lay on your front, blinking slowly as you feel the mattress rise, pressing your lips together as Aemond disappears into the en-suite, tucking himself back into his jeans.

A moment later, he comes back with a warm washcloth, offering to clean you up. But you simply smile, pushing yourself to sit up, “I’m good”, you smile, with a flushed face, feeling slightly bashful after what you’d just done together.

One long shower together later, you lay in his bed, looking out at the city beneath, the cascade of brightly coloured lights littering the dark space between buildings. Aemond’s shirt easily reaches to your thighs, with nothing beneath, not having anticipated staying over anywhere today.

Aemond sighs calmly, his chin on the top of your head, pressed against your back, with one of his hands running through the tresses of your hair, every now and then stroking at your scalp, which has your eyes slipping shut at the pleasant feeling.

“Well, princess? Do you like it?” he asks, his voice all soft and tired.

You meet his lilac gaze, tilting your head slightly in question.

“The apartment”.

“It’s perfect”, you smile, reaching up his cheek and running the back of your fingers over it, the scar tissue feeling slightly different in texture over your skin, “you sure you want me to move in?”

He blinks slowly, a smile rising to his lips, his hand coming to yours and pressing a soft, tender kiss to your wrist. And though not directly sexual, it makes your belly do little backflips, feeling so intimate and captivating that warmth floods your skin through his lips.

“Of course, princess. I can't do this without you”.

General Taglist: @aemondsfavouritebastard | @bellstwd | @blairfox04 | @hb8301 | @jamespotterismydaddy | @mochi-rose | @nenelysian | @natty2017 | @randomdragonfires | @risefallrise | @theoneeyedprince | @thelittleswanao3 | @tsujifreya | @urmomsgirlfriend1 | @valeskafics | @watercolorskyy

Aemond Taglist (1): @asp3nxx | @avidreader73 | @bellaisasleep | @boofy1998

#aemond #aemond fanfic #aemond fanfiction #aemond fic #aemond smut #aemond x y/n #aemond x fem!reader #aemond x reader #aemond x oc #aemond x you #aemond targaryen fanfiction #aemond targaryen smut #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x y/n #aemomd targaryen x you #aemond targaryen fan fic #aemond targaryen fan fiction #aemond targaryen fic #aemond targaryen fanfic #modern!aemond x reader #modern!aemond targaryen #modern!aemond smut #modern!aemond targaryen x reader #modern!aemond #modern!aemond x you #modern!aemond x fem!reader #a perfect score #ewan mitchell #ewan mitchell characters

[feelmyskinonyourskin]

Cure [Sex Pollen Trope]

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x AFAB Reader x Frank Castle

Trope de Sept Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Sex Pollen Situation 1. A fictional substance that makes the characters experience unbearable pain if they don't fuck. "You, Bucky, and Frank are exposed to a strange chemical in an abandoned Hydra warehouse. And there's only one way to make the effects wear off faster."

Warnings: SMUT/18+ (don’t interact if your age is not in your bio). No use of Y/N. AFAB Reader. Implied sexual assault of and by Bucky during his time as the Winter Soldier. Implied past/current casual sexual relationships between the Reader/Bucky and Reader/Frank. All the dubious consent circumstances that come with sex pollen. Unprotected P in V, threesome, breeding kink, creampies, multiple orgasms, pet names (baby, doll, sweetheart, honey). 

WC: 3,200

A/N: Trope de Sept order got a little shuffle. Don't worry, everything is still coming, I just wanted to space out characters, fic types, etc. now that I have a better idea of what the rest of the fics will be.

*I never give permission for my fics, manips, or any other original creation I post on this site to be copied, posted elsewhere, translated, or fed into any AI program. The only platform I currently post anything on is Tumblr. Thanks!*

How you and Bucky managed to get separated from the rest of the team, you weren’t sure.

The Hydra base was recently abandoned. Tipped off that the Avengers were on their way, they scrambled to make their escape, leaving miscellaneous papers, weapons, and other evidence of guilt behind.

You certainly weren’t going to take anyone in on this, but at least you’d have some clues that could maybe point to where they’d be next.

You and Bucky made your way into some kind of lab, the rest of the team raiding other areas of the base. Coms were down, but you weren’t too concerned as there seemed to be no threat that required back up. Hydra left this place abandoned and disheveled due to their hastened exit.  

“Shit. There’s no one here.” Bucky lamented, sending a set of empty beakers crashing to the floor in frustration

“Not no one, but sure as shit ain’t Hydra.” a gravelly voice cut through the darkness of the lab

You and Bucky turned to the source; a tall figure attached to dusty combat boots, vest dripping with white paint smears and long-ago dried blood splatters. He wore a scowl on his tired face, a bruise covering the left side of his jaw, and had a rifle slung over his shoulder.

“Castle.” Bucky nodded toward him

“Barnes. Sweetheart.” he nodded back to the two of you

“I’m sorry– sweetheart? How do you two…” Bucky asked, pointing between you and Frank.

“Remember when you said I should get a hobby? You know when weeks go by and there are no missions?” you said

“I meant like, take up pickleball or crocheting; not get sexually involved with vigilantes.”

“Hey, hey!” Frank rebutted

“Woah!” you also interrupted Bucky’s implication “Who said anything about me sleeping with him? No, I started taking on some– let’s just call them personal cases outside of work. You know, using my powers to be the everyman's hero. I run into Frank on rooftops sometimes.”

“So your hobby is being a superhero, when you’re not at work being a superhero?”

“I mean sometimes we also sleep with each other.” Frank added

Frank was lucky your powers didn’t involve laser vision, or else he’d be burnt to a crisp by the way you glared at him.

“Really, doll? Castle?”

“You know what Bucky, I don’t need judgment from someone who's dating pool includes all four of the Golden Girls. Wait, how do you two know each other?” you motioned between him and Frank

“A mutual friend of ours, Curtis Hoyle, runs a veterans therapy group once a week. It usually also turns into a poker game at my place afterwards.”

���Wilson joins sometimes too.” Frank added

“Didn’t think this was your scene, Castle,” Bucky said, bringing the subject back to the mission “Thought you worked alone. You’re not thinking of joining up are you?”

Frank scoffed. “Nah. Following a lead. Led me here.”

“To a world wide terrorist orginization’s base?”

“You’d be surprised how many of the street level scumbags I chase down are involved in shit like this.”

“So you came here to go all Punisher on them?”

Frank raised an eyebrow and nodded.

“Sure, the Avengers have been playing whack-a-mole with them for years, but the vigilante with a rage problem and a bunch of guns is gonna do it.” you said with a roll of your eyes.

“Fairness to me, didn’t know just what this place was til I got here.”

Bucky let out a deep exhale. He glanced between you and Frank, before returning his focus to the abandoned lab around you.

“Well you’re here now, might as well make yourself useful.”

The three of you looked high and low through the lab and turned up nothing of real value that could even be a glimmer of a lead on what Hydra was planning next or where they had scurried off to.

Bucky used his vibranium arm to bust open the door of a locked walk-in freezer, the last place it seemed you hadn’t searched.

Various test tubes and bags of medical supplies sat on the shelves, some full of odd looking substances, others spilled over and shattered from Hydra’s escape efforts.

Frank walked up to a shelf containing vials of cherry-colored liquid, picking one up in his large hand and examining it curiously.

“Don't touch that!” Bucky exclaimed, lunging forward just as Frank turned his head

Their bodies collided, sending the glass canister spinning into the air and crashing down to the ground. The red substance splashed all over the concrete floor and tiny fragments of glass flew in every direction.

“Castle, please tell me you didn’t just do that.”

“The hell you mean, me? You’re the one who pushed me!” Frank argued back

Bucky’s panic stricken gaze met yours and you had never seen fear quite like this in his eyes.

“Don't breathe.” he commanded

“What do you mean don’t breathe?” you asked, shaking off some of the liquid that splattered on your boot

“Oh god, no no no. It’s too late. We’ve all already been exposed.” Bucky lamented, sinking to the floor with his head in his hands.

“Bucky, what is that stuff? What is going on?”

“It’s a serum.”

“Like a super soldier serum?”

“Yes. But also no. This one’s effects are temporary. And highly potent. And very airborne.”

“Airborne. Like we all just breathed it in?”

“Yep.” he confirmed

“So what does it do? What’s gonna happen to us?” you asked, panic rising in your chest

“When I was theirs,” he motioned to the room around you, implying his time as Hydra’s prisoner “They realized all their sick experiments finally worked on me and they wanted more super soldiers, to replicate what they’d created in my bloodstream. The problem was, this was right around the time Dr. Zola got captured and arrested by the team that would become Shield.”

You glanced up and down the shelves once more, hoping something in here could be used for first aid in treating whatever the hell was about to happen to the three of you.

“So without their best scientist, no matter how many liters of my blood they took and tried to recreate the serum with, they couldn’t. In a last ditch attempt, they thought maybe it could be transferred genetically, They thought maybe they could use me to breed more supersoldiers.”

Your attention snapped back to Bucky.

“Breed? Wait, so they made you…? Oh my god, with who?!” you asked in horror as Bucky revealed yet another disturbing detail of his past

“Usually volunteers for Hydra’s cause. Sometimes other prisoners; women they also had been doing experiments on.”

“That’s disgusting.” you commented

“Believe me, I’m aware.”

“But what does that have to do with that stuff?” Frank motioned to the mess still splattered on the floor

“Zola’s prodigy, a real peach of a human named Dr. Whitehall, wanted to ensure the maximum possibility my DNA would take and the women participants would be as fertile as possible. I mean, after all this shit they did to me before, they thought maybe my swimmers would be pretty fried and they could create something to remedy that. So that stuff is a concoction he created in the 70s, basically it enhances all sexual urges to their most primal instinct, so those exposed are inclined to reproduce.”

“So it’s horny juice?” Frank asked

“Eloquent as always Castle, but yes. I’d say we have about ten more minutes before it kicks in. Once it does, it’s really painful until it’s out of your system or until you act on what it wants you to.” he turned to you “Okay here’s what’s gonna happen– Doll, you’re gonna go outside and lock Frank and me in this freezer so you’ll be safe from us.”

“Safe from you? What do you mean?”

“This stuff, it kinda alters your self control for a while. Like I said, it makes you run more on instinct, especially when the painful side effects hit. Once it starts kicking in, we’ll do anything to get rid of the pain. Frank and I won’t be able to resist you and you won’t be up for putting up much of a fight either. Get somewhere where our coms will work again and radio to the team, have them get you to Banner’s lab immediately. He might be able to concoct something to ease your symptoms for a few days.”

“A few days?!”

“Well it fades faster if you… ya know. But if you don’t, it could take a while to move through your system.”

“What about the two of you?”

“We’ll just have to… take care of ourselves here.” he said, making lewd gesture with his hand “Won’t be as efficient as the real thing, but it’ll help.” 

“I’m not gonna leave the two of you to just jack off and suffer.”

“Sweetheart, we’ll be fine. Just worry about you.” Frank chimed in, agreeing with Bucky

“If the solution is to… you know fuck it out. I mean shit, it’s nothing I haven’t already done with either of you.”

“Excuse me?” Frank inquired, now the one whipping his head to look between the two of you

“Remember in group a couple months ago when I said I got casually involved with a coworker, but broke it off cause it was getting in the way of our work? Well...” Bucky gestured towards you

“Unbelievable.” Frank grumbled with a shake of his head

You sat on the floor across from Bucky, tac suit suddenly feeling a bit too tight and itchy against your skin.

“This freezer we’re in… it’s still on right?” you asked

“Yeah.”

“Then why do I feel like I’m gonna combust at any minute?”

“It’s the serum. Shit, it’s already taking effect.” Bucky rushed over and crouched down beside you “Doll, you sure you don’t want to get out of here?”

“No. I want to stay. I want to help both of you and I don’t want to go through this alone either.” you said, unzipping your jacket and tossing it across the room without a thought, “Jesus it feels like my blood is on fire.”

You fanned yourself with your hands to no avail. This must have been how your mother felt during your teenage years when she’d lament about hot flashes.

Suddenly, you understood what Bucky meant by pain all over your body. It started small, almost like a needle prick, near your abdomen, but rapidly spread like ink on wet parchment.

Evidence that they were both starting to feel it too was showing; the way Frank’s brows were scrunched and how he was keeled over, hands on his knees with white knuckles gripping at his jeans. Bucky’s supersoldier powers combined with his previous exposures to this substance, he seemed reasonably calm compared to the two of you. His blue eyes were glazed over in a vacant stare as he sat on the ground across from you. Sweat droplets were beginning to form on his unusually pale skin. 

“P–please” you begged to both of them, pain suddenly unbearable as you pushed your pelvis off the floor, trying to find relief with friction against nothing.

You reached out to Bucky, but he shook his head no.

“Take care of Frank first.” he lulled his head to look at you “I’m more resistant to it’s effects. I’ll be fine for a while.”

“How many times do we have to… you know, to get it out of our systems?” you asked, still writhing your body against the air.

“As many times as it takes.” Bucky said

“Frankie” you reached a hand forward, beckoning him towards you.

He stumbled as he crossed the room, still slouched over slightly as he walked.

Frank’s cock was obviously strained against his jeans as he crouched down in front of you, deep brown eyes meeting your gaze.

“Sweetheart, you sure?” he asked once more, resistance to the serum fading quickly as he ran the back of two fingers down your arm, stroking you in reassurance.

As soon as his hand brushed your skin, icy relief washed over you, sending goosebumps along your flesh. You had the irresistible urge to press more of his skin against yours, to be as close to him as possible to quell the heat still bubbling beneath the surface.

All you could do was nod in response as you lunged forward, rubbing your hand along the bulge in his pants. Frank whined, a sound you’d never heard him make in the times you’d fallen into bed together, before crashing his lips against yours.

His kisses were fiery, full of tongue and teeth, like he just couldn’t drink enough of you in. Usually so patient and tender in bed, his large hands were now clawing at you, desperately trying to rid you of your clothes as quickly as he could. 

He tugged off your boots in one motion, allowing you to shimmy your pants down your body. Both of your shirts were quickly discarded as well. Fumbling to unbutton his jeans and push them down, Frank let out a relieved sigh as he finally freed his aching cock. The cool air from the freezer hit your sopping cunt, refreshing as another wave of heat rolled through your body as the serum was now fully in control.

You glanced over to Bucky as Frank laid you down on the hard concrete floor. His eyes were squeezed shut in a mixture of pain and pleasure, flesh hand down his pants stroking himself to quell the growing anguish as he listened to you and Frank. 

“Goddamnit doll, I can smell you.” His breathing was labored as he spoke.

Frank reached down, running a trembling finger through your folds.

“Shit Barnes, of course you can, she’s soaked.”

“P– please Frank” You begged again as Frank touched you where you needed him most, the action unknowingly teasing you into more pain.

“Shhh shh shh sweetheart. I know. It’s hurting me too. I’ll take care of you.” Frank reassured, sliding two fingers into you effortlessly

A strained sob slipped from you as he pumped in and out of you, relieved at the sensation but still in so much agony from not getting what you really needed.

“I think you’re ready.” he commented, barely restraining himself from just taking you roughly

You reached for his shoulders, guiding him fully on top of you. As he lowered himself he slid inside you in one motion, sinking all the way in easily. The serum didn’t allow him any pause, hips immediately snapping in and out with rough thrusts, primal need taking full control. His ample length repeatedly hit that perfect spingey spot inside you, causing you to cry out.

God the sounds in the room were downright sinful. Frank, who had been incredibly verbal during your previous trists, now reduced to only groans and grunts being swallowed by your sloppily placed kisses. Bucky’s lewd moans echoed off the walls and combined with the sound of skin slapping and your mewling. The vulgar symphony only spurred you on. Your peak hit you surprisingly quickly, though you attributed that to the foreign chemical invading your system.

It was like no other orgasm you’d ever had, like those viral videos of a firework finale all accidentally exploding at once. It felt endless, like you’d just be there cumming on the floor for the rest of your life.

“Shit honey, keep squeezing me just like that.” Frank finally found his words, climbing his own summit to relief. His large hand gripped at your jaw, steadying you beneath him as his movements became more erratic, an improvised drum solo of a brutal pace.

His dark eyes met yours, pupils blown out as he watched you come apart beneath him once more. Another overwhelming orgasm washed over you, more intense than the last.

That was enough to drag Frank over the edge with you. He pulsed deep inside you, filling you to the brim so much that you could feel it running down your legs before he even pulled back.

“Goddamnit.” he groaned into your shoulder

Sprawled out on the floor, you were an absolute mess of your own slick and sweat and Frank’s cum, but you didn’t care. You still direly needed more relief and knew Bucky must’ve been in total agony by this point; listening and watching you and Frank go at it.

“How you doing sweetheart?” Frank asked as he rolled off you, now a little more clarity that he’d gotten one orgasm out. You could still see the strained muscles in his neck, his skin still a shade of red as his lust was not yet fully satiated. 

“Better. Still hurts a little but much more bearable. Bucky, you ready to take over?”

He was slumped against the wall, eyes still squeezed shut. His jacket and shirt were gone and his pants were undone. But he’d given up on touching himself, knowing it wouldn’t soothe his suffering in the way he needed. You crawled across the floor toward him.

“Hey Buck? Eyes on me baby.”

His eyes snapped open and looked at you, full of desperation and pity.

“Let me help, yeah?” you spoke sweetly

He nodded, watching limply as you fumbled with his fly and exposed his throbbing length.

A switch seemed to flip inside him as you straddled him and sank down, coming alive with an animalistic fervor as you rocked your hips slowly. He let out a hearty exhale feeling your velvety walls all the way down his cock, finally alleviating the anguish he’d been trying so hard to conceal. 

Every sensation in your body was amplified, every touch of Bucky’s skin against yours was exquisite, every caress of his metal arm up and down your back shot like lightning striking straight to your core. You could feel every ridge of his cock, every thrust, every exhale. Overwhelmed by it all, you collapsed against his shoulder, letting him take the reins as he began to pitch himself up into you. How different he was too in this circumstance than the times previously you’d had him. Long languid strokes to ensure you’d feel it all long forgotten in favor of dragging you down by the hips over and over to meet his pace, every slam punctuated by lust and fury. Muttering ‘oh god’ and ‘yes baby please’ into your ear.

A soft caress brushed along the back of your neck, Frank kneeling behind you placing tender, open-mouthed kisses across your shoulder blades as you and Bucky fucked it out. The urge must’ve been building in him again because his hands were all over you and soon enough you weren’t sure whose grasp was where, only vaguely aware because Bucky’s vibranium touch was cool and calm amongst the heightened temperature of your sweaty skin. 

Your orgasm with Bucky blossomed, rising from deep within your core and spreading like wings in the breeze. You cried into his shoulder as he did not relent in his pace, pulling your pelvises flush as he came inside you with a carnal moan.

But you still weren’t satiated and you could tell neither were they. Fuck, this was gonna be a long night. 

#bucky barnes #bucky x reader #sebastian stan #frank castle x reader #frank castle #jon bernthal #trope de sept #sex pollen #bucky x you #frank castle x you #imagine #bucky barnes x you x frank castle

[scotianostra]

On February 24th 1303 the Scots, under Simon Fraser and John Comyn beat an English force at The Battle of Roslin.

Now most of my history is self taught that I have picked up over the years, I was brought up near Roslin and my mum did take us there as bairns and told us all about the Chapel, the Apprentice Pillar and The Holy Grail, this was 30 years before Dan Brown's Da Vinci Code novel, so with all that you would think that I will have been told all about The Battle of Roslin?

Nope not a thing, I knew about Stirling Bridge, Bannockburn and Culloden, as well as other battles but I can't recall my mum ever telling me about Roslin, so what I know is all learned over the past 20 years or so.

Fought between the Scots and English during the Wars of Scottish Independence and was a Scottish victory, but it does not figure in many history books and few people up until lately have even heard of it, yet the figures involved, especially on the English side, make it one of the biggest battles ever on Scots soil.

This was during the Wars of Scottish Independence, according to the stories I have read it was more of a fight over the love of a woman rather than a pure Scotland v England "match".

Lady Margaret Ramsay of Dalhousie, who had become betrothed to the handsome Sir Henry St Clair, they of the Knights Templar folk. Enter your typical English arrogant guy in Sir John de Segrave, a seasoned campaigner in many a Scottish battle. Sir John is said to have fallen in love with oor Lady Margaret on may visits to Dalhousie Castle, on hearing of the impending marriage in a fit of jealousy decided he wanted the Lady for himself so sought out to sweep her off her feet and defeat the Scottish army all in one fell swoop.

It's a great tale and sounds like a Hollywood film, but there never was any Lady Margaret Ramsay and we know that Sinclair married one Alicia de Fenton. So that's the romance bit debunked.

What I have also read out about the battle is that Segrove split his army, of 30,000 troops, into three groups, to me this is more believable, well splitting the army, the numbers in my mind will have been a lot less. Anyone who knows the landscape of Roslin Glen will know that it lends itself to the theory that in battle on big force would find it difficult to gather there. The English army in three divisions was also common in armies at the time. The terrain in Roslin in the middle of winter would have made it very difficult for a large army to manouevre, so with that I am pretty sure the numbers have been exaggerated, put it this way, if 30,000 English were defeated at Roslin it would be bigger than Bannockburn.

This brings me to my third point about the battle, why are no accounts of it from people present at it? Well that is easily explained in the fact that one of the commanders of the Scots was John "The Red" Comyn. It's a well know fact that history favours the winners, and we all know that The Bruce and Comyn were bitter rivals so it would be natural for any records of the battle to have been erased by Bruce. Well that's my take on it.

A couple of other details often written about the battle is that William Wallace was present, Wallace by this time had given up the Guardianship and at some point was said to have been in France, when captured he was in possession of a "safe passage" letter from The King of France, so was he there? Again I refer to my local knowledge in that along the River Esk that runs through Roslin Glen, towards Hawthornden Castle is a cave we know as Wallace's Cave, so there is a connection somewhere down the ages with our favourite Scottish patriot.

One as wee story regarding The Battle of Roslin is about the Cistercian Prior Abernethy of Mount Lothian to the west of Balantradoch, the Templar headquarters in Scotland, it was about 5 miles from Roslin, Abernethy, the monk, had been a Templar, a warrior, who had off his armour and lay down his sword to spend the remainder of his life praising God. Now the warrior priest's blood rose again. The life of prayer, compilation of Gregorian chants was abandoned. God had called the Prior to the defence of Scotland. As men prepare for battle each pray to whatever God he knows "let us be victorious."

Monks on horseback were sent to raise the alarm and warn the Scots of the danger facing them, they would have said a prayer for the Scots troops before the battle, as was normal, but another legend is that as the Scottish Army grew tired during the third stage of the battle. Abernethy is said to have been crucial with his local knowledge of the Glen, he also directed the Monks to erect a huge St Andrews Cross on the Pentland Hills, as the Scots tired the Cross was set alight and the Abernethy pointed towards it, saying it was a sign from God, it rallied the troops and the Battle was won.

You will have maybe heard other versions of The Battle of Roslin, a lot of this is my own take and by no means historical.

#scotland #scottish #history #Midlothian Roslin #Battle #First war of Scottish Independence

[rotting-ink]

Romance Options First Appearance

Written for if the player is bisexual. If the player chooses only female love interests, then all the RO's are all women. Same as for if the player chooses only male love interests. 

Luther looked over the hall filled with members of his pack milling around the hall, eyes narrowed on a piece of paper slipped to him earlier that morning. His people chattered amongst themselves, sitting along the low tables, sharing food and drink. Fireplaces were lit. Cubs were playing with each other in little groups or nestled into their mothers’ sides. Harmony. He made this.

He rubs his calloused thumb against the ink, long since dried. He leaned back in his chair, catching the attention of his sister, Emilia. She seemed to bristle at his very movement and Luther folded the piece of paper with a low sigh.

“Em-”

“What?” She snapped, tugging at a lock of her dark hair.

Luther dragged his tongue over his teeth, eyes narrowing. Even the hall quieted as her outburst. She was getting too unruly for her position. Any day now she was going to make a mistake that he wouldn’t be able to save her from.

“Your little friend.” Luther said after a moment. “Is dead.”

Emilia froze up, turning around to stare at him with her lips slightly parted. Luther settled back into a comfortable position in his chair, turning away from her to let the piece of paper flutter from his palm, into the fireplace by his legs, being eaten up within seconds by the flames.

“... Luther.” Emilia whispered. “What did you do?”

Sienna reclined on her sofa as her guests gushed about her wonderful party, the entertainment, the food, all so wonderful! She just watched them, running her perfectly manicured thumb over the rim of her wine glass, swirling the dark red liquid around.

God, she was fucking bored.

She’s done it all before. Again and again. The parties, the games, the drinking, the sex, the spending. She was starting to feel old. And there was nothing Sienna Della Rovere hated more than feeling fucking old.

She watched her guests dance and gossip and coo. She watched them eat her food and enjoy her singers and whisper about how one of these days their host simply must marry one of the eligible bachelors constantly hanging around her.

They too, were fucking boring. Every day was so… Fucking… Oh?

One of her little assistants was stumbling over themselves to get to where she was languidly lounging, their little face pale with shock.

“Baroness Della Rovere! Baroness!” The little thing tottered to a stop in front of her, panting.

“Yes?” Sienna replied mildly, a perfect eyebrow raised.

“I… The… The Clerk… He’s been found dead.”

Sienna’s mouth parted in a perfect shocked expression but the edge of her lip twitched.

Finally, some fun.

Victor got home late. The best time to get home. Silence. Nothing but the fireplace crackling with a flame that was lit specially for him. It was hard to remember a time when he wasn’t living such a life. Not that he couldn’t remember, it was that it was a time that felt like a glowing ember to try and touch without hurting yourself.

So he didn’t. So he lived the good life, with a crystal glass of brandy held in his palm, a book open on his knee. So, he enjoyed his new life.

Then he heard them. His spouse. A few thumps upstairs and muffled movement. Victor stilled and glanced towards the ceiling, as if it would let him see through the wood, watching as they trotted around and bumped into things as they tried to pull on their evening robe. His lips thinned but as he heard their footsteps make their way down the grand staircase, he schooled his expression into something warmer. By the time the door to the study swung over, he looked downright loving.

“Victor.”

“My dear.” He reached out for his beloved spouse to rest their leathery hand in his. “You needn’t come down to greet me. You should be resting.”

Their cold eyes bored into him before they slowly parted their lips.

“Victor… That boy is dead.”

He blinked at them a few times.

“Luke. Luke is dead.”

His stomach tightened, the whiskey curdling in his gut. The glass slipped from his fingers and smashed on the floor.

Zaniyah was cold. So fucking cold. She was always cold these days, but it didn’t mean that she ever got used to it. That she’ll ever want to get used to it.

Her black skirt drags on the ground as she walks, leaves and dirt staining the hem. Hard to remember a time that she’d ever cared about what the hem of her frock looked like. There was once upon a time that she’d gain stares and whispers about the state she was in. Now she glides through crowds and groups and no one takes notice of her. No one yells at her for bumping them, no one grumbles when she steps on their foot, no one yelps when her umbrella smacks their face.

Bliss. If only she wasn’t so cold.

She glides past the elderly lady at the desk, squinting through her clouded spectacles. She descends the stairs, pausing a bit as the doctor ascends the stairs, rubbing his eyes wearily. Zaniyah admires his profile, tilting her head. When he’s out of sight, she continues her way, perfectly buckled, muddied shoes making neither a sound or a stain on the tiled floor.

Then she arrives. And there he is.

The body lying on the white slab, a slender, greying pinkie poking out from under the tarp.

“Hello, Mister Buckley.” She murmurs and slips her notebook free from her jacket.

#story snippets #l rawlins #s della rovere #v de winters #z chambers #the rot of witchwood #just love interest things

[northsoulss]

dating you I - elisa de almeida

(a/n : i wrote this on a whim during my study break lol. this is how i think dating her would be like, of course take everything with a pinch of salt.)

whispers in the dark, trailing hands touching skin, giggles and laughter spilling from your lips. you stare at her, and she stares at you, eyes curved into crescent moons, crinkled skin with a crooked grin.

i. she looks at you like you hung the stars while you cook her childhood meal. she stares at your back from the kitchen island with a hand on her cheek as you pace around, taking different things from cupboards. you turn around, about to ask her to taste it to see if it needs more salt before pausing, seeing an intense lovesick expression on her face. in her eyes, you looked gorgeous, stray pieces of hair falling over that you tucked behind your ears, hair up in a messy bun, a light sheen of sweat on your forehead and arms. you only laugh, a massive flush creeping up onto your face. she only stares more whilst you shake your head, turning around so that she can’t see your flustered appearance.

ii. you think shes the most beautiful woman you’ve ever seen as she helps you remove your makeup after a long day, eyes narrowed with concentration, lip pulled between her teeth to try not to get your makeup remover in your mouth. you laugh as she rubs your lips harshly with the cotton pad to get rid of your lipstick, a mischievous smile on her face.

iii. she thinks nothing could be more perfect than this, her lying face down with your body straddling her back. your warm hands slide up and down her tense back. you plant kisses along her spine as you make your way further down her body, each lingering touch sends an electric shock coursing through her body.

iv. after bad days, you know she would be waiting at home, despite her tiredness from trainings, with open arms and forehead kisses. her touch is comforting when you complain to her about how much of a bitch your boss is, her words like a soothing cup of tea on a cold winter morning.

v. she only realises how much you mean to her when after a fight, you still make an effort to plant sticky notes on the fridge for her to read before she goes to training.

“let’s make up? i promise good food when i’m back from work, love.”

she reads your hand writing completely smitten, looking at it as if you wrote her a poem. she takes the paper with a small smile on her lips, kissing it lightly before putting it in her wallet with the rest of the sticky notes that she has been collecting all year.

vi. you realise she is the one when hanging out with your friends, one of them asks you what is your vision of love and all you can think of is her laughter with that beautiful smile. you find her in all the small tasks you do, like finding a good song to listen to when doing chores, you get reminded of her telling you that this is her favourite song of all time, and it reminds her of you.

vii. when you’re laying in bed with her, face to face, your hearts beat in sync, and you unknowingly move closer to her. you recently read about when people hug, thats when two hearts are at their closest, literally inches apart. a small part of you thinks of that with a smile on your face and she doesn’t miss it. she wonders what you could be thinking of, but thoughts dissipate when when you tug her to your chest, so that the part of her that you love the most can be the closest to where your heart is. so that she can hear how your heart speeds up only for her.

©️northsoulss 2023, all rights reserved.

#elisa de almeida #elisa de almeida x reader #elisa de almeida psg #elisa de almeida fluff #lgbtqia #woso x reader #woso fluff #woso fanfics #wlw love #wlw #wlw post

[chicinsilk]

🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

(top) "Cigne Noir" evening dress composed of a bodice and a skirt, silk satin and velvet. Christian Dior Haute Couture fall/winter 1949/50 collection. "Milieu de Siècle" line. (V&A)

(below) Sketch of the Bergdorf Goodman House.

(haut) Robe du soir "Cygne Noir" composée d'un corsage et d'une jupe, satin de soie et velours. Christian Dior Collection Haute Couture automne/hiver 1949/50. Ligne "Milieu de Siècle" (V&A)

(bas) Croquis de la Maison Bergdorf Goodman.

#christian dior #collection haute couture #1949-50 #fashion 50s #french designer #french style #milieu de siècle line #fall/winter #automne/hiver #bergdorf goodman #v&a museum #cygne noir #evening dress

[transgenderer]

winter (n.)

Old English winter (plural wintru), "the fourth and coldest season of the year, winter," from Proto-Germanic *wintruz "winter" (source also of Old Frisian, Dutch winter, Old Saxon, Old High German wintar, German winter, Danish and Swedish vinter, Gothic wintrus, Old Norse vetr "winter"), probably literally "the wet season," from PIE *wend-, nasalized form of root *wed- (1) "water; wet"). On another old guess, cognate with Gaulish vindo-, Old Irish find "white." The usual PIE word is *gheim-.

Proto-Indo-European root meaning "winter." 

It forms all or part of: chimera; chiono-; hiemal; hibernacle; hibernal; hibernate; hibernation; Himalaya.

fabulous monster of Greek mythology, slain by Bellerophon, late 14c., from Old French chimere or directly from Medieval Latin chimera, from Latin Chimaera, from Greek khimaira, name of a mythical fire-breathing creature (slain by Bellerophon) with a lion's head, a goat's body, and a dragon's tail, a word that also meant "year-old she-goat" (masc. khimaros), from kheima "winter season," from PIE root *gheim- "winter."

As an adjective in Old English. The Anglo-Saxons counted years in "winters," as in Old English ænetre "one-year-old;" and wintercearig, which might mean either "winter-sad" or "sad with years." Old Norse Vetrardag, first day of winter, was the Saturday that fell between Oct. 10 and 16.

spring (n.)

"season following winter, first of the four seasons of the year; the season in which plants begin to rise," by 1540s, a shortening of spring of the year (1520s), which is from a special sense of an otherwise now-archaic spring (n.) "act or time of springing or appearing; the first appearance; the beginning, birth, rise, or origin" of anything (see spring v., and compare spring (n.2), spring (n.3)).

The earliest form seems to have been springing time (early 14c.). The notion is of the "spring of the year," when plants begin to rise and trees to bud (as in spring of the leaf, 1520s).

The Middle English noun also was used of sunrise, the waxing of the moon, rising tides, sprouting of the beard or pubic hair, etc.; compare 14c. spring of dai "sunrise," spring of mone "moonrise." Late Old English spring meant "carbuncle, pustule."

As the word for the vernal season it replaced Old English lencten (see Lent). Other Germanic languages take words for "fore" or "early" as their roots for the season name (Danish voraar, Dutch voorjaar, literally "fore-year;" German Frühling, from Middle High German vrueje "early").

In 15c. English, the season also was prime-temps, after Old French prin tans, tamps prim (Modern French printemps, which replaced primevère 16c. as the common word for spring), from Latin tempus primum, literally "first time, first season."

summer (n.)

"hot season of the year," Old English sumor "summer," from Proto-Germanic *sumra- (source also of Old Saxon, Old Norse, Old High German sumar, Old Frisian sumur, Middle Dutch somer, Dutch zomer, German Sommer), from PIE root *sm- "summer" (source also of Sanskrit sama "season, half-year," Avestan hama "in summer," Armenian amarn "summer," Old Irish sam, Old Welsh ham, Welsh haf "summer").

autumn (n.)

season after summer and before winter, late 14c., autumpne (modern form from 16c.), from Old French autumpne, automne (13c.), from Latin autumnus (also auctumnus, perhaps influenced by auctus "increase"), which is of unknown origin.

Perhaps it is from Etruscan, but Tucker suggests a meaning "drying-up season" and a root in *auq- (which would suggest the form in -c- was the original) and compares archaic English sere-month "August." De Vaan writes, "Although 'summer', 'winter' and 'spring' are inherited IE words in Latin, a foreign origin of autumnus is conceivable, since we cannot reconstruct a PIE word for 'autumn'".

Harvest (n.) was the English name for the season until autumn began to displace it 16c. Astronomically, from the descending equinox to the winter solstice; in Britain, the season is popularly August through October; in U.S., September through November. Compare Italian autunno, Spanish otoño, Portuguese outono, all from the Latin word.

As de Vaan notes, autumn's names across the Indo-European languages leave no evidence that there ever was a common word for it. Many "autumn" words mean "end, end of summer," or "harvest." Compare Greek phthinoporon "waning of summer;" Lithuanian ruduo "autumn," from rudas "reddish," in reference to leaves; Old Irish fogamar, literally "under-winter."

summer and winter both with PIE roots, but autumn and spring both without!

[modelsof-color]

Suzi De Givenchy by Winter Vanderbrink for V Magazine China May 2023

#suzi de givenchy

[undercoverpena]

francisco morales [triple frontier]

↩ back to main masterlist all works contain a female!reader. 18+ only. minors do not interact.

ONESHOTS.

⤬ the book of love soft!frankie, meet cute, bookshop meet cute. romance.

⤬ rainy world, blanket days sweet!frankie, he just wants to get home to you.

⤬ how would you both cope being away from one another [smut]

⤬ unwrap me now [smut] it's a nice bathroom. and you're a good girl on your birthday. (written for birthday bash)

⤬ rips in perfection [angst, hea]

⤬ cold, biting 1.3k [smut, winter] Painting you in it, all varying shades, a masterpiece he thinks he’s came across, but really just became the first to admire.

⤬ coming under the christmas tree 2.8k [smut, christmas] The way he whispers your name should be a sin—it coating the air, making each letter feel important, essential “Do you know how hot you look right now, Morales?”

⤬ frankie, baby 3.7k [smut, christmas] “Well… we technically can’t touch each other inappropriately,” you begin, tracing your fingers on his black shirt, circles then squares, then triangles. “But, Will wasn’t specific about saying inappropriate things.”

⤬ the day frankie came home he’s been gone for ten days, and don’t you both know it. warnings: smut, p in v, mirror sex, frankie wants some.

⤬ wet n' wild [smut] you go to a pool party and can't keep it to yourselves in a spare bedroom

⤬ midnight strikes, where is my prince? [angst] he had been your neighbour. a man you'd stare at through blinds when he’d been on the front lawn. a man you’re now staring at through splintered shards of your mirror—because he saved you.

⤬ a debt to pay [smut] frankie arrives home to find you willing to pay him for the pizza, in ways that don't involve cash.

⤬ in the locker room [smut] when you join him for benny's fight, frankie appears stressed. you have an idea to de-stress him.

⤬ up sky, low high [smut] frankie takes you on a heli-ride. you decide to test his competency and take him for a ride.

SAME UNIVERSE

resurrected chances (a collection of inter-connected oneshots - 18+) set after the events in Colombia, single-dad Frankie meets "Pretty Girl" at one of Benny's fights. kick-starting a second chance at happiness he'd long since abandoned. warnings: fluff. falling in love, mentions of frankie’s son/child. smut. mentions of prev.drug use (canon, not glamorised). trauma from the past (frankie)

the day frankie meets you after being dragged out from his apartment, frankie meets you—the best friend to benny’s fiancé. and isn’t able to stop smiling.

the day three words are said they're simple. those three words. especially when you mean them.

the day he both loves and loathes the kitchen counter fall is a season that looks good on you.

the day franke came home he’s been gone for ten days, and don’t you both know it. warnings: smut, p in v, mirror sex, frankie wants some.

DRABBLES.

⤬ long distance “how do you think they’d both cope when he has to go away for longer than four days?”

⤬ long drives you don't run well off limited sleep, but frankie wants to take you away

⤬ bad day you have a bad day, and he just gets it

⤬ soft frankie and blanket sundays

⤬ knockin' down a wall part of hardware frankie things, but he knocks a wall down, and you admire.

⤬ untangling frankie untangles your necklace [smirks]

⤬ imagine going to the cinema

SERIES.

⇶ i like the way you [complete - 18+] best friend! friends with benefits! frankie morales summary: what starts off as an offhand remark, quickly becomes a regular, scheduled 'stress relief'. the only problem is, both of you are in denial that you feel anything outside of friendship for the other.

⇶ do me yourself [wip - 18+] meet cute. romcom. a meet-cute in a hardware store? impossible, out of the question. except, that's exactly what happens. a need for screws leads you to a broad-shouldered, brown-eyed man who you're sure is about to change your day, never mind your life.

#francisco morales x reader #frankie morales x reader #sharing this for no reason #none at all #you just all avert your eyes

[distantvoices]

Suzi De Givenchy by Winter Vanderbrink for V Magazine China May 2023