Krinkle

I drew Franco Barbi :>

THEHEHEHHEHE (ignore his hand I can't draw hands... forgive me...)

Also I can't draw his Lupara for shit.

Welcome to Delta

You: Why yes, I do! It’s your birthday! And you know what that meansss

You pull out a birthday-cake themed paddle

You: time for your birthday spanks!

Franco happily throws himself over your knee and you line up the paddle.

Eldest: in the living room? Really?

Youngest: they are way too old to be doing this.

“What are you doing?”

“…I’m cold.”

“And rather than making the smart choice to get yourself a blanket, you decided to push yourself up against us?” Otto grunted.

“You're big and have the body heat of two ovens.” You wrap your naked self around their warm flesh. It was always the warmest in between. That’s where the bodies melded, caving in just slightly to provide a small space of flesh perfectly suited for you to snuggle in to.

“We are not your human heaters,” Arora huffed but didn’t make any move to shoo you away.

“You might as well be. Not enough blood flow to keep the body warm so I always need to rely on you two to do that.” You sigh happily as you push your face into the heated skin. “It’s the best.”

“Don’t go digging too deep,” Arora warned.

“Might get swallowed up.” Otto finished.

“That, I wouldn’t mind.” You smiled, cuddling in closer.

First impression will always stick…

“Yer one ugly son of a bitch, ain't ya?” Coyle muttered.

You let out a sharp tsk and swatted his shoulder. “Don’t you talk to him like that. He just popped out.”

Coyle shifted the quiet bundle in his arms, his face twisted in mock disbelief. “I’m serious. Does this look cute to you? Truly?”

“...Well, he's got your face,” you countered.

Now it was Coyle's turn to scoff. “My genes ain’t nuthin’ but the finest,” he drawled, smoothing his palm over his scalp as if he were slicking back a head of thick hair. He reached out, poking you square in the ribs. “You’re the one that’ss rotten to the core. No wonder he’s all red and squished and…

Lord, he’s just a mess.”

You smacked his arm again, trying to defend the boy while biting your tongue to keep the laughter from spilling out.

“Quit your yappin' and just admire him,” you huffed, crossing your arms over your chest. “I spent a good few hours pushin' that little devil out into the world.

Least you can do is appreciate it.”

Coyle tilted his head one way, then the other, contemplating like he was checking the alignment on a fence post.

“Alright,” he conceded. “Fair enough.”

Yup. Sturdy.

He looked back down at his son. “He’s got your eyes. And my hair.”

“Pfft! What hair?” You let out a tired giggle, reaching up to tap his bald.

“You know what I mean, woman!” He let out a snarl.

You sank back into the covers, the warmth of the room and the sound of his voice dragging you toward sleep. You took one long look at your boys—the big one and the brand new one—before finally letting your eyes drift shut.