#kinda trailed off at the end there cause I want to go to bed

[jo-speaks]

taste ft. luke hughes

in which...

you know you'll always be present in luke hughes' life, even if you aren't together.

warnings: MDNI!! brief smut, oral sex (f! receiving), alcohol consumption, cheating (? kinda but not really), i think that's it

track one in short n' sweet (hughes brothers version) series !

quick note: bit earlier than expected, but i can’t let you guys know my next move

Oh, I leave quite an impression

Five feet to be exact

“Damn, Lukey. You walked past her and she looked tiny as hell.” Jack teased his younger brother. 

Luke hadn’t been able to take his eyes off of you. You were currently in an intense game of beer pong against his older brother and a guest whom he hadn’t bothered to learn the name of, your short, tight dress leaving the youngest Hughes starstruck. He watched as you threw the small ping pong ball across the table, yet again with the accuracy to have his eldest brother chugging from a red Solo cup for the eighth time that night.

“She’s not that short. I’m just really tall, I guess.” Luke yelled in response, the loud music filling the space making it impossible for him to be heard at a normal level.

Jack rolled his eyes, siping whatever mixed concoction he had made in his not-so-sober state. “Uh-huh. At least you aren’t worrying about Natalie anymore.”

Quinn groaned as he missed the cup across from him, “Alright, next round I want Y/N on my team!”

You laughed loudly, leaving Luke even more mesmerized. “Q, the drunker you get the less losing hurts.”

Once again, it was your turn to throw the ball. You stuck your tongue slightly past your lips in concentration as you tried your best to aim towards the red plastic.

“Hang on, hang on.” Quinn stalled, causing you to groan dramatically. “You’re scary good at this. So, you can’t look at the cups. Take a blind shot.”

Your eyebrows furrowed, “What? How is that fair?” “It’s not, but neither is how good you are.” 

“Whatever.” You agreed, turning your head to look at anything else. Before the ball could escape the grasp of your fingertips, your eyes wandered a little too much, making eye contact with Luke. He was already staring at you, so he didn’t bother to look away when you met his gaze. 

The way he was leaning against the counter, legs spread and his tight jeans doing nothing to hide the prominent print of his cock peeking through. 

In your awe, you dropped the round piece of plastic, letting it fall into the cup of beer below it. 

“Does that mean you drink?” Quinn asked.

You're wondering why half his clothes went missing

My body's where they're at

The bright sunlight woke you up. You groaned as you blinked your eyes open, taking in the moment. Well, until it was interrupted. 

Luke threw his arm around you, your body covered in a large piece of fabric. “My hoodie looks nice on you.” 

You laughed softly, “You should let me keep it then.” 

“I didn’t plan on ever taking it back.” He answered, peppering soft kisses on your face, quickly finding your lips. The more your senses started to come back, the more intimate the moment felt. 

You soaked in the sunlight together, not wanting the moment to come to an end. But unfortunately, you had a cat back at your apartment who was probably meowing for food by now. 

“Gotta go, Luke.” You mumbled against his lips, doing nothing to stop his wandering hand from finding its way in between your legs. 

His lips trailed from your lips to your neck, finding that sweet spot that made you cry out softly. “You could also stay, let me take care of you.”

Now I'm gone, but you're still layin'

Next to me, one degree of separation

“What an asshole. He purposely put that on his private story so he could make sure you’d see it.” Your best friend, Ivy commented, taking your phone out of your hand and shutting it off. 

You laughed, “It’s fine, Ivy. I laid in that bed in that same spot a million times. It sure as hell will take more than one girl to get the smell of me out of it.”

The girl squinted her eyes before coming to a realization, “You washed his sheets with your detergent, didn’t you?”

“You bet his sorry ass I did.” You smirked.

Ivy burst out in laughter, her hands grabbing your forearms as you started to laugh along with her, “You petty bitch.”

I heard you're back together and if that's true

You'll just have to taste me when he's kissing you

If you want forever, I bet you do

Just know you'll taste me too

“So yeah, he got back with Natalie. That’s who that girl on his story was.” Quinn commented, taking a sip of his coffee. 

The two of you had started going out more often after you and Luke broke up. Well, when Luke broke up with you. He had claimed he just didn’t love you anymore, but after spending a little less than six months with him, you knew it was bullshit. So, as any sane person does, you called up his older brother and asked him to give you the real explanation. Since then, it had basically become routine for the two of you to catch up whenever he was back in Vancouver.

You nodded, “I figured, but thanks for letting me know.”

“I’m really sorry, Y/N. We told him to wait before jumping into anything, especially since he was still texting her the whole time you guys were together.” “So that ‘N’ in his phone wasn’t actually Nico? No way!” You joked, knowing that the single-letter contact couldn’t have possibly been his team’s captain. 

Uh-huh

He pins you down on the carpet

Makes paintings with his tongue (La-la-la-la-la-la-la)

His hands pinned your hips down against the living room carpet, his need to eat you out far too great to even make it to the bedroom.

“Fuck, Luke.” You moaned, gripping his damp curls. 

He kept licking at your clit, doing what felt like absolute magic against your core. “You taste so good, baby. Doing so good f’me.” He mumbled against you, the vibrations of his voice only adding to the pleasure. 

You felt yourself getting closer to your peak, the room around you slowly disappearing as you fell into a blissful state, the only thing you were focused on was how good Luke was making you feel. 

However, a consistent buzz from next to your spread legs caught your attention. Even through blurry eyes, you could see a capital ‘N’ displayed on his phone screen, disappearing as quickly as it appeared. 

Before you could say anything about it, Luke took your swollen bud into his mouth, suckling harshly, distracting you completely from saying anything.

He's funny now, all his jokes hit different

Guess who he learned that from?

Jack and Quinn had become irritated at their brother and his girlfriend’s laughter coming from the pool room. 

“I might just be bitter, but her laugh is stupidly annoying. I like Y/N’s. Hers sounds less annoying.” Jack said to Quinn, staring from the porch into the room. 

“Luke’s not even that fucking funny. All the jokes he’s telling her are jokes Y/N said to him. He could at least try to be original.” Quinn agreed.

Now I'm gone, but you're still layin'

Next to me, one degree of separation

Luke laid in his bed, waiting for Natalie to finish taking off her makeup at the desk across from him. He rolled over into the space where she now had claimed, his nostrils taking in a familiar vanilla scent.

“Nat? Did you use a new hair product or something?” He questioned, sniffing the sheets more aggressively.

Natalie made a face, “What? No, I haven’t.” 

I heard you're back together and if that's true

You'll just have to taste me when he's kissing you

If you want forever, and I bet you do (I bet you do)

Just know you'll taste me too

“Stop doing that.” Luke whispered against her lips. 

Natalie groaned, “Doing what?”

He pulled away, wanting to get a better look at her face, “Tugging on my hair. I don’t like it.” “She did it all the time, Lu. I saw it.”

Luke knew exactly what she was talking about. The only person he had let tug on his hair during a make-out or during sex was you. It didn’t feel good when anyone else did it, not even his girlfriend.

“Whatever. Just don’t do it.”

La-la-la-la-la-la-la

“Maybe we need to cut you off.” Ivy said, pulling the shot of vodka from your hand before you could take it. 

You snorted, “Nah, I’m fine.”

To everyone, it was obvious you were not fine. Emotionally, sure. But sobriety-wise? Not at all.

Ivy gave you a look of concern, “So this drinking spree you’ve been on tonight doesn’t have anything to do with Luke?”

“Nope.”

Every time you close your eyes and feel his lips, you're feelin' mine

And every time you breathe his air, just know I was already there

Luke peered up at you as you pulled your hair back, “Already? Thought you’d want to kiss a little first.”

You rolled your eyes, “Shut up. I just don’t want my hair to keep getting stuck on my lip gloss. It’s getting annoying.” He simply laughed and pulled you back in, pressing his lips to yours yet again, savouring the taste of your cherry lip gloss as he took your bottom lip into his mouth. He felt as if he didn’t even need oxygen anymore, only you, on his lap, your lips against his. 

After a few more kisses, you pulled away to catch your breath, Luke’s hand on the back of your head keeping you close to the point where you were practically breathing against his mouth. 

You can have him if you like, I've been there, done that once or twice

And singin' 'bout it don't mean I care, yeah, I know I've been known to share

Well, I heard you're back together and if that's true

You'll just have to taste me when he's kissing you

“Oh please! It’s clear that you’re still into him, you crazy bitch!” Natalie yelled, getting the attention of a few people in the arena parking lot. 

You scoffed, “I’m not. The only reason I’m here is because of Jack, not Luke.”

“Yeah, right. You know you can say you don’t want him anymore, but it was clear at that karaoke bar that you’re still hung up on him!”

“Holy shit, how many times do I have to say it? The only reason I sang that song was because it’s a good fucking song! If I wanted him back, I could get him back.”

Natalie wasn’t even able to get a word out before you continued speaking. 

“Who do you think taught him those jokes you laugh at? Who do you think taught him how to eat pussy like a real man instead of a little bitch?” 

She listened closely to your words. Now it made sense to her why he had gotten better at eating her out after he was with you. You noticed the realization on her face and you felt a slight twinge of guilt in your stomach for exposing Luke like that, especially in a public setting. Unfortunately for him, your patience had already run thin, so you couldn’t stop yourself there. 

“I don’t care how many times you kiss him. Or how many times you fuck him. The only reason he knows what to do is because of me. And no matter how hard you try to make him forget, he won’t.” You snapped, turning on your heels before she could even inhale.

If you want forever, and I bet you do (I bet you do)

Just know you'll taste me too (Taste me too)

For the next few weeks, your words lingered in Natalie’s mind. You were right, and she knew it. The way he gripped the sheets a little tighter before she laid down, the way he all of a sudden didn’t like his hair pulled. 

She thought she wanted to marry this man, to have a family with him. But she knew you were right, Luke would never be the same after you. 

And Luke knew that too.

La-la-la-la-la-la-la

You'll just have to taste me when he's kissing you, no

(La-la-la-la-la-la-la) Yeah, ah-ah

You'll just have to taste me when he's kissing you

“All I heard was her telling him to get over you before she stormed out the house.” Jack explained, hopping into the passenger seat of your car. You were driving him to the airport since he was heading to Chicago for his surgery. 

You hummed, “I didn’t mean to make her feel bad, but she called me a crazy bitch. Like it’s my fault he hasn’t moved on.” 

Jack laughed at your words, “That’s true. I don’t get it though, he broke up with you, didn’t he?”

“Yeah. I don’t know, I guess I’m just that amazing that I linger wherever I’ve been.” You joked.

“Like a taste in his mouth, he can’t get rid of?” 

Your eyes widened slightly at Jack’s shockingly accurate analogy, “Exactly.” 

[number1jeonginstan]

Part of my Valentine's Day Collab!

A/N: First installment, I hope y'all enjoy it!! I ended up re-writing this twice because I hated it the first two times...

Pairing: Bf!Lee Know x Reader

Warnings: Unprotected sex (who am I without it?), having sex in public (kinda....), oral sex (f!receiving), fingering, cumming inside, use of a vibrator.

“What if we try something new?” Minho asked as you put you got out of the shower, trying to find an outfit to wear your your dinner date. 

It was your first Valentine’s together, and you wanted to make it special, especially because he was always busy with work. 

“And what would that be?” you asked as you placed your complied outfit onto your shared bed, only to see him lying down with something silver in his hands. 

He showed you the small device with a grin spread across his face. “Think about it, you walking around with this touching that cute little clit of yours” 

“Minho” you exasperated, before putting on your dress in front of him. “Come on baby, you look so pretty, just think how much prettier you would be if I could control you” 

You turned around to hear shuffling, allowing him to zip up your dress. He kissed your shoulder, then your neck in the process, eliciting a small whimper from your mouth. 

“Please kitten, for me” he whispered into your ear. Who were you to say no to your boyfriend when he asked so politely? 

“Fine, if and only if you let me ride you tonight” you grinned. 

“Face or cock, I don’t mind, as long as it’s with you” he giggled back before spinning you around, throwing you onto the bed, and pulling down your underwear. 

He placed the bullet vibrator right on your clit before pulling your underwear back on. “Be a good girl and hold that for me tonight” 

“Yes sir!” 

It took you another forty-five minutes to do your makeup, the entire time, Lee Know was watching you. He pretended to read a book, splayed out on the bed in his dress shirt and slacks. 

As you were putting on your lipstick, he decided to have a little bit of fun. Taking the remote out of his pocket and setting it on the medium setting. 

You jerked, your lipstick slowly cascading off the corner of your lips, causing you to groan. “Lee Minho, what the actual fuck” you whined, taking a tissue to try and take it off before it dried down fully. 

“What kitten, I was just testing it out. Plus, I don’t know why you insist on wearing lipstick anyways, you know it’s going to end up on my cock at the end of the night” 

“You are so crude” you giggled, throwing one of your brushes at him in retaliation. 

“You love it though, but seriously baby, let’s get going I don’t want to miss our reservation” he chuckled, slowly making his way off his bed and behind you at your vanity. 

He watched you through the mirror as you adjusted your lipstick, admiring how beautiful you looked. How dolled up you would get just for him, it’s like he’s the luckiest man in the world. 

“Let’s get going” you grinned, grabbing your purse as the two of you headed out the door, bidding a farewell to Soonie, Doongie, and Dori, giving them all mandatory pats before heading to his car.

As he drove, one of his hands gripped the wheel while the other gripped your thigh, your eyes trailing every single one of his veins. 

The restaurant wasn’t far away, but the ride was pleasant. The low hum of the music in the background as you stared out the window, the heat of his hand filled all your senses. 

As the two of you arrived, he slowly parked the car, removing his hand from your thigh only to fidget with the remote in front of him, turning it on to the lowest setting. 

“How does it feel baby?” he asked as the two of you arrived at the restaurant.

“It’s nice” you giggled, the light hum on your clit giving you a bit of pleasure, but not enough for it to be noticeable. 

You finally understood why he had told you to dress so nicely. It was the restaurant he had been raving about.

“And what if I do this?” he grinned as he turned it all the way up, causing you to cover your mouth to hold back a scream before he turned it off completely.

“Minho, if you do that again, I don’t think I will be able to make it out of this car” you whined as you heard his chuckle.

“What if that’s exactly what I want?” 

“Then we shouldn’t have gone on a date and could have just stayed home” you muttered “I got all pretty for nothing” 

“Fine, if you want to show your cute little self off, let’s go” he grinned, quickly getting out of the car and opening the door for you, holding out his hand.

“Wow, what a gentleman” you giggled, taking his hand and walking to the front of the restaurant with him.

“This place is beautiful” you grinned, taking in the restaurant, fresh jasmines and plants rid the walls. He decided to take you on a sushi date, a place that he was recommended ten times over by Jisung and his girlfriend. 

“It truly is” Minho replied looking at you and not even taking in the place surrounding him. He walked up to the host stand, stating “We have a reservation for two, under the name Lee Know” 

The hostess simply nodded, guiding the two of you to a more secluded area, filled with individual rooms. 

As the two of you sat down, watching the hostess leave you quickly whispered “This must have cost a fortune” 

He replied with a simple “Anything for you” causing a soft blush to kiss your cheeks. 

You zoned out for a second, taking in the room. But before you could fully process it, he turned up the remote in his hand, causing you to moan out loud. 

“Fuck Min, you have to give me some type of warning” you whined as the vibrator kept the medium pace. “What if someone hears?” you whined

“Then they will hear how good I make you feel” he giggled before ringing the bell on the desk, informing that the two of you were ready for your first course as explained by the hostess before she left.

“Ready for the first course?” he asked, waiting for your response. “Yes please” you responded, not noticing the subtle grin on his face.

It only took a few minutes for the food to arrive, the waiter bringing it in before closing the door once again. 

 On the plate was cut-up tuna, each piece having a good amount of fat, laid on a bed of roasted asparagus and pomegranate aioli paired with a glass of 2022 Louis Latour Puligny-Montrachet. 

“Take a bite” he grinned, taking a sip of the wine placed in front of him. As you did, a moan escaped your lips. Each flavor complements the last, the taste exploding in your mouth. 

“This is so good” you grin, holding out a bite on your fork for Minho to taste. He sensually took a bit, groaning at the taste as well. 

As the two of you took a few more bites, savoring the food as the two of you talked about work and the crazy things happening between your co-workers, you could feel yourself slowly getting wet for some reason. 

The vibrator wasn’t even turned on, but your pussy was clenching around thin air. You played it off as the thought of Minho in front of you and nothing else, but little did you know he had planned the whole thing.

“Are you ready for the second course?” he asked, taking sight of your thighs pressed together, taking note of how they already started to kick in. 

“Of course” you gleaned, wondering what course they were going to bring out next, and how it was going to top the last one the two of you had just eaten. 

“Oysters?” you looked a bit puzzled as the waiter brought a tray with two plates of pasta and oysters, placing them in front of the two of you as well as two glasses of red wine. 

“Just enjoy baby” Lee Know grinned, taking a sip of the wine, you following suit. The sweet nectar covered your tongue, causing you to moan out loud. 

“Wow, Minho this is delicious, where is this from?” you pondered taking another sip. 

“If you like it, I’ll buy you a bottle, just enjoy the food in front of you” 

You took his suggestion, tasting one of the oysters before taking a bite of your pasta. “I think this might be better than the last” You grinned before taking another bite. 

“I’m glad kitten” he followed suit, taking a bite. “We should do this more often” he grinned, taking in your contempt face. It was nice to finally spend time with you, especially in public. 

“I agree” you hummed, taking the sight of his relaxed body. 

As the two of you talked some more, the food slowly disappeared, but you barely noticed, too immersed in your conversation with Minho, that was until he turned on the vibrator, causing you to squeak. 

“I told you I would do it when you least expected it” he chuckled, but you could barely register what he was saying. Even though the setting was so low, it felt ten times better than it did an hour prior. 

“Minho, fuck I’m going to cum” you whined as the vibrator pushed against your cunt perfectly. 

He turned off the vibrator just before you were going to reach your high, ignoring your whines and pleas, forgetting the two of you were in a public setting, where the waiter could come check up on you at any time. 

He ignored it before crawling underneath the table, his face nuzzling between your thighs, kissing up them. “Such a pretty looking cunt” he whined against your cunt.

Before you knew it, his face was in front of your cunt. He quickly pulled down your panties, licking stripes against your cunt as he turned the vibrator onto a medium setting. 

“Fuck Minho” you groaned, trying to push his head away, but he wouldn’t let you. He looked straight up at you, with hooded eyes before pushing one of his long fingers in you. 

“We can’t do this” you whined, clenching around his finger “There are people here” 

He didn’t care, ignoring you and going back to kissing your thighs as his fingers continued to squelch inside of you, your hand covering your mouth in an attempt to hide your moans. 

You cried as his fingers continued to abuse your soaking wet cunt. “What did we eat today?” he giggled before diving back into your pussy, his tongue pressing the vibrator harder against your clit. 

“Fish and oysters” you whimpered, the feeling becoming to be too much. 

“And what are those?” he grinned, pulling his face away from your pussy to look directly at you, your juices dripping down his chin. 

“Aphrodisiacs” you gasped as you came on his fingers.

 You had learned about them months prior when the boy’s girlfriends and you were playing a game of truth and dare. Felix’s girlfriend had admitted that he had made her eat oysters and fish before having sex one night, and it was some of the best sex they had ever had. 

“Good girl, you got it already” he replied, kissing your lips.

He slowly removed his fingers from your cunt, taking out the vibrator as well before stashing it away in his pocket. 

“Now, think you can be quiet for me and cum on my cock?” he questioned, bringing your hand down to his dress pants and rubbing it along his already hard cock. 

You nodded, allowing him to pick you up and place you on the table. He watched in awe of your body, your chest heaving as he pulled down, his already hard cock free of the confines of his pants and boxers. 

“Fuck kitten, you look so pretty like this” he grinned, slowly dragging his cock along the lips of your pussy, watching the way his pre-cum smears onto it. 

“Please Sir” you whined, begging for him to insert his cock into you. “Are you sure that you want my cock kitten? As you said, anyone can come in here and see me fucking you” 

“I don’t care anymore sir, please I need you inside of me” you whined, taking hold of his cock and pushing the tip inside of you. 

“Fuck kitten, you are so wet” he whined before slowly pushing his entire cock inside of you. 

“Look at you taking my cock like a little whore, do you want that waiter to see you like this? He was eyeing you up ever since we got in here. I bet he’s imagining how good you would look like this on his cock, but who’s little whore are you?” he groaned, slightly slapping your face.

He could feel your cunt get tighter at the thought of someone walking in. 

“I’m your whore sir” you moaned as his thrusts got harder, the tip of his cock hitting deep inside of your cervix. 

He couldn’t stop, the way your cunt was squeezing his cock, the way you were whining underneath him. He loved every second of it, never wanting to leave your warm wet little pussy. 

“There we go kitten, keep taking my cock inside your tight little cunny like a good girl” He whispered in your ear as he slowly lifted your legs, pressing deeper inside of you if that was even possible. 

You could feel yourself getting close, all of your senses slowly diminishing. Before you could cum, you heard the sound of the bell going off. The same bell that signifies the two of you were ready for the next course, the same bell that brought the waiter to your private room. 

“You better cum baby, don’t want the waiter to see you all fucked up like this do we?” he grinned. 

It was the push you needed to cum with a silent scream around his cock, your walls squeezing him in. 

It only took him a few more thrusts to cum inside of you, his hot release covering your walls. 

You quickly tried to come down from your high, trying to pull your underwear up, but before you could, Minho pushed his fingers inside of you. 

“Just making sure it doesn’t go anywhere” he giggled, before making himself look decent again. 

Right as the two of you sat back down, the waiter walked in. 

“Can I get you anything else sir?” the waiter asked, trying not to stare at the way your cheeks were flushed and your dress was a bit askew. 

“I think we can get the check, we have dinner at home” he chuckled before licking his fingers that had just been pushed inside of you only seconds prior. 

[recaltera]

pretty when you beg

pairing: enzo vogrincic x fem reader

🏷 smut (minors dni) teasing, underwear kink(?), oral (f rec), overstim, orgasm countdown, orgasm control, hard dom enzo and kinda mean enzo if u squint, spitting

a/n: (IMPORTANT!!) hiii this is my first fic ever i hope u like it :D if u wanna i can also translate into spanish so more people can read it. please let me know what u think and if u have any requests let me know in the ask box thingy, i write for everyone in lsdln’s cast. tyvm !! have a good day/night mwah ♡

⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀ ꙳⭒ ༒ ✧⋆

deep breaths was all that could be heard, his lips trailing down from your neck to your abdomen. leaving a trail of wet kisses on his way to your clothed cunt.

he kept teasing you tonight, you went out to celebrate your three months together and instead of being all romantic and lovey-dovey, he was whispering the dirtiest things into your ears. but to be honest, you weren’t complaining at all, that’s one of the many things you loved about him, how dirty he could get, even in the most innocent occasions.

— going to fuck you so good tonight, angel.

all you could do was blush and giggle it off.

so here he was kissing your clit through your black laced panties you wore just for him tonight over and over again. it felt so good, yet it wasn’t enough, you needed more.

— enzo, please

he used his thumb to rub over your lips, something he did when he wanted you to open your mouth for him, wether it meant he wanted you to suck him off, or just make you suck in his fingers. however, this time he leaned over to spit in your mouth. and you gladly opened up and swallowed for him.

— shut the fuck up.

you kept bucking your hips into his face, but to no avail cause he ended up pinning you to the mattress, with his slender, pretty fingers sprawled out on your stomach. the fingers you oh so wanted somewhere else. the fingers you had spent HOURS thinking about.

as he was busy making out with your clothed pussy, kissing and sucking here and there, making the lace panties wet with his saliva. you were getting desperate to feel something, anything. you took his fingers into your own hands and guided them where you needed him the most.

— nuh uh, i want you to cum because of my mouth tonight.

you groaned when he finally took your panties off and kissed your inner thighs… slowly. still teasing you.

— fuck please, please, give me something.

and so he did, he kissed your now bare clit and started sucking on it like a desperate, starved man. the sounds he made while eating u out were like music to your ears.

he kept alternating between licks and flicks to your bud until you came, kissing your clit over and over to ride out your high. just to get off the bed and look for your favorite vibrator. he put it on a medium speed and pressed it lightly over your clit making you moan a little too loud from the overstimulation.

— s’too much enzo, no. no. no. no, stop it.

but he knew you didn’t want him to stop, if you did actually want that you would have used your safe word. he knew how fucking greedy you were. how no matter how many times he made you cum, if he wanted you to cum again then that’s what you’d do. you’d do anything to please him. anything for him.

he pressed it harder and started dragging it along your folds only stopping once the toy was on your clit again. he loved seeing your fucked out face, and how just by playing with the bundle of nerves he could get you to look like a mess; legs sprawled out and open for him, cunt red and glistening with your own juices and his spit. it was quite the sight if you asked him.

once you had relaxed and let him have his way with you for a couple of minutes, he used his index finger to put the toy on the highest setting. making the vibrations buzz around your whole body. making you shake because of the pleasure he was providing you.

he knew you were close, he already knew every part of your body, what you liked and what you didn’t. how to make u cum, how to get you on your knees for him, and how you reacted when you were about to hit your orgasm, so without moving the toy away from you, he leaned down, sticking his tongue inside of u going in and out at a fast pace. making you close your legs around his head for that extra feeling. you were so close to the edge, literally about to let go when he says;

— you cant cum until i say so.

he proceeded to begin with his 10 second countdown he loved to do when he wanted you to beg and cry for him. he loved hearing how desperate you were to cum for him. how pretty you looked with tears in your eyes.

“10… 9…”

— m’so close please

you could literally feel the tears in your eyes.

“8… 7… 6…”

— i don’t think i’ll last, please let me cum

“5… 4… 3…“

— please please please

“2…“

— fuck enzo

“1…”

— cum baby, make a mess for me, hm?

you came, you came so fucking hard letting him guide you through it.

— good job, angel. hope you are aware of the fact that we are not finished yet. or is my little doll too dumb to think right now?

he said with a pout on his lips, faking sympathy at your fucked out state. and you would be lying if you said you didn’t want whatever the fuck it was this beautiful man standing in front of you wanted to give you.

⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀⠀ ꙳⭒ ༒ ✧⋆

[rainforest-daisies]

Day 12|strap-ons

Character: Hazel Callahan x fem!reader

Tags: strap-on use, praise,

A/n: i love this little queer woman right here

kinktober masterlist

Where did you get that thing?” a grin rose to your face, eyes trailing across her body, noticing the hot pink silicone strapped against her pelvis. The ribbed fabric that indented her gym shorts remained in place as she swung the dildo around, giggling at its motion. “I found it at Spencers.” her hands pulled at the straps, beginning to pose in an attempt to make you laugh.

You had been at her house, watching old horror movies, when she suddenly hopped out of bed, using the explanation of “gotta piss.” and shocking you when she came back with that over her shorts.

“And you just…bought it?” flexing her arm in front of you, putting on a serious face, she replied, “Uh…yeah.”

“I mean, I was kinda hoping we could use it.” her voice turned raspy at the end of her sentence, voice quieting in embarrassment as she moved back to a regular standing position. “I wouldn't hate using it…especially since it's strapped to you.” your words made her eyes light up. “really? I mean we don't have to, not that I don't want to! I really, really want to.” your body lifted from her bed, Hazel walking closer to you, hands meeting your waist. the feeling of the silicone pressing against your thigh made you giggle, prompting Hazel to do the same.

A sigh left her lips after the fit of laughter, parting her lips to speak, “Can I kiss you? And while I still have self-control, can I touch you too?” you answer her question by kissing her, and clutching her hand to drag it down your torso. her hand grazed the hem of your dress, pulling it up slowly, distracted by the sweet taste of your lips. yet, her fingers were quick to pull your panties to the side, the swift movement feeling like whiplash. “This okay?” she mumbled between kisses, “Mhm.”

Her skilled fingers toyed with your clit, dragging your hand up to press it against her chest, as if it kept you grounded, kept you from floating away in pleasure.

“C’mere, let's get up on the bed. get on my lap, honey.” her voice hypnotized you, nodding at her, desperate to get her lips back on yours. your hips met her abdomen, “do you think you're ready?” you quickly nodded, grasping the cock in your hands and positioning yourself to slide down on it.

The sharp sting of fullness in your cunt made your hands fall against her shoulders, “Go on, baby. You're doing so good.” your hips sank onto the silicone cock, lips parting to let out the cutest whimper Hazel had ever heard. ”so good.” her eyes were transfixed on your tits bouncing in your dress, holding herself from the urge of kissing you again, just to stare at them.

“Oh fuck- right there.” her hands guided your hips down on the plastic cock, unknowingly grinding the base of it against her own clothed clit in the midst of your desperate pleasure. her thumb trailed itself down to your clit, rubbing circles, following your body as it pushed itself up and down. “you close? yeah? I can hear those pretty moans getting louder.” her voice sweet-talked you, bringing you closer to your impending climax. your hips began to rut down harder, grinding harder against her, causing a drawn out moan to leave her lips.

Your impending orgasm soon came to its peak, clasping onto Hazel's shoulders as you moaned into her ear, hitting the perfect angle on her clit, sending her spiraling into orgasm with you. you held each other, listening to the heavy breaths of one another, hazel pulling away to kiss your forehead.

Your body rolled off of hers, chest heaving while trying to catch your breath. “Thank you for buying this stupid piece of plastic, I had fun.”

“Thank you for letting me use that stupid piece of plastic on you, i had fun too.”

[dearpyramus]

Dad!Carmy x reader oneshot

notes: erm this is my first x reader fic ever so pls be nice, the ending is kinda rushed sry i just rlly wanted to get this posted, not beta read oopsie

tags: dad!carmy, postpartum!reader, insecurity, soft!carmy, afab!reader, 1.05k words

(fic btc)

Waking up in the middle of the night to the sound of crying wasn’t unusual lately. Your daughter had been born a couple months back and gone were the restful nights you had together. He wouldn’t have it any other way, however. When he looked into his daughter’s wide eyes, he knew this is exactly where he wanted to be.

What did strike him as odd, however, were the muffled sounds of desperate please coming from you. This caused him to practically shoot up in the bed. It was hard enough hearing the loud sobs of your daughter, but to hear his wife’s voice breaking too???

That caused his heart to shatter in a million pieces. It was clear you were struggling to soothe the crying baby. He didn’t think twice before rushing to the nursery. Sleep be damned.

As soon as he opened the door, he was met with wide eyes from you. Tears pricked the corners of your eyes as you bounced the crying baby cradled in your arms. His heart sunk.

“Babe—“

You were quick to interrupt him, your voice trembling as you spoke.

“She—she—I-I c-can’t—“

You shook your head as the words struggled to come out. His face softened. He didn’t need an explanation from you to understand you were stressed because you couldn’t soothe your daughter.

“Hey,” his voice was soft, a coo as if he were talking to the baby. He outstretched a hand, gently placing it on your bicep. His thumb rubbed up and down comfortingly.

“Breathe. Deep breaths, dove,” he soothed, “It’s okay”

He took exaggerated breaths for you to follow. Your breaths were shaky as you followed. He tightened his grip on your arm slightly, thumb still stroking.

The baby continued to whimper in your arms, sensing your distress. He eyed his daughter and you, voice still impossibly soft.

“Can I…”

He trailed off. You nodded and gently handed her to him, still trying to calm down. Your breathing was better now. As he cradled the baby, you crossed your arms—a self soothing habit you had.

He gave you a reassuring glance before turning his attention to the baby. One of his hands cradled her head and begin to stroke softly there.

“Ssshh ssshh ssshhh,” he begins to lightly bounce her, “it’s okay, little one. You’re okay”

She cried softly in his arms, tiny hands grasping at the fabric of his shirt. His heart melts.

“I got ya, sweet girl. Everything’s okay. Ssshhhhh”

She nuzzles into his chest and her sobs slowly subside. The hand on her hand moves down to her quivering back, rubbing soothing circles.

“That’s it, there ya go. You’re okay, just relax”

He continues his coos of reassurances and soft shushing as he feels her calm down. He let out a sigh he didn’t know he had as he could sense the baby relaxing in his arms. He continued to soothe her as her cries subsided. He glanced back up at you and noticed how sad your expression was as you watched him. His heart absolutely ached. He stepped closer toward you and adjusted his hold on the baby so he could place a hand on your shoulder.

“Talk to me, dove”

Your breath hitched once again, causing him to almost instinctively squeeze your shoulder comfortingly.

“I couldn’t get her to calm down…I couldn’t do it…”

Your voice was small and broken, causing his heart to clench yet again. He was quick to shake his head and dismiss your anxieties.

“Hey, it’s okay. You didn’t do anything wrong—“

You introjected him, holding up a hand to dismiss his reassurances.

“I should have—“

You shake your head in frustration as you’re unable to properly express your feelings. You pinch the bridge of your nose and sigh. Carmen begins to softly rub your shoulder, hoping that helps a bit.

“She hates me…”

This is what did it. Carmen couldn’t stand to hear you talk down on yourself. He wanted so badly for you to see what he saw: a mother who was so nurturing and kind and dedicated and care so so much.

“Babe, listen to me—look at me,” the hand that was in your shoulder moved to your chin, tilting your face up to meet his.

“She loves you so much. So much,” his voice is a bit firm now, leaving no room for argument. It still contains that gentleness that never wavered.

“You’ve done so much for this family, for her. You care about her so much and she knows it. Babies cry, a lot,”

He pauses and looks down at her with a smile.

“I think little one here sensed your distress. She doesn’t want mama to be upset,” he cooed. This caused you to chuckle slightly and he smiled, glad he could make you feel a little better.

“I just hope it’s enough. That what I’m doing is enough,” you mumble.

His hand moves to cup your cheek, thumb rubbing soothing circles.

“It is enough. You just gave birth and have been helping to take care of our little one. You’ve done so much, and I wish you could see that”

He looks at you with all the love in the world.

“There’s no one else I’d rather have this family with…”

He sighs and looks down, hoping his words are enough.

“I love you,” he continues, now glancing at the baby in his arms, now starting to drift off.

“We both do. So much”

His thumb swipes away a stray tear that falls down your face. You sniffle and look at him, and he knows by that look that you’re trying to believe him. He knows stuff like this takes time and reassurance. He knows all too well. But trust and believe he’ll be here with you through every step of the way.

Your hand reaches up to cradle his face as you plant a kiss on his lips. Another hand rests onto of your daughter’s head. You plant a kiss there and smile as she coos.

“I love you too. More than you can ever know”

Despite all of your insecurities and uncertainties, there’s one thing you know for certain: you would do anything for this family.

[joedirtymadre]

Drinks

ZORO x READER! FLUFF! (KEEP SENDING REQUESTS)

The crew was celebrating your escape from the Navy. Everyone was dancing, laughing, and drinking. You sat by the bar staring at a particular moss headed man. 

You noticed his eyes glance over to you, causing you to jump and avert your eyes. “Zoro is looking cute today, huh?” Nami asked, causing you to flip your head around. “H-Huh?” You stuttered. “You can’t hide it from me, besides it looked like you were trying to fuck him with your eyes,” Nami laughed. 

You felt your face heat up, you tried to ignore your friend’s question as you took a sip from your water. “Oh come on (Y/N), don’t be so stiff,” she laughed. “ I don’t know. I just got so awkward around him. The last time we were alone, I tripped over myself and landed in a puddle of mud…” you groaned as your head hit the bar table. “O-Oh come on, that's not so ba-” You cut her off. “Another time a bird pooped on my head… Then at the last island I dropped my coconut drink on him. Then there was another time where-” Nami stopped you. “Ok… so I see that there’s been a few hiccups in the past,” she sighed. 

“A few?” you raised an eyebrow. “A lot, there’s been a lot. Even so, you can’t give up! My gut tells me that he likes you back,” she said as she nudged you with her shoulder. “I don’t know Nami… besides kinda seems like the universe is giving me clear signs to stay away,” you sighed as you took a sip of your water. “Oh come on! Don’t give up so easily, take a few drinks! Get loose a little bit,” she encouraged you. 

“You know I don’t drink,” you replied. “It’s not that bad, you just haven’t found your drink,” she winked. “Whatever, if you can find a good enough drink for me then why not… besides, it’s not like I can embarrass myself even more in front of him. I fell face first onto Sanji’s pie in front of him… It was on the dining room table,” you groaned. “That’s the spirit!” She smiled. 

You turned your back to Nami as she began experimenting in the bar. Your eyes scanned the deck, trying to find the swordsman. You sipped some water to look a bit more conspicuous. “Whatcha looking for?” A deep voice boomed beside you. You choked on your water, you looked to your left and noticed Zoro a few seats away at the bar with a bottle of sake. You gulped, did he hear your conversation with Nami?? Wait… when did he even get here?

“J-Just looking around,” you squeaked. “Mmmm,” he grumbled. He stood up and sat in the set next to you, oh god- “Here you go! I know how much you like coconut, so I tried to make it tropical,” Nami smiled proudly as she handed you a drink. “Oh hey Zoro, when did you get here?” She asked. “About a minute ago,” he replied. You let out an internal sigh of relief.

“You’re drinking?” He asked as he sipped from his cup. “N-Nami wanted to help me find a drink that I might like…” you trailed off. “Well, try it!” Nami said. You slowly took the cup to your lips and sipped it. “Oh wow!” you beamed. “You like it?” Nami smiled. “Yeah, it’s really good!” You said before sipping the whole drink. “Oh wow! Maybe you were meant to be a drinker, that was fast!” Nami smiled. “I think you should cool it a little, don’t want to have to end up carrying you to your bed,” Zoro said as he poured himself another cup. 

You stared back at Nami. Her eyes told you exactly what she’s thinking. You shook your head slightly as you saw her devilish grin grow. “Oh come on Zoro~” she cooed. Oh god. “Don’t tell me you’re afraid she’ll drink you under the table?” She smiled slyly. “No, but I’d hate for her to have a bad first drinking experience,” he said. You smiled at his comment. “Alright, you make a great point, but before I leave I’ll make (Y/N) one more drink,” she said. You smiled, glad that Nami didn’t follow through with her crazy plan.

She handed you another drink before going back with the rest of the crew. You waved goodbye and turned back to the bar, realizing you were now alone with Zoro. “Mind if I have a sip?” he asked. You nodded and slowly handed him the drink, feeling your face heat up as he sipped from your straw. “Hey that’s not too bad, really sweet, but pretty good,” he smiled softly. If you could melt from a smile, you’d be a puddle.

You nodded and retrieved the drink from him. You began to sip the drink slowly. “I guess this means we can be drinking partners now,” he chuckled. “Sounds nice, until you drink me under the table,” you smiled. “Nah, today you’re starting slow. Maybe later on I’ll be the one trying to catch up,” he said. You smiled widely, you’re actually doing it! You’re having an actual conversation with him! Thank you Nami, thank you-

You felt a soft strange wave flow through you. “Oh umm… I’ll be back. I’m gonna go to the restroom,” you said. “Alright, I’ll be here,” he replied. You slowly stood up and felt your knees buckle. “Woah! You alright?” Zoro asked as he swooped in and wrapped his arm around you. 

You felt slightly dizzy, not sick, but strange. “S-Sorry, I just feel weird,” you hiccuped. You looked up to Zoro and noticed a light blush across his cheeks. Probably from the drinking. “Alright, looks like we found out you’re a lightweight,” he said slowly. “Oh no… does that mean we can’t be drinking partners anymore?” You said, easily able to say whatever’s on your mind. “O-Oh well… we can,” he cleared his throat. “Really? That makes me so happy!” You beamed.

“L-Let’s get you to your bed,” He stuttered. “Whaat? Why? Aren’t we having fun?” You asked as you threw your arms around his neck. “W-We are,” he said, his blush growing to his ears. “So don’t take me to bed… Let’s drink more~” you cooed. “I think we should really-” you cut him off. “Please Zoro? One more drink?” You pouted. He gulped, his arms still wrapped around you. “W-Well…” he trailed off. 

Your eyes scanned his face, then down his neck, and finally to a part of his exposed chest. You ran your fingers down his chest. “You’re so strong Zoro. I like strong guys,” you smiled. You watched through your fuzzy vision his face explode into a deep red tone. “D-D-Do you? I-I didn’t k-know…” he stuttered. 

You laughed at his reaction, “You’re pretty cute too,” you added. “A-Alright let’s get you to bed!” he said as he lifted you over his shoulder. “Wee!” you grinned. “So strong~ You’re so cool Zoro,” you smiled as you were carried off. You passed Nami who gave you a thumbs up. You waved in return before seeing your door close behind you. 

You were softly tossed onto your bed, “We got here so fast,” you said. “Yep, now rest up… I’ll see you tomorrow morning,” he said as he headed to the door. “Whaat? Noo, you can’t leave me! Stay with me!” You pleaded as you latched onto his arm. “Huh?” He asked. “Please! It’ll be boring all alone,” you replied. You dragged him towards your bed, and softly pushed him back onto the sheets. 

“Since when were you so strong?” He asked. You laughed, and pounced on top of him. “(Y-Y/N)?” He asked. “I got you! Now you have to stay with me,” you smiled. “God… alright then…” he sighed as he slowly sat up. “Really? Ok!” you grinned. “Ok let’s get ready for bed,” you said as you wobbled over to your dresser.  You grabbed a T-Shirt and some shorts and walked back over to Zoro.

“W-What are you doing?” He asked. “Changing into my PJ’s, duh,” you replied with a raised eyebrow. “Oh well let me-” he stopped. You quickly began undressing, removing your top and bottoms, leaving yourself in your undergarments. You looked over to Zoro who was as red as a tomato. “It looks like you have smoke coming out of your ears,” you laughed. “Uh-huh…” he said defeatedly.

You quickly changed and then stood in front of Zoro, who was still recovering from who knows what. You smiled and plopped into bed, patting the empty space beside you. “Let’s go to bed?” You asked. “Yeah…” he sighed. He slowly laid down beside you and you quickly scooted into his chest. 

“Who would’ve known you were secretly a flirt like the cook,” he mumbled. “Only to you,” you whispered. You suddenly heard his heart rate pick up, you laughed. “Goodnight Zoro,” you smiled. “N-Night,” he replied. 

… Morning…

You slowly woke up to a pounding headache. “God, my head won’t stop ringing,” you groaned as you rubbed your temples. “Where’s my pillow?” You asked yourself, and reached beside you for one. Instead feeling a warm body beside you. You snapped your head to the person beside and saw Zoro. You instantly blow a fuse, “W-What’s he doing here?” You asked yourself.

“You told me to stay the night,” he quickly responded. You squeaked in response. “Don’t get all nervous now… What happened to the flirtatious girl from last night?” He smirked. “H-Huh?” You asked, thinking hard and remembering fragments of last night. “Oh god…” you groaned as you fell back onto the bed beside him. “I’m sorry…” you said sheepishly. “It’s fine, but… don’t drink with anyone other than me from now on. You got that?” He asked as he rolled over to face you. “Huh?” You asked him. “You said you’re only flirty with me when you drink, and it’s going to stay that way,” he said as he wrapped an arm around you. 

“O-Ok,” you blushed.

[burnyouwithacigarettelighter]

sugar daddy cillian or robert fischer pls i beggg !!

THIS IS SO!!! had me sweatin writing this fr… also this got rly long by accident and i kinda underutilized the sugar daddy part, i apologize😓

warnings. daddy kink, anal sex, mildly dd/lg, au!cillian (divorced, again not to be disrespectful it’s just to be convenient)

“D’you like it?” Cillian asked, sneaking up behind you in front of the mirror and wrapping his arms around your waist. 

You giggled, “You know I like anything you pick out for me, daddy.” He’d bought an expensive pink silky lingerie set for you, skimpy and revealing but with soft cream ruffles and strategically placed bows that made you look like a little angel — his little angel, he’d so often remind you — and you tried it on for him as soon as you got home.

He chuckled deeply, pressing kisses into the crook of your neck, “I know, I know… you’re a good girl like that, aren’t you? Always wantin’ t’please.”

You grinned sweetly, tilting your head to the side to allow further access to your neck as Cillian’s kissing and nipping grew rougher. “Only ‘cause you spoil me so much.”

Cillian’s grip tightened around you, making the seam of your ass press flush against his clothed cock, which you vaguely felt hardened and pulse at the feeling of your sweet ass. “Gotta spoil m’girl, don’t I? What kinda daddy would I be if I didn’t…” he hummed, trailing off as his hands seemed to form a consciousness of their own, sneaking into the waistband of your new panties. 

His fingers seemed to graze everywhere but where you needed him most, kneading at the flesh of your ass, imprinting his fingernail marks into the skin of your hips— even fucking petting your mound, but not at all going lower. 

“Please, daddy?” you begged with a whimper, your thighs clenching on instinct. 

“I’ll only touch your other hole, angel. You’re not on anythin’ right now.” He chastised, pulling away from you completely and sitting on the edge of your bed.

“We could use a condom,” you insisted weakly, despite knowing his answer anyway. 

“No,” Cillian shook his head, “you know daddy’ll only come raw.”

You pouted, taking gentle steps and sitting on your plush mattress beside him. Here was the crux of the matter: you ran out of your birth control a few weeks ago and couldn’t get your doctor to prescribe it again — y’know, just tedious medical bullshit — and with Cillian’s existing children, the divorce, your paid arrangement… let’s just say, it’d be the terrible cherry on top if he got you knocked up. 

You hadn’t had his cock in you at all, and since running out of your pills it’d just been other stuff, like head or fingering or very, very rough nipple play— all good stuff, just not enough stuff. You wanted him to fill you up, stuff your cunt to the brim with his thick length, but he refused. 

He did, however, offer up the alternative: anal, to which you shook your head and shuddered— you’d never done it before, and if your friends' experiences were anything to go by, you didn’t want to. They always said it was too harsh, that it hurt and he’d stretch your hole too painfully, that you wouldn’t be able to sit properly for days after.

But by now… you were going stir fucking crazy. It felt like one long game of edging, ‘cept there wasn’t going to be an end ‘till you got back on birth control, which could be in months from now. You missed his delicious cock so much, the sweet curve that tickled your cervix just right, the veins that rubbed your walls like he’d stuck his tongue right in you…

You bit your lip, peering into his soft blue eyes, before sighing. “Okay… you can - put it in my other hole,” you whispered nervously, tucking your hair behind your ear. 

You didn’t miss the way Cillian brightened, how his body relaxed with relief at your long-awaited agreement. “Good girl,” he praised, pushing you onto your stomach lightly, petting your hair out of your face. 

He then dragged your panties down slowly, hands splaying across your ass cheeks and humming satisfactorily at the wetness your cunt had been collecting. You were sopping, your sweet liquid smearing against your lips and dirtying your soft, supple thighs. 

You flushed at his intense staring, pressing your face deeper into your baby pink sheets, feeling every bit the little girl Cillian told you you were, getting ready to be fucked in the ass in your overtly feminine bedroom. You heard him fumble with his jeans, before letting out a sharp gasp when two of his fingers dipped into your cunt, swirling around your hole for a pleasure-filled moment and then coating your puckered asshole with the juice. 

“Don’t be scared, my sweet girl,” he soothed softly, lightly toying with the rim of your hole, a finger or two able to comfortably press in. “I’ll be gentle.”

Then, Cillian lined up his thick head with your hole, inhaling sharply as he pushed in. A pained whimper left your throat at the painful stretch, and he cooed, lightly spitting onto your ass to moisten the area up more. “So fuckin’ tight,” he groaned jiltedly, unable to keep in his audible pleasure despite the way you writhed. 

You breathed in and out shakily, incredibly glad that Cillian had stopped for a moment to let your tense hole readjust to his thickness. You could see clearly how your friends’ protests were based in fact — but you could also feel that familiar heat building into your stomach, the insatiable little monster in you acting up ‘cause Cillian had you wrenched on his cock. 

“Can I move?” He asked breathlessly a short bit later, cock swelling when your hole clenched at his words. 

“Ah… uh-huh,” you responded weakly, spreading your legs more, as if it would help lessen the sting. It didn’t do much, other than spur Cillian’s hungry appetite more, but the effort was appreciated at least mentally. 

“Fuck,” he cursed when he pulled out then slid back in, a measly few seconds interval between the two actions. It was so quick it made your head spin and your insides burn, but he noticed this rather quickly and massaged your hips with his fingers gently. 

“I’m sorry, angel,” he apologized, “just need y’so bad. Haven’t had you in so long.”

You blinked blearily, shaking your head. “N-no, don’t be… I’ll… I’ll be a better angel for daddy.”

He smiled, pressing a wet kiss to your ass cheek, “Thank you, my sweet.” Then, he pulled out again - slower, thankfully - and then pressed back in. He gathered a good pace: not too fast, not too slow, and the pain that you’d felt taking you over scarily dripped away into a pleasure you’d never felt before. 

His cock just felt so much bigger in your ass, and it was already plenty for your cunt. “God, I love your little holes,” he wheezed out, and your back arched, your first moan slipping out of you that night. 

Cillian grinned. “Such cute noises, all for this cock in your tight ass.”

You opened your mouth to respond, but were cut off by your second sound: a wet mewl as his balls brushed past your puffy clit. Your head was swimming with these stranger sensations swirling all over your body, the weird, out of place knot stirring in your lower stomach from anal. 

“Oh, baby, you’re so good for me,” Cillian praised, seemingly out of nowhere, but you didn’t have time to be confused when his thrusts got harder, a modicum of the pain you’d felt earlier returning as he forced his cock deeper within your ass. 

You’d realize a little later what he meant, why he fucked you rougher so suddenly: your walls finally relaxed sround his length, pulsing every so often and feeling like it wanted him to have his way with you. 

“Big,” you squeaked out, squirming and gripping your mattress for dear life. He rutted into you carnally, your ass bouncing with every needy push, jaw falling slack when the pads of his fingers cheekily found your clit, rubbing and pressing on it. 

Your sticky, filthy orgasm was sneaky, hiding behind his groans or your shallow intakes of breath, and came out to surprise you when Cillian’s hips jutted right against yours, his cock deeper than he’d ever been in your cunt. Your cunt clenched around nothing, creaming on his balls as you choked out his name, eyes rolling to the back of your head. 

“You came on my cock in your ass,” he said, amazed and a hundred percent more turned on, sliding in and out of you hurriedly like if he didn’t climax as quickly as you you’d change your mind about anal and leave him in the dust.

 After another loud moment of fucking, skin slapping on clammy skin, breathy whines falling from your lips, desperate growls out of his, you felt the familiar rush of warmth fill you — in your ass, this time, which was similar and completely different all at once. Like, you certainly felt full, but his load didn’t easily drip out of you like it would’ve in your cunt. 

Cillian released a satisfied sigh, leading his softening cock out of your stretched out asshole delicately, telling you to breathe when his head had to exit and reawaken the terrible initial stretch. 

You were face down into the mattress, ass up in the air directly in Cillian’s eye line, knees pried open, back arched— you were utterly, completely wrecked, fucked out beyond belief at the strange combination of pain and pleasure. Cillian leaned down slightly to suckle on your sensitive clit, the torturing tease, before leaning back slightly and frowning, because his come still didn’t spill out of your tight hole. 

“Push f’me, my sweet girl, let daddy see himself drip out’a you,” he ordered huskily, spreading your ass cheeks wide with his large hands. 

You pushed once, and sighed tiredly, feeling his come slowly slide out of your spent hole. It was wet, warm, and thick, coating your cunt’s outer lips lightly.

“That’s a good girl,” he patted the small of your back sweetly, then turned you over to your side to face him. “Now, baby, because you’ve been so good, what do you say about going to Paris? We’ll get those pretty red-bottoms for you, and the sweet Chanel dress too…”

[ventismacchiato]

26 behind the lens — the ship has sunk !

scaramouche x g!n reader

notes; same day but it’s now night time

translations for french at the end of the chapter

_________ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐

You hear a knock on the bathroom door, causing you to jump at the noise. You’d been hiding in your shared restroom for a while to update your friends on the situation, losing track of time as you sat atop the counter in nothing but your pajamas.

“Hey, are you alright?” Kuni asks from the other side of the door, “You’ve been in there for a while silently. Better not be jerking off without me.”

“I’m fine,” you call out, face blooming, “I just have an extensive thirty-step skin care routine,” you lie.

“Alright, I’m going to bed,” he hums, and you hear his footsteps walk off.

You place your face in your hands and let out a low groan, hiding a secret identity was not as easy as Hannah Montana made it seem. You hop off the counter and splash some water on your face to make it seem as if you did have a routine. After muting your phone so as to not hear Aether telling you how bad you were keeping a secret you sat on the edge of the tub for a few minutes, collecting your thoughts.

The stress was really catching up to you. What the fuck were you doing?

You turn your mind off and wander out into the bedroom, the only source of light being the beams of white streaming through the curtains. Kuni’s body was turned away from you, his chest rising up and down slowly. He must’ve been exhausted from today.

You quietly crawl under the covers with him, pulling the comforter up to your chin. You were going to face the other way so as to not bother him but much to your surprise, the blankets rustled and Kuni was now facing you.

He lifts his eyelids open and tugs you in close, hands sliding underneath your shirt to caress your cold skin. Your chests are pressed up against each other, which causes you to circle your hands around his waist out of instinct.

“Goodnight,” he mumbles, pressing his face into the pillow, “I’m glad you came,” he trails off.

“I am too,” you reply, letting yourself play with his hair.

“Star confessed to me today,” he says, his words muffled from his face being hidden in the pillow, but he peeks out to gauge your reaction. You pretend to be surprised.

“Oh, what did you say?”

“That I would rather be with you, obviously,” he says, pinching your waist.

“I’d like to be with you, too.”

Kuni blooms red at that, hiding his face back in the pillow.

You’d come clean after Paris.

You wanted to enjoy this for as long as you could.

_________ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐

filler

behind the lens !

masterlist — prev | next

sunghoon, yeonjun, and lujiuerhei as scara, felix as kazuha

ngl i kinda regret making ayaka a friend in this au but i’m too far gone ☠️

shadow moth hacking scara’s twt hes in a silly goofy mood

lmk if u can’t read anything in an ask and i’ll zoom in for u,,it’s hard trying to cram everything into ten pics

translations:

merci d'être entré dans ma vie = thank you for coming into my life

author’s notes — lmk if the french is right i trusted google for this one

synopsis — you, better known as STARDUST, and BALLADEER have always been in competition for the top streamer spot on twitch, which is especially impressive since the two of you have never shown your faces. you’ve never been on good terms, constantly one-upping each other in matches and getting into petty arguments on twitter, causing your fans to also dislike each other. that’s until BALLADEER does a face reveal that breaks the internet with his good looks…which makes you realize it’s the same guy you went on a date with last night. the type of date that made you crave to see him again. the only problem was he didn’t know you were STARDUST and he was way different behind the lens than he portrayed himself online to you. should you keep your identity a secret to salvage the relationship or just let him go?

taglist is closed — @captainzep @elysiumarchieve @plinkuro @sakkakuu-squared @eliqusgenma @vuvulia @kunikuzushiit @ins4nebish @stxrgxzxr @lilneps @uma-umie @goubaia @mitsukifilms @caesars-bubbles @wheneverthesunrise @its-like-twilight @kazuhalvrr @erosdevil @thenightsflower @p1utto @noodleshark420 @lxry-chxn @orbitscara @court-jester-stuff @lauragalliart @veyu002 @kaeyas-eyepatch-69 @leathernourishingshoepolish @satowaluverr @lexlapis @drunkwithfever @exhaustedcommunist @vincanzu @ainlaw @ovaliz @kitsuvil @whatamidoing89 @celestair @kunihaver @kazioli @xiaosoneandonly @cridtiins @cherrybeomgyu @asukahiriko @moon-320 @orionicchaos [1/3]

[wannabehockeygf]

think later - jeremy swayman

part of the think later fic series

"Met you on a night out in Boston, Put your hand on my thigh in the Commons, Been drinkin' somethin' blue turn my phone off, 'Cause if it's not you, I don't wanna talk."

*** request: I actually had two for this exact thing! you guys better be best friends! 

"Would you be able to do Jeremy Swayman with Think Later? For the Boston part. Also would you be able to make it a happy/finished ending, but maybe with angst mixed in? Thank youu!! You are an amazing writer!"

"Maybe think later with Jeremy Swayman? Kinda like the song goes “met you at night out in Boston” kinda fluff but also smutty?? If not totally okay!" summary: a double date you didn't want to go on twists into something intense... and more so. word count: 7.6k pairing: jeremy swayman x fem!reader warnings: alcohol, some steamy stuff nothing too crazy notes: - ty for the requests! - ya'll as a leafs fan this feels like fucking treason i can't lie... - my headcanon for trent frederic is "silly" - before anyone asks, yes, I know he isn't that tall, but i wrote this entire thing thinking he was like 6'6 and I will not be revising it. i must research better LMAO - i love how i went from hockey players doing hard drugs to hockey players being cute LOL requests that challenge me are goldennn ***

You never gave much thought to your love life. Not because you didn’t want to, but because it was easier that way—dating had never been your thing. You had plenty of stories, none of them good. So, like any rational adult, you stopped trying. Since sophomore year of college, you hadn’t even hugged a guy, much less been on a date. It wasn’t until your roommate brought up her utterly ridiculous idea that it even crossed your mind again.

"A double date," she said, as if it were the simplest thing in the world.

You laughed, thinking it was a joke. "No thanks."

But now, here you are, walking into a crowded, sticky bar in Boston, tugged along by her insistent hand. The sound of chatter, clinking glasses, and the low hum of bad pop music assaulted your senses, and you already felt out of place. This definitely wasn’t part of your plan for the night.

You trail behind your roommate like a sheep being led to the world’s least exciting slaughter. Why are you here again? Your arms cross protectively over your chest, already bracing for awkward small talk and forced laughter. As you near the booth, you dare a glance at your date, but immediately decide against it. Nope, not ready for that yet. Instead, your eyes zero in on your roommate’s boyfriend, already seated with a smug grin, obviously pleased with himself for somehow orchestrating this.

"Hey, Trent, how are you?" you mumble, keeping your focus on the sticky, laminated menu lying flat on the table. You slide into the booth next to the other guy, your legs awkwardly brushing against the cold, ripped pleather of the seat.

Across from you, Trent greets you back, then launches into some conversation—beer, Boston sports, or his new protein shake obsession. Who even knows at this point? Your roommate is nodding along, her face lighting up like she hasn’t heard the exact same spiel a hundred times before.

You flick your gaze over to the guy next to you—your date, you remind yourself. Forcing your eyes up to get a better look at him, you note that he hasn’t spoken yet. Probably for the best. He doesn’t look terrible. Definitely not winning any awards tonight, but not bad. Brown hair, kind of messy—not in the cute “I woke up like this” way, more like the “I actually just rolled out of bed” kind.

You clear your throat, filling the silence between you with what feels like an elephant sitting on your chest. "So," you begin, glancing at the menu again before diving into the obligatory introductions, "I guess I should know your name?"

The guy turns to you, his expression a mix of mild surprise and amusement. "Jeremy," he says, extending his hand like you’re in a job interview.

You blink at him, suppressing a snort. Jeremy? Really? Who even names their kid Jeremy these days? You shake his hand, which is surprisingly warm despite the bar’s overly aggressive air conditioning. "Jeremy, huh?" you muse, a smirk pulling at the corner of your lips before you can stop yourself. "Do I call you Jere for short? Or… Remy?"

His eyebrow quirks. "Most people stick with Jeremy."

You shrug, feeling a bit proud for breaking the ice, even if it’s by lightly mocking him. "Remy it is then." You go back to pretending to seriously consider the overpriced cocktails.

Out of the corner of your eye, you notice him watching you, probably trying to figure out if you’re joking or just weird. Spoiler alert: it’s both. But you’re used to that. He doesn’t seem too put off, which you count as a win.

A few minutes pass, filled with Trent’s loud commentary and your roommate giggling like she’s never heard a more fascinating story. You, on the other hand, are trying to avoid more eye contact with Remy. Small talk’s not your thing, and the awkward tension creeping up your spine isn’t helping.

"You wanna go grab drinks?" Jeremy—Remy—asks suddenly, cutting through the haze of bar noise.

Your eyes snap up from the menu. "Oh, um, sure." Standing up definitely sounds better than listening to more fantasy football updates from Trent.

As you slide out of the booth, your leg awkwardly bumps Jeremy’s knee. Perfect start. He follows you, and when he stands, your brain short-circuits for a second. He keeps standing. And standing. Holy—this guy is tall. Like, unexpectedly tall.

You look up at him, blinking a few times. "Whoa," you mutter under your breath before you can stop yourself. Of course, he notices.

Jeremy glances down at you, and for a second, you swear his cheeks flush—not quite red, but somewhere between embarrassed and amused. "Yeah, uh… I get that a lot."

You blink up at him again, still processing how tall he is. Honestly, why isn’t he playing for the Celtics? His height has to be illegal. “I bet you do, Remy,” you say, trying to play it off with a grin that feels only half-convincing.

He smiles—or kind of. It’s more like a twitch at the corner of his mouth, as if he’s not sure whether to find you funny or confusing. That makes two of you.

As you walk toward the bar, you become hyper-aware of how your shoulder barely reaches his elbow. Every step makes you feel like you’ve wandered into the land of giants. You wonder if he has to duck through doorways like some kind of mythological creature—except, instead of intimidating, he’s just… Jeremy.

The bar area is as packed as the rest of the place, bodies pressed together, the smell of beer and cheap cologne thick in the air. You find an empty spot by the counter, but Jeremy hovers awkwardly a few feet away, unsure where to fit his limbs.

“Well,” you quip, glancing over at him with a smirk, “at least you’ll never lose me in a crowd.”

He laughs, a low, genuine sound that surprises you. Maybe he’s not so bad after all.

You stick close to him, feeling the space between you. He looms over you in a way that’s not intimidating, just confusing. He stands there, fidgeting slightly, like he doesn’t know what to do with his hands. You suddenly wonder if he gets neck cramps from talking to women.

The bartender finally notices you, after what feels like forever of watching him flip cocktail shakers like he’s auditioning for Coyote Ugly. You tap your fingers on the bar, impatient. “So, what’s the plan, Remy? You ordering a protein shake, or are we going with something stronger?” You smirk, already anticipating his reaction.

He chuckles, leaning slightly closer, his breath ghosting over your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. “Shots,” he says simply.

You blink, not sure you heard him right. “Shots? Like… tequila shots?”

His lips twitch into that almost-smile again. “Unless you’ve got a better idea.”

You weigh your options. You could go for something mild and responsible. Or, you could take the plunge. Anything’s better than sitting through another lecture on proper bench press form.

“Alright,” you say, squaring your shoulders. “Shots it is. But if I regret this later, I’m blaming you.”

Jeremy’s smile widens ever so slightly, and he waves down the bartender with ease. He orders two tequila shots, and the bartender doesn’t even question it.

You glance at your roommate, still wrapped up in Trent’s nonsense. She hasn’t even noticed you’ve escaped.

“To surviving the night,” Jeremy says, lifting his glass.

You stare at the shot for a second too long, then clink your glass against his before downing it. The burn hits immediately, spreading warmth down your throat. “Okay, wow,” you mutter, blinking. “That’s… strong.”

Jeremy laughs, not phased at all. Of course, he isn’t. This guy’s probably immune to tequila.

“Want another?” he asks casually, like it’s no big deal.

You blink at him, trying to gauge if he’s serious. “Are you trying to kill me?”

He shrugs, leaning on the bar. “Figured it’d help break the ice.”

You snort, shaking your head. “The first one shattered it.” But you’re already feeling more relaxed. Maybe he’s right.

You gesture to the bartender again, feeling a little bolder now. “Alright, Remy. Let’s do another.”

He smiles—like, actually smiles this time—and the expression transforms his whole face. You realize just now how serious he had looked before, like he was equally unsure about this entire situation. But now, with that smile, he looks... not bad. Maybe even kinda cute, in a tall, awkward way.

The bartender slides another two shots your way, and you brace yourself once more. “Okay,” you say, grabbing your glass and giving Jeremy a sidelong glance. “But after this, we’re switching to something less lethal.”

Jeremy chuckles softly, raising his shot glass in agreement. “Deal.”

The second shot goes down easier than the first, probably because your body has already accepted its fate. You set the glass down, blinking as the familiar warmth spreads through you. For a moment, the noise of the bar fades into the background, and you find yourself more relaxed than you’ve been all night.

You glance up at Jeremy, feeling the corners of your mouth tug upward. “Okay, Jeremy,” you begin, leaning in slightly as if sharing a secret. “So what’s your deal? You play hockey, right?”

You lean in closer, trying to gauge Jeremy’s reaction. The tequila buzz has kicked in just enough to make you feel more daring, loosening the tension that had knotted in your chest since you first walked into the bar. His smile is still there—small, but it reaches his eyes this time, a slight glimmer of something warmer than you’d expected from the guy who looked like he might rather be anywhere else.

Jeremy tilts his head slightly, meeting your gaze. “Yeah, I do. You into hockey?”

The question catches you off guard. Hockey? You hadn’t expected that. Your mind spins for a second, trying to recall any bit of knowledge about the sport—something, anything—to avoid sounding completely clueless. You know hockey players tend to have messy hair and muscles that could probably bench press a small car. That’s a fact, right?

You tilt your head in mock seriousness, the corners of your lips quirking up as you reply, “Does it count if I’ve seen Mighty Ducks?”

That earns a genuine laugh from Jeremy, his shoulders shaking slightly as he leans a little closer to you, still keeping his voice low over the noise. “We’ll call it a start,” he says, his breath warm against your ear. The sensation sends a shiver down your spine, but not the uncomfortable kind—the kind that leaves you acutely aware of how close he is now.

You clear your throat, trying to refocus. The alcohol is definitely doing its job, making it easier to talk, easier to joke, but also making it harder to ignore the way Jeremy is looking at you now—like he’s actually interested. It’s a shift you hadn’t quite expected, but there it is.

“What about you?” Jeremy asks, shifting in his spot and propping his elbow on the bar like you two are just casually catching up at some coffee shop, not drowning in tequila at a sticky Boston bar. “You don’t seem too thrilled to be on this date.”

You can’t help but smirk at Jeremy's question. “Me? Excited?” You glance toward your roommate, now fully engrossed in what can only be described as an Olympic-level makeout session with Trent. You turn back to Jeremy, arching a brow. “I mean, can you blame me for feeling... left out of the fun?”

He follows your gaze, his lips quirking in amusement as he sees what you mean. “Guess they’re having a good night,” he remarks dryly, leaning on the bar a bit more comfortably now, like he’s settled into the chaos of the evening.

“They don’t ever take a break, I swear,” you mutter, the words dripping with sarcasm. You lift your empty shot glass, twisting it between your fingers, using it as a distraction. The alcohol has already loosened the knot of anxiety in your stomach, but that doesn’t stop the self-conscious feeling creeping back in.

You set the shot glass down, your fingers lingering on the rim, feeling the cool condensation as you give Jeremy a sidelong glance. His eyes are still on you, curious but relaxed, like he’s trying to figure you out, piece by piece. The hum of the crowd, the clinking of glasses, even the relentless thump of bad pop music—it all melts away, leaving just the two of you in this small, oddly intimate corner of the bar.

“So,” he says, leaning in just enough to close the space between you without being overbearing, “What exactly do you mean by ‘they don’t take a break?’” His voice is low, with just a hint of teasing curiosity. The smirk playing at his lips lets you know he’s more than a little interested in the answer.

You hesitate for a second, letting your fingers trace idle circles on the bar as you debate how much to reveal. The flickering light from behind the bar catches the glint of your glass, and you glance up at him, meeting his gaze head-on. He’s waiting, intrigued, and honestly, the tequila is doing enough heavy lifting that you don’t feel the need to hold back.

“Well,” you begin, leaning in closer as if sharing a secret, though the din of the bar makes sure no one else is listening. “Let’s just say living with her has been… educational.” You shoot him a pointed look, raising an eyebrow for emphasis. “They’re not exactly quiet, if you know what I mean.”

Jeremy blinks, his eyebrows lifting slightly in surprise before a slow grin spreads across his face. “Seriously?” he asks, his tone somewhere between disbelief and amusement. “Like… how often are we talking?”

You can’t help but laugh, shaking your head as you roll your eyes. “Oh, please. You have no idea. Every other night—if I’m lucky. Sometimes I’m sitting in the living room, minding my own business, and then—bam—Trent’s there, and, well… things escalate quickly.”

The mental image of your roommate and Trent’s frequent… activities is enough to make you cringe, and yet, you find yourself laughing about it now. Maybe it’s the alcohol talking, or maybe it’s the fact that Jeremy seems to find the whole situation as ridiculous as you do. Either way, you don’t mind sharing the awkward truth.

“So, what, you’re just, sex-negative?” he suddenly asks, his voice dropping slightly as he leans closer, clearly enjoying this conversation more than you expected.

You blink at Jeremy’s question, caught slightly off guard by the shift in the conversation. Sex-negative? Definitely not. But how do you explain the dry spell without it sounding like you’ve been living under a rock? The last thing you want is for him to think you’re inexperienced, but also, it’s not exactly something you’re eager to dive into—especially in a bar.

A small smile tugs at your lips as you lean back slightly, running your fingers along the cool surface of your glass. “Negative? No, not at all,” you respond, your tone light and playful, dodging the question without outright avoiding it. “I just think there’s such a thing as… moderation, you know? Not everyone’s out there trying to set world records.”

Jeremy laughs, a low, easy sound that rumbles in his chest, and you feel the warmth of his amusement lingering in the air between you. His eyes flicker down to your lips briefly before meeting your gaze again, something a little more intent simmering beneath his casual expression.

"Moderation, huh?" he teases, resting his elbow on the bar and leaning in just a bit closer. His voice lowers, like it’s a secret he’s only willing to share with you. “So… you're not exactly a frequent flyer these days?”

Your heart stutters for a second, and you immediately realize this conversation is skating on thin ice—fun, sure, but also dangerous territory. The tequila in your system makes it easier to respond with a coy, teasing smile instead of outright flustered honesty.

“I wouldn’t say that,” you reply, biting your lip as you meet his gaze. His proximity is undeniable now, his cologne subtly mixing with the scent of the bar, making the space between you feel smaller, more intimate. The warmth of his body radiates toward you, and you can’t help but feel a growing tension with every lingering glance. “Let’s just say I’m… picky.”

The smirk on Jeremy’s lips grows wider as he watches you carefully. There’s a challenge in his eyes, a knowing look that makes your stomach flip with both excitement and apprehension. His gaze travels lazily over your features, taking in the way your lips curve, the soft flutter of your lashes, before settling on your eyes once more.

"Picky, huh?" he echoes, his tone teasing but layered with a hint of intrigue. He lets the word hang in the air for a moment, his fingers drumming softly on the bar, almost like he's gauging your reaction. "I guess that means… you’re hard to impress."

You feel a flush creep up your neck, but you’re quick to counter. “It’s not about being hard to impress. Just… discerning.”

The word lingers between you, wrapped in unspoken meaning, and Jeremy’s expression shifts—less playful now, more curious, like he’s peeling back layers. His eyes flicker down to your lips again, and this time, they linger there, just for a heartbeat too long.

“And what exactly does it take to impress you?” he asks, his voice dropping lower, softer, so that the question feels like it’s meant only for your ears. His elbow on the bar brings him even closer, and you can feel the faintest brush of his knee against yours under the table. It’s enough to send a pulse of awareness through you, and you suddenly find it harder to keep your breathing steady.

You swallow, your thoughts racing as you try to formulate a reply without giving too much away. You’re enjoying this dance of flirtation, but it’s getting harder to stay detached when his eyes are practically smoldering in the dim light of the bar.

“It’s not something you can just list off,” you say, your voice a little more breathless than intended. “It’s… more of a feeling.”

Jeremy’s gaze darkens, his smirk softening into something more serious, more intent. “A feeling, huh?” His voice is a hushed murmur now, intimate in a way that makes your pulse quicken. His fingers brush ever so lightly against your hand, sending a spark of electricity up your arm. "And are you feeling anything right now?"

Your breath catches, your mind racing for a moment, but then you lean in, closing the space between you, your lips almost brushing his ear as you whisper, “Maybe.”

It’s the way his body shifts subtly, the way his breath hitches at your words, that tells you this game is on a knife's edge now. The air between you is thick, charged, every glance and movement loaded with the weight of unspoken possibilities.

You pull back just enough to meet his gaze, and the intensity there makes your heart race. For a moment, neither of you says anything, the noise of the bar fading even further into the background. The tension between you is palpable, humming in the space where your bodies are just barely not touching.

“You’re making this very difficult,” you mutter, barely loud enough to be heard over the distant hum of the bar. You give him a playful smirk, trying to deflect the growing tension, but the look in his eyes tells you he’s not letting you off that easily.

“Oh, I am?” His voice is a low murmur, teasing but edged with something else, something darker. He leans in, close enough that you can feel the warmth of his breath on your neck. His lips hover just near your ear, and he’s so close that the scent of his cologne mixes with the faint musk of the bar, making you dizzy in the best way. “I don’t know… seems like you’re handling it just fine.”

Your heart skips a beat at the way he says it, his voice barely above a whisper, but filled with meaning. His fingers slip away from yours, trailing a path up your arm, slow and deliberate, and you can’t help the way your body reacts—goosebumps rising on your skin, a shiver running down your spine.

He’s testing you. And you know it.

You take a slow breath, biting your lip as you meet his gaze. The teasing, playful banter from earlier feels miles away now, replaced by something far more electric. “Oh, I’m handling it?” you echo, your voice steady, though your pulse is anything but. “You sure about that?”

Jeremy grins, his eyes gleaming with a mix of amusement and something much more primal. He leans in even closer, his lips almost brushing your ear, his breath sending a shiver down your spine. “You’re not exactly hiding it well,” he whispers, his voice low and rough, the words sending a jolt of heat through your body.

You swallow hard, your heart hammering against your ribs as you try to stay composed. His proximity, his voice, the way his hand is now resting on your knee, fingers just barely grazing the inside of your bare leg—it’s all too much, and yet not enough. There’s a part of you that wants to play it cool, to keep this dance going, but the other part—the part that’s been aching for this, for him—is ready to break.

You lean in, your lips dangerously close to his ear now, letting your breath brush his skin as you speak. “You think I’m hiding something?” you whisper, your voice soft but filled with challenge.

His hand tightens slightly on your knee, the pressure sending a wave of heat through you, and he lets out a low, throaty chuckle that vibrates against your chest. “Oh, I know you are,” he murmurs, his lips grazing your ear as he speaks. “You’ve been dodging my questions all night.”

You laugh softly, the sound more breathless than you intended. You can feel the tension building between you, the way every small touch, every whispered word, is pulling you both closer to the edge. “Maybe I just like keeping you guessing,” you reply, your voice low, playful, but laced with the same tension that’s thrumming between you.

Jeremy pulls back slightly, just enough to meet your gaze again. His eyes are dark, full of intent, and the look he gives you is enough to make your stomach flip. “Yeah?” he asks, his voice soft but intense. “Is that it? Or…” His hand moves a little higher on your thigh, his fingers brushing the soft skin just beneath the hem of your dress, and your breath hitches. “...maybe you just don’t want to admit that it’s been a while.”

Your heart skips a beat, and for a split second, you forget how to breathe. He’s hit too close to the mark, and the sudden rush of heat to your cheeks betrays you before you can think of a response.

Jeremy’s grin widens, and he leans in again, his lips brushing your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. “I’m right, aren’t I?” he whispers, his voice soft but filled with that same teasing edge. “It’s been a while, hasn’t it?”

You feel your pulse quicken, your mind racing as you try to think of something to say, some witty comeback that doesn’t give him the satisfaction of knowing he’s right. But the truth is, you can’t deny the way your body is reacting to him, the way every touch, every whispered word, is making it harder and harder to keep your composure.

“Maybe,” you manage, your voice soft, but the word feels more like a confession than you intended.

Jeremy lets out a low, throaty chuckle, and the sound sends a wave of heat coursing through your body. His hand moves higher, his fingers teasing the sensitive skin of your thigh, and you can’t help the way your breath catches in your throat.

“Thought so,” he whispers, his lips brushing your ear again. “I can tell.”

You swallow hard, trying to ignore the way his touch is making your entire body hum with anticipation. “You’re awfully sure of yourself,” you mutter, though your voice lacks the bite you were aiming for.

Jeremy pulls back slightly, just enough to look you in the eyes, his gaze intense and unwavering. “I’m just paying attention,” he says, his voice low, almost a growl. His hand moves higher still, and you feel your heart race, every nerve in your body on edge. “And right now… you’re giving me all the right signals.”

You bite your lip, trying to keep your composure, but the way his hand is resting on your thigh, the heat of his touch burning through the fabric of your dress, is making it impossible to think straight.

“Signals?” You manage to echo, your voice far softer than you’d intended. You try to inject a bit of bite into it, but it’s lost in the haze that’s settled over your brain. The way his fingers toy with the hem of your dress is enough to scramble your thoughts completely, making you hyperaware of every point where your skin is just barely—achingly—touching his.

He leans in closer, his lips brushing your earlobe, and you swear you feel your entire body tighten in anticipation. “Mmhmm,” he hums, his voice low and rough, full of wicked intent. “You know what kind of signals.”

You swallow, trying to maintain some semblance of composure, but the way his hand slides higher on your thigh—so casually possessive—has you fighting a gasp. His lips barely graze the sensitive skin just below your ear, his breath sending goosebumps racing across your skin, and it takes everything in you to not visibly shudder at the sensation.

“I can feel how tense you are,” he murmurs, his voice smooth and confident, the words practically dripping with suggestiveness. “Bet I could help with that. Get you to relax a little…” His fingers press just slightly into your skin, as though testing the waters, and you bite your lip to stifle the noise building in your throat. “You’d like it if I got my hands on you, wouldn’t you?”

You let out a shaky laugh, trying to play it off, but his hand is still slowly, deliberately inching higher under the table, and it has your mind short-circuiting. “Relax? With you around? Not likely,” you manage, though your voice wobbles a bit at the end, betraying the nerves he’s stoking.

Jeremy smiles, his eyes dark and full of intent as they flicker from your lips to your eyes, studying every flicker of emotion that crosses your face. “Oh, I think you’d be surprised,” he murmurs, his voice a low rasp that sends another wave of goosebumps racing up your arms. He leans in again, his breath hot against your ear, and the proximity, the way his lips brush against your skin as he speaks, makes your entire body tense up.

His fingers trail lightly along your inner thigh, and you bite your lip, fighting the overwhelming urge to lean into him, to just let go of the tension that’s been coiling tighter and tighter inside you. “You’re so damn worked up,” he whispers, the words rolling off his tongue like a secret he’s been waiting to tell you. “I can feel it. Bet you’ve been thinking about this all night. Wondering what it’d be like to let me take care of you.”

Your pulse spikes, and you feel a hot flush crawl up your neck, his words hitting too close to the truth for comfort. You can’t stop the way your body reacts, though, the ache in your chest, the way your breath hitches when his fingers press a little harder against your thigh.

“I don’t need you to take care of me,” you shoot back, your voice steadier than you feel, but there’s a hitch in it that gives you away.

“Oh?” His lips are so close to your ear now, his breath warm and teasing. “Then why haven’t you pulled away?” His fingers skim higher, brushing the hem of your dress, and you shudder, the heat pooling low in your belly almost too much to handle.

You don’t have an answer for that. Not a good one, at least. Not one that’ll wipe that smug look off his face.

Instead, you let out a shaky breath, forcing yourself to meet his gaze. The way he’s looking at you—it’s like he already knows exactly what’s going on in your head. It’s unnerving, but at the same time, it’s thrilling in a way that makes your pulse race even faster.

Jeremy seems to notice your reaction, his grin widening as he pulls back just enough to look at you, his eyes gleaming with that same wicked intent. “You ready to get out of here?” he asks, his voice soft but filled with heat.

The question sends a jolt of excitement through you, your heart racing as you meet his gaze. It’s a simple question, but the way he says it, the way his hand is still resting on your thigh, fingers pressing into your skin—it feels like so much more.

You nod, your breath catching in your throat as you bite your lip. “Yeah,” you whisper. “Let’s go.”

The next few moments pass in a blur of movement and quick glances as the two of you leave the bar, the energy between you crackling with anticipation. Time seems to warp as you slip into a cab, the heat of Jeremy’s body next to yours making every second feel drawn out and charged with potential.

Then, before you know it, you’re at his place—his hand on the small of your back as he guides you through the door. It feels like the air between you is buzzing, thick with all the unspoken tension that’s been building all night.

You barely register the sound of the door clicking shut behind you as Jeremy’s lips crash against yours, slow and deliberate but with an undeniable intensity that sends your heart racing. His hands are immediately on you, slipping under your dress, fingers grazing the bare skin of your back as he pulls you closer, pressing his body against yours. The kiss is like a spark, igniting everything inside you, and you feel yourself melting into him, losing yourself in the heat of the moment.

The room around you feels hazy, almost dreamlike, the low hum of the city outside muffled by the thick tension hanging between you. It’s just the two of you now, and the weight of all the playful banter, the teasing touches, the knowing glances throughout the night—it all comes crashing down in a flood of adrenaline and need.

You break the kiss for a moment, gasping for air as Jeremy’s lips trail down the curve of your neck, his teeth grazing your skin, and you know they’ll bloom into bruises come morning, but you don’t care. Your hands, not to be outdone, find their way under his shirt, fingers splayed against the warm skin of his chest as you tug it upward, desperate to feel more of him. He helps, shrugging out of it in one fluid motion, and before you even have time to fully appreciate the sight of him, he’s back on you, his mouth capturing yours once again with a renewed sense of urgency.

The sensation of his hands slipping lower, teasing the hem of your dress, for real this time, has you biting back a gasp, your breath hitching as his fingers ghost along your thighs. It’s impossible to think, your mind fogged over with the sheer intensity of it all—the way his lips move against yours, the way his hands seem to know exactly where to touch, how to make your entire body light up with anticipation.

Somehow, between the tangled limbs and feverish kisses, you find yourself backed up against the kitchen counter. It’s cold against your legs, a sharp contrast to the warmth radiating from Jeremy’s body, and the next thing you know, he’s lifting you effortlessly onto it. You let out a surprised laugh, the sound breathless and airy, but there’s no time to dwell on it as he steps between your legs, his hands running up your thighs, pushing your dress higher.

“So eager,” you manage to tease, though your voice is shaky, breathless, and your words falter as his hands slide further up, brushing over the bare skin of your hips. His grin in response is smug, like he knows exactly what he’s doing to you, like he knows how close you are to completely unraveling under his touch.

“I could say the same about you,” he murmurs, his voice low and rough as he leans in, his lips grazing your ear. His fingers make quick work of the zipper on your dress, the fabric slipping off your shoulders as he pushes it down, exposing more of your skin to the cool air of the apartment.

You try to respond, but the words die in your throat the second his lips find your collarbone, trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses down the curve of your neck. Your fingers tangle in his hair, pulling him closer, and before you know it, his fingers are wrapping around the waistband of your underwear. He pulls back just enough to take you in, his eyes dark and full of hunger as they rake over you, making your skin flush under his gaze.

But you’re not one to be outdone. With a mischievous grin, you tug him closer by the waistband of his jeans, your fingers slipping under the fabric as you pull him in for another heated kiss. His hands are everywhere, exploring, teasing, and it’s almost too much—the way his touch sets your skin alight, the way his lips move against yours, the sheer electricity pulsing between you.

Just as your fingers fumble with the button of his jeans, your heart pounding in your ears, there’s a sound—faint, but unmistakable. The door creaks open. You freeze, your breath catching in your throat, and for a split second, you think you’ve imagined it. But then there’s a voice.

“Yo, Jere, I—oh, shit.”

The voice, familiar and horrified, cuts through the tension like a bucket of cold water. You freeze, your hand literally in Jeremy’s pants, and your eyes snap to the doorway.

Trent.

Jeremy groans, his forehead dropping to rest against your shoulder as if the universe has just played the cruelest joke on him as you quickly jerk your hand back. “Are you serious right now?” he mutters under his breath, clearly fighting the urge to yell.

Trent stands there, eyes wide, clearly not expecting to walk in on this scene. “I, uh... I didn’t know... You didn’t say—”

Jeremy lifts his head, his expression somewhere between murderous and resigned. “Because I didn’t think I’d have to, Trent.”

You try to stifle a laugh, the situation so utterly absurd that you can’t help it. The whole thing is so comically tragic—like something out of a bad sitcom. You’re half undressed on a kitchen counter, Jeremy’s shirtless, and Trent is standing in the doorway looking like he just walked into a horror movie.

Trent, bless him, looks mortified. “I—I just—” He gestures wildly toward the door. “I got locked out of my place, and I was hoping…”

Jeremy seems ready to combust. He pulls away from you slightly, his hands still on your thighs but his face twisted in exasperation as he turns to Trent. “You’re kidding me, right?” Jeremy’s voice is tight, like he's holding onto the last thread of his patience. "You didn’t think—maybe—a text?"

Trent shrugs, his hands now nervously fiddling with his keys, and you can’t help but notice how absolutely, wonderfully oblivious he seems to the monumental cock-block he’s just performed. It’s like watching a train wreck, but instead of crashing, it’s just awkwardly derailing in slow motion. He looks like a lost puppy who’s wandered into a room he wasn’t supposed to be in but can’t figure out how to get back out.

Jeremy groans, the sound a mix of pure frustration and disbelief, and you can’t help the grin that tugs at your lips. You stifle a laugh, but it bubbles up anyway, a soft, breathless giggle that you try to cover with your hand.

"Trent," you manage to say, trying to sound casual despite the fact that you're half-dressed and sitting on a counter like you’re in the middle of a steamy romance novel. "Maybe... maybe you could go...?" You trail off, attempting to subtly guide him toward the exit with a hopeful smile.

But Trent, bless his soul, doesn’t pick up on any of it. He scratches the back of his neck, his gaze darting to the floor. “Yeah, I mean... I didn’t think I’d be interrupting... uh, this...” He waves a hand vaguely in your direction, and Jeremy’s jaw clenches. “But since I’m here, I thought maybe... you know, I could crash? Until I can get back into my place? Like, just for a bit?”

There’s a beat of silence, so thick and awkward it feels like you could slice through it with a butter knife. You can practically feel Jeremy’s eye twitching beside you. You open your mouth to try again, this time a little more direct.

“Trent,” Jeremy starts this time, beating you, and his voice is steady, though there’s a distinct edge to it now, “this really isn’t a good time.”

There it is. Another hint. The gentle, polite way of saying, Please, for the love of God, get out. You hold your breath, waiting for Trent to get the message, to back away slowly and give you back the moment that’s still buzzing in the air between you and Jeremy. But Trent, bless him, doesn’t seem to pick up on the signals. Not even a little.

“Oh, right, right,” Trent says, nodding vigorously as though he’s just realized the gravity of the situation. And for a second, you think he’s about to leave. But no. He glances around the room awkwardly, eyes landing on the couch behind you. “I’ll just, uh... crash here for a bit, yeah? While I figure out the whole locked-out situation?”

Your eyes widen in disbelief. Is he serious?

You glance at Jeremy, whose entire body stiffens in response. His hands slip away from your hips, and he slowly turns to face Trent, like he’s gearing up to deliver a death blow. But instead, all that comes out is a strained, “Trent...”

Trent, still oblivious to the mounting tension, plops himself onto the couch like this is a totally normal occurrence. “Man, it’s freezing out there tonight. You got Netflix, right, Jere? I could really use something to take my mind off... well, everything.”

Jeremy lets out a long, frustrated sigh, dropping his forehead against your shoulder again. “I can’t believe this is happening,” he mutters, voice muffled against your skin.

You can’t help it—you start laughing, soft at first but then uncontrollably, the sheer absurdity of the situation too much to contain. “This is... I mean... of course this is happening.” You’re still breathless from Jeremy’s kisses, your skin tingling, but the laughter bubbling up inside you is impossible to hold back.

Jeremy pulls back, shaking his head with a look of complete and utter disbelief. “He’s... he’s actually staying.” His tone is incredulous, as if he can’t quite fathom how Trent is that completely clueless.

You shrug, trying to keep a straight face but failing miserably. “Well, he did get locked out of his place.”

Jeremy groans, pinching the bridge of his nose, and for a second you think he might actually lose it. But then, the corner of his mouth twitches, and you realize he’s fighting off a grin. “We were this close.” He holds his fingers an inch apart, glaring toward the living room like Trent has personally offended him on the deepest level.

You shrug, biting your lip to keep from laughing outright. “He really doesn’t get it, does he?”

Jeremy’s eyes narrow, and you can see him wrestling with the idea of throwing Trent out versus just giving in to the ridiculousness of it all. “Apparently not.”

Trent, blissfully unaware of the war raging behind Jeremy’s eyes, is already flipping through Netflix, humming some random tune under his breath. “You guys cool with an action movie? Or maybe a rom-com?” he calls over his shoulder.

You and Jeremy share a look, both of you incredulous, both of you trying to come to terms with the fact that you’ve gone from about to hook up to... movie night. On the couch. With Trent.

“Well,” you say, hopping down from the counter, smoothing your dress with a sigh, “Looks like we’re watching Netflix.”

Jeremy just stares at you for a long moment, then shakes his head, muttering something under his breath about murder. He grabs his shirt from the floor, pulling it back on with a huff of defeat. “I’m never gonna let him live this down,” he grumbles, his voice low enough that only you can hear it.

You can’t help but smirk, despite the situation. “Could’ve been worse,” you say lightly, stepping closer and brushing your fingers teasingly against his side. “Oh yeah?” He replies, his voice taking on the same teasing tone, “How?”

“Well,” you say, lowering your voice so only he can hear, your lips brushing against his ear, “at least we weren’t naked yet.”

Jeremy’s eyes darken for a split second, and he leans in, his breath hot against your ear as he murmurs, “You’re really not making this any easier, you know that?”

You grin, your heart skipping a beat at the low timbre of his voice, but before you can respond, Trent finally picks a movie. “Ah! Found one!” He leans back on the couch, stretching his arms out like he’s settling in for the night. “You guys coming or what?”

Jeremy straightens up with a sigh, casting one last glance at you before muttering, “This is the worst night of my life.” But you can see the ghost of a smile tugging at his lips, like even he can’t help but laugh at how utterly ridiculous this all is.

And so, with a shared look of resignation, you follow Jeremy to the couch. Because what else can you do?

“Popcorn?” Trent asks cheerfully, like nothing out of the ordinary just happened.

Jeremy leans back with a sigh, throwing an arm casually over the back of the couch behind you. “Sure, Trent. Why not?”

[pookietv]

clingy | arthurtv

another little illness drabble because i liked doing the george one!

when you got a call from arthur late at night, it was usually him calling to chat when he was bored, or to tell you some new fact that he had found wildly interesting.

so when you heard a slightly raspy, tired sounding arthur, you were a little taken aback.

"y/n?" was the first thing that came down the phone.

"hi, arthur, whats up?" you said sweetly, before a cough came down the phone.

"this might sound a little silly, but would you mind coming round?"

"uh huh, sure, i don't mind at all," you confirmed straight away, "are you okay? you sound a little raspy," you asked.

"think 'm ill.. know it sounds silly but was just laying in bed and i haven't felt great all day, and then i was just missing you and wanted to see you," he rambles out, and you have to admit it did melt your heart a little.

and thats how you had ended up at his door at 11:23, not all that late but a little strange nonetheless, and you pushed the key into the door, the spare you had been given to the flat, slipping your shoes off and heading to arthur's room, trying to be quiet in case anyone was asleep.

you gently pushed open arthur's door to be greeted by him in his boxers, hands tucked under his pillow and laying on his stomach in a freefall position.

"hi, arthur," you said softly as you made your way into his room, putting down your bag which had very little in it, you rarely brought pajamas round to arthurs, knowing you would end up in one of his jumpers, so the bag always felt hollow filled with only your clothes for the next day.

his head lifted from the pillow and a dopey grin plastered itself on his slightly red face.

"how are you feeling?" you asked gently, and he turned himself onto his side so he could see you properly.

"better now you're here, lovie," he babbled back, and you smiled at him.

"you need any water or anything?" you questioned, before looking at his bedside table, which he had clearly prepared for his illness contingencies, tissues, water bottles, snacks and paracetamol.

"'m good, just couldn't sleep very well and i didn't know if it was cause i was ill and i always sleep better with you so i figured," he trailed off, looking a slight bit sheepish as you giggled, "sorry for asking you to come here so late," he finished, but you shrugged.

"no, don't worry about it, you know i'd always come if it'd make you feel better," you reassured, and he just gently put his head back on the pillow.

"i'll get dressed and then come lay down, okay?" you said gently, and arthur murmured out, "that shirt that you like to sleep in, washed it the other day so it'll be in my cupboard rather then my drawer," he explained, and you nodded slightly, opening the cupboard door and grabbing it, quickly pulling your shirt from over your head and replacing it with his, and discarding your trousers, staying in just your underwear, since arthur's room was often hot.

you slid underneath the covers, adjusting them so they lay comfortably on arthur before you felt his forearm resting lazily against your waist, your head tucked next to his collarbone and his face practically buried in your hair.

"sorry if i'm being a little clingy, think i'm just bad at being poorly alone," he joked a little, but you just laughed back gently.

"i don't mind at all, it's actually quite nice," you said, before explaining, "not that you're ill, just that, y'know, you're clingy," i laughed a little more as you tried to explain myself, "although, i don't hate the voice," you teased.

"my voice?" he mumbled out.

"uh huh, kinda raspy," you joked a little more.

"so you find my pain hot?" he said, half teasing back.

"well, i didn't say that," you laughed.

"i mean, i can try get ill more often if it puts you in that kind of mood," he grinned into the top of your head, and you rolled your eyes.

"oh, shut up and go to sleep,"

[genderfluid-insomniac]

I love your blog and wanted to make a request before I leave for errands

For nsfw can I have wukong and macaque ( separately ) that they get a call from thier fem lover to come over to her place at night cause she got a surprise for him. They go see her since she sounded nervous, only to see her wearing thoes sexy short silky night gown dress. It makes her look sexy yet innocent looking since she looked rather shy and flustered to look at them but wanted to pleasure them since they seemed busy these past weeks. If you want to do only one, I’m fine with wukong!

Thank you! I hope your errands went well! You have this amazing spicy request and expect me not to do both of them? I couldn't and my indulgence got the best of me 😅 I hope you like it!

“A lovely shy surprise” Macaque x fem!reader x Wukong (separately) NSFW

Wukong

You’d just gotten back from work and collapsed on the bed after working another 8-hour shift. Now scrolling through your phone until you text your friend back and see your lover’s contact. The amount of hoops you and the rest of the gang had to jump through to convince Wukong to get a phone and then to use said phone was a tough trial.

From your past conversations, you knew the past few weeks had been tough for both of you but certainly on Wukong because of the seasons changing from fall to winter and the intensity of the training ramping up. So you stood up and walked over to your closet, pushing aside different articles of clothing trying to find what you were looking for, and pulling it out.

You’d seen a light pink short silk nightgown with black lace trim that was usually expensive at a lingerie store but was half off today and you felt like treating yourself. As you’d bought it a couple of ideas came to mind that didn’t just involve wearing it for yourself and tonight felt like a good night to put that gown to use.

You called your boyfriend who picked up on the last ring with a lazy tone and you could tell by the happy energy that this was probably one of the highlights of his day. “Hey, sunshine! How was your day?” he said and you took a deep breath, schooling yourself on what you wanted to say and mentally saying it in your head. “Hi, Sun. It was- it was good but I’m glad I’m out of work. Now that I am though I have a surprise for you that I think you’ll like.“ you said and hung up before you rambled out anything more anxiously.

You didn’t like how it came out a bit more nervous than you would’ve liked but it would have the added effect of making him worry whether you were okay or not and get here quickly. It took a minute or two to slip on the nightgown and look around to make sure your room wasn’t a total disaster.

Just as you thought it only took 10 or 15 minutes for him to get here and enter the way he usually did which was through your window. He seemed on edge as he scanned the room and stopped when he saw you. “Hey, is everything alright? You seemed kinda nervous on the phone-” his voice trailed off and his jaw dropped.

Every inch of your body wasn’t left untouched by his eyes and you felt a soft blush creep onto your cheeks, hugging your arm and breaking your gaze after seeing the lust in his eyes. You shivered when you suddenly felt warm hands feeling up your body, one of his fingers lifting up the ends of the gown and the other sliding your shoulder strap off. “Well aren’t you gorgeous tonight~ What’s all this about, hm?” he asked and hummed.

You felt your cheeks warm and your mind went blank as he felt up your body shielded only a thin layer of fabric that he could easily shred like paper. “I wanted to do something for you since I know you’ve been busy and we haven’t been able to hang out as much,” you said and shyly kissed the back of his hand that was intertwined with yours, interrupting him again when he went to speak and assuring him you wanted to do this.

“Before you say that you should be the one spoiling me you are always pampering me and I want to be the one to pleasure you,” you whispered and gently guided him to sit on the edge of your bed, slowly slipping off his pants so they pooled around his ankles and rubbing his growing erection through his boxers.

Wukong groaned and gripped the bedsheets, lifting his hips and silently asking you to hurry up. You relented since you were the one pleasuring him and wanted to spoil your boyfriend with affection and lust. Quickly his boxers were gone and you steadily pumped his hard cock, kissing the tip and receiving a beautiful moan. You licked a stripe up his shaft and took his dick in your mouth, bobbing your head up and down.

Sucking with hollowed cheeks and fisting the rest of his cock that you couldn’t take. Many pleas and praises were said by your lover and he gripped your hair as he came, rubbing circles on your cheek and panting as you swallowed his cum. “Now wasn’t this a pleasant surprise~,” he said and lifted you up to cuddle for a bit.

Macaque

It had been your day off since the roof of your workplace collapsed due to the heavy amount of snow weighing it down but you weren’t complaining about the free time you now had to put your plan into action. The “gift” you wanted to give your boyfriend was one that you thought of a couple of days ago and it took a fair amount of effort to make sure all of your work was kept secret. Today despite the blizzard that plagued the city a day ago Macaque has shows scattered throughout the day so he would be busy enough for you to not worry about alerting his prying ears.

You made sure to keep the fire in your living room going so it didn’t get freezing in your small home and went back to your closet, pulling out a dark lavender short silk nightgown with black lace trim that was usually expensive at a lingerie store but was half off today since the store had grown bankrupt. The fabric was so soft and a bit cold as you stripped and slipped it on, patting out the invisible wrinkles and turning in the mirror in front of you. “Hopefully I managed to keep this hidden from him but ugh what if I can’t do this?” you murmured and ran a hand through your hair, worrying that your shyness would be your downfall and jumping at the sudden ringtone of your phone.

Of course, the text from your boyfriend saying he’d just finished his last show didn’t help quell the nerves in you and push out a breath for your own will. You quickly type back that you have a surprise for him and that he can come over if he wants to, only for him to text if everything is okay since you seem a bit nervous and he said that your heartbeat was faster than normal. You typed back yes and didn’t get a response, now nervous that he would come straight here instead of taking a usual 5-minute break.

“Lotus everything good? Your heartbeat was pretty fast?” he said and you heard his voice getting closer, stopping when he came into your room and his concerned expression turning into one of amusement. You made a noise of surprise at his sudden appearance and turned quickly to see Macaque giving you a teasing smile, dipping into a portal, and coming out right behind you. “Well well~ What have we here? Is this the surprise you were talking about?” he said slyly and tilted your chin up.

His tail coiled around your waist and his hands felt your figure up, eyes taking in your sexy body and growling when he felt how thin the fabric was. His claws pierced little holes in the silky gown and looked up at you with hunger in his eyes. You blushed and felt your heart speed up, “You’ve been busy with your shows and I felt like you deserved something nice.” you said shyly and wrapped your arms around his neck.

Macaque cupped your face and rolled one of your straps between his fingers, looking into your eyes and smiling when you slowly got down on your knees. You gently guided him to sit on the edge of your bed, slowly slipping off his pants so they pooled around his ankles and rubbing his growing erection through his boxers.

Macaque groaned and gripped the bedsheets, lifting his hips and silently asking you to hurry up. You relented since you were the one pleasuring him and wanted to spoil your boyfriend with affection and lust. Quickly his boxers were gone and you steadily pumped his hard cock, kissing the tip and receiving a beautiful moan. You licked a stripe up his shaft and took his dick in your mouth, bobbing your head up and down.

Sucking with hollowed cheeks and fisting the rest of his cock that you couldn’t take. Many pleas and praises were said by your lover and he gripped your hair as he came, rubbing circles on your cheek and panting as you swallowed his cum. “How about I return the favor~,” he said and lifted you up to lay on your bed.

[loveinhawkins]

Part 1 ao3

When Robin and Eddie return to the trailer, Steve is still unconscious.

“Fuck, should we be worried that—how long can someone…?”

Eddie trails off, goes to check his watch reflexively before remembering that it’s stopped.

Robin shakes her head.

“This kinda thing happened, um. Before. I didn’t see much, but I… I don’t think… Billy Hargrove was completely—well. Steve had to, like, crash a car into him, and I, uh, sorta blacked out? For a bit of it? But he just walked it off, I think. Eventually. Billy, I mean. Like his body wasn’t fully… Like he didn’t really feel it.”

Eddie stares at her, reeling. A dozen thoughts scramble to be heard, many not helpful in the slightest—namely that Billy Hargrove stalked the basketball court like there was something seething within him every goddamn school day, so he can’t even imagine what that combined with the uncanny strength of The Mind Flayer would bring.

And the real major concern is—

“But Hargrove died.”

Robin looks up from where she’s been checking Steve’s head. Her fingertips are flecked with blood.

“He didn’t die from—he wasn’t killed by. By a person,” she says jerkily. “So we… we should be fine to…” She eyes the cistern lid, but her face drains of colour again.

Eddie exhales. “One problem at a time.”

He grabs Steve underneath the armpits, Robin holding his legs up.

They take him to the bedroom. Set him down, back leaning against the cabinet.

Eddie finds the handcuffs and gingerly attaches one end to a drawer handle, the other around Steve’s wrist.

Steve doesn’t even stir at the touch. His head lolls down unnaturally.

“They better not be the shitty plastic kind,” Robin says. “I’m not having him escape cause all you had was a Baby’s First Magic Set.”

Eddie’s startled into a weak chuckle.

“Excuse you, Buckley, these are the bona fide, genuine article.”

It had become a joke in the first place, actually keeping them. A year ago, maybe two. A girl from Loch Nora with a college boyfriend had either naively or intentionally thrown an open invite party—Eddie had only gone out of curiosity, wanting to see just how impressive the living space was.

He’d barely lasted an hour there, because a shithead of a ‘concerned’ neighbour called the cops on young people ‘loitering sinisterly’—as if their precious hydrangeas were in danger of being uprooted and sold.

Eddie got grouped in with a select lucky few accused of stealing. He hadn’t been, but he figured he might as well try and get something out of it. It was either Callahan’s wallet or his cuffs; Eddie picked the wrong pocket.

Now he thinks he actually lucked out, in a grim kind of way.

They take stock of everything they’ve got: lighter fluid; a couple space heaters discovered in the RV, another one found next to Wayne’s folding bed. A few bottles of alcohol along with cloths and spears. One walkie. Lighters.

Rope.

-

Nancy had left with Dustin in the RV. The plan had been for her to drop him off at the Creel House before returning to the Gate at the trailer.

But Eddie caught the steely glint in her eye as she readied herself in the driver’s seat.

Dustin sat by the table. He pinched his bottom lip between his fingers and tugged, harsh enough to draw blood. His hand was shaking.

Eddie couldn’t look at him.

He turned to Nancy.

“You’re not coming back,” he said in an undertone.

It was only once he’d spoken that he realised it didn’t come out as a question.

Nancy grabbed him by the wrist, pulled him close to whisper in his ear.

“Going to another Gate. Where Fred…”

Eddie understood: it was a last-minute change that she alone was in control of. One that Steve didn’t know.

And if Steve didn’t know, then…

The engine rumbled into life.

Eddie got out—had one last look, hand on the door. There were tanks of gasoline wedged behind Nancy’s seat.

Dread chilled him. He wanted to tell her that she shouldn’t be alone. That when she burned it all down, she needed someone to pull her back lest she get caught in the flames, too.

He didn’t say any of that.

Because Nancy just looked at him with something close to sympathy, as if she could tell everything he was thinking; it was already clear that whatever he said, it wouldn’t make a difference.

It didn’t stop him from trying.

“Nancy. Be careful.”

She nodded. “You too.”

Eddie shut the door behind him.

He was halfway back to the porch when he realised that the RV hadn’t pulled away. He heard the door opening again, began to turn, and was almost bowled over by the force of Dustin’s hug.

“Hey,” he said softly, once he’d caught his breath.

He ruffled Dustin’s hair and then stopped near the end of the motion, kept his hand there. Just held him.

He didn’t say it was okay, because it wasn’t.

Dustin sniffed. He pulled back and finally looked Eddie right in the eye.

“We’ll get him back,” Dustin said.

His voice wavered in the middle. But his determination was much stronger than the falter had been.

Eddie put his hands on Dustin’s shoulders. Nodded.

It was obvious that when it came to Steve Harrington, Dustin would go to the ends of the earth for him. And here he was, doing the hardest thing in the world: leaving Steve behind.

Compared to everyone else, Eddie thought, his job was simple, really. All he had to do was prove Dustin’s trust in him.

-

Steve’s face twitches when Robin shuts the window.

Eddie watches closely, holding his breath.

One eye opens, barely a slit. Moves sluggishly before finding Eddie.

“Hi,” Steve says.

He sounds… normal.

“Hi,” Eddie echoes cautiously. “Are you—um. Are you…?”

He trails off, feeling immensely stupid. What was he even gonna ask? Are you okay? Like he honestly was expecting Steve to say, Oh, could be better, but the malevolent entity inside me is a fucking bummer, man.

“How’re you feeling?” he settles on, because Steve still hasn’t moved, at least seems in control, and Eddie’ll take any semblance of normality he can get.

“M’okay,” Steve says, after a pause.

He lifts his head up slightly, notices the handcuffs. Gives a faint nod of approval. With his free hand, he gestures vaguely to the back of his skull.

“Feels… distant. I dunno.”

“Good, uh, that’s good,” Eddie says conversationally, like that will take away the reality of what he’s currently doing: tying Steve’s legs together with rope.

Both of Steve’s eyes open, his gaze turns sharper, calculating, and Eddie tenses—

“Eddie,” Steve drawls. He sounds supremely unimpressed. He shifts his legs and the knot Eddie made goes slack. “Tighter, dude.” “Oh, I’m sorry, not of all of us got our Scout’s badge.”

“Here,” Robin says. She nudges Eddie out of the way and binds Steve’s legs; the knots don’t budge. She gives a half smile. “At least Starcourt was educational.”

Steve laughs through his nose, but he grimaces a bit, like something Robin’s said is distasteful.

She puts a hand on his knee, peers at him. “Still here,” she says.

It isn’t a question, but Steve answers anyway. “Still here.”

Robin ties his free hand to another drawer handle.

Eddie catches a glimpse while he’s turning on the heaters, and his stomach twists—unbidden, thinks of Christ on the cross.

Steve nods at the heaters. “Put ‘em closer.”

Eddie does. He keeps waiting for a change, ready to leap back, but it doesn’t come. The only difference is that the pulse point in Steve’s neck starts to jump rapidly when the heaters are tilted towards him, but even that’s nothing like before, nothing like the frenzy in the bathroom.

Eddie puts his palm in front of one of the grilles. It’s only just been turned on, sure, but he can’t help thinking that it’s not nearly strong enough.

He stands in front of Steve, Robin by his side.

No-one moves.

Then Robin speaks out the side of her mouth. “Should you still…?”

Her fingers curl, palm up, and Eddie realises that she’s mimicking fret positions.

“Yeah,” Steve says before Eddie can answer, and Robin jumps. “Should still work.” His cuffed hand twitches. “S’in… Vecna. Me. Not enough… can’t control bats, too. Not—not all of ‘em at once.”

His throat clicks as he swallows, like the words are getting stuck.

“Should follow. Like… like, um.” His eyes widen for a split second, as if in panic, before he swallows again and says, a little clearer, “Pied Piper.”

Eddie glances between Steve and Robin. “Okay,” he says eventually. He steps back while Robin remains where she is. “I’ll—”

“No,” Steve says, and this time the panic remains; he shakes his head urgently. “Not alone. Don’t—not alone with—with me.”

“Steve,” Robin says.

“No,” Steve repeats, and there’s a fierceness to the word—Eddie feels it thrum in his chest, and he somehow knows that it’s not from any unnatural force, that the power is being drawn from Steve alone.

“Buckley,” Eddie says reluctantly.

She squares her shoulders. Takes a step back, eyes never leaving Steve.

Something in Steve unwinds, relaxes. His head droops, almost like he’s falling asleep. A stark vein in his neck pulses.

“Good,” he murmurs. “Good.”

Robin pauses at the door. Her eyes dart to the heaters, then Eddie.

“Are they…?”

“Highest they’ll go,” Eddie says.

Robin bites her lip.

Eddie knows what she’s thinking: that Nancy said unbearable, and right now barely one corner of the room is being warmed.

“It just takes time to, uh, kick in,” Eddie says.

It doesn’t sound convincing—sounds like he’s free-falling, desperately searching for something to hang onto.

But Robin accepts it, Eddie thinks, because what choice does she have? What choice do any of them have?

“Eddie,” Steve says, just as Robin’s stepped out of the room.

“Yeah?”

Steve wets his lips. Swallows again. It looks painful.

“It’s gonna… make him mad.”

Fear seeps down Eddie’s spine.

“We’ll come back,” he says, because right now, it’s the only promise he can make. “We’re not leaving you alone.”

“S’okay,” Steve says. He’s starting to slur his words. “Better this way.”

-

They tumble through the Gate as quickly as they can, then immediately set up the trailer defences.

“We’re lucky this is here,” Eddie says when they’re done, as he picks his electric guitar off the wall, untouched by vines.

“Yeah,” Robin says. “Lucky…”

She abruptly gasps and runs from the room.

Eddie curses, follows her—flinging the guitar across his back.

But there’s nothing in the living room, no bats to fight—just Robin pulling something out from behind Wayne’s bed, laughing with a touch of hysteria.

“Jesus,” Eddie breathes, “you’re gonna give me a heart attack.”

Then he actually processes what he’s looking at. Robin’s brought out a space heater, a bulky kerosene-fuelled one, much larger than what they’d originally rustled up.

“But that—that broke last winter,” Eddie says, bewildered.

Robin doesn’t say anything, just turns it on. The effect is almost immediate compared to what they’ve been working with: the heater glows red-hot, and Eddie already feels the urge to take off his jacket.

“Eddie,” Robin says slowly. “It’s 1983.”

“Holy shit,” Eddie says. He grabs her by the shoulders. “You’re a fucking genius.”

Robin turns the heater off, drags it to a point just underneath the Gate.

There’s a couple more treasures they manage to stash away: a match box found on the counter, thrown into a deep cooking pot Robin snatches from a cupboard.

“Oh, you mean business,” Eddie says. “That’s the good pot.”

Robin grins, and it makes Eddie’s heart ache—he knows what they’re doing, forcing smiles to hide their shaking hands.

“And what goddamn atrocity befalls it in the future?”

“That’s between me and God.”

They’re up on the roof, Robin crouched by the amp, when Eddie hears the Walkie crackle.

“Max is—bait’s still been taken,” comes Erica’s staticky voice.

“Uh, copy that,” Eddie says. “Sinclair. Henderson with you?”

A click.

“I’m here,” Dustin says quietly.

Eddie breathes out. “Good. Stick together.”

He sets the walkie down and yanks off his guitar pick. He thinks of Chrissy, her body contorting. Of Patrick, dragged from the water.

Steve’s hands clenched around the sink.

“Showtime, Buckley.”

The noise is explosive. It barely takes a few seconds for the bats to start coming; Eddie watches the horizon as his fingers fly over the strings.

Underneath everything, he can hear Robin counting out bars like she’s in band: One, two, three, four. Two, two, three, four.

Prestissimo.

“Eddie, two more bars!”

He nods in acknowledgement. Feels his heart pound as if in time with the music.

“Now!”

They run. The bats circle dumbly round the roof, some clustered onto the still ringing amp, like moths drawn to light.

Pied Piper.

“Go, go, go!” Eddie urges.

It’s tricky getting the heater through, but they manage it between them, an awkward handover across the Gate.

And then Eddie’s falling, landing next to Robin, breathless. They sit up as one, give each other a speechless high five.

Robin moves first. But she stops midway to Eddie’s room—like a reversal of when he was first brought to a standstill, seeing Chrissy’s eyelids fluttering erratically.

“Eddie,” Robin says. “You—you closed the door, right?”

“Yeah,” Eddie says, mouth dry.

He knows that for certain because as he shut the door, his last glimpse was of Steve leaning the back of his head against the cabinet drawers, eyes closed.

Now the door’s ajar.

Eddie strains to listen, but he can’t hear anything.

He feels Robin’s hand dart into his. He squeezes tight before letting go. She picks up the heater. He’s got the cooking pot under his arm.

Together, they open the door.

The space heaters they’d left are broken, cracked down the middle. The handcuffs are dangling from the drawer handle, pried open, the ropes frayed apart—and the whole room is littered with…

Shards of wood. Snapped strings.

Eddie’s guitars. They’re shattered beyond repair, the red of the Warlock mixed with the dark wood of the acoustic.

And there, backed into the far corner, is Steve.

He’s cradling his wrist to his chest—it looks badly broken. Even from here, Eddie can see evidence of splinters embedded in both hands.

But above all, what’s drawing Eddie’s attention is that his shirt is off, revealing the state of his stomach, the bandages shoddily ripped away. The wound is oozing slow, thick trickles of black and red.

Steve doesn’t seem aware that anyone’s entered the room, just mutters indecipherably to himself, hair hanging down in front of his eyes.

Eddie manages to set the pot down silently—takes one hesitant step forward, cringes when he jostles a piece of wood.

Steve’s head jerks up at the sound. He stares at Eddie, a crease in his forehead.

“Who’re you?”

Robin lets out a breath like she’s been punched in the stomach.

“It’s…” Eddie clears his throat. Stays as still as he can. “It’s me, man. It’s Eddie.”

Steve doesn’t reply.

More wood scatters across the floor—Robin stepping forward frantically, “Steve, it’s me, it’s—”

Eddie stops her with a touch to the back of her hand.

“Steve,” he says, digs deep to find a calm tone. “Who’s this?”

Steve’s jaw works.

“R… R…”

Robin’s face shatters.

She sets the heater down. Turns it on full blast.

“Robin!” Steve gasps. “Robin, it’s me, I’m still—Robin, Robin, please—”

Robin takes another step—“Careful,” Eddie whispers, heart in his throat—and forcibly shoves the heater across the room.

Steve tries to dodge it, but he’s not quick enough; the grille slams against his arm, and Eddie inhales sharply as the skin blisters an angry, weeping red.

Steve’s cries are piercing.

But they reach a peak than taper off into whimpers; he presses himself against the wall, curls his upper body around his blistered arm.

He starts to sob.

They have to get closer to hear, stepping into the circle of heat radiating from the grille, Eddie just behind Robin; sweat pools in the small of his back.

“No, no…”

It’s a dreadful whisper.

They crouch down. Slow.

It doesn’t look like Steve notices: his eyes are shut tight, lashes damp as he continues to plead, “Don’t make me. Please don’t make me.”

Eddie can’t blame Robin for what she does next.

It’s instinct—he’d seen it in his peripheral vision at the boathouse, her hand reaching out to comfort, like she couldn’t stop herself.

No, he can’t blame her. Because Steve is hurting, sobbing like his heart is going to break from it, and he’s right there.

Robin’s hand moves forward.

Eddie sees the moment Steve’s eyes open, cold and inhuman, and Christ, for a millisecond too long, he’d forgotten that they had stepped into the ring with a cobra.

“Robin,” Eddie warns, too late, as Steve’s hand seizes her wrist.

“Don’t worry,” he says, and it’s almost perfect, almost Steve’s gentle concern, but there’s something off in the inflection, a misplaced note—“I’m not killing you first.”

He twists Robin’s hand.

She doesn’t scream, doesn’t even try to move, like she’s holding her breath just to stay silent.

“I can…” Steve breathes in and out through his nose. Predatory. “I can feel her.”

“Who?” Robin says.

A vague noise rumbles from Steve’s chest, like he’s searching for a name again.

“N… Nancy,” he says eventually. “She’s dying,” he says, off-hand. “She can’t breathe.”

Eddie reaches behind. Feels carpet beneath his palm. Steve doesn’t track the movement, eyes fixed on Robin.

“She will be like… like her friend. She will know how it feels to die alone.”

Steve grunts, and then…

Eddie has to bite down on his tongue to stop himself from making a sound; the skin around Steve’s stomach wound ripples, like there’s something bubbling up underneath, moving, alive, crawling up, up, up—mottled veins spreading, black as tar.

Eddie swallows back bile as his hand finds something solid. Wood.

He feels for the lighter in his pocket.

Steve leans towards Robin, baring his teeth.

“I will—”

Click.

“—consume her.”

The jagged piece of guitar burns in Eddie’s hand.

He throws it.

Sparks fly, land directly in Steve’s eyes, and he yells, lets go of Robin—with such an impact that she’s thrown across the room, landing slumped against the cabinet.

“Robin!”

But Eddie doesn’t have any time to help her, because there’s another click, a crackle, and the walkie comes to life, and it must be on accident because all he can hear is the sound of someone—Dustin and Erica—breathing quickly. Running.

Steve’s eyes narrow.

Eddie thinks of Dustin saying, “He knows where we are, he’ll know—”

“Shit,” Eddie hisses.

He tries, desperately, to turn the walkie off, but it suddenly feels like all the air leaves his lungs, and he’s pinned against the wall, Steve’s hand on his chest.

The walkie’s wedged between them. Steve’s somehow using his broken wrist to still Eddie’s hand, to keep the walkie turned on.

Eddie has no choice but to listen to what comes through the static.

It’s chaos. Heavy, frantic breathing; it’s like he can feel the kids clutching their sides as they run. In the distance, a car, the engine stopping. A door opens.

Jason Carver’s voice. “Did you see them?”

Behind Steve, Eddie spots Robin stirring.

Steve keeps staring down at the walkie.

An abrupt cry of pain, and another voice curses, says, “Shit, Jason, I think it’s broken.”

“El?” Dustin breathes.

Something in Steve’s face flickers, but Eddie’s too terrified to know what it means—tries and fails to turn the walkie off again, but he doesn’t even know what’s the right thing to do anymore. He just wants them to be okay, he just wants—

“Jason, no-one’s fucking there. You—you can’t even stand, I’m taking you to the hosp—”

A car door slamming shut. An engine starting up, fading…

Gone.

Dustin and Erica exhale shakily. Running again, footsteps pounding up the stairs, across floorboards…

The walkie cuts off.

Steve grits his teeth.

“Please,” Eddie whispers.

Robin’s up, moving so quietly—scooping the remnants of his guitars into the pot.

Another crackle.

“Eddie!” Dustin’s voice again, up close. “Max is—the music’s not working! I—I don’t know what to—”

There it is again: that flicker across Steve’s face. A ripple in a lake.

“Max,” he says.

The name cracks with emotion, and although his voice has been used before, an uncanny imitation, Eddie knows this is different, feels it in his gut; it’s him, it’s him, it’s him.

The snick of a match being struck.

Steve’s head tilts ever so slightly, but he doesn’t turn around. Like he already knows Robin is right behind him.

Instead—

Steve pries the walkie out of Eddie’s hand. Presses down on the button. Inhales.

“Run.”

The walkie drops with a clatter. Behind them, the fierce roar of flames; Eddie’s face stings.

He can feel Steve’s grip on him loosening, feels himself sliding down the wall.

Steve’s eyes bore into his—and although dark veins have spread across the whites, like spider webs, Eddie can still see the slightest gleam of something real in them.

Something human.

Steve’s lips move, cracked and bleeding.

Now, he mouths.

“Robin!” Eddie yells.

Steve lets him go, and Eddie sees a flash of Robin throwing the entire contents of the pot over Steve, raining fire upon him; Eddie covers his face from the scorching heat, scrambling to get away, relying on touch alone, and his hand hits something, the crunch of plastic, fuck, the walkie—

He’s by the doorway, gasping for breath.

Awareness comes in stages: the fire’s gone out, charred remains of the guitars on the ground where Steve once stood; Robin’s there, her hands red raw, and she’s looking at something, what’s she…?

Steve.

Steve dragging himself across the floor, his broken wrist pressed against his stomach. Crawling to sit next to the space heater, head tipped back against the wall, eyes closed. Breathing.

Just breathing.

Then, so faintly, Eddie almost thinks he’s imagined it.

“Railroad… Snow Ball… Muppet.”

Steve thumps the back of his head against the wall with each word.

Robin goes to him.

Eddie can only watch. He feels like he’s staring at a puzzle with too many missing pieces.

Despite everything, Robin reaches out with her hand again. She touches Steve’s knee gently, and Steve falls silent, stops hitting his head.

Robin smiles, tearful.

“You’ve—you’ve changed that song for me forever,” she says, choked up, and although Eddie can’t really understand, he senses the heart in it, the echoes of their story, of their love hitting him square in the chest.

“Do you remember,” Robin goes on, laughing through it, “the first time we were closing, and you—you got that whole bag of chocolate chips? Tore the corner and just, like, scarfed it. You looked like a chipmunk. It was—it was so gross. And you just said let’s see you do better, then. So we just kept eating them, and we had to pretend we had, like, a whole week where every order had chocolate chips just so we could get another shipment. You… you made me feel like I was five years old. That’s—that’s when I knew.” Robin takes a shuddering breath. Keeps smiling. “Right there. I wanted to be your friend.”

Steve just looks at her. He blinks, and a tear falls down his face, and Eddie can see it, like the sun briefly appearing through storm clouds, can see more of him breaking through, and for a moment, just a moment, there could be a chance, please, please…

Steve’s stomach spasms, and he groans, inhales short and sharp, twists away from Robin’s touch; the litany starts again, fever-slurred.

Eddie rediscovers the walkie. There’s cracks all through the plastic—it might not even work.

But Steve keens, pressing, pressing as blood flows through his fingers, as he trips up on the words, almost insensible now, and Eddie knows he has to take the risk.

His thumb pushes the button.

“Dustin,” he murmurs, “don’t tell me where you are. But if you’re—if you’re safe. Christ, please say you’re… Steve, he—he needs you.”

Silence.

Eddie closes his eyes.

“—safe. We’re all safe. I copy.”

Eddie thinks he laughs or something close to it. Maybe something else, too. He presses his forehead against the walkie. A benediction answered.

“Eddie?” Dustin says, and his speech keeps crackling, keeps threatening to cut out, but he’s there, he’s there.

Steve blinks, turns towards the sound of Dustin’s voice.

But Eddie’s not afraid this time.

“Railroad,” Steve repeats. Soft yet intentional, like he means it with everything he has left. “Railroad.”

Eddie passes the word on to Dustin. Waits.

Dustin takes a little while to figure it out—or maybe he solves it almost instantly, but here, time moves slow: just Robin and Eddie holding their breath, Steve only mouthing the words now. Barely there.

Dustin must push his button down mid-gasp, the words rushing out.

“That’s how we—that’s when everything—”

What follows is a garbled speech Eddie can barely make sense of, as static obscures every third word or so: about the junkyard and demodogs, and tunnels, and…

“D-different details, Henderson,” Eddie says with a choked laugh.

Fondness wells up; for a second it had felt like he was listening to Dustin in the middle of a campaign, on a tangent, and Eddie knows he just has to nudge him down the right path and then he’ll work it out, because the kid’s a goddamn genius.

“Stuff he can feel,” Eddie tries.

Steve looks at him, unblinking, and God he’s still in there, Eddie thinks, there’s so many thoughts, so much of him trapped beneath the surface.

So Dustin talks about Queen playing in Steve’s car, of how the fall leaves looked as they walked, of his shoelaces coming loose, and Steve getting down on his knees in exaggerated exasperation, you’re gonna fall flat on your face, dickhead, we’ve got enough going on.

Eddie takes the thread he’s been given, adds embellishments where he can—the crunch of leaves underfoot, the steady clunk of walking on the tracks, Dustin sometimes hurrying a little, just to match Steve’s stride—and as Steve finally blinks slowly, Eddie prays.

Can you feel it? Please go there. Go somewhere safe. Go somewhere it can’t find you. “What—what else did he say?” Robin says, when Steve lips stops moving, and his eyes close; he looks so tired. “Snow Ball?”

“Yeah, that’s—” Eddie pushes the walkie button again, so Dustin can hear. “Didn’t the Middle School have something… Did you do anything for it? Like put up decorations or…?”

Robin shakes her head.

Eddie furiously racks his brains for one detail, anything—curses himself for not paying attention, for shirking the ‘volunteering’ he was forced to do that December in lieu of detention; for viewing it all with a petty indifference, when for others, it must’ve meant so—

He releases the button.

“Did you say Snow Ball?” Dustin asks, before he launches into Steve shielding his eyes from hairspray, of the forest green gift bag his mom had passed into Steve’s hands, of Steve’s surprise, his shy smile—and then it’s Erica who takes over, calling over somewhere, “Lucas, remember when we came to pick you up?”

And the Sinclairs had stayed much longer than expected because Max’s folks were late in collecting her; and when Steve came to pick up Dustin, he’d noticed and stayed, too.

“He didn’t make a big thing of it,” Max says quietly, somewhere distant; Lucas adds that Steve opened up all his car doors so the tape he was playing could be heard: The Carpenters, some Christmas medley.

“He danced with Max,” Lucas says. “We were betting on how many times he could spin her in a row.”

“Ugh, shut up.”

Eddie can hear Max’s eye roll. Her smile.

“And,” Erica says, “he actually enjoyed dad’s small talk. Like, he was fully hooked on mom and Uncle Jack’s gift wrapping contest.”

Eddie smiles, covers his mouth just in case a traitorous noise slips out. The kids sound happy, and he doesn’t want to ruin that for the world.

Steve’s eyes shine, almost like he’s thinking the same thing.

Sorry, he mouths. I’m sorry.

The walkie dies.

Steve groans again, pushing down on his stomach wound. He’s trying to hide it from view, Eddie realises.

Robin keeps reaching for him. “Steve, don’t—let me help. Please.”

Steve shakes his head. “Can’t—can’t hold it back.” His voice is rasping.

“I saw you,” Eddie says, and Robin glances at him. “Last year. At school.”

The memory comes to him all at once, sparked by the kids and the thought of Steve chatting in a parking lot, so at ease.

“I was pissed ‘cause I’d just flunked—doesn’t matter. Was walking it off outside, and you turned into the parking lot, windows down, and you looked so fucking pleased with yourself cause you’d already passed everything. You must’ve had a free period, maybe a double, I dunno. I was,” Eddie huffs self-deprecatingly, “jealous.”

Steve’s head slumps against the wall. His chest rises and falls rapidly, laden with sweat. Eddie tries not to look at the marks—where the burning pieces of wood struck his skin.

Steve’s eyes find his. One long blink.

Keep going.

“You—you were wearing these sunglasses,” Eddie says, and Robin sobs, laughs, like she knows exactly the pair he means. “And you—the radio was on, but I—I can’t remember what was—anyway, you were kinda. Singing. Or, like, humming to yourself. And you were walking to the middle school, you kept throwing your keys in the air. You caught ‘em every damn time.” Eddie chuckles. “Do you know how annoying that was? And I—I just kept watching, ‘till the bell rang, and I just didn’t get it. Didn’t get why you looked so… so happy. But I—” Eddie swallows. “I know now.”

Steve’s mouth tilts, not quite a smile—he’s trying, he’s trying.

“You were gonna go see the kids, huh?” Eddie says. “Surprise them or something, I don’t know. You can tell me later. Promise me? And you—” His voice threatens to go, but he pushes through it, because if there’s one thing Steve needs to hear, it’s this.

Just this.

“You were happy. Because you loved them,” Eddie whispers. “And they loved you.”

Steve breathes in.

And he rises up so suddenly that Robin falls back in alarm. He hits the space heater as he goes, and while it still blisters his skin, he doesn’t cringe away, more deliberately leans into it—

“Quick,” Steve mutters. “He’s mad, he’s mad, we don’t have much—”

And he lies down directly on the bed frame, his stomach still oozing that viscous black and red; Eddie’s stomach drops.

He feels strange, like his body already knows what’s coming before his mind’s caught up.

“Quick, quick—”

The smash of a bottle as Steve fumbles it, spilling alcohol on the floor—he tries again, reaches for lighter fluid and douses the whole bed frame in it.

“Robin,” he says, “Robin, please.”

She’s watching Steve’s every move with wide eyes; Eddie just looks on helplessly.

Fucking move.

“Robin!”

“Steve, I—” She shakes her head, uncomprehending—more like she doesn’t want to understand. “I don’t—”

Steve doubles over, picks something off the floor. Eddie’s distracted—stupid, stupid—watching in horror as more black veins spread up, across Steve’s shoulders, the strained muscles in his neck, and too late, he realises that Steve’s holding a lighter in his hand.

Click.

Steve drops it.

Sets the wooden slats ablaze.

He cries out, back arching—the flames lick higher, higher, and Robin’s screaming Steve’s name, running to him, like she can pull him from the flames…

There’s something else in Steve’s hand.

Robin’s trapped where she’s stood, a broken piece of glass to her neck—and Steve’s struggling against it, but his hand doesn’t move, as beads of blood dot Robin’s skin—

Eddie doesn’t know when it happened. Just knows that he’s holding a spear, and it’s on fire too, flames creeping up…

“Eddie!” Steve says. “Finish it!”

His skin writhes, contorting; Eddie thinks of Chrissy again, of Patrick—and a faint memory of Will Byers, vanishing without a trace.

It was you, Eddie thinks numbly. It was all you.

The glass presses closer still against Robin’s neck. She gasps—

And Steve begs.

“Kill me!”

The stomach wound heaves like a living creature, gaping and monstrous.

“Give him back, you son of a bitch,” Eddie breathes.

He lunges forward.

With all his strength, he digs the spear straight into Steve’s stomach; the flames surge, engulf—

Steve screams.

A black mass pours out of his mouth, and Eddie thinks he’s screaming, too, but he can’t hear anything, can’t hear anything but Steve, the torture in his voice, fuck, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, and the mass hits him; he flies through the air, feels his head smack against something solid.

Then nothing.

He comes to in the living room. Blood dampens the back of his head.

Sits up. Blinks dazedly at the ceiling. The Gate… the Gate’s gone.

Bedroom. Has to… Steve, Robin. Bedroom.

He shoves himself up, wobbles. Forces himself on.

He knows he’s lost time when he nears the room: a chill hits him from the broken window, and the flames have been put out.

Robin. Robin kneeling by the bed, burns all up her arms.

“—open your eyes,” she’s saying. “Oh my God, oh my God.”

Eddie very deliberately doesn’t fully register who she’s talking to. If he does, he’ll freeze, useless. He will never forgive himself.

“Band lungs, Buckley,” he croaks, and then he falls beside her.

Starts compressions.

You’re not going, you’re not going. You’ve got so many people to see again. No. You’re not going.

He tries just to count out loud, but even as he’s doing it, something crumbles, something breaks apart irreparably inside of him, “Don’t you dare leave, don’t you…”

Robin. Two breaths.

“I wanna talk to you, Steve Harrington, and you’re gonna fucking be there to listen, do you understand, do you…”

He loses track of what he’s saying completely, lost to wilder and wilder promises, but it doesn’t matter, nothing matters except this, except the desperate push of his hands, the crack of Steve’s ribs, Robin’s long breaths; and God, Eddie would give anything, anything at all, would tear his fucking heart out if it would help, if it meant that Steve would—

“—just breathe!”

Something jolts underneath his fingers; for a moment, it destroys him: it’s back, it’s—

“That’s it,” Robin’s saying, “there, there, that’s—”

Eddie’s head sinks down to his knees.

Wretched coughs. Gasping.

“He can’t—Eddie, he can’t breathe.”

Eddie staggers over to the window. Makes the hole bigger, again and again. Glass slices through his palms.

“That’s better, huh?” Robin’s murmuring, and Eddie can’t look at her, can’t look at who’s in her arms; if he does, the proof will shatter, and that can’t… he has to…

The phone rings.

Eddie goes to it. His arm lifts, heavy and delayed. Like he’s in a dream.

On the other end, a terrified voice.

Mike. Mike Wheeler crying.

“Did it work?”

“I—” There’s a high-pitched ringing in Eddie’s ears; he shakes his head. “I don’t—”

“I-is Nancy there? Where’s Nancy?”

And there’s that gut feeling again, the one that pulled Eddie out of the RV in the first place; “Hang on,” he says to Mike, and he lets the phone fall, pushes the front door open to stand on the porch, breathing in shallow, frigid breaths.

There’s something coming out from behind the trees.

Closer and closer, and Eddie almost assumes the worst.

But it’s Nancy. There’s ash in her hair, and she’s drenched, coated in black sludge; her teeth flash as she smiles, a pocket knife gleaming in her hand.

“I made my own Gate,” she says.

Barely missing a beat, she tilts her head to the side to throw up. She wipes her mouth with the back of her sleeve, spreads more thick tar across her face.

Underneath everything, there’s a scarlet ring around her throat.

“Your brother,” is all Eddie can get out.

Her eyes blaze white-hot.

“Mike,” she says, clutching the phone so tightly, like she would do the very same if she could hold his hand. “It’s gone, it’s all gone.” And then, louder, louder, trembling, “And whoever’s fucking listening on here, get us help. I know you’re there. I won’t stop. I won’t—”

Eddie knows she says more. She must do.

But he can’t stop staring down at his hands. At the blood.

He steps forward—almost sways, and Nancy catches his wrist.

“Don’t go outside without me. Don’t talk to anyone apart from us, Eddie. Okay? They won’t touch you. I won’t let them.”

Eddie thinks he manages a nod. He believes her. Her jaw quivers, but her head’s held up high: if a gun was pressed to her head, he knows the bullet wouldn’t take.

The phone call continues, but the sound is muffled, underwater.

Eddie comes back to himself in the bedroom doorway.

Robin’s still by the bed.

Steve’s lying there, eyes closed. His stomach’s still bleeding, slow, slow, but the veins have gone, they’ve…

“Eddie.” Robin reaches out a hand to him. “Come on. You… you can feel him breathing from here.”

Why don’t you hate me?

He should leave. He should leave.

He doesn’t deserve…

But Robin keeps reaching, and Eddie’s on his knees next to her, a coward, you’re a fucking coward.

“Here,” Robin says.

She guides Eddie’s hand. Places it on Steve’s sternum, above the awful wound, above all the pain Eddie caused—

There. A rise and fall.

Just breathing.

Eddie’s breath catches.

“I thought—” He shudders. “I thought I’d—”

Robin must sense it before he does, before he even really knows it’s happening.

“You’re okay,” she says, and she pulls him into her embrace—keeps one hand on Steve as she does.

Good, Eddie thinks. He needs to know you’re there. He shouldn’t be alone.

He turns his face into Robin’s shoulder, and weeps.

[lulunothulu]

“A Bullseye to the Heart” Ch. 8

Jake “Hangman” Seresin X Latina Reader

Summary: Flashbacks creep into your dreams, causing you to wake up in a panic…it’s a good thing Jake is there to calm you. Jake finds out what happened to you, what happened with your ex, and why you’ve been getting paid off.

Content: Flashbacks(kinda gory), torture, anxiety attack, talks of suicide, some swearing, DV, will end on a happy note.

Word count: 4,019

A/N: While I think you can assume this is a middle eastern place that she was taken/sent to, I didn’t label the people for obvious reasons. Please be mindful of this and really put yourself in her shoes. Next chapter will be a lot less traumatic. I promise 💗 (Please do go back and read the other chapters, this won’t make a lot of sense if you don’t. All linked in my Masterlist!)

Chapter 8

“What were you sent here to do?” The man asks. His dark hair and even darker eyes bare into yours, daring you to speak. He’s wearing jeans and a black shirt, his mouth and nose covered in a mask.

You’d figured out that he was the leader of the terrorist organization whose weapons you were supposed to bomb. You’d been in their custody for a few days, tied to a pole on the ceiling like a slab of meat in a butcher shop.

They did this to weaken you for torture, you knew that. You’d been trained for this.

“Answer me!” The man yells. When you don’t say anything but stare at him, he nods to a man on your left.

This one compared to the leader, was huge—broad shouldered and muscular even under the loose shirt he wore.

The other man smiles, a whip coming into your view. Before you had time to brace yourself, the whip cracks and slams into your skin.

You seethe in pain, not wanting to give them the satisfaction of screaming in pain.

Except, when the whip is pulled away from your back, a chunk of flesh follows. You let out a blood curdling scream at that.

“All you have to do is tell us who you were working for,” the Leader tells you. “Your Admiral must’ve told you something.”

“I don’t know anything,” you gritted.

He sighs. “Fine.”

And again, you’re whipped.

Over and over again.

So much so, you could feel the blood trail down your spine and legs.

You knew you’d bleed out before they could get anything out of you. You almost begged for it to happen.

After a week of being whipped and beaten by a wooden so badly it broke, you knew you weren’t making it out alive.

Day after day, the same questions.

“Who do you work for?”

“Why are you here?”

“Where’s your back up?”

And each time, you’d give them nothing. An occasional spit in the Leader’s face but that would result in him slapping you, followed by the larger man’s fists.

By the end of that week, they’d send you to a medic who would treat you, let you heal for a week, and then it would start again.

Two months into it, you began losing hope that you’d ever be found.

Two months in, you were still being tied up to the bar in the ceiling. Occasionally you’d be sat down, given food, only for them to turn you upside down and dunked in water. They’d ripped out your nails, cut your skin, burned your healing back.

And still, nothing from you except for an occasional “fuck you”.

By the end of the third month, you’d come to expect the lashings. You’d come to expect the beatings.

But that last day, you were taken to a clean room. A surgical room. Fear riddled your body, beginning to expect the worst. When a doctor walked in with the Leader and his torturer, you were tied to the bed, your pants pulled down your legs.

“You are leaving,” the Leader tells you. “But not before we leave you with a parting gift.”

His eyes crinkle in what you assumed was him smiling. Behind him, the doctor walks up to you and marks your hip with a blue marker.

“Here is safe,” he tells the torturer.

You hear a machine whir behind him and when he moves, you see the torturer holding a hot stamp. A skull and bones symbol red as a chili pepper is being heated by some sort of portable hot stove.

“No,” you say, quietly at first but louder the closer they get to you. “NO!”

They only laugh. The torturer comes close, before whispering, “This will hurt. Do not move.”

You feel the doctor and the Leader hold your legs in place as the hot stamp finally makes contact with your skin.

You scream, blood curdling and raw. You scream until you can no longer breathe, the scent of burning flesh fills the small room. You feel yourself falling in and out of consciousness, but the doctor wakes you up completely with some smelling salts.

They pull your pants back up before untying you and dragging you out of the room and into a garage before putting a hood on your head. They throw you into the back of a truck before laughing and driving you somewhere.

“You’re lucky we didn’t do more than that with your pants down, girl.” The Leader tells you. “Thank your God we didn’t.”

You only sob. You were sure they were going to kill you. But when they stop and pull you out of the truck, you have to blink when they pull the hood off.

You were in an open field. The sun gloriously kissing your skin and grass whistling in the soft breeze.

They push you to your knees before you hear the cocking of a gun.

“Thank your Admiral for us,” is the last thing they say before shooting up in the air.

It was flare. They shot…a flare.

Instantly, you hear the whirring of a helicopter coming from behind a mountain in front of you. Behind you, the truck doors slam before the two men leave you on your knees, bloodied all over your body, and tears running down your face.

You were going to be okay. You were going to be saved.

So then why did the man’s words echo in your mind?

* * *

“Thank your Admiral for us.”

You woke up with a jolt, someone’s hand was holding yours and you had to fight to free yourself from their grip.

You were sweating, panting for fresh air.

It was just a dream. You’re home, safe.

You tried reasoning with yourself but it was no use. You were panicking, and hard.

Beside you on the floor, Jake sits up, rubbing his eyes before turning to you.

“Hey, did you sleep–”

Jake stops talking when he sees the way you hold your chest, face frozen in panic and breathing rapidly. “What happened?”

“They’re here,” you breathe, staring off into space. “They want me back. They’re gonna kill me this time.”

“Hey, hey,” Jake soothes, squatting beside you. “Breathe.”

“I. Can’t. Breathe.” you sputter. “It’s–oh my god–Jake I can’t–”

“You can,” he tells you. “C’mon, Sweetheart. You’ve got this, just like me.”

He brings one of your hands to his chest, the warm surface clothed in cotton, heart beating under your fingertips. “Feel my heart?”

He grabs your other hand and brings it to your chest, your heart pounding against your hand. “Match my heartbeat, Y/N. You can do it.”

You feel yourself slow down, the world around slowing. Jake’s green eye is the only thing you’re focusing on.

“Count with me,” he goes on. “One.”

“O-one.”

“Two.”

“T-two.”

“Three.”

“Three.”

“Four,” Jake smiles.

“Four,” you smile back.

“Do you feel better?” he asks.

You nod. “Yes, thank you.”

“Did you have another nightmare?” he asks, rubbing the hand on his chest with his thumb.

“Yes,” you tell him, feeling yourself fully relaxed. “It was like a movie.”

“How so?”

“I saw what they did to me in a compilation,” you shudder. “I saw every lashing, every cut, everything.”

“Tell me about it.” Jake’s eyes are soft on you, encouraging you to go on.

“I saw them beat me that first week,” you tell him after a few deep breaths. “They had whipped me and beat me with a wooden bat.”

Jake’s eyes flashed with anger before he nodded for you to go on.

“They-they did that for a month. The next month was the same but this time they let me sit instead of being chained to a bar on the ceiling.” You drop the hand on your chest in your lap, squeezing Jake’s hand in yours.

“They pulled my nails out next and cut my back wounds open again,” you went on. Tears form in your eyes again before you tell him, “The last day of the third month, they branded me. Called it a ‘parting gift’.”

He remembered. The skull and crossbones on your hip.

“They told me to be glad I didn’t get…you know, while my pants were down. That I should thank my God.” You were fully sobbing now. You couldn’t stop the tears from falling.

“They told me to thank my Admiral,” you cried.

Jake let go of your hand before wiping the tears that fell with his thumb. “I’m so sorry, Y/N.”

“That was the only thing I could focus on when the Navy saved me,” you tell him, tears drying. “‘Why would he say that?’, I asked myself. And then it hit me.”

You look up at Jake again before saying, “I think Simpson knew I was going down. Even after I radioed in that I was.”

Jake’s blood runs cold, he wanted to tell you what he knew but wanted you to tell him what you knew first.

“I think that’s why they paid me off,” you continue, tears long gone now. “They must think I know something.”

“Well do you?” he asks, not able to contain the curiosity anymore.

You nod. “I think the weapons they wanted me to bomb were U.S. made and that’s why they sent me to bomb them.”

“Why do it themselves when they can send one pilot to bomb them?” he adds.

“Exactly,” you agree. “That’s why they wouldn’t let Rooster or Phoenix and Bob come with me. They knew I was going down or dying trying to fight my way out.”

“But why keep you for three months?” he asks.

“Who knows why the Navy does what they do,” you sigh. Changing the subject you tell him, “When I got back, I was so broken–physically and emotionally. Maybe that’s what made me an even bigger target to Nick.”

Jake’s spine straightens at his name. “Why’s that?”

“I was a walking target, I had the look of someone who had been through something horrible.” You shake your head and chuckle. “I was so open to wanting someone to show me love and affection, I fell right into his trap.”

You look at him, watching as Jake’s eyes harden before he asks, “What did he do?”

“He was nice,” you start. “At first he was. Asking if I wanted to talk about what happened, then asking if I needed company. He moved in not even two months into knowing him.”

You scoff, remembering how naive you were.

“Rooster hated him the moment I introduced him to him and Nat,” you continued. “He was a lot like you actually.”

“How so?” Jake asks.

“Nice, a ladies man, handsome…” You look away at that last word.

“That’s why you didn’t trust me at first,” he fills in the blanks.

“Yeah.”

“Do you trust me now?” he asks.

You turn to him, a small glimmer of hope in your eyes.

“Yeah, I really do.”

“Why?” Jake asks. “If I’m the same as him, why do you trust me?”

“You never made a move to kiss me the first few times you were with me,” you whisper.

* * *

Jake only stared.

That motherfucker tried to kiss you the first few times he saw you? He was ready to pummel that fucker into the ground if it meant you would never see him again.

You must’ve seen the anger in his eyes because he shakes it away and swallows it down. “I’m you trust me.”

“I am too,” you tell him. “I’ve never told anyone that, about what I suspected with the Navy and with Nick.”

“I’m glad you finally got it out,” he tells you. “I really am. It’s good that you talk about what happened to you.”

“What about you?” You ask. “Has something like that happened to you?”

Jake shakes his head, remembering his old weapon system officer. “Not me, but my old back seater.”

“What happened?”

He’d told this story twice in his life. Once at court after everything happened and the second time to Lt. Addams’ parents.

“We were sent to bomb some important buildings in Afghanistan,” he starts. “They held all sorts of jets and weapons that could’ve comprised the U.S. military that were stationed there. So they sent Lieutenant Addams and I—that was my partner’s name.”

He smiles to himself.

“He was my best friend,” he continues. “I grew up with him and we joined the Navy together and then eventually flight school and so on.”

He looks up at you, watching as you listen so intently, you’re practically holding your breath.

“Well, we got into a disagreement,” Jake tells you. “He wanted to take things slow and I wanted to speed up, elimisome time from our arrival time.”

He takes a deep but shaky breath before looking away, down at the hands he held in your lap. He takes his time, caressing each of your knuckles, examining the small scars on your right hand. He flips your hands over to see your smooth palms, coated in light sweat.

“I went faster and didn’t anticipate the upcoming turn,” he goes on. “It was too late. I was too late. I should’ve died but I yelled for him to eject and I thought he was coming with me. But he—”

Jake’s breath hitched in his throat as an angry sob trickled up instead. He blows out a few breaths before looking up at you with tearful eyes.

“He didn’t eject in time.”

“Oh Jake,” you start.

“I should’ve listened to him,” he tells you. Then quietly he adds, “It should’ve been me.”

“Jake,” you start.

He feels your hands let go of his and move to his cheeks, you tilt his head up to face you before saying, “You are exactly where you need to be. If you weren’t here, I’d probably still be dealing with Nick. Or worse.”

Jake’s eyes glisten with tears, hearing you say that means so much to him. Being able to definitely say that he was a hero for you, meant that his mistake with Addams was paid back in full.

Because it may not have been Addams, but it was someone else who needed his help the most.

“You’re exactly the person I needed when I least expected,” you go on. “I know it hasn’t been long but I do think of you as a good friend. Thank you, for everything.”

He smiles up at you. This beautiful woman before him was a fighter, and he damn well deserved to be here—even just for her.

A knock on the door startles you both out of the mini staring contest you were in, making Jake turn in the direction of the front door.

He checks his watch which reads 2:45 AM.

“Who could be here so early in the morning?” He asks.

Before you even get to answer, you both hear pounding on the door. Jake feels you freeze, terror paralyzing you into speechlessness.

“Y/N!” He hears Nick yell. “Get your sorry ass out here! We’re going home.”

“How did he find my house?” Jake asks himself.

“He must’ve followed us home after we left Hard Deck.” You answer.

Jake looks at you, taking your hands in his again. “Go into my room, there’s a box under my bed. The code is 07-12-89. There’s a gun in there, just in case you need to use it.”

“What about you?”

Jake looks at you like it’s the last time he’ll see you. He tries to memorize your eyes, the way your lips pull back when you smile. He brushes a strand of your hair back before smiling at you.

“I’ll be okay, Sweetheart.”

When Nick pounds on the door again, Jake points for you to be quiet and go to his room. You obey, running as quietly and quickly as you can.

Once Jake is sure you’re safe, he calmly walks to the front door, opening it just as Nick was about to pound on it again.

“Can I help you?” Jake asks.

“Yeah,” Nick says, the smell of alcohol on his breath. “I’m looking for my girlfriend. She’s in there.”

“Girlfriend?” Jake pretends to think. “Wait, I thought you were single.”

Nick angrily grunts before adding, “No, she’s confused. She’s sick in the head.”

“Well if that’s the case, she’s definitely not here,” Jake smiles. “I only allow sane people in my house.”

“Then let me in to look for her,” Nick drawls.

“No can do, buddy,” Jake says, blocking Nick when he makes a move to enter the house. “See, I don’t know you and you w already tried to kick my ass earlier today—well, yesterday. So that’s a hard no from me.”

Nick frowns in anger, face contorting into something ungodly. “Let me in. I saw her go into the house.”

Jake’s heart was pounding.

Not because he was scared, but because he was furious. Why can’t this guy just get the hint?

“Dude, even if she was here,” Jake starts. “She doesn’t wanna see you. So, take the hint.”

“Who the hell even are you?” Nick asks, pushing Jake back a bit.

“I’m just a guy who doesn’t like the way you’ve been treating Y/N,” Jake states. “And quite frankly, I don’t want you in my property so get the fuck off my porch and go home.”

“I don’t think so,” Nick seethes. “I want her and only her. So get her out here or I’m burning your house to the ground.”

“Those are some strong words for someone who’s worked really hard to become a pilot,” Jake smiles. “Do you really wanna throw that all away for some girl?”

Nick seems to ponder his words, brows furrowing in thought.

“Because that’s what? Two years of your life down the drain? And for what? A girl who doesn’t even want you?” Jake continues. “Is she really worth it all?”

Nick’s eyes focus on something behind him and Jake doesn’t even need to turn around to know who he’s looking at.

“Y/N,” Nick says. “Let’s go.”

Jake turns around to see you standing there, head held high, body squared, and feet planted. You look like the woman you once were, the one he’d seen pictures of in the Top Gun classroom and halls.

Strong and bold. Confidence radiating from your glossy bronzed skin.

You weren’t scared, and you made sure Jake and Nick knew it.

“I’m not leaving with you,” you say firmly.

“What the fuck do you mean, ‘No’?” Nick bellows. “You’re coming home with me and we’re gonna talk about…us.”

“No,” you say, pushing past Jake and squaring up to Nick. “You’re going home and I’m staying here. You’re not good for me.”

“What? And he is?”

“Yes,” you say simply, catching Nick off guard. “He’s good for me. He and my friends, the ones you tried to keep me away from.”

Nick scoffs at that, rolling his eyes.

“What do you want? My apartment? You can have it,” you say, tossing your keys at him. “But what you can’t have is me. I’m done, I’ve been done for a long time, Nick. From the first time you put hands on me, to the last time you did. You will not hurt me again. So get off his porch and go home.”

Nick stares at you incredulously—Jake does too. He knew you’d finally had a breakthrough and was prepared to do anything to get Nick out of your life. Even if that meant standing up for yourself and doing the scariest thing you could ever do.

Confront him.

With a swipe at his face, Nick shakes his head before slapping you across the face. Your head turns but your body doesn’t move.

“You made a mistake,” Nick says darkly.

“No,” you say. “You made a mistake.”

You point behind Nick, where two officers, Bradley, and Natasha stand.

“Goodbye, Nick.”

* * *

2 months later

It’s been a fairly good two months. You’d been living with Jake since that night. You couldn’t bring yourself to go back to your lonely apartment. And besides, you liked living with Jake.

Every morning since that night, Jake has made a point to leave you notes on the fridge, telling you when to expect him home. Granted, you’d be at work. But it’s the thought that counts.

Nick was kicked out of the Navy and served a few months in jail for the assaults he committed in the week before his arrest. You were also granted a permanent protection order against him.

Life was starting to look up.

You’d been hearing nicely, emotionally at least. You even told your therapist everything you told Jake.

The only thing you worried about now was whether or not Jake was going out on a date on weekends.

You hated to admit it, but I fell for him. And hard.

You didn’t want to, but the way he treated you was so different to what you’d ever experienced, you couldn’t help yourself.

But it seemed like Jake went back to his man-whore ways. You’d be at work and glance over to where he and the rest of the group were to see him all over a new girl each week.

You tried not to let it get to you, but it still did.

You figured you’d use this time to heal yourself—better yourself. You’d get to be as great as you could be so that when—and if—Jake wanted you, you’d be ready.

So now, you’d focus on you. Until the time was right.

Because even though it wasn’t meant to be right now, you knew it was meant to be. Otherwise, why would he leave you flowers and notes everyday? No man who wasn’t fawning over a woman would ever do that.

And yeah, there was a little voice in the back of your head that says maybe he’s just trying to be nice…but why do all that?

Either way, you were doing what was best for you. Because you owed it to yourself to do it.

No matter the outcome.

For now, you would go to work, go to your weekly therapy sessions, and smile at the life you get to live.

But that’s exactly what you get to do.

Live.

* * *

Jake’s date for the week smiled up at him as she attempted to seem hotter than she was. He’d brought her to Hard Deck to meet the group but now, he kinda didn’t want her around.

She smelled too sweet, she laughed a little too loud, and she just felt…wrong.

She wasn’t his Bullseye.

Not his. But his.

You’d just brought over a round of beers and were talking to Natasha when your date tapped on your shoulder.

“Yeah, I don’t drink beer. Can I have a white wine?” She says, rudely snapping at you to hurry. “Chop chop.”

Bradley’s eyes widen and he takes a long swig of his wet before looking at Jake with a wild expression.

“Sure,” you say. Jake watches as you take the beer, glancing his way with a dissatisfied expression.

She’s gonna rip me a new one later.

“Why don’t I get it for you?” Jake suggests. “Just in case.”

“Oh, Jakey,” his date says. “That'd be great. But honestly, we can just leave. This place is dingy and old.”

Behind her, Natasha and Bob’s mouths fall open, Coyote and Payback following suit. Bradley only cackles, making his date turn around in annoyance and Bradley turn around to avoid her gaze.

“So Jakey,” Bradley starts. “Are you leaving or are you staying?”

Jake looks at Bradley, then his date, and lastly you at the bar. You were serving Maverick a beer and smiling at something he said.

You were beautiful tonight. Your hair was curled and half tied up in a white bow, a white linen shirt and jeans your uniform for the night.

As if feeling his eyes on you, your turn just in time to catch him smiling at you before he turns to his date.

“You know what,” he starts. “I think I’m gonna stay.”

Bradley smiles. “Good choice.”

Next part

A/N: Thank you for being patient with me. I had a hard time with this chapter mainly because I wanted it to be sensitive but also raw. So thank you for reading it if you read it. And remember that there’s always someone out there that loves you 💗

Tags: @lonelysoul50 @akilatwt @russopalette @emma8895eb @djs8891

[gab-tao]

Chuuya smut let’s gooooooo!!!!!

Beware of my bad grammar cause I didn’t proofread it…

❥ Smut ➯ Fluff

❥ Male reader

❥ If you aren't comfortable with this then skip this chapter.

☆ (I didn't know how to start this or transition to the smut good lol)

☆This for my friend, I know your reading this, you whore...

꧁☆꧂

As a member of the ADA you weren't supposed to be communicating with the 'enemy' but here you are, dating a Port Mafia member. Not just any Port Mafia member, it was an executive of the Port Mafia: Chuuya Nakahara. You of course tried to keep your relationship away from the ADA but of course Ranpo found out about it. You ended up getting Ranpo snacks daily with the promise of him keeping this secret quite.

You and Dazai were assigned to a mission together to defuse a threat, you weren't one of the agents that went out on missions a lot so you where kinda rusty. You where just finishing up with the clean up and Dazai decided to ask you out for a drink, you happily said yes not expecting Chuuya to be home anytime soon like usual.

ꨄ

You where a bit tipsy but you where able to get Dazai home and made it home yourself. As you entered your shared apartment it was dark, as usual he wasn't home. The lights soon flicked on blinding you for a couple of seconds from the sudden change in the environment. Then you felt a pair of arms grabbing both your wrists and pinning you to the front door. "Your late." He was clearly angry from your tardiness. He was clearly trying to come home early as a surprise for you. "I'm sorry Chuuya, it just some of my colleagues wanted to celebrate a successful mission toda-."

"Let me guess, you where with him weren't you?" These words confused you, what did he mean by him?

"Don't look at me like you don't know who I'm talking about." He was clearly jealousy of someone close to you but the only person you could think about was Dazai, could he be jealous of him? "Are you talking about Dazai? Chuuya, you don't have to worry about him, no one can ever take your place." This seemed to make him more pissed then he already was, then an idea came into mind making him smile. "I'll make sure no one does." He let go of one of your wrist and harshly grabbed the other one dragging you to the bedroom and pushing you on the bed, placing his hat somewhere and pinned you under him. "Do I have your consent?"

"Consent for what?" The alcoholic must have made you really stupid this time. "How much did you drink to get this stupid? Whatever, do I have your consent to do it with you?" Now you where more confused 'do it with you?' What did he mean by... oh, oh! Was he trying to- this made your face change into a bright red make Chuuya smile. "You finally understand, you idiot. So is it a yes or no?" You didn't know what to say, you have never had sex with anyone, you barely even jerked off.

You started to ponder his question making him get more pissed off then he was before. You slowly nodded your head yes making him less angry with you. "But darling, I need a actual yes." You where literally about to do anything for this man. "Ok Chuuya. You have my consent." You don't even know how many ideas popped into your lovers head once you said that.

He took off his gloves and began to work on taking off your tie unbuttoning your shirt. You didn't know what to do with yourself besides laying there. His cool hands soon touched your bare chest making you shudder at the touch. "Your hands are cold!" He seemed unaffected by your response, you where about to speak until he pushed his lips on to yours. He was intoxicating, he licked your bottom lip asking for access to slip his tongue in but you didn't let him. He became inpatient and bit your bottom lip making you gasp, he took this chance to slip his tongue in. You both parted, as you began gasping for breath he stared working on your neck. Planting kisses and hickey's all over your neck and jaw making you slightly moan. He worked his way down leaving a trail of kisses, all the way down to your pants.

The amount of butterfly's in your stomach. You couldn't even think about anything other then him, you where frozen in place. He slowly began to pull your pants down, pulling you from your trance. "Chuuya! Let's reconsider this! I mean, I have work tomorrow and all! And- um..." You began to try and find any excuse for him not to continue. You had work tomorrow and you didn't want to show up with bruises and bite on your neck. "You can just say your sick." You knew he wasn't going to stop until he was satisfied with you.

ꨄ

He pounded at your rear like an animal. He had a fist full of your hair, pulling your head up in order to hear you pleads and cry's for him to stop. His other hand was on your wrist pulling your arm to make sure you can't claw away from him. He had you bend over the bed, moaning as he fucked you mindless. He started saying things under his breath. You could barely make out what he was saying but the stuff you did hear was along the lines of "Shitty Dazai" "Your mine" and "I won't let him keep you away from me that long ever again." You could tell he got really possessive over you just because you spent most of your day with Dazai.

You where moaning your heart out as he pounded your prostrate without mercy then suddenly he went down on you and bit you on the shoulder drawing blood. Tears treated to spill from your eyes from how much pain and pleasure you where feeling at this moment. Then Chuuya suddenly pulled out of you, leaving your insides to feel empty and unsatisfied. He then flipped you onto your back, he took you by your hands and intertwined his fingers with you. He leaned down to your ear and started to whisper something into your ear "I'm going to fuck you so hard the you'll be seeing stars, my little doll." You knew instantly that you wouldn't be able to work tomorrow. Chuuya then stood up straight once more and slammed his cock into you and began to pound away at you like an animal once more.

ꨄ

You didn't know how many rounds you both did or how many times you came. Maybe 7? 5? 9? 11? 6? You couldn't tell anymore. Chuuya was underneath you with his hands on your waist making you ride him. All you could hear was his small grunts, your loud moans, and the sound of skin slapping. You soon felt your climax coming. Chuuya noticed this and started to move you faster and jerked you off with one of his other hands. He sat up from the bed with you still on his cock and pulled you close again and whispered in your ear "Cum for me doll..." He didn't have to say that twice, you instantly came once asked. You that had a feeling that Chuuya was planning something now. He stopped moving you, just leaving his cock in your hole waiting for something. You waited a while and started to believe he was done with you until he lifted you up and slammed you back down on his cock. He repeated this process until he came hard inside you once again.

Your body started to twitch and shudder from the feeling of being filled to the brim once again. He pulled out his soften dick out of you and gave you a kiss. "You did so well [Name]." Chuuya mumbled in between his kisses, after he pampered you with kisses he laid you down on the bed and when to the bathroom. You heard the water run for awhile then it stopped and Chuuya came back, using his ability to lift you to the bathroom and set you down in the now filled tub. He placed a kiss on your forehead and spoke "I'm sorry... I was a bit rough with you, doll." You gave him a smile full of sympathy and then spoke "It's fine Chuuya, but I still don't know how you top me when you are the size of a child." You mocked him but he didn't seem to care at the moment, he only cared about how you felt right now.

ꨄ

You both where now cleaned up and ready for bed, even though the sun was starting to rise you both where going to sleep anyways. You especially needed it, "Chuuya... How are you so short yet so dominant went it comes to sex?" You mocked him, you watched as he visibly got angry and then smirk. You where in for it now, he gave you a hug which you thought was innocent enough until he bit your shoulder making you wince in pain. He left you standing there stunned as he walked into bed and clawed under the covers.

You joined him in bed and he started to cuddle you. "Remember this doll, if you ever hand out with Dazai that much ever again. I'll make sure to fuck you mindless." He smirked at his statement, he didn't have to tell you twice about that. You promised yourself you wouldn't hang out with Dazai that long ever again, you didn't want to get fucked like that ever again. 

Chuuya was pampering your face with kisses and whispering sweet nothings into your hair lulling you to sleep.

꧁☆꧂

➤ 5/29/23

➤ Words: 1654

YIPPEE I FINALLY HAD MOTIVATION TO FINISH THIS 😍

[normal-internet-user]

A gift. An offering for my wonderful @zeepziesdiary . I gift you Papa Leo content.

WHEN I'M GONE

◇~~◇~~◇~~◇~~◇

Summary: One of the only ways you can hear your Papa is through old files. Thank gosh Uncle Tello records everything.

Warnings: Slight angst, not much but it's there. Grief. Don't worry though, there's comfort!!

Requested: An offering to my beloved (/p)

GN Reader!

....................................

You pulled back the curtain that would seperate your side of the room from CJ's, it was late, and you didn't want to wake him.

With a moments hesitation, you pulled your mask over your head, the device making a familiar chime as it powered on.

Using your guantlet, you selected the file you wanted to listen too, and closed your eyes as your papa's voice washed over you.

"How the hell does this thing work Donnie."

"Wait, it's on? Fffuuuu- I mean- frick."

You smiled as Papa cleared his throat, and continued.

"Hey there, birdy, if you're listening to this I guess that means you miss me."

"But, hey, I know you and Casey are fine. Because you have eachother."

"And where ever I am, I miss you too, so much."

"If you're listening to this 'cause- well, ya know."

"Then just know, I am so, so proud of you, birdy. You made it! Yay, confettii and streamers..! Youuu probably don't know what those are..."

Papa chuckled, and you giggled, you'd learned what those were yesterday from Mikey.

"Listen, my little gremlin, I gotta go now, Uncle Tello is being a bit of a diva- what do you mean you heard that? You're all the way over there!"

The sounds of banter and a low thump could be heard, then Papa shouted, "Love you, (Name)! Bubbye!!"

The recording ended, and you went to click on the next one, when you felt someone tap your shoulder.

You sat up and pulled up your mask, relaxing when you saw it was Donnie.

"Hey." you whispered, "What... are you doing here? What's up?"

"I made something for you." He whispered back, and you looked at him confused.

"Just follow me." He said, pulling you up from your bed.

Reluctantly, you allowed him to pull you along behind him. He led you into his lab, where he dropped your arm, rushing over to his desk.

He snatched up a small chip, then held out his hand, "May I see your mask?"

You hesitated for a moment then, removed the tech and handed it to Donnie. You watched as he inserted the chip into your mask, you were certainly curious.

He handed it back to you eagerly, and you took it, confused, "What does that do?"

"It upgraded your systems, now when you play an audio file, you have the option to project that same file through your mask. Kinda like virtual reality." He explained, clearly proud of himself.

"So, you mean like..." You trailed off, and clutched the mask tighter, "I can... see.. the recordings?"

Donnie nodded and you took in a shaky breath, "Thank you. I... don't know what to say, I-"

"Go test it." Donnie said, waving his hands towards the door, "Come let me know how well it works whenever you're ready."

You nodded, a small smile on your face as you speed walked out of the lab and into the main room of the Lair.

You debated returning to your and CJ's room to test it, but decided against it. Instead, you sat in a secluded corner of the room. After one last deep breath, you slid your mask over your face and selected a file.

Your mask made a ding ding! sound, and you clicked on the play button that appeared infront of you.

You gasped as Uncle Tello's lab appeared infront of you, it was exactly the way you remembered it. Down to the small, clear bowl filled with rocks on his desk.

Sitting in the chair infront of the monitors was Papa, who was talking to someone off to the side and out of frame. You turned your head in the direction Papa was speaking, and there stood Uncle Tello, back facing the camera as he worked on a small machine.

Papa turned back to the camera with a grin and you smiled back. Instinctively, you reached out for him, your hand stopping where he would be.

Your shoulders tightened and your hand dropped pathetically to your side as Papa started to speak.

"Man. I've been making alot of these huh? Can't tell if that's a bad thing."

"You better be taking care of yourself my little star child. I'm sure you are, because you're a good kid."

"It's... weird, knowing that if you're watching this, I'm not there to watch over you."

Papa smiled, leaning back in the ratty swivel chair that ususally rested at Uncle Tello's desk.

Slow tears started flowing down your face, most getting caught on your bittersweet smile before falling down your chin.

"I wish I could make these longer, birdy, but sadly, they gotta be short and sweet."

"Just know I am so so proud of you, yeah? Just take care of yourself for me. When I'm gone."

With a small wave, Papa leaned forward, and the recording ended with a soft click. Papa faded away. You pushed your mask up your face, a sob building in your throat.

This was the first time you'd actually seen him since...

Since...

Casey.

You needed Casey. Really really bad.

You stood quickly, speedwalking to your shared room. You'd tell Donnie about how well the chip thingy worked later. 'Cause boy did it work.

You hesitated for a moment when you reached Casey, but you knew that if you chose to just leave him be, and comfort yourself, he'd be more annoyed than if you woke him up.

So, you gently shook him awake, "Casey?" you muttered.

Casey blinked his eyes open tiredly, but that sleepinesz dissapeared the second he saw the tears running down your face, "What? What happened? Are you okay?" he asked quickly, sitting up.

You sniffled, shaking your head, "Nothing's wrong. Just-" your voice cracked, and Casey didn't wait a second longer to pull you into a tight hug.

"Thank you." you whispered, clinging to his shoulders tightly.

"Anytime, (Name). Anytime." he said, giving you a reassuring squeeze.

You spent a good part of the day with Casey, seeing your Papa for the first time since... well it threw you through a loop of confusing emotions.

On the one hand it brought you a comfort. One of your biggest fears up until now was that, eventually, you'd forget what Papa looked like. That no matter how hard you tried to remember you would never again invision his smile.

But, on the other hand, it was a shock. To see him so close, but not be able to reach him. It hurt. You knew that wouldn't last forever, the same feeling of hurt filled you when you first dicovered the audio files.

But now they simply brought you a comfort you'd been missing since you saved the world. This new tech would do the same.

And goodness knows you'll need that comfort.

Now that he's gone.

....................................

It's bittersweet, but this scenario has been running around in my head for SO LONG-

I based it off your little headcanons you sent me about Donnie's gifts to reader (I still have yet to answer that one, I'm getting there I swear-)

I just really needed to write this out or I probably would have lost my sanity-

[fortheloveofwonderland]

Me & You & Everyone We Know | Chapter 17 | S.R

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Chapter Summary - Spencer struggles with the side effects of his medication before his worlds collide. Secrets and feelings come rushing to the surface causing Spencer to battle with his alcoholism.

Pairing - Single Dad! Spencer Reid / Fem! Reader

Category - hurt/comfort, angst with happy ending, smut minors DNI.

Warnings - antidepressant side effects, erectile dysfunction, making out, brief mention of oral (fem! Receiving), talk of therapy, Spencer struggles with his drinking, mentions of failed masturbation, swearing, drinking, break ups.

WC - 5.8k

Chapter 17 - Someone You Loved

I’m going under and this time I fear there's no one to save me,

This all or nothing really got a way of driving me crazy.

I need somebody to heal,

Somebody to know,

Somebody to have,

Somebody to hold.

It's easy to say,

But it's never the same,

I guess I kinda liked the way you numbed all the pain.

“I swear this has nothing to do with you.” Spencer tried to insist, a look of mortification on his face. 

Blair pulled the sheets up around her naked body, looking as uncomfortable as Spencer did. 

“I mean, I guess you wouldn’t tell me if it was.” She chewed on her bottom lip. 

The girls left for California yesterday and tonight Spencer had taken Blair to the movies before they’d ventured back to his house. 

The moment they’d walked through the door things had grown hot and heavy, a trail of clothes left between the front door and his bedroom. 

They made out fiercely for some time but nothing was happening for Spencer. Even once she was naked and he pawed at her body, there was no movement downstairs. 

He’d gone down on her in the hopes it would awaken his lifeless cock. Usually it would have worked, worshipping a woman with his tongue was one of his most favourite activities. 

But even still, his cock would not cooperate. 

Eventually Blair had shied away, clearly thinking his dicks lack of interest was her fault. 

“Goddamnit,” he shook his head as the realisation washed over him. “It’s my meds.” 

“Meds?” Blair tentatively asked.

Spencer sighed, his whole body heaving as he did so. This wasn’t how he wanted to tell her about this, he wasn’t sure he planned on telling her at all if truth be told.

“When you looked after the girls for me last week, I didn’t have a work thing. I had my first therapy session.” He would so much rather have this conversation with more clothes on. 

Blair shuffled up in the bed, keeping the sheet pulled tightly around her as she lent against the pillows. 

“Why did you lie to me?” She looked at him curiously. 

“We’d be on one date, I didn’t want to freak you out. My doctor prescribed me antidepressants. I’ve been taking them for almost a week and she said within a week I might start noticing some side effects. One of which being…”

“Erectile dysfunction.” Blair fielded when he trailed off. 

He pulled face and nodded, raking his fingers through his messy hair. 

“It won’t last forever. I did some research. Supposedly within fourteen days I should start to see the side effects wear off.” He hung his head. 

“You could have told me,” she placed her hand on his arm. “It’s ok Spencer. There’s nothing wrong with admitting you need a little help.” 

“I just didn’t want you to think I was some kind of basket case.” He glanced at her. 

“I don’t.” She insisted, smiling softly at him. “But from now on you’re going to need to be honest with me ok?” 

“You’re not leaving?” 

“Why would I leave?”

“Because…” he trailed off, nodding his head in the direction of his crotch. 

“I can wait.” She squeezed his arm. “And I didn’t exactly come away empty handed in this situation.”

“No, you did not.” That was just me.

“So no more secrets?” 

“There is one more thing I should tell you,” He shuffled in the bed so he could get a better look at her. “On our date I didn’t drink. And that’s because I’ve recently quit drinking.” 

She narrowed her eyes on him, scrutinising him. It made him feel uncomfortable. 

“You had a problem?” Her eyebrows knitted together.

“I guess. I’ve been drinking a lot since my wife left, only when my kids aren’t home. I’ve battled addiction once before, a long time ago and I didn’t want it to get to that point again. So I’ve quit drinking all together.” He pursed his lips, waiting for her reaction.

“And you didn’t tell me because of what I told you about my ex.” She nodded. 

“Yeah,” he agreed. “There are a lot of men out there who have way less issues than me, way less complications. I would totally understand if you wanted to walk away before this gets serious.” 

Her expression was curious as she looked at him, lip twitching slightly at the corner. She took hold of his hand in hers.

“Why would I want to walk away?” Her smile grew until it encompassed her face. 

“So many reasons.” He laughed but Blair leaned in and kissed him. 

“I like you Spencer, you aren’t going to scare me away so easily.” She mumbled against his lips. 

“Good to know,” he cupped her face, placing a kiss on her forehead. 

“Before I forget, my gallery is having this big, fancy show on Tuesday night. I wondered if you wanted to come? I’ll be working up until the show starts and I might have to do some running around during the night but for the most part I should be able to enjoy it with you.” 

“I’m pretty good with my own company so even if you do need to run off I can take care of myself.” He smiled at her.

“So that’s a yes?” Her eyes sparkled.

“Yes, I’d love to come.” He kissed her again and rolled her back to the mattress, climbing on top of her.

She giggled into the kiss, wrapping her arms around him.

“What are you doing?” She laughed, his lips trailing down her neck towards her collarbones.

“Just because I can’t exactly show it right now, doesn’t mean for a second that I don’t love being between your legs.” He spoke against her skin and she moaned at his words.

His lips continued lower and her fingers threaded into his messy locks when he started kissing across the planes of her stomach. Soon his head was dipping lower and Blair’s eyes rolled back in her head. 

Spencer was only mildly disappointed when he still couldn’t get it up.

***

You smiled sleepily as Sam strolled back in the room, wearing nothing but a pair of boxers and carrying two glasses of water. He got back into bed and handed you one, which you sipped before setting on the nightstand.

“I think I’m going to sleep for a week.” Your head flopped to your pillow. 

“Me too,” he chuckled, laying down to face you. “But I have to say, I very much enjoyed skipping our dinner plans for this.” 

“Agreed.” Your eyes started to flutter closed.

You’d spent the whole evening in bed together, exploring each other’s body and finding new ways to get each other off. It had been fun but you were still yearning for more, for someone else. 

Sam was good in bed, great really. But he couldn’t make you come with the ease in which Spencer always had. Sometimes it didn’t even seem as though Spencer needed to try. 

You hadn’t meant to think about him, but at some point during the night he’d just slipped to the forefront of your mind and once he was there, you couldn’t get rid of him. 

It was good with Sam but there was something missing. That spark of passion, that desperation. Hopefully one day you’d be able to stop thinking about your ex, but today certainly wasn’t that day. 

“Before you fall asleep,” Sam spoke, tucking your hair gently behind your ear. “A guy at work’s wife is an up and coming artist and she’s showing in some gallery in the district on Tuesday night. He got us all tickets and I’ve got a plus one.” 

“An art show?” You opened your eyes. 

“Yep. Super fancy apparently.” He smiled at you. 

“That sounds amazing. Let’s do it.” You pulled him close by his broad shoulder and kissed him. 

“Great, I can’t wait.” He settled down and pulled you into his arms. 

Your head found purchase on his chest and you tried to focus on the rhythmic beating of his heart. He held you close, placing sporadic kisses on the top of your head. 

Maybe one day you would grow to love him. If you could learn how to stop loving Spencer first. 

***

The girls called everyday to regale Spencer with stories from California. And despite herself, Daisy was actually having a lot of fun. 

It at least allowed Spencer to worry less about one aspect of his life. 

He dressed in his best suit, crisp white button down, black jacket and slacks paired with a black tie. He even passed on his trusty converse and went with his black dress shoes instead. 

He shaved, slicked his hair back off of his face in the hopes it wouldn’t look so messy. He spritzed a little of an old bottle of cologne he found in the back of the bathroom cabinet. 

Forgoing his satchel he slipped his keys, phone and wallet in his pocket along with the art show invite. 

Blair was already at the gallery setting up and she was meeting him there. And for some reason Spencer was incredibly nervous. 

It occurred to him that there would be alcohol at this event and he wasn’t sure he had the strength to be around that much temptation. 

He’d had his second therapy session this morning and spoken to Doctor Sanchez about it at length. 

He felt better for talking about it but he was still concerned. Maybe he’d need a meeting again soon, he was certainly craving something to take the edge off. 

It didn’t help being alone in his stupidly large house. The girls had been gone for four days, the longest he’d been on his own in this house for. 

It was too quiet all the time, too big and empty and lonely. Honestly he couldn’t wait for them to come home.

He had Taco he supposed but that somehow made the situation more depressing. 

At Luke’s instruction Spencer had installed a child gate at the bottom of his stairs to stop Taco having the run of the house. The dog needed boundaries and thus he was now only allowed on the ground floor, something Spencer was glad about but knew his kids wouldn’t be.

Luke advised to try and leave him home on his own more and not let him get used to kennels. He told him to shut Taco in the kitchen when he went out, so as to limit any destruction he may cause. 

Spencer had moved the dog's bed into the kitchen, in the corner next to the fridge. Luke told him to ensure he had food and plenty of water and even leave a couple of toys out for him to play with when he was bored, hopefully to stop him attacking anything that didn’t belong to him. 

So far Taco had not had another rampage during the small windows Spencer left him alone. Luke’s advice seemed to be working and he wasn’t sure why he was surprised about that, clearly Luke knew what he was doing.

Tomorrow Luke was coming over and they were going to take Taco to an enclosed dog park so Spencer could start to train him off lead around other dogs. Aside from Roxy, Taco was not very good with other dogs, usually hiding behind Spencer when one came near. Roxy was the exception to his rule. 

He’d also, somewhat reluctantly, talked to his Doctor about his problem with the meds. He really did not enjoy talking about the fact he couldn’t get hard but it was starting to get on his nerves. 

He’d spent a lot of time the past few days trying to masturbate. Trying and failing miserably. At best he’d managed to get a semi, but even when he did it didn’t last long before he was flaccid again. 

He felt like he was being betrayed by his own anatomy, like it had turned against him. Since he was a teenager and discovering self pleasure for the first time, Spencer had never once had a problem getting it up. 

Doctor Sanchez assured him those side effects would lessen over time and unfortunately he needed to exercise patience. He didn’t feel particularly patient though. He just wanted to have a goddamn orgasm. 

He had a half hour until the gallery opened and so he shut Taco in the kitchen, bid him adieu and left the house, trying to leave thoughts of that nature at home. 

***

You cautiously pushed open the door of the chic looking art gallery, handing your invite over to the man on the door. You swallowed nervously and stepped inside. 

It was already packed, although admittedly you were running a little late. Today was the deadline for your final thesis and you’d used every available minute you could to perfect it. 

If all went well you could have your doctorate in a few months but you didn’t want to get ahead of yourself. You were using tonight as an excuse to get out of your head and just have some fun.

You spotted Sam with ease, at six foot five he towered over the crowds. He saw you too and grinned wildly at you, making a beeline for you. 

“Holy shit,” he gasped, eyes grazing up and down your body. “You look phenomenal.” 

You felt your cheeks redden and you rolled your lip between your teeth. You’d found the dress in the back of your closet, you hadn’t had an excuse to wear it in years. 

It was a black, one shoulder, floor length garment which hugged your curves in all the right places. It had a slit up one side, all the way to your thigh. 

Sam looked much like the cat that got the cream. 

“Thanks,” you shrugged. “You did say fancy.” 

“I did say that. And you delivered.” He placed his hand on your lower back and kissed you gently. 

He didn’t look so bad himself. You’d never seen him in a suit before and he looked devilishly handsome, even if the fabric of his jacket looked as though it struggled to contain his large biceps. 

In another life, he could have been a football player, he certainly had the build for it. He played in high school but ended up following in his father’s footsteps and becoming a lawyer, a very well respected one at that. 

“I want to show you off, is that ok?” He motioned you forward with his hand still on your back. 

“I didn’t get this dressed up for nothing.” You smirked. 

He picked up two champagne flutes from a passing waiter and handed you one before continuing to lead you forward towards the group of his work colleagues. You took a sip of your drink as you walked and accidentally nudged against someone.

“Oh gosh, I’m sorry.” The woman halted in her tracks, her large icy blue eyes full of apologies.

Her long dark hair was curled to frame her petite face. She wore a stunning satin blue dress that cut off at the knees and she held a clipboard under one arm. 

“Don’t be, it was my fault.” You smiled at her. 

Sam removed his hand from your back and nodded in the direction of his colleagues, wordlessly telling you to join him before he headed over. 

“I think I was a little to blame, I’m getting a bit flustered.” She laughed lightly, a nice, easy sound as she motioned to the clipboard. “It’s my first big event.”

“You’re an artist?” You found yourself asking, this woman was extremely easy to talk to.

“Oh no,” she laughed again with a shake of her head. “I’m the manager here. Just making sure things are running smoothly before I can enjoy my night. I think my date would appreciate it, he’s looking a little like a spare part…I’m sorry I have no idea why I’m telling you all of this.” 

“It’s fine.” You smiled at her, hoping to calm her. “For the record this place looks great. I mean I don’t know much about art shows but it looks like it's going pretty well.” 

“Thank you, even if you don’t know what you’re talking about that means a lot.” She laughed yet again before holding her hand out. “I’m Blair.”

“Y/N.” You shook her hand. 

“Nice to meet you. Perhaps once things have calmed down we can have a drink.” Blair shrugged awkwardly.

“I’d like that.” You nodded. “Come find me when you have a chance.” 

Blair left you with a nod of agreement before she carried on with her rounds. You took a breath and sidled up to Sam who was laughing heartily at something one of his friends had said. 

When he felt you at his side he was quick to put his arm around you, looking at you with pride swelling in his chest.

“Everyone, this is my gorgeous date, Y/N.” He beamed. “Y/N, this is Sampson, Richards, Sinclair and Montgomery.” 

“Hi,” you waved at the group. “It’s so nice to meet you all, Sam has told me so much about all of you.” 

You fell into conversation with the group, nuzzling against Sam’s side, watching him converse with these men. He was clearly in his element, a side of him coming out you hadn’t seen before.

He was more confident, he laughed in a way you’d never heard him laugh before. Perhaps it was the kind of fake laugh he used around colleagues, a persona he’d created to fit in with the other lawyers at his firm. 

You mostly stayed silent, only speaking if someone asked you a direct question. The more time you spent with Sam and his work friends, the less you felt like you fit into his world. 

When it was just the two of you things were wonderful, but after seeing him tonight with his colleagues you weren’t sure you liked this side of him. He was a little smarmy, making inappropriate jokes just to fit in with the other men. This wasn’t the Sam you’d known in college, and it wasn’t the Sam you’d gotten reacquainted with recently. 

You knew it was probably just an act but that still didn’t mean you liked it. And perhaps all those doubts you’d had about him in the back of your mind were coming to the surface all at once and flooding your senses. 

But you were sure of one thing. As you stood there like some kind of trophy on his arm, you knew you and Sam had no future together. It was possible after tonight you wouldn’t even have a tomorrow.

***

Spencer made the rounds, eyeing each of the pieces of art hanging on the stark white walls in slight confusion. He understood that art was subjective but he did not understand any of these paintings. 

Art had never been his thing. He had a few pieces in his home but they had been Maeve’s decorating choice not his. 

Maybe if Blair would stop running around like a headless chicken for two minutes she could explain some of this stuff to him. Or better yet maybe they could make out in the corner instead. 

He tried to keep his head down and ignore the near constant passing trays of champagne. He would give his right arm for a drink right about now, even if only to stem his boredom. 

After taking in the artwork he settled over by a back wall, slowly sipping a glass of water. He wanted to go home, being alone with his dog had to be better than being alone in a crowded room. 

Time passed painfully slowly, like it may have actually stopped altogether. This was not quite the night Spencer had in mind. 

It was well over an hour since he’d arrived when Blair, in a blur of blue satin, headed his way. Her clipboard was gone, and he perked up. 

“Are you done with work now? At the risk of sounding like Lily, I’m so bored.” He held his arms open for her and she embraced him, giving him a chaste kiss. 

“I think so.” She smiled guiltily. “I’m sorry I dragged you here.”

“I don’t mind being dragged places as long as I actually get to spend time with you.” 

“I’m all yours now, I swear.” She stroked his cheek. “Have I told you how handsome you look tonight?” 

“It was implied.” He smirked. “You look absolutely incredible.” 

“I don’t scrub up half bad, do I?” She giggled. 

“You most certainly do not.” 

“I met this woman earlier. She looked almost as out of place as you do and I wanted to find her, make sure she was alright.” 

“You just can’t turn off that mom-brain can you?” He teased, kissing her cheek. “Let’s go.” 

“You’re sure? I’m sorry, I know this isn’t the night you had planned.” She pouted her apology. 

“It’s fine, it’s cute that you care so much.” 

“I mean I wouldn’t take in stray dogs like some people.” 

“I’d like to see you try and say no to my girls. Honestly it’s impossible. Those damn little pleading eyes and when they pout it rips me apart.” He held his hand to his chest. 

“You’re a softy.” Blair teased, slipping her hand in his and forcibly removing him from where he’d been leaning against the wall. 

He pulled a face, slightly wounded by her words. He knew she hadn’t meant them in the way he’d taken them but he couldn’t help find the second meaning to it. 

Clearly she noticed him tense and she looked at him, quickly realising her error. 

“Not like that. I’m sorry I didn’t mean…” she trailed off and Spencer filled in the blanks in his head. 

You didn’t mean to reference the fact I can’t get a goddamn erection. 

“I know you didn’t.” He tried to shake it off. “Just touched a nerve.” 

“I’m sorry. Poor choice of words.” She squeezed his hand. 

“It’s fine, it’s just a sensitive topic.” 

“It’s still not…?”

“Cooperating? No.” He shook his head. 

“I mean I’m kinda glad it wasn’t just me.” She shrugged. 

“Trust me it is not just you.” He sighed. “But I would really rather not be talking about my sexual problems right now.” 

“Of course. Let’s go mingle shall we?” She squeezed his hand again.

“Sure.” He nodded, swallowing down his embarrassment. 

He let Blair lead him through the crowds, talked amicably to people she was trying to schmooze into buying the very expensive artwork. 

Spencer felt tense, tenser than he had already felt now his erectile issues were playing on his mind again. 

If he couldn’t even muster a little excitement seeing Blair in that sinfully tight dress, he knew he was fucked. 

On top of everything else this was literally the last thing he needed to be dealing with. He already had two kids who barely listened to him, he didn’t need the same treatment from his dick. 

Life was unusually cruel. But it was about to get a whole lot crueller. 

***

After an hour of listening to Sam and his lawyer friends you were so ready for this night to be over. 

You’d consumed three glasses of champagne but you didn’t feel the nice buzz you were hoping for. You kept checking the time on your phone, praying for this night to end so you could leave. 

And you were sure it would be you and Sam’s last date. 

Sure he was lovely and sweet when it was just the two of you but you didn’t like this man he’d become tonight. If you continued to date there would inevitably be more nights like this with colleagues and you weren’t prepared to sign up for that. 

When his friends left the two of you alone finally tearing themselves away to at least pretend to look at the artwork, you breathed a sigh of relief.

“Are you ok? You’ve been really quiet tonight.” Sam asked once you were on your own. 

“I guess I’m just not feeling all that well. Do you mind if we go?” 

“Of course not. I’ll take you home.” He smiled, leaning in and kissing your cheek.

For a moment the rest of the night melted away and Sam was the same man you started to develop feelings for. But you had to remind yourself it wouldn’t always be like this and you knew you had to get out before things got too serious. 

He placed his hand once again on your lower back and started steering you towards the door. As you were weaving in and out people to the front of the gallery, you heard someone call your name. 

“Y/N! I’ve been looking for you.” 

You turned slowly on your heels, recognising Blair’s dulcet tone. You made eye contact with her and smiled briefly before you noticed the man standing at her side, holding her hand. 

Your eyes leisurely moved from Blair’s hand interlocked with another much larger one, up the slim frame of the man who the hand belonged to. When they landed on his face you felt your chest instantly tighten, and all the air left your lungs at lightning speed.

Spencer’s lips parted a little and you saw the way he sucked in a deep breath. But to his credit his expression didn’t change all that much.

Time seemed to stand still and Blair and Sam momentarily slipped away as the two of you stared at each other. You didn’t miss the way his eyes cast up and down your body, taking in the sight of you in that dress. 

Spencer didn’t know whether to laugh or cry when he felt the telltale stirring in his crotch seeing you in that goddamn dress. It wasn’t much, but it was the most his cock had reacted in over a week.

Blair and Sam both exchanged a look before she glanced back at you and Spencer, seemingly lost somewhere in your own world.

“Hi Y/N,” he finally spoke, his voice a little gruff. 

“Hi Spencer.” You replied, swallowing thickly. 

“You know each other?” Blair’s voice snapped you both out of the stare off and you looked at her wide eyed. 

“Uh, yeah.” You shrugged. “I guess. Uh…we were just leaving so…”

“Oh no, don’t leave!” Blair gasped, clearly not noticing the tension between you. 

“You haven’t even introduced us.” Sam’s hand ran up and down your back. 

“Right,” you nodded, your head was spinning and you thought you might throw up. “Sam, this is Spencer. Spencer, this is Sam.” 

“And Blair you seem to already know.” Spencer narrowed his eyes on you. 

“This is the woman I told you about. We met earlier.” Blair gave his hand a soft squeeze. He hadn’t taken his eyes off of you for a single moment. 

“So introductions over. We really have to go. It was nice to meet you Blair. And it was…” you trailed off trying to find the right word. Nice to see him? No, that would be an outright lie. “I’ll see you.” 

You grabbed Sam by the forearm and spun him around, starting to drag him towards the door before anyone could say anymore. 

Spencer watched you go, heart in his throat. Seeing you had taken him by such surprise he honestly didn’t know how to react to it. 

“So,” Blair’s tone forced him to look away from you and back at her. “I can only assume by how awkward that was, that she’s your ex-wife? I thought she was in California?”

“That’s not my ex-wife.” He shook his head, only then realising he’d never said Maeve’s name in front of Blair. “But she is an ex. We dated for a few months before I met you but it ended terribly.” 

“I can tell.” Blair rolled her eyes, freeing her hand from his. “Another secret you kept from me. We talked about dating history Spencer, you never once mentioned her.” 

“I know.” He shrugged. “I don’t have any excuses for that. I just wasn’t ready to talk about her.” 

“I don’t like being lied to, Spencer and I hate being blindsided. You need to take a breath, figure out what it is you want. I’m not looking to be messed around, I’ve been there before. I like you and if I’m the person you want to be with I’m all in. But quite frankly, I don’t want to compete with Y/N and your ex-wife.” Blair folded her arms across her chest. 

“That’s fair.” He nodded. “I’m sorry. I guess I should go. I just need some time to think, ok? But I’ll call you.” 

“Don’t,” she shook her head. “Not unless I’m the one you’re choosing.” 

With that she turned away and weaved between people until she was out of sight. Spencer felt a led weight emerge in his chest as he forced himself to leave. He shoved open the gallery door and stepped onto the dark street, briefly glancing around to see if you might still be here but came up short.

He rolled his lip violently between his teeth. The only thing he could focus on was his desperate need for a drink. He pushed everything else aside and started down the street in the direction of the nearest bar.

***

You and Sam walked in silence for a few blocks, your arms wrapped around yourself and his hands in his pockets. The silence was deafening. You wanted to say something to alleviate the discomfort but had no idea what to say. 

Eventually you heard Sam’s footsteps slowing until he stopped all together. You halted your movements too and faced him. 

“So that’s the professor?” He dove straight in.

“Was it that obvious?” You hugged your arms tighter around yourself. 

“Anyone within a five block radius could see the way he was undressing you with his eyes.” Sam scoffed.

“He was not.” You rolled your eyes. 

“Trust me Y/N, I have done the same thing to you enough tonight to know that look. And it wasn’t just the fact he was undressing you with his eyes, it was that it was clear he knew exactly what you look like under that dress.” He took his hands out of his pocket and folded his arms across his chest. 

“We both have exes, Sam.” You shrugged in frustration. 

“Yes, we do.” He agreed. “But I’m not still in love with any of mine.” 

You felt tears brimming in your eyes and you tried to blink them back. 

“There really isn’t any point in me lying to you, Sam. Yes I still have feelings for Spencer. It was recent and I guess I didn’t really give myself a chance to get over him before we started dating.” You sniffed.

“Well here’s your chance.” He spat. 

“What do you mean?” You frowned at him. 

“You can have all the time in the world to get over him Y/N because I’m out. I’m done.” He dropped his arms to his sides. 

“Sam, don’t say that.” You took a step closer to him but he shook his head.

“I’m not looking to be a rebound, Y/N. I’ve been crazy about you since college. I always thought the reason I never settled down was because of you. I couldn’t believe my luck when I bumped into you again, it felt like fate or something. But I don’t want to be with someone who wants to be with someone else.” He ran his fingers through his hair and started pacing the sidewalk.

You had a horrible feeling of deja vu, except you were Sam and Spencer was you. It took you back to the day on the front steps of your building after you’d heard Spencer confess his feelings for his ex-wife. 

What Sam was saying felt so reminiscent of what you’d told Spencer that day.

I think you need to deal with whatever residual emotions you’ve been harbouring for her before you jump into something else. I don’t want to be someone’s second choice, Spencer.

Right now you couldn’t even begin to unpack how much it hurt that instead of dealing with his feelings for Maeve, he’d found someone else. Someone beautiful with electric eyes and a heart warming laugh. 

Someone who wasn’t you. 

You swallowed, understanding exactly where Sam was coming from and knowing you couldn’t argue with him. It wasn’t fair on him, it wasn’t fair on you. 

“You’re right. It’s not fair on you, I really am sorry.” Your first tear fell.

“So I am.” He sighed. “So am I.” 

***

He sat at the bar staring down into the glass of scotch. It had remained untouched since the bartender placed it in front of him and the ice cubes had started to melt. 

In the last twenty minutes he’d typed out three different text messages to you.

📱 Y/N, it was really good to see you tonight. I hope everything is well with you. Enjoy the rest of your summer. 

📱 Y/N, can we talk? I would really like to talk to you, so maybe you can meet me for a drink? I’m at Dooley’s near the art gallery. Please come and meet me. 

And finally - 

📱 Y/N, I miss you so fucking much. Seeing you tonight was like a jolt of electricity. I’ve been an idiot. I love you, I love you so much. Please say you still love me too. 

So far he had not sent a single one, which was probably for the best. Instead he continued to stare down into the taunting drink and contemplated throwing away his newfound sobriety in lieu of getting blind drunk just to take some of his pain away. 

His life was just one fuck up after another recently and no matter how hard he tried to better himself he kept stumbling over each new hurdle. 

He pulled out his phone again and opened the photos app. His phone was old and the images were grainy but he needed a reminder of why he needed to stay sober. 

He pulled up a recent picture of Daisy and Lily, Taco cradled in the younger girl's lap as they smiled brightly for the camera. 

A tear crept from his eye. He missed them so much. He wished they were here, wished he could hold them, to feel tethered to them in order to stop himself from throwing his life away at the bottom of a bottle. 

It was too late to call but he wished he could hear their voices, have them pull him back from the brink. 

Maybe he should call Tara. 

Chances were she was working and if she wasn’t she’d no doubt be at home in bed at this hour. 

He didn’t want to burden her, but he could really use a meeting right now and he certainly wasn’t strong enough to go on his own. 

He pulled up his contacts and located her number. His thumb hovered above it for a moment or two before he slammed the device back on the bar counter. 

Then he picked up the glass and downed the scotch in one. And then he quickly ordered another. 

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