#they are always going off and doing shit together

[scannainscanrula]

shadowed corners

remmick x reader (18+ mdni)

You're a romance author suffering from insomnia, writer's block, and strange nightmares. Your publisher offers to send you to Maine for a short sabbatical to clear your head. It's a quaint town with charming locals, and a mysterious man running the lighthouse that nobody seems to know much about... [part two here]

author's note: well well here we are again. this is MUCH longer than my other fic and i intend to have at least 3(?) chapters for it, so strap in girlies. no smut just yet yous have to earn it first by sitting through all this fucking exposition. grma enjoy! warnings: horror elements, discussion of animal death, discussion of shark attacks, sexual themes

You sit at your desk in front of an empty document, the cursor blinking at you mockingly. Your eyes are tired and your head feels heavy, and the last time you fell asleep at your desk you had drooled on your keyboard, and you really don’t want to find a place to get it fixed. 

“An old-school computer always helps me when I have writer’s block,” one of your colleagues had told you at a cocktail party when you lamented about your publisher’s insistence on a new concept.

You had a very embarrassing and uncomfortably visible breakdown in her windows-only corner office. You began word-vomiting all over her sleek carbon fibre desk about your writer’s block and insomnia– leaving out the extra embarrassing detail of your recurring sexy nightmares– and she had patted your back and attempted to comfort you with corporate jargon. When the tears started she lowered some blinds and lowered her voice, sitting against the edge of the desk in front of her.

“Look, kid. You’re a hell of a writer, okay? Nothing sells like your stuff. I mean, I don’t get it, but the girls love this… creepy vampire stalker shit.”

Dark romance, you want to correct her, but it’s futile after four years working together. 

She sighed, crossing her arms.

“How about… I give you a company card and you go… rent on the coast somewhere for a few months? We have some contracts to draft because these streaming services are just chomping at the bit for rights to adapt. So you go pack your things and take a break. Get an Ambien prescription, fuck a fisherman, whatever you need to do.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’ll bankroll it.”

She taps her manicured acrylic nail on the cover of your most recent title, Shadowed Corners. It was a total and complete success, where your first two were mafia romances set in the same universe, SC was a dark romance with a vampire love interest stalking your adorable main character. You love red flags, and Milo was covered in them.  

“You’re a money-printing machine, babe.”

So here you are, not relaxing, not on sleeping pills, and completely unfucked by any hot guys. You press your fingers to your temples and sigh, closing the pages and pushing the circular off button for the computer. You slide back and lean forward, stretching your creaky back. You miss your cozy little setup at home, your comfortable chair and the souped-up gamer style keyboard. You sacrificed comfort hoping it would make you work harder, but you think you’ll just finish this little sabbatical with more lower-back pain than usual. 

You fill your water bottle with the filter in the fridge, admiring the stickers all over it. Among the logo of your publishing house and the ones about writing, you have fanart of your books and quotes from your own characters. Ones you’ve found at book fairs and second-hand stores as well as online. A handful were sent along with fanmail. Your laptop and idea notebook are covered too, because it drove you mad to know people liked your stuff enough to make art out of it. 

You huff and trudge up the stairs, feeling exhausted and dreading the next day. You sit in your bed and look at the sticker of Milo with his signature phrase I’d like to see you stop me, babygirl. 

You turn the bottle away from you as you open the bedside drawer. Inside of it are two options. A scent-proof bag that holds your pipe, grinder, and bud, a vape, and a few edibles. The other is a vibrator. You wonder what the point of this vacation was. You could get high and get off at home in the city. And at least there you could order munchies for delivery after you’d fucked yourself silly thinking about the made-up vampire in your head.

You just shut the drawer, rolling your eyes as you lay back. 

Two hours later, you can’t sleep. You’re “jerking off your ego” as your friends would call it, looking through positive reviews of your last title. You know you have detractors, people who think your work is trash or anti-feminist. It’s a little trashy, but it’s just for fun. And you’ve had your share of shitty boyfriends like any girl your age, you know the difference between right and wrong. God forbid a girl wants a hot vampire to follow her home, you think. 

You sit up and put your phone face down. You need fresh air. You need a walk. So, you bundle up and stick in headphones for a brisk, freezing, 7 PM wintertime mental health walk. The New England air isn’t just cold, it’s thick and wet with the marine layer from the ocean, which you’re a short walk away from. It’s not nice, but it does invigorate you as you follow the path from your little cottage down to the beach. It’s pretty private, tucked away in a little alcove– which you were warned not to enter when the tide is too high. You peek over to see it’s not. So you climb down and skirt around the rocks to walk on the main beach, which is empty. Obviously. The recently released audiobook of one of your peers’ newest titles plays in your ears, narrated by a sultry English man. You should have gone somewhere else for inspiration. You vaguely remember hearing someone at a book release party talk about how inspiring their trip to France was, and another person responded about their time in Ireland. You’ve mostly just met fishermen and townies, and none of these men had the Milo quality about them. 

Milo was inspired by a stunning man you saw while at a nightclub in New York City. You were very, very drunk on espresso martinis, but you saw him and his adorable girlfriend– who also served as your muse for Annmarie, SC’s protagonist– at the bar together. His arm was around her waist in a way that was possessive but romantic, his hand rested over her tummy, and you saw his thumb rubbing circles into her skin lovingly. 

“Oh my God, girl, are you seriously drooling? You are so drunk,” your friend had half-sighed, half-laughed as you wiped a little drool from your chin with the back of your hand.

“We have got to get you some dick, queen,” another friend joked.

“I am perfectly fine being single,” you protested.

“Nuh-uh, I read that last book of yours. All work and no dick makes you fucking crazy. How did you come up with that shit anyway?”

“She’s totally sick in the head, that’s how.”

Your back straightens up as you think you hear a voice.

“Miss!”

You pause the book and turn around to see a man jogging behind you, holding something in his hands. You freeze with terror until you realise it’s your notebook he’s holding.

“You dropped this,” he says, handing it over. He stays a nice distance away from you.

He has some sort of Southern accent, not New England. 

And he is very, very attractive. He wears a tight black t-shirt and black athletic shorts. His short hair is semi-dark, and probably reddish from the way it looks in the blue moonlight. He smiles politely at you, his dark eyes are hard to see. There’s a scruff of facial hair on him.

“Thanks.”

“Sorry, I… I woulda tapped your shoulder, but I was worried you’d sock me in the nose if I scared you.”

“I appreciate that.”

“Are you uh… you okay? It’s pretty dark out here.”

“Yeah, I know. I was just clearing my head.”

“Right.”

You take a breath and introduce yourself quickly.

���I’m Remmick,” he says.

“So, what are you doing out here, Remmick?”

“Well, I work at that lighthouse. Just takin’ a jog before I head up there.”

“Oh.”

Hot lighthouse worker. That could be a love interest.

“You on vacation? I think I’d remember your face if I’d seen it before.”

Charming lighthouse worker. 

“I’m uh… on a sort of sabbatical.”

“You a doctor or something?”

“God, no. I’m a writer.”

“Yeah?”

The tone and timbre of that yeah have your head spinning. 

“Books or what?”

You nod.

“What kind?”

You hesitate.

“Can I guess?”

“Go for it.”

He thinks for a second, his tongue darting out to wet his lips as he does, which makes you flush. 

“Are they scary?”

“Parts of them are scary,” you admit. 

You remembered researching for SC and finding out that a lot of people only have a little over one gallon of blood in their bodies. You felt lightheaded and queasy at the visual of a plastic gallon bottle full of blood.

“But they ain’t all scary, huh?”

“Nope.”

He eyes you and smirks.

“Are they dirty?”

You hesitate and suck in air through clenched teeth.

“Yeah. They’re pretty dirty.”

“You must make good money, huh?”

He chuckles and you shrug.

“I do alright.”

“Yeah, I bet you do. Where’re you stayin’?”

You pause and he holds up his hands.

“That probably sounded creepy. I only meant… there’s some nice places, and there’s a Holiday Inn.”

“Well, it’s not the Holiday Inn.”

He looks at the watch on his hand.

“Shit. Well, I gotta get goin’.”

He says your name and your chest fills up with a weird feeling. Half-elation, half-dread.

“Nice to meet you.”

“Yeah. You too. I’ll see you around,” you respond.

“Only if you keep walkin’ at night. Boats don’t need a lighthouse in the daytime,” he explains quickly, jogging off toward the beacon.

Hot lighthouse worker who’s charming and funny. Now that could work.

You go home and open the fridge. Time for boxed wine in a mug as you power-write for the next forty-five minutes until your hands cramp up.

You put the notebook down and pull out your favorite pen. You need certainty when you put book ideas down. You write in quick, messy bullet points, only getting down little ideas. You heard that coastal New England towns are famous for gruesome murder. Your instincts take you to the mafia but one glance at your water bottle has you thinking otherwise. SC was such a success, and you’re the vampire girl now. 

So you begin to pen the vague outline of a dark romance with a steamy, stalkery vampire lighthouse worker. A man in thick knit sweaters with a messy beard– that could get messier covered in blood or buried between a writer’s thighs–

You pause and see you’ve written writer on the page. You cringe and scribble that out. You had your humble beginnings with composition notebook self-insert fanfiction as a tween, but you’re a big girl now. And you’re already writing prose over a guy you just met, you really don’t need to make it any weirder. Your mind goes through some humble, wholesome occupations to compliment a love interest like that. Baker? Too cliche. Schoolteacher? Too male gaze. Big city corporate lawyer? Too Hallmark movie.

You tap back of the pen against the page rhythmically and sit up. Investigative journalist. Still technically a writer, but the only things you investigate are late-night Twitter links on a private spam account not even your best friends know about. 

Your pen dashes across the page, scrawling wildly. There’s not even any music playing, just the not-so-distant sound of the ocean, the radiator, and your own hand brushing against the paper. Soon, you’ve filled five pages without realising and that doubles in a blink. Shit! Your hand cramps up and you lift the pen finally, massaging your other thumb into your palm. It’s time for bed now, as three hours have passed and your back is killing you. 

You ascend the stairs again and just go to sleep, hand and wrist sore and content with your productivity.

You wake up surprisingly early the next day, and decide to go into town to get some groceries. Your fridge is looking sparse and the pantries are basically empty. You buy some frozen stuff and some supplies to make coffee. You see the honey is placed on the highest shelf you’ve ever seen and huff. No workers around. You can probably get it on your tiptoes. You strain to reach it and hear a man’s voice.

“Can I help you with that?”

You almost fall dropping to your feet again, and a shooting pain goes up from your heels.

“Ow, shit.”

“I’m sorry.”

It’s a man in a lifeguard’s hoodie with red swim trunks on. Maybe you hit your head and you’re having some sort of insane Baywatch fantasy.

“Yes. Please.”

“Yeah, I honestly don’t know who puts this stuff up there. The lady who owns this place is like, four-eleven.” You laugh at that as he hands you the honey.

“Thank you.”

“No problem. I’m Chris, by the way.”

You give him your name and shake his hand. Fucking hell this guy is strong. 

“Are you visiting?”

“Yeah. For a few months though. I’m working on a book.”

“You write horror?”

“Sorry?”

“Um, Stephen King’s from Maine. I feel like horror writers are always trying to… come out here and get some of that inspiration.”

“I think the inspiration he had was-”

“Cocaine?” he says at the same time as you. He shrugs. “At least you can recognise that. Half the other writers are ready to climb into the sewer.”

“Shit, well there goes my day at the rock quarry,” you joke. 

He laughs at that and you grin. 

“I’m a lifeguard on the beach for the next six hours, if you um… feel like you need some fresh air. Sunlight isn’t really a November specialty.”

“Are people really swimming this time of year?”

“Oh, they are. But so are the great whites, so, I’m mostly on seal watch.”

“Right.”

“I’m in tower Four,” he tells you eagerly. It’s like the words just jump right out of his mouth. “It’s right by the lighthouse. Nobody swims there, so… if you wanna tell me about your book or something… my job is pretty boring.”

“I’ll see you out there, Chris.”

“See you.”

You check out and ride the bike the homeowner left for guests back to the cottage. You feel insane. Maybe you were hospitalized after that breakdown and this is all some elaborate, drugged-up daydream you’re in. You pull out your notebook after the groceries are put away and flip to a new page. You click your pen and write HOT LIFEGUARD at the top of the page. 

A love triangle sounds awesome.

Later on, after you actually manage to type some words on a new, more permanent outline document, your vision drifts out the window. It is actually kind of a nice day, even though it’s overcast and windy. You stand and squeeze your hands together, stretching out. It is time for another brisk walk, this time to Tower Four.

Chris sits up there, slumped in his chair and holding his rescue tube in his lap. His tanned, toned legs are wide as he sits back.

“Would it scare you really bad if I started yelling ‘help’?” you joke, peering up at him from the ground.

He chirps your name, sitting up and sliding his sunglasses on top of his head, pushing back his hair. 

“You made it.”

“I brought you a snack,” you say, handing up the small bag of chocolates.

“Wicked,” he says, taking it from your hand. He swings down like a monkey and sits with his feet dangling off the side of the tower. You share the candies and look out on the water.

“So, you gonna tell me about your book?”

“Yeah, I’m not a horror writer.”

“What do you write?”

You hesitate. You know this song and dance, the divulgence of your career and the weird stares and uncomfortable shifting that follows. It’s ruined all sorts of dates and first impressions. Fuck it. You’re on sabbatical.

“Um… dirty romance books.”

“No shit? Is it like that crazy mafia stuff online?”

“Yeah, it’s exactly that.”

“Killer. You make a lot of money?”

“Enough to stay here and not work for three months.”

“So… you’re not writing a book?”

You shake your head.

“My creative well is completely dry. I came out here for-”

“Don’t even say it.”

“-some inspiration.”

“You are such a liar,” he teases. “You’re just like all those Stephen King wannabes,” he jokes, turning away from you.

You laugh at his silliness. You remain for a while, chatting about life and the town.

“The city is wild. I’m getting used to the silence, I think,” you tell him, having moved to– illegally– sit on the tower with him.

“Is the crime really so crazy out there?”

“Yeah, I mean… most of that is just there’s so many people crammed into such a small place. People go nuts.”

“Damn.”

“No crime here?”

“Not here, no, but um… about twenty miles north there’s this beach town, it’s a complete tourist getaway, but they got rocked by some shark attacks a few years back.”

“Some shark attacks?” you repeat his casual wording, shocked.

“Sorry. That sounded insensitive, it was really scary. That place is on its last legs now.”

“Well, yeah. Who wants to stay at the Jaws resort?”

“Bull shark, probably. The same thing happened in nineteen-sixteen. It was pretty gruesome.”

“Are you fucking with me?” you question him seriously, eyes squinted.

“I’m being serious, look it up.”

“Huh. Shit.” You sit back, eyes wandering to the lighthouse.

“Have you ever met the person who works up there?”

“Yeah, he’s fucking creepy.”

“I didn’t think so.”

“You met him?”

“Mhm. Last night.”

“Remmick? The lighthouse guy? You met him?”

“Yeah…? He was jogging.”

“Fucking weirdo,” Chris mutters. “He’s a complete shut-in.”

“How long has he been here?”

“Couple years? I don’t really know when he got here, he just… was there one day.”

“Weird.”

“Yeah, well. We used to have a night lifeguard, and– listen, I can admit having a girl out here on her own was pretty stupid– not that girls are… incapable or something-”

“I get it.”

“Right. And… full disclaimer, this girl really liked shrooms, but she swears up and down that she saw that guy covered in blood and eating a seal.”

“Whoa.”

“I mean, there was a dead seal on the beach, she was right about that.”

“Great white?”

“Oh, for sure. I’m think he was probably just doing that creepy-ass night jogging by the tower when that seal washed up, and… sometimes the sharks don’t fully kill the things-”

You grimace.

“I know, it’s pretty sad. Anyway, probably it was yowling and her fucking shroomed out brain conjured up that pretty picture. But he’s just a weird guy. He’s totally nocturnal. I’ve never seen the guy in the daytime. I’ve probably seen him six times and talked to him like… two, maybe?”

“Jeez.”

“Yeah. Anyways, sorry. That was a lot. I’d just stay away from the guy if you can. I don’t know what his deal is.”

You swiftly change the subject to movies and TV, which is good, because you two seem to share the same interests. Strangely enough, vampires are among them.

“I have sisters, so, I’ve seen Twilight about a hundred times? Maybe more?”

You laugh at that. You see him grinning and you check phone, seeing that two hours have passed.

“Shit. I have got to get back.”

“Right.”

“Thanks for the company. And the advice,” you add, nodding to the lighthouse.

“Um… would you want to grab a drink, tomorrow?”

“Oh. Yeah, sure. Um… where?”

“It’s called The Weasel. It’s definitely a townie bar, but… the drinks are cheap.”

You are fiending for an espresso martini, and you fear you’ll have to settle for an old reliable at a dive bar. 

“Alright.”

“Cool. Um… eight o’clock sound good?”

“Eight o’clock sounds great.”

“Awesome. See you there.”

“I will see you there.”

Your back hits a tree as you pant, unable to run anymore. Your lungs burn as you gasp for cold night air in a dark, damp forest. You’re barefoot, in a wet nightgown that sticks to your skin and you’re terrified. 

You tremble, feeling the looming presence of something evil and ancient, rising up in front of you. Met with words in a language you don’t understand, a clawed hand grips your jaw. They’re wet and sticky, hot with something you realise is blood. The creature laughs at you cruelly and on the other hand grabs a handful of your nightgown, claws ripping through the fabric as it tears a strip down the center. The hand cups between your legs. It splits your lips carefully– almost reverently– brushing a knuckle between your folds, claws away from your most sensitive skin. You gasp and shiver, hands against the tree. You’re wet, though. Soaking the creature’s hands as it coats your skin in blood. It’s so dark and your vision is blurry with tears, you only see two red spots staring at you, and the glint of pearly fangs as the jaw of the creature opens and lurches forward.

You shoot up and sigh, panting as you try to catch your breath. You’ve been plagued with these “psychosexual night terrors”, as your therapist calls them, since you finished writing SC. Some weeks they’re sparse and other ones you can’t sleep without waking up sticky and horrified. Your cortisol levels are through the roof and your sex drive is in the stratosphere. The running theory is that your frantic writing for the deadline of SC drove you just a little bit crazy, and your panic and arousal from writing about Milo’s sexy antics while your publishing house breathed down your neck combined and manifested as the scary void creature in your nightmares.

You take a cold shower that morphs into an everything shower when you remember your date with Chris. Not a date. Just grabbing a drink. Could be a date.

You feel like a kid again, having a cute summer fling with a boy at sleepaway camp with the distant bitter sweetness of knowing you’ll leave in three months. Except you are an adult woman and if you do fall in love, you could just move here forever. 

But that’s wishful thinking.

You wait at the bar patiently. You’re a punctual girl, your agent adores that about you, so you are a little early. You chat with the bartender. She’s an older woman with a thick Mainer accent. 

“Let me guess-”

“Not a horror writer,” you joke back. 

She laughs at that. Her laugh is creaky but comforting, and you can tell she’s a smoker.

“You look nervous.”

“I’m meeting somebody?”

“Yeah?”

“I won’t say who, because I’m guessing you know everyone.”

“Well, I also know who’s single and who isn’t. If you’re worried he’s married, just give me a name.”

The bar is quiet, some men play pool and a group of vacationing dads drink beers and watch some sports on an outdated television. 

You order another drink as you watch the clock behind the bar tick on.

By eight thirty, you’re sufficiently buzzed. You didn’t even get his phone number to text him.

By nine, you decide you should go home. You thank the bartender and leave her a generous tip. You’ll be too embarrassed to come in here for a while.

You take the bike home, slumping on the sofa in the living room as you kick off your heels. You feel tears pricking at your eyes and rub them away, not caring about your smudged eyeshadow or makeup. You wipe it off in the bathroom and change out of your clothes. You need another walk. Maybe you’ll run into the allegedly very creepy lighthouse man and you’ll get some inspiration. 

“I’ll show you Stephen King wannabe, dickhead,” you mutter to yourself, pulling on your coat and shoving your notebook in your pocket. 

You follow the familiar motions, down the path, out through the alcove, and down the beach. You have some angry music playing this time as you stomp down the beach and pass the lifeguard towers. Shrooms girl better thank her lucky stars she’s off night shift, because you look pissed off right now. You stalk all the way down to tower four and roll your eyes. This is a tantrum. You’re an adult.

“I thought I might see you again,” a voice calls. Remmick is on a ledge above you, leaning on the wooden railing. 

“Can I come up there?”

“I’m not gon’ tell you what to do, sweetheart.”

You try to ignore the fire that lights in you and climb the sand and rock stairs, joining him on the ledge. He sits on a bench and pats the seat next to him.

“I heard a lot about you today, from a couple locals,” you tell him, lying about it.

You get the feeling Chris was being insecure, or maybe Remmick’s stolen one too many girls from him. 

“Yeah, I’m a seal-eating nightwalker, you got me,” he jokes, his hands up in mock surrender.

You exhale through your nose. You wish you could laugh harder.

“I’m just a solitary kinda fella. People here, shit, they tight knit like fishin’ nets. They think everybody’s gotta know everybody’s business. Nobody knows mine, so they’ve been makin’ things up for the past three years.” 

“Sorry I brought it up.”

“Hey, I’d rather you hear it from me.”

He looks at you for a moment and rubs a hand over his knee.

“You look upset.”

“Yeah. I uh…”

You hesitate, and see him lean forward, actively listening.

“It’s stupid.”

He holds his hand out, gesturing for you to speak.

“I got stood up,” you admit.

“For a date?”

“Not exactly. Just drinks.”

He clicks his tongue.

“That’s no good. Must be a pretty dumb guy, to stand you up.”

“Yeah. That was a dickhead move. I’m just hoping it was more of a… ‘oh shit, I totally forgot’ kind of thing.”

He eyes you and you cross your legs.

“Still. You musta gotten all dolled up for it.”

“Yeah, I did.”

“Well, I uh… I’m not so much a bar kind of fella, but if you wanna come out here sometimes all dolled up…” he leans in, “I got some good whiskey and two glasses.”

You lean in too, close to him.

“I might take you up on that, Remmick.”

“I gotta get up there,” he murmurs, looking at your lips as he speaks.

“Right.”

He doesn’t move, locked in place for a moment. He seems to shake off the spell and sits back, scrubbing a hand down his face, wiping his mouth. It almost looks like he’s wiping away drool. He stands up.

“You uh, you alright to walk home on your own?”

Words flash in your mind, the scene from SC where Milo promises to stalk Annmarie home, which results in him watching through the window as she touches herself. You’re drunk, you realise, as the neurons in your brain flicker out and blood rushes down your body.

“Yeah, I should be fine.”

“Right.”

He starts to walk away and turns back.

“I mean it. You come up see me sometime.”

“I will.”

You mean that, too.

Remmick thumbs through your notebook. How can you even understand this stuff? Your messy handwriting is charming. He reads through descriptions of vampire lore and fangs and turning that make him chuckle. He thinks of the smell of you, that hot scent of desire and the buzzing of your intoxicated body as you sat together. He’s so fucking cold in Maine, and he hasn’t been touched in years. He imagines you’d be hot to the touch. He knows you’re frustrated, you’ve been dissatisfied with pleasuring yourself. The descriptions of sex scenes have him biting back groans and palming himself through his pants. 

He flips to the final page.

HOT LIFEGUARD

His eyes narrow as he realises who it was that stood you up. He turns the page back over, scanning through your previous writing. 

LIGHTHOUSE VAMPIRE LOVER. CLAIMS TO KILL FOR HER. STALKERY? MILO PART II. LESS TENDER. MORE EVIL.

Oh, you’re fucking crazy. 

He grins, his fangs sliding down.

He can make do with crazy.

You wake up early, painful early. You dress groggily and decide to get some air on the beach before the dickhead lifeguard starts his shift. You’re slightly hungover as you traverse down the path and through the alcove to walk on the beach. 

The light is pale and you have to watch your step for kelp as you walk down. You see something up on the sand, and your heart sinks.

It has to be a seal. It’s not breathing, so you look at the nearest lifeguard tower for the animal control. You dial the number and wait patiently.

“Hello?” a voice that sounds just as groggy as you feel answers.

“Hi, I’m um, I’m on the beach right now and I think there’s a dead seal by the first lifeguard tower.”

“Oh, hell. Sorry, miss. It’s too damn early. Do you see any marks on it?”

“It’s hard to see with the fog. Is it safe to get closer?”

“Seals aren’t half as aggressive as sea lions, miss, so go ahead.”

You step closer, squinting with the fog. It’s absolutely dead, not moving at all. You approach it cautiously, worried about what other creatures might be lurking around.

Your heart drops to the pit of your stomach.

This is not a seal.

This is Chris the lifeguard, and he’s missing an arm.

[pagesfromthevoid]

How could I deserve someone like you? + Rhett!!

Rhett always gets into a mood after a bad ride or being reamed by Royal. It’s like he just can’t do shit right, and he gets into his head that maybe he’s not half as good at this as he thinks.

Tonight it’s both, though.

It’s a bad ride that barely lasts four seconds. It’s Royal trying to tell him how to improve in the most condescending way imaginable. Like Rhett hasn’t been doing this for years. As if Rhett isn’t replaying that last ride over and over in his head, picking apart what he did wrong.

You’re leaning against his truck when he finally gets away from the crowd. You’re always in the stands, rain or shine, but you don’t like to crowd him after his rides. You know it stresses him out, and you can only bite your tongue so much before you want to chew out Royal for his shitty parenting.

“Not tonight,” Rhett says, voice low.

You know that tone; have heard it enough times to know that he doesn’t actually mean it. He’ll say not tonight or to go home. And if you do go home, he’s at your door within the hour, apologizing. Sighing into your skin, holding you close. You’ve stopped listening to him when he says things in this tone.

“Am I gonna have to fight your dad?” You ask, and your voice is light compared to his. But there’s a hint of serious in there. Like you’ll actually pick a fight with a grown man for him.

“I’m serious,” he continues, pushing you gently away from the door so he can open it. “‘M sore and fuckin’ tired. Tomorrow, ‘kay?”

But you slide into the drivers seat before he can, and you give him a knowing look. Rhett runs a hand over his face, and you know he’s trying to keep it all together.

“Look at me,” you order gently, reaching up to touch his cheek. Rhett fights you for a second before caving —he never fights too much when it comes to you. “I’m cutting out the middle part, cowboy. Plus, I don’t gotta ride home.”

He takes a breath, and there’s a wince where he landed wrong his on his side. You know he probably has bruised ribs at the minimum.

“I’m not going anywhere without you,” you promise and he’s taking his hat off and tossing it into the passenger seat.

Then his head drops to your shoulder and he’s clutching you like you’re the only thing that makes sense in this shitty little town. Maybe you are.

“How could I deserve someone like you?” He murmurs into your shoulder, and it’s muffled. But it’s so genuine. So broken.

“You exist,” you remind him softly. “And that’s all I need to love you.”

[kawaiigirly21]

Our Little Soda Pop: Chapter 3

Later on, the rest of that day went about as smoothly as it could go. During the recording, the boys did become a bit more touchy but Natasha simply chalked it up to nerves. She fought the urge to smirk everytime one of them tried to allude to something sexual. She was perfect at playing dumb. As if she couldn't smell their wanton arousal. She knew she triggered something and had perfect and total control. So much for their loyalty to Gwi-Ma.

She bet that if she asked them to, they would give up all alliance with the so-called king. Watching as the boys got through their last lines, Natasha had food brought in so they could eat something after singing for so long. Abby and Baby were the first to attack the food but after minor scolding, made sure to leave some for the other three. “You boys sounded great in there.” Natasha complimented as she fixed a plate for Mystery who practically became attached to her hip. “Thank you Ms. Natasha. We're one step closer to our goal in taking down the hunters.” Jinu replied after taking a few bites of his food.

“Jinu lean forward.” Natasha responded. As he did so, his eyes widened as Natasha took a napkin and wiped the corner of his mouth clean. “There we go. Oh? What's up Mystery?” Natasha asked, turning her attention back to the other idol. “Hey um miss manager? When do we get what Romance got this morning huh?” Abby asked, huffing a bit. “I think we all behaved ourselves today. Don't we deserve a little reward too? How come you touched him?” Baby added. “I don't have to explain myself to you and if you keep asking about it, you won't get it. Eat. You have a photoshoot later.” Natasha replied unbothered.

That evening as the boys wrapped up the last of their photos, Mystery watched as Natasha typed away on her phone with a serious expression. She was talking to someone about something important for them. He loved that about her. She was always working. She always looked so busy. Like she completely had her shit together. He adored that about her. However, he also wished she would take a break every now and then.

“Alright boys. Time to go! Max, I expect those photos by Friday!” Natasha spoke while ushering the band out the doors and into their van. “I call shotgun!” Abby shouted as he practically launched himself into the passenger seat. “You had it on the way over here Abs, let someone else get the seat.” “Ugh fine!” He huffed as he moved to the back and Jinu climbed in the front. The drive home was silent save for the silent music playing in the background.

After arriving home, while everyone scrambled to get in Natasha's bed, still, she asked to speak to Abby alone in the living room. “I know you didn't want to give up your seat but you still did because I asked. I like when you boys listen to me.” She smiled as she led him to the couch and sat him down. “It makes me happy knowing that you respect me that much.” She whispered before leaning down to kiss him sweetly.

Almost instantly, his arms were around her and bringing her down to his lap. “Do I get some lovin this time?” Natasha giggled slightly before nodding. “Yes you get one thing of your choice tonight.” The man wasted no time in choosing his reward. “I want your mouth on my cock. I need it Mistress… please~” He whined as he began to free his cock from the confines of his jeans. Looking down, Natasha smirked before pressing a quick kiss to his neck.

“You’re a big boy aren't you?” She then moved off his lap and settled on the floor in between his legs. “Nervous?” Abby chuckled. “Oh please. I've had bigger sweetheart.” Natasha sighed before leaning in to press a kiss to the tip of the large cock waiting to take sanctuary in her mouth. That was a lie. Natasha had her fair share of fun sure, but none of her past exploits were ever this well endowed. Taking the tip into her mouth and swirling her tongue around it, her ears perked up at the heavy breaths Abby was starting to take.

Slowly but surely, she started to bob her head on the erection. Taking more and more of the cock until it almost filled her mouth completely. Save for a few inches at the base. “Oh f-fuck… you look so hot…” Now, at this point she would have smirked and made a comment about how desperate he sounded, but doing anything but trying to fit the rest of the cock down her throat was impossible. “Mm… oh yea… keep going…” Abby moaned as he watched Natasha suck his cock.

Although he was definitely enjoying himself, he was also physically fighting the urge to take the older demoness by her hair and fuck her throat. Not because he was worried about her, oh no. He knew she could handle it. It was his own safety he was worried for. Getting on her bad side was something that was not on his list for that evening. Suddenly, he began to moan louder and his grip on the couch tightened as his eyes watched Natasha quicken her movements.

Humming around his cock, creating vibrations that added to the pleasure. “Shit! Y-yes! Please! Oh fuck! Oh fuck!” Unable to resist anymore, Abby grabbed a fistful of Natasha's hair and began to fuck her throat. Pushing her head all the way down to his crotch causing her to deep throat him. “Fuck!! Mistress! Your throat feels so good! Your mouth! Mm! Mm! Fuck! So good!” The sounds of her wet mouth fueling his desire and urge to paint her throat white.

“Cumming! Oh shit! I'm cumming!! Yes! Yes! Mistress!! I'm cumming!” Looking up at the man, the moment Natasha's eyes met those of Abby's he immediately came down her throat. Pushing her head all the way down to his crotch once more. “Mistress!!! Mm! Fuck!!!” It didn't take long for the man to come down from his high after Natasha pulled away from his cock. “You alright? I-i didn't mean to get that crazy.”

Natasha only laughed and smiled before standing from her position and kissed his forehead. “I'm fine hun. Are you ok? I didn't think you could sound so…whiny.” She laughed as she watched the man groan before standing as well. “Put that away and get ready for bed. I'll join you shortly.” Natasha smiled before grabbing her phone and walking into the elevator. She then dialed a number, while the elevator descended.

“Natasha. I am pleased to hear from you. How are the boys settling in?” Gwi-Ma asked. “Fine. That's the only update you're getting from me, asshole. Don't contact me anymore.”

@prettygirlkiki

@rivainimermaid

Chapter 4

[nakylvr]

— magnolia ✧ D.A

summary જ⁀➴ after two months of being engaged, there are more unexpected surprises that come in the form of two lines on a pregnancy test

warnings/tags જ⁀➴ fluff, dealer!dani au, f!reader, established relationship, pregnancy announcement

substance masterlist

based on this ask

to say you were panicking would be an understatement, because you were losing your shit, utterly and totally losing it. the past three days you woke up rushing to the bathroom to throw up, and you thought you were just sick. until you realized that you were late for your period. then, the panicking started.

you called megan on the fourth day while dani was out running errands, asking her to come over and make sure dani didn't know. she was confused, but she always listened. so within half an hour, she was sitting outside your bathroom.

when you told megan the reason you wanted her there, and showed the test in your hand, she understood why you were freaking out. it was understandable, it made sense.

she stood outside the bathroom while you did the test. both of you waiting anxiously for the results that would come. and when the results came, your heart dropped.

two lines. you were pregnant.

"meg?" you say loud enough for her to hear through the door, your voice cracking.

megan instantly opens the door, peeking her head through before slowly walking up to you. you don't say anything, instead just holding up the test towards her, and her eyes go wide.

"yn..." is all she can get out.

"what am i going to do?" your lip quivers as tears fill your eyes.

"everything's gonna be fine," megan says quickly. "you're gonna be fine. this is–this is a good thing, right?"

"i-i don't know," you answer honestly. "how am i supposed to tell her?"

"we'll figure it out." megan grabs your hand. "you don't have to tell her right now. just when you're ready."

you slowly nod, a few tears trickling down your cheeks. "i'm scared, megan." you whisper. "i'm so fucking scared."

"i know." megan crouches in front of you, wrapping her arms around you and hugging you. "everything is gonna work out, i swear."

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

you were still hesitant on even telling daniela two days after you confirmed you were pregnant. you were terrified of her reaction and how she would go about it. there were hundreds of thoughts running through your head, and you didn't know what to do about it.

sitting on the couch with your hoodie on over your head, a blanket covering you, and multiple tissues around you, you were recovering from crying on the phone with megan. daniela was out on a deal, and you had maybe five more minutes before she would be back.

"it's gonna be fine, yn. seriously."

"i don't know, megan." you say quietly.

daniela unlocks the front door and takes a few steps inside, hearing you talking and assuming you were on the phone. she opens her mouth to say something, but freezes in her place at your next words.

"i mean, what if she doesn't want to keep it?"

daniela swears her heart drops to her stomach, but she tries to play it off. tossing her keys exaggeratedly on the counter and announcing her presence like she didn't hear you. "i'm back!"

you immediately hang up on megan when you hear daniela's voice, putting your phone down as she walks into the living room. she stops abruptly when she sees the state of you along with the tissues scattered around you, her eyebrows furrowed together in concern.

"are you okay?"

you meekly nod your head, fiddling with the sleeve of your hoodie that draped over your hands. daniela walks over and sits down beside you. she can tell you're lying, but she doesn't push it.

"so, what were you talking about me not wanting to keep?" she asks nonchalantly. "you didn't get a dog without asking me, did you?" she jokes.

you don't smile, you're not even looking at her when you quietly say the words. you can see her smile drop the second you say it.

"i'm pregnant."

there's a silence that fills the room. uncomfortable, awkward, the kind that hadn't happened in a while. you contemplate saying something else, play it off as a joke maybe. but daniela speaks first.

"are you serious?" she asks quietly.

you nod, feeling your throat close up. "i-i took a test a few days ago a-and it came out positive." you manage to get out. "i'm sorry for not telling you right away. i-i didn't know what to do."

daniela grabs one of your hands, bringing it up to her lips and pressing small kisses on your knuckles. "this is amazing, mi vida." she says softly. you finally look over at her, and your breath catches in your throat seeing the tears in her eyes. "this is amazing. i can't wait to start a family with you. i love you so much."

"really?" you let out, your voice barely above a whisper.

"of course," daniela says with a nod, grabbing your arm and pulling you onto her lap. she peers up at you with pure adoration and love in her eyes, and it makes tears fill your own. "i'm so happy. this is great. we're gonna have a family, and we're gonna be the best parents ever. i love you so much, so so much. and i'm going to be right here with you every step of the way. i promise." she presses a gentle kiss on your cheek that had a few tears trailing down.

a small smile grows on your face at her words, and you don't know why you were worrying in the first place. "i love you too. you're going to be great." you reply.

"you're gonna be even better." she smiles back at you. "i can't wait."

"yeah, me too." you smile, leaning in and kissing her.

[alanisstonedd]

MDNI

bum!ony that sees you walking your route to work when he starts crashing with his hb, always outside on the corner chopping it up when you stroll by minding your damn business. mad cute but wayyy outta his league. you got it all together, and he’s practically the opposite

bum!ony that swallows his pride to holla at your fine ass when you’re waiting to cross the street one day. you giggle at some one-liner he drops & he’s hooked.

bum!ony who forms a lil bond with you on the corner before it gets serious. it’s a lil routine — you giggle at him on the way to work and throw him a clever line on the way back home. he loves y’all’s lil game & is honestly happy with whatever attention you give him.

bum!ony who is so surprised when you ask him to lunch on your way home one day. he jumps at the opportunity not even tryna front like he’s not excited.

bum!ony who charms you on the date. you don’t even seem to care that he spends too much time on the corner to have a consistent job. that smile? the way he looks at you? that rough, slightly unreliable sex appeal he oozes? your guard is embarrassingly low. but what can you sayyy — he makes you feel a way. a way you’re not ready to let go of.

bum!ony who moves — in as a “friend” — when his hb gets booked. you figure, he’s not exactly a stranger & you can’t let him go homeless! he said it’d only be until he could get on his feet so it’s fine! you have the extra space, it’d be a waste basically.

bum!ony who gives you foot rubs in exchange for his laundry done - unspoken ritual of course. his hands do tend to wander tho… sneaking up to your thighs to sink his fingers in.. you just smile & do that cute snicker he likes, courtesy of the two blunts he rolled for you earlier. no clue how he’s getting all this loud since he still don’t got a J O B

bum!ony who leaves his socks in the floor just to see your pussy print when you bend over. matter fact, you catch him looking quite a lot. always “grabbing sum real quick” when you’re in the shower, “accidentally” peeking his head in your room while you’re changing for a quick question. but you appreciate how comfortable he is — taking it as a compliment to your hospitality.

bum!ony who starts rubbing on your booty whenever you bring up his unemployment. mumbling some excuse while he licks his lips at you. taking your accidental moan as the go ahead to start dragging you into him. you can never stay maddddd he’s like crack.

bum!ony who man-spreads on the couch with just his draws on. print fully out. he palms it when you walk by. dragging you into his lap for a “hug” because you look like you had a hard day apparently. he’s the best hugger tho so your happy self don’t mind. you feel a little guilty honestly - feeling like a slut for getting so wet when he was just trying to get comfy.

bum!ony who starts sleeping in your bed when the couch gets to “uncomfortable”. his big ass frame taking up half the bed. his half-chub somehow finding your booty in the middle of the night. he’s just so big, you might as well start cuddling. he’s even worse then… lowkey humping you “in his sleep”. yall end up tangled with his head smack on your tits, mouth open and snoring over your nipple.

bum!ony who gets so horny when you cook for him. which is every night bcs he doesn’t help you with shit. you end up laying on top of him making out, letting him push into you bcs you gave him blue-balls baby. duhh. he takes you back to your bed and fucks all the calories off, drilling you into the mattress like a rag doll.

bum!ony who teases you when you leave your laundry out in the living room — about your panties specifically. talking out his ass about the lil lacy thing to the point you put it on to show him how wrong he is about them. and oh is he wrong… makes you ride his face with them pulled to the side, all over the couch.

bum!ony who humps you while you wash the dishes. that’s it

bum!ony who tricks you into sex with his fine ass face after he misses another job interview. kissing all over you cuz he knows it distracts you. dicking you down sideways with a hand on your tit and more empty promises in your ear. but you don’t even hear none of it over the slapping of his hips and the squelch of your cream all over him.

bum!ony who loves when you have a bad day at work bcs you don’t ask him about a job and you fuck him like a toy. using him for that nut. your hand moves to his neck and you start fucking out the frustration you’ve built up at his bum ass. its animalistic.

bum!ony who randomly comes home with a BAG one day. like serious money. first thing he buys is some lingerie for you to model for him. might take some photos while you doing ya thang for posterity ofc.

[steddieas-shegoes]

three things

for @switcheddieweek prompt 'spit' (a little) and 'non-verbal negotiation' (mostly this one tbh)

rated e | 5395 words | also on ao3 | cw: under-negotiated kink | tags: switch eddie, switch steve, friends with benefits, bisexual steve, bondage, banter, frottage, spit kink, anal fingering, anal sex, dirty talk, choking, not actually unrequited feelings, open ending but we can play clue together

⭕⭕⭕⭕⭕⭕⭕⭕⭕⭕⭕⭕⭕⭕⭕

Steve’s jittery and it’s making Eddie fucking jumpy. From the second he walked in the door, Steve’s been bustling around, moving things he doesn’t need to, taking sips of Eddie’s drink, knocking into things. Eddie’s ready to tie him to a chair and—

Well, that’s an idea.

Just as he considers acting on it, Steve groans.

“Do you think I’m too high strung?” He asks as he paces the floor anxiously.

“In this moment or in general?” Eddie has to tread carefully here. Whatever’s got Steve on edge like this needs to be taken seriously. One wrong word and Steve will shut down and it’ll be a long fucking night of trying to pull him back in.

“Like, always? Or most of the time.” Steve stops pacing, sets his gaze on Eddie where he’s sitting comfortably at the kitchen table. “Do you think I think too much about little things?”

Eddie’s brow furrows. Where the hell is this even coming from? Steve’s not usually high strung. He gets anxious sometimes, like when he knows they have to do their annual check in with the government doctors, but that’s not unreasonable. If he knows one of the kids is flying, he gets a bit nervous, but Eddie just keeps him distracted as best he can and it passes.

“Suzie mentioned that sometimes I get stuck on small problems and they ruin my day,” he continues. “Do you think that’s true?”

Suzie is going to school to be a therapist and likes to psychoanalyze her friends. It’s equal parts fascinating and annoying, especially when she talks to Steve. He takes everything she says seriously, even though she isn’t licensed yet and probably shouldn’t be giving her professional opinion to him anyway.

“I think that you do what every normal human does sometimes and catastrophize a little when you worry. It’s probably the trauma,” Eddie shrugs and stands, moving close to him, but leaving him space to get away if he needs to. He’s acting a bit like a cornered animal right now. The last thing Eddie needs to do is actually corner him. “If you think it’s harming you, maybe you could talk to a licensed therapist.”

“Suzie’s as good as licensed.” Steve folds his arms across his chest. “And she said I rely too much on you.”

“Did she?” Eddie scoffs. Steve doesn’t. Steve doesn’t rely on fucking anyone. He’d be better off if he did rely on someone more. “What made her come to that conclusion?”

“Apparently I talk about you too much. She thinks you’re my only friend.” Steve sighs. “Now that I say it out loud it does sound wrong. I have friends.”

“No shit.” Eddie grins, leans in until he can smell the cologne Steve always wears to work. “I’m just your best friend.”

“Other than Robin.”

“Other than Robin,” Eddie agrees. He straightens his back and nods his head back towards the chair he was sitting in before. “You wanna sit while I heat up leftovers?”

“Oh, not sure I can stay.” Steve suddenly won’t meet his eyes. “I uh, I have a date.”

Eddie ignores the way his heart clenches in his chest, painfully tightening. Steve’s still antsy, he can tell. He’s gonna go to his apartment and pace and worry until he has to pretend to be fine for his date. And the date won’t realize he’s faking it, that he’s pretending to be fine when he’s not. Eddie can’t let that happen.

“You should cancel.”

Steve gives him a look, one that says he knows what Eddie’s doing and he isn’t gonna fall for it. He has before, though. He probably will this time.

“She’s nice. I’m not gonna cancel just for us to fuck around. What about that guy you saw last month?” Steve snaps his fingers while he tries to remember the quite frankly unremarkable guy Eddie sucked off at a club. “Jeremy? Joey? James?”

“Isaac.”

“I was close!” Steve claps.

“Alphabetically, sure,” Eddie groans. “He was boring. Didn’t even fuck my face when I told him to. He’d probably run screaming if I showed him my plug.”

“I almost ran screaming when you showed me that thing,” Steve laughs. “I’m gonna head out. You find someone more interesting than Isaac.”

Eddie could beg. He’s done it before.

He could go along with it and wait for Steve to inevitably show back up at his place later when he didn’t get what he wanted from whoever this woman is. He’s done that before, too.

He could turn on the waterworks and guilt him into staying. That’s not something he’s tried before. Bound to work, though.

Before he can muster up the fake tears, Steve is walking around him and staring at the chair.

He looks back at Eddie and squints, then back at the chair.

Eddie waits because that’s all he can do. Steve’s either gonna leave and go on his date or he’s gonna stay and they’ll fall into their comforting pattern of being the only people who understand what the other needs.

Steve walks to the phone on the wall, grabs a piece of paper from his wallet, and angrily dials.

“Julie! Hey!” Eddie rolls his eyes, mouths Julie and makes kissy lips while Steve’s back is to him. “Sorry this is so last minute, but they need me to close tonight. Maybe next week?”

Eddie watches as Steve’s shoulders slowly relax. Julie’s probably letting him off the hook, thinking he’s such a hard worker for staying when asked. Maybe she thinks he’ll be up for a promotion, making the big bucks soon.

Eddie knows that Steve’s gonna fuck him up tonight.

He doesn’t hear the rest of the conversation, only focusing back in when the phone drops back on the hook and Steve laughs.

“You should get the ropes.”

It’s not a suggestion as much as a demand, and Eddie doesn’t hesitate to do it. Steve doesn’t like getting tied up, not even if Eddie’s the one doing it, but he loves tying intricate knots around Eddie’s wrists and ankles, sometimes his chest and neck if they have time. It helps ground him, keeps his mind from wandering into anxious territory.

It’s perfect for tonight.

Eddie keeps his ropes in his closet, hung up so they don’t get tangled together. He grabs all of them, in too much of a rush to make a decision about which ones to use.

Steve’s pulled the chair to the center of the room and he’s wringing his hands together like he needs something in them. Robin mentioned getting him a keychain that doubled as a silent clicker so it would keep his hands busy when he needed it, but Steve turned it down. Maybe Eddie can convince him later.

After.

Eddie sits, holds the ropes in his lap, and waits.

Steve circles him like a predator circles their prey before they attack. He’s hot and his heart is racing, and he hopes that he can be forgiven for being selfish enough to get Steve to stay.

He kneels in front of Eddie, grabs his face in his hands, and grins.

“You wanted this.”

It’s true. But he never said it explicitly. Steve just knows. It’s why they work so well.

“I wanted you.”

It’s a bit too honest for them, but Steve doesn’t stop to take Eddie’s words in. He’s up and grabbing the rope from his hands, shoving his shoulder back until he’s almost worried it’ll bruise. Eddie’s pale and Steve’s rough and as much as he likes the reminders of what they do, he’s going to visit Wayne this weekend and doesn’t wanna risk him seeing it.

“Hey. Easy,” Eddie says with just enough bite to make Steve pause. “No bruises.”

Steve nods, apologizes, but continues his work. Eddie lets him.

He closes his eyes and breathes.

There’s something peaceful about letting Steve tie him up, making him helpless in the middle of his own apartment. He knows he’s safe, they’re both safe. He doesn’t have to feel the emptiness inside that he feels when Steve’s not with him.

He feels full, even without the plug.

“Eddie. Look at me.”

Eddie does. His eyes feel heavy for a moment and then he sees how dark Steve’s eyes are, how blown his pupils have gotten. How long has Steve been working on him? Seconds? Minutes? Hours?

“Too tight?” Steve asks, for what must not be the first time. Eddie shakes his head. “Okay. I’m gonna grab the plug.”

Eddie’s not sure why, but he knows it’ll come to him eventually. He nods and waits. Steve’s only gone for a moment, familiar enough with where Eddie keeps everything to be quick.

He sets the lube and plug on the table, then turns to Eddie.

Eddie’s a bit in love with him, he has to admit. It’s pretty terrible to be in love with your best friend, especially when it’s a guy who has made it pretty clear he’s never gonna be ready for a relationship with any man, let alone Eddie.

But he drops everything to do this with him, and he comes here right after work even when he’s exhausted, even if it’s just for a few minutes, even though it’s two miles out of his way. He sleeps in Eddie’s bed when they get too high for him to get back to his place, curled up into his side or around his back. He uses Eddie’s soap in the shower and wears Eddie’s shirt when he forgets to bring the clothes he keeps here home to wash them. He leaves notes around the apartment for him to take his meds and to call Dustin and take out the trash. He does everything with love and it’s hard for Eddie to separate it sometimes.

Steve straddles his lap and waits.

It’s Eddie’s turn now. Focus.

“Gonna be good and listen to me?” Eddie asks him, voice rough.

Steve shivers in his lap. “Yeah. Tell me.”

Eddie uses all his strength to sit up a bit straighter, appear bigger. Steve loves when he’s tied up and bossing him around. He loves being told what to do while Eddie’s like this.

“You gonna stay dressed?” Eddie asks, not caring much either way. Might be hard to get the plug in, but they don’t have to do anything with it if Steve changed his mind.

“For now.”

“Then touch yourself.”

Eddie watches as Steve runs his hands down his chest, skims the edge of his shirt, slides them underneath. He wants him to strip it off, wants to see the way his nipples harden under his own touch, the way his chest hair darkens as sweat beads on his skin the more worked up he gets. He doesn’t make any noise when he pinches his own nipple, just lets out the breath he must’ve been holding for a while.

“Now the other one.”

Steve listens, stays quiet and obedient, just the way Eddie likes him.

“Feel good?” Eddie asks, but he already knows it does. Steve’s nipples are sensitive. He loves having Eddie’s teeth on them, tugging and sucking them into his mouth.

“Yeah, but I want more.”

“Greedy, but fine.” Eddie glances behind him, sees the bottle of lube. “You planning on using that or no?”

Steve follows his gaze, hands never leaving his chest. “The lube or the plug?”

“Either. Both.”

Steve shivers. “Maybe. Rather you do it later.”

Eddie’s not opposed. He likes watching Steve, but if he gets to have his hands on him later, have his plug in him, then he can wait.

“You gonna get yourself off like this then?” Eddie thinks he might be able to if they play their cards right. He’s never come just from playing with his nipples, but it doesn’t seem impossible. He’s riled up right now. On edge in every way. It might be time to try it out.

“Don’t think I can,” Steve admits, pouting his bottom lip out. It should look ridiculous, but it makes heat coil in Eddie’s stomach. He wants to bite it, suck it into his mouth and taste the spit pooling on his tongue. He wants to make him bleed so he can taste that too, find out if it’s as sweet as the rest of him. “Not without a hand on me.”

“I think you can.” Eddie laughs when Steve groans at him. “C’mon. I’ve seen you do harder things. Find a way.”

“Don’t have to be mean. I canceled a date for you,” Steve bites out, pinching his nipples again and scooting forward in Eddie’s lap. His dick is hard in his jeans, but he’s not gonna find what he needs with the way Eddie’s chest and stomach are pulled back with the ropes. Not unless he gets real close. “I’m not doing it all by myself.”

“You tied me up,” Eddie snorts. “I assumed that meant you were gonna do it yourself.”

Eddie’s own dick is straining in his jeans. It’s getting a bit uncomfortable, but he knows Steve will be pissed if he asks him to unbutton his pants. He’s supposed to sit here and take it, and Steve will sit there and do what he says. That’s how this works.

“Sit still then.” Eddie hasn’t moved, but he wants to now that Steve’s made the demand. He scoots even further up, so his dick is rubbing against Eddie’s stomach. It’d feel better if he took his pants off, but he’s stubborn. “I’m gonna get off like this.”

He sounds like he’s trying to convince himself as much as he’s trying to convince Eddie.

“I’ll wait.” Eddie smirks when Steve narrows his eyes at him. “Go ahead. I’ve got all night.”

His legs are a little numb from being tied and having Steve’s weight on them like this. The dining room chair isn’t exactly comfortable to begin with. He’s a little shocked it’s holding both their weight like this.

Steve ruts forward once, twice, groans before he drops his head to Eddie’s shoulder. He isn’t gonna get as much friction as he wants like this, but he can get the job done.

“That’s it. You just need something to rub your dick on, huh? Anything would work,” Eddie teases, voice low. “So desperate.”

He tries to sound annoyed or uninterested, but he knows he sounds a bit awed. Steve’s hips move faster as he talks, the room gets hotter, and the air gets thicker. Eddie gets impossibly harder in his jeans. If it’s possible to break a zipper, he may do it any minute.

Steve whimpers as he bites down on Eddie’s shoulder. He’s a bit sweaty from the day, and he knows his shirt can’t smell or taste good. Steve doesn’t seem bothered.

“Can’t believe you tied me up just to hump me like a dog,” Eddie grins around the words. “You know there’s better ways to do this.”

Steve pauses in his movements, but doesn’t sit up or move his face away from Eddie’s neck. It’s all Eddie needs to know that he can keep going like this.

“So stubborn. I should make you use the wall next time.” Steve whimpers and ruts forward. “You’d love it. I could sit here and watch. Probably hurt after a while, huh?”

Steve nods, but doesn’t say anything. Eddie smiles to himself.

“You like when it hurts though. That’s why you can’t stop what you’re doing now.”

“Mhm. Like it when you hurt me, though.”

Eddie bites his lip. God, he does love hurting Steve. He’s so good at being hurt. Takes it so good and then gives it right back to Eddie as if he isn’t covered in bruises and scars left by Eddie’s teeth and fingers.

“I like it too,” Eddie allows himself to say. It’s important to keep the boundaries there, but sometimes he can be vulnerable. If Steve starts it, he can follow. “You gonna let me touch you?”

“Maybe in a minute.”

“You’re only hurting yourself, baby.” Eddie rolls his shoulders, breath hitching at the way it tugs the ropes tighter around his wrists for a moment. Baby is allowed. Steve said it first months ago, one of the first times they did this, and it stuck. It’s fine, especially when it’s slightly mocking like this. “I could make it feel so good. You know I take care of you.”

Steve tenses, almost like he’s going to come, then groans and pulls his head back, looking at Eddie with wide eyes.

Eddie looks back at him, calculating, trying to get a read on what’s going on in his head.

He’s still unsure what truly caused his panic earlier, other than Suzie’s words. Something had to, though. He’s still sifting through it, not quite over the tension.

And then it hits him.

His date.

Steve hasn’t had a real date in months. He’s definitely done questionable things in bar bathrooms, but he hasn’t taken a girl out since…

Since they started this.

Eddie rushes to think back to what Suzie told him, thinks about things Steve probably left out of his explanation. How quick he was to cancel the date once he knew what was on offer.

Steve struggles with being the one to call the shots. Not just in bed, but always. He always asks others to choose what they do, and usually tries to leave another adult in charge as often as he can.

Other than life or death situations, Steve Harrington likes to follow someone else’s lead.

This thing they have, whatever it may be, it works. Eddie calls the shots a lot, but there’s still times when Steve’s in charge. Like now, when Eddie’s tied up, completely at his mercy. He may be encouraging Steve to do things, but he’s not the one making the decisions, not really.

It’s Steve’s safe place to call the shots. Eddie’s his safe space. Not this girl he was going to take to dinner or a movie or back to his place.

“Hey.” Eddie wants his hands free, but it’s selfish. His mind is reeling as he thinks of a way to do this without making Steve lose the control he has. “You’re gonna do something for me.”

It’s another demand, but he knows Steve will listen.

“What?” Steve asks, flushed and struggling not to find any more friction.

“Tell me three things you want me to do.”

Steve’s shaking and Eddie doesn’t know if it’s from being so close to the edge or from nerves or from being overwhelmed with all of it at once. He’s never looked so unsure when they’re doing this, not even the first time when they hadn’t figured out how to communicate yet.

“Like…now?”

“I want you to answer now, but it can be stuff you want me to do later.”

Everything shifts again; A whine marks the moment that Steve gives in.

“Can you-”

“No.” Eddie leans in, gets close enough that he can feel Steve’s breath against his own lips. “Don’t ask me. Tell me.”

Steve lets out a shaky breath, closes his eyes, and relaxes his shoulders. Eddie watches, waits patiently. His legs are starting to get tingly, almost painfully so. The feeling comes and goes as Steve shifts in his lap, moving weight from one leg to the other and then settling on both.

“Open me up.” Steve says so quietly Eddie almost asks him to repeat it. “I want four fingers.”

“Four? You sure?” Eddie’s never given him four. Steve’s never given himself four as far as he knows.

“Yeah. I can take it.”

“Okay. That’s one,” Eddie wants to kiss him, but he won’t. He can’t. Even if he weren’t tied up, he wouldn’t. “Another one.”

“I want you to fuck me.” Steve pauses like he’s going to say more. Eddie waits again, less patiently now that he knows what the next hour might entail. “In your bed.”

The silence that follows his request is louder than their breaths, louder than the thud, thud, thud of their hearts beating in their chests.

They don’t do that. They do a lot of shit, but they don’t do that. They fuck on the couch, the chair, against the wall, the shower, the floor. Never the bed. Not Eddie’s, not Steve’s.

It’s like kissing, in a way: silently forbidden.

Steve tenses when Eddie doesn’t respond. He starts to scoot back to get up, but Eddie lets out a noise close to a whine. He wants to move his hands, grip Steve’s hips so hard that there’s no way he doesn’t have bruises in the shape of his fingertips in the morning.

“What’s the third thing?” Eddie asks, making sure he knows he needs to stay right where he is.

Steve doesn’t say it. He’s pushing Eddie, seeing how far Eddie will push back. He could get up right now, go to Eddie’s bed, and they’ll forget all about the third thing. Eddie will let it be left in this room, never to be mentioned again.

“I’ll tell you later.”

He should insist on it now, but he won’t. Steve’s taking the reins now.

“Untie me.”

Mostly.

Steve works quickly, letting the ropes fall to the floor as Eddie slowly moves his limbs to get feeling back. He shivers when Steve’s fingers brush against his wrist, pulse speeding up under his careful touch.

“Anything hurt?” Steve asks, checking in the way Eddie showed him to the first time. Eddie taught him a lot of things. “Need anything?”

“No, baby, I’m good,” Eddie smiles, a real one, a soft one. Something almost too gentle for what they’re doing. “Let’s get in bed.”

He almost forgets to grab the lube and plug on the table behind him, but remembers when he watches Steve adjust himself in his pants and awkwardly half-waddle out of the room. He wants to use them when they’re done, after Eddie’s fucked him until he can’t talk.

Steve’s finally undressing, leaving his clothes in a pile on the floor. It feels like they belong there, like they could find a home in Eddie’s laundry basket, and then in his closet. Like pieces of Steve could stay.

Steve looks good in his bed, on his back, parting his legs. His hand cups his balls, lifts them as if he’s showing off exactly where he wants Eddie to go. Eddie’s dick leaks at the thought of being inside him.

He could probably lick him open and shove inside him with no argument, even though it would be uncomfortable and probably a little too painful even for Steve’s taste. He likes feeling the pinch of too much, the drag of skin that should be wetter. Maybe next time.

Eddie’s not gonna be mean like that, but he is gonna be quick. He’s not patient enough to take his time the way Steve may have thought he would.

He spits on Steve’s dick as he settles between his legs.

“Keep touching yourself. Don’t come,” he orders, pouring lube onto his fingers. “If you come, we stop.”

Steve whimpers and nods, accepts the challenge for what it is. His hand moves slow, languid in finding the perfect level of pleasure to keep him on the edge but not sending him over.

Eddie starts with two fingers, a happy medium between the pain Steve likes and the pain Eddie wants to try someday. It’s still enough to have Steve tighten around him, letting out a noise he’s never made before.

Eddie pauses and raises a brow up at him. Steve relaxes. Eddie continues.

He’s not gentle, but he could be a lot rougher. He has one purpose: open Steve up. He doesn’t even try to find his prostate until he’s ready to add the fourth finger that Steve wanted so bad.

Steve’s barely moving his hand anymore, just squeezing the base of his cock like it’s the only thing keeping him on earth. He’s burning up inside and out, sweat building on his thighs, darkening the hairs just enough to be noticeable.

As soon as Eddie pushes the fourth finger into him, Steve goes still and silent. Any sign of the anxious mess of a person who was pacing his kitchen floor earlier is long gone.

Eddie only gives him a second before he moves, pulls his fingers out and pushes them back in. It’s tight, really tight.

“Gotta relax or I can’t fuck you like you wanted,” Eddie reminds him. He looks down at where he’s stretching Steve, watches his hole flutter around his fingers as he desperately tries to relax. “Bet I could get my whole hand in if I used more lube.”

Eddie’s actually not sure he could with how tight Steve is now with just four, but Steve pants, nods like he agrees. Maybe they can try that, too.

Now that the bed is an option, Eddie could try a lot of things. So could Steve. Eddie thinks feeling his entire hand inside him might be enough to send him over the edge, dick untouched.

Steve finally relaxes enough around him so he can move and there has to be a direct connection between his fingertips and his own dick with how it jumps when he stretches his fingers. He’s sweating now, too, using his free hand to brush the hair off his shoulder for a moment.

“Your hand’s so big,” Steve whines, lifting his legs back further with what little strength he has left. ”So much.”

Eddie agrees. He’s watching how much he’s stretching him out and thinks it should be impossible.

He feels lost right now, shocked into watching what he’s doing rather than doing what the logical next step is: getting his dick inside Steve. It’s mesmerizing.

“Eddie?” Steve’s voice is unsure. “Look at me.”

Eddie’s eyes snap up to his face, unblinking.

“You need me to tell you what I want?” Steve asks, letting his legs fall to the bed. The new angle shifts his fingers so they brush against Steve’s prostate. He bites back a moan, but so does Eddie. “Let me.”

Eddie nods. He can’t fucking think for himself right now. Some switch flipped when he saw the way Steve took him, and he’s not sure he can switch it back by himself.

“Touch yourself. Get yourself wet.”

He does it. How can he not when Steve is taking deep breaths to keep himself calm? How can he not when he’d do anything that Steve asks of him?

He misses Steve around his fingers, misses the heat of it, the warmth that ran from his hand to his chest. The direct link is gone, even if just for a moment.

Eddie spits on his hand, makes the glide of his hand easier. He knows not to come, but he knows he could. Steve’s eyes are on him, watching and assessing, figuring out what he’ll do next.

Steve isn’t the type to drag this on. He doesn’t like delaying his own pleasure. He’ll make Eddie come inside him the way they both want, he knows that.

But he still worries this will be the time he can’t hold back, that Steve will watch him until he comes and then the night will be done.

“Just the tip.” Steve’s words make Eddie whine. It’s not enough, but it might be too much. “Take it slow.”

Eddie leans down, lines himself up. The moment he’s inside Steve, he groans and his brain resets, focuses.

He waits for Steve to say he can give him more. He wants to give him more, he needs-

“More.” Steve is barely holding it together at this point, Eddie can tell from the way his voice shakes and his hand grips Eddie’s shoulder like his life depends on it. “Slow.”

Eddie goes slow. One inch further, one degree warmer.

Another inch and Steve’s grip is harder, bringing him back to earth.

He shares a look with Steve, sending the message that he’s good, he wants to take things from here. Steve will let him.

“You’re so good,” Eddie groans against his mouth as he kisses him, pushes in until he feels tight heat surrounding him completely. “Always so good for me.”

Steve tightens around him, legs wrapping around Eddie’s back and tugging him closer. It feels too much like something he can hold onto, something way more than what it’s supposed to be. He doesn’t comment on it. He can’t.

Steve tilts his head back, lids heavy as he begs Eddie for something only Eddie can give him.

He wraps a hand around Steve’s throat, squeezes once, and fucks into him hard.

Steve’s hand moves to Eddie’s wrist, his silent permission to keep going, understanding of what he has to do for this to keep going.

They’ve never properly talked about this. It’s stupid and Eddie knows he needs to be careful.

He is. He’s always careful with Steve.

He only does it twice more, but it’s enough to have Steve pushing back against him, asking for more. Eddie removes his hand, grazes it down his chest, grips at his chest hair and tugs.

Steve yelps and Eddie smirks. “Thought you liked when I was mean,” he says to be extra mean. “You beg me to be rough all the time.”

“Be rough. But slow.”

Eddie is too close to go slow, but he thinks Steve’s in the same boat. He can probably get away with a few minutes of being rough before he comes.

“Wanna taste you,” Steve says, and it sounds like it might be the third thing he wanted. Eddie’s not sure what he means, though. They don’t kiss so it can’t be that. “Please, let me taste you.”

Eddie holds his chin, considers his next move as he fucks into him once, twice, grinds into him until they’re both breathless. He digs his fingers in, keeps Steve’s jaw open.

He leans in close enough to feel Steve’s breath in his own mouth.

“You wanna taste me?” He whispers.

“Yes.”

Eddie licks Steve’s bottom lip, so quick he could almost convince himself it didn’t actually happen.

Then he spits. Right in Steve’s mouth, watches it pool on his tongue.

Steve swallows it without being told to, closes his eyes and groans. He looks blissed out, cheeks red and forehead shining with sweat. He’s never been more beautiful, never made Eddie want to devour him quite like this.

It’s hard to keep things slow after that, but god, he tries. He would do anything for Steve, but he’s only human. He can’t be this close for much longer.

Steve’s eyes open and he doesn’t have to say anything for Eddie to know he’s too close to keep going.

They come seconds apart, so close Eddie’s not even sure who got there first.

Eddie fucks into him until he physically can’t anymore, wincing when it’s too much for his softening dick. He always pushes too much.

Steve lets out a laugh as Eddie falls to the side, grunting when his cheek smacks against Steve’s arm. He sighs and rests his lips against the skin there, scared to bring attention to it, but not wanting to put space between them yet.

It’s quiet for a while, their breathing evening out slowly as they come down. He still doesn’t move, but his brain’s starting to catch up and he’s left wondering something. He probably shouldn’t ask.

“What’s the third thing you want me to do?” Eddie asks anyway.

Steve is still, and Eddie thinks he hears his breath hitch.

His other hand comes up, resting gently on Eddie’s head. It’s a heavy weight on him, making him hotter when he’s already overheated. A comfort when he’s been giving and taking so much.

“Love me.”

Eddie should be more surprised to hear it maybe. He doesn’t even have a reaction at first, just soaks in the words.

Loving Steve Harrington has been easy so far, even though it’s been in silence. Understanding who he is, what he likes, what makes him tick, all of it has been a gift.

Even when he overthinks things, even when he’s high strung.

But loving Steve Harrington loudly, in the way he needs, the way he craves, might be even easier.

So he lets his lips pucker, kisses Steve’s arm.

“Is that all?” He asks, looking up at Steve with a smile.

[householdcryptid]

Cockwarming anon again! Dude… that fic was so fucking good, i’m still reeling from it. Like, read it multiple times, squealing and kicking my feet 🙈❤️❤️❤️

So, I offer you this idea as a little thank you (also apologies in advance if this sucks, i’m not a writer, i’m just extremely thirsty and bobpilled rn);

So they’re not fucking, right? But they’re also technically not not fucking.

It’s taken Bob a little while to actually process what’s going on, and what exactly he’s feeling. It takes him a little while to figure out that, sure, he’s getting comfort, but there’s something else in there, something deeper, more primal.

He develops little fixations, and right now he’s fixated on her thighs. He doesn’t know how he’s never noticed them before, how soft and supple they look. Pure comfort. He finds himself wanting to touch them at all times, and she lets him without question, of course, but it only makes him worse.

He’ll sit closer to her so his legs can press against hers as much as possible, he’ll grab them under the table at meals. He’ll even ask to lay his head on them when they’re watching movies together. Slowly escalating, pawing, rubbing his face against them like a cat, sweating, whining, drooling, until his head is enclosed between them, face pressed against against her core. Panting, shaking, eyes closed in complete bliss like he’s finally found heaven.

Just wait until he figures out that he’s a munch.

babe i know you said you arent a writer but you SHOULD be holy shit 😵‍💫 also thank you! i'm so so so glad you liked the last one 🩷🩷🩷

i'm thinking about doing a part two to this just so i can write about him getting pussy drunk tbh he deserves that. # bob reynolds is a munch

cw: rob bein a nasty lil freak, uhhhh scent kink(? kind of?), nsfw but no real sex, reader knows robby is a weirdo and is Totally into it, talks of addiction (not a lot but mentioned), short because i got sick 💔👎, hope you enjoy 😌🩷

It starts off small. It always does with Bob. One tiny thing that snowballs into an addiction, and leaves him reeling. Once upon a time it was morphine, and then worse, but now? Now it’s you.

Small things— things no one but him would notice. The way you smile when he tells you about his day, no matter how boring it is. The way your eyes sparkle in the sunlight, the way you glow.

More recently though, he can’t stop thinking about your legs. He’ll sit in the gym and watch you spar with Walker or Yelena, not understanding why the sight of their hands on you makes his skin crawl.

Instead of focusing on that feeling though, he zeroes in on your legs. The way they tense up, strike out to catch your opponent in the gut, the way they look when you have them wrapped around someones neck, pinning them to the ground.

They’re beautiful, even when you aren’t fighting. He finds himself drawn in, big warm palm sliding over the fabric of your sweats to knead at your thigh mid movie night. He isn’t trying to be a creep, isn’t making any attempt to get handsy, just wants to feel the plushness of it in his grip.

It devolves quickly. Gentle squeezes turn to fingerprint bruises that he feels genuinely awful for. You don’t ever mind, though. Your best friend is just tactile, he doesn’t know his own strength sometimes, and it’s not like you’re complaining, so why is he upset?

He stops squeezing as much, but it leaves something of a hole behind in his day to day. An ache he can’t explain, a longing that feels bone deep. Until you pull him to lay his head on your lap one day, and he’s found a new thing to be hooked on. Revels in the way the plush skin bows under his cheek, how you always end up petting through his hair. It ends up being a surefire way to put him to sleep, eventually.

It’s just too comforting. To have your attention on him so completely, your fingers in his soft curls and his cheek smushed against your soft thigh.

One day, the tower is empty, save you and Rob. He’s twitchy, strung tight like a rubber band ready to snap, skin buzzing with a power he still doesn’t understand and doesn’t think he deserves.

But you’re there, too, and that helps. Pulling him in with gentle hands, and he expects the usual. His head on your lap, your hand in his hair, but you shift. Your knees part, and you pat your tummy invitingly.

“I wanna lay down too, goofy.” You explain, laughing softly at his puzzled expression. He can’t stop staring long enough to come up with a verbal response. You’re wearing shorts, cotton boxers that pull taut at your thighs, dimpling the skin a bit, and his mouth waters.

His sigh is heavy and tremulous when he nuzzles his face against your stomach, lays flat on his front between your legs, arms wrapped up beneath your thighs, his hands splayed under your lower back.

“S’better.” He mumbles, lashes fluttering as he breathes in the scent of you. That’s where it starts, really. Your scent.

Warmth, clean sweat and a heady musk that makes him a little dizzy, he seeks it out. Noses down your tummy, wriggles southward until his face is buried between your thighs.

You giggle— honest to God giggle— and heat licks up his spine.

“Sorry-” He mutters, not making any attempt to actually pull away. “M’sorry. You smell so good,” He whispers, hands sliding to press your thighs closer around his head, nosing at your cunt through the soft material of your shorts. “S’so fuckin’ warm here.” He croaks out, just on the edge of a whine, nails biting into your supple skin.

“It’s okay, Robby,” You murmur, ever so indulgent, especially when he’s whining against your clothed core, already drooling into the fabric. “You can stay. You’re good, bubs.”

He almost sobs at the reassurance, brain going blissfully empty when you squeeze your thighs around his head gently.

He’s trembling just a little bit, huffing these shakey breaths against your core like he can’t quite catch his breath, pretty blue eyes unfocused and heavy lidded. Blissed out on just the smell and the feel of you, the way your thighs block out the sound of the room and the constant buzzing in his brain when they press to his ears.

He falls asleep like that, mouthing at your cunt through the shorts, letting out short little whimpers and huffy groans, your fingers in his hair and your thighs pressed to his ears.

You can only sigh, slip into a nice catnap as well, knowing full well the whole process will begin again when he wakes up.

[sexyandcringe]

As much as you love to spend time with Suna Rintarou, you hate asking for it.

And as much as you hate asking for it, you still catch yourself tapping on his name, texting him to let him know you are free for the day because your friends ditched you.

Y/N: Yo, my girls went to war and left me alone and broken (they ditched me), wanna bangout?

Y/N: I meANT HANGOUT***

Y/N: We can bang too, though. Later.

It takes him around 10 minutes to reply, just as you’re about to hop in the shower.

Rin: Sure, let’s do that

Rin: When are you coming?

Y/N: I’ll take a quick shower and i’ll be over?

Rin: Bet. Text me when you done.

You leave a thumbs up reaction and head into the shower, already excited by the idea of meeting up with Rintarou.

It’s been a year now — this messy, no-strings, fwb thing you’ve got going; And you’d be lying if you said you didn’t like him, but these kind of things never end well for you, so you keep it casual, hit him up when you need some company (or a good fuck). it’s not like you don’t have a life; you’ve got your friends, your books to read, a job to do. You’re good on your own. 

You know Rintarou is not one for anything serious, but he is a good guy overall. He doesn’t just reduce you to a fuck-buddy, he sees you as a friend and cares for you, like friends do, but that’s all you’ll ever be to him. A friend and a good fuck.

That doesn’t stop you from parking in front of his building, walking up to the third floor stairs because his lift is always fucking broken, and knocking on his door with a wide smile and a basket full of snacks.

“Hey loser,” you greet, holding up the basket, "Got you some snacks.” 

His face remains stoic, unimpressed as he stares at you, “Fruits are not snacks, Y/N.”

Your only reply is pushing him aside and stepping inside, putting the basket on his kitchen table like you own the place. Suna Rintarou may be a professional athlete, but you really have to put up a fight with him for him to eat some fruits, and this is one of your battle tactics.

“I climbed, like, a thousand stairs. gimme some water.” you demand, flopping down in a chair around the table,  playing with the little cat statue in the middle of it. The one you got him when you were in Milan — black and white, scowling with a tiny green collar. It looks just like him and you still think it’s one of the cutest gifts you got him.

He scoffs but heads to the fridge anyway, grabbing a bottle and pouring it into your heart-shaped glass. the one you made him swear not to let anyone else touch. it was your heart-shaped glass that you bought for yourself, and since Rintarou’s apartment is like a second home to you, leaving it here was just as natural as breathing. 

“Am i your slave now?” he grumbles, setting the glass in front of you.

You grin, “You love being my slave.” 

Rintarou swears he is going to wipe that stupid grin off your face soon. Tonight.

There is always something to talk about when you are with him.

The latest drama about his new manager, your neighbour who you are 100% sure is growing weed in their backyard, your coworker who might actually be satan in disguise; and when you run out of shit to say, you end up watching anime together, stealing each other’s snacks in-between kisses. All normal, absolutely nothing weird about kissing your homies on the lips, you tell yourself, especially if said homie is a complete hot mess of an athlete with the body of a Greek god and the most annoyingly perfect hands you’ve ever seen.

So every time you hang out with Rintarou, you end up with your limbs tangled with his, sharing heavy breaths at the rhythm of his heartbeat, and while you feel so full of him in those moments, he always leaves a hole bigger than before in the depth of your soul.

You’ve lost count of how many guys dumped your miserable ass with some variation of “you talk about suna too much”. Like you could just turn your heart off for him on command.

Not that any of them gave a shit about you either — most of them just wanted a warm body for the night, which, honestly, is probably all you’re good for.

Sometimes you wonder if Rin also sees you just as a piece of meat.

Maybe he’s just really good at acting like a friend.

You tell your friends that it’s just physical and there’s no way you’d fall for someone like him, but you can’t tell them that the idea of him seeing you just as a good fuck and nothing more hurts you more than it should do.

“i’m going to italy in a few weeks,” he says, sitting on the edge of the bed next to your half-asleep body, a strawberry lollipop lazily tucked between his lips.

You remove your sheets and sit up slowly before replying: “Okay.”

It’s going to be okay. It’s not the first time he’s gone out of the country, and he always comes back to you, be it in a month or two. You’ve done it before, you can do it this time too. It’s not a big-

“I don’t know when i’ll be back.”

Silence.

Usually, you’re good at hiding your feelings from him, keeping them caged under your throat, unspoken truths that you gulp down like heavy crumbs, but today you are doing a terrible job at that.

“What do you mean you don’t know?” It slips out a little too rough for your liking, a little too desperate.

“I got a sponsorship for an italian team and I want to see where this takes me. If it doesn’t work out in Italy I may shift to Spain or Sweden like Kageyama. I don’t think I’ll be back for a while.” He quickly glances at you, as if scared to meet your eyes. fucking coward.

You sit in silence, letting his words sink, letting the emotions stabilize and settle down for once.

You nod, “I see, i get it.”

You don’t. You don’t get it at all, any of it, but you can’t let him see you this weak.

You pick up your things, from the underwear thrown across the room to the toothbrush you left in his bathroom. You kiss him one last time, a simple peck on the lips - soft, quick, nothing like you want it to be, but you hope it will leave his lips burning, and you wave him goodbye, trying your best not to look at the broken expression he’s giving you. You can’t.

Driving back to your house feels sour and empty and when you open the door to your room the first thing you see is a small polaroid on your nightstand, a picture of Rin lying in the grass, smiling wide, while Luffy, his corgi, lays atop of him, snuggling his nose in it’s owner’s neck, and then there’s you, a blur of hands and open mouth at the edge of the frame because you couldn’t make it in the picture. Yet, it was one of the prettiest pictures you’ve ever taken of Rintarou.

You stare at it long enough to feel your heart cracking bit by bit.

And you break.

Reblogs are really appreciated!

[angel-writes-skz-here]

Do You Trust Me?

Bang Chan x F! Reader Synopsis: Your best friend tries to make your day better Warnings: SMUT, cunnilingus, fingering, unprotected p in v, praise, light bondage(?) A/N: I need to get finished with orders for Larie's Libations! So be expecting that! I'm also cooking up an event so y'all stay tunned for that! As usual, comment to be added to my tag list Xoxo💋

Your day had been rough. It started off when you bumped into someone at the coffee the shop and both of you spilled your daily caffeine, staining your white blouse and making you late to work.

Then you find out your boss transferred you to a different floor and expected you to move your desk that morning to make room for the replacement. After that, the printer screwed up right as you were printing an important document. Come lunch time you realized you forgot your lunch at home, causing you to eat only a bag of chips.

You shot Chris a message on your lunch break grumbling about how it was a shit day and you couldn’t wait to just chill at home.

After lunch, you go back to your desk only to find that the computer, that had said important documents and information on it, had shut down, not saving anything.

Needless to say, it was a shit day.

So when you walk into the shared apartment with Chris, you’re surprised to see dinner cooked and candles lighting the table.

“What the heck is this?”

“You said you had a bad day, I wanted to try to help.” He shrugs sheepishly. He comes over, slyly taking off your jacket and your purse and putting them away.

“Seriously, how has no woman snatched you up yet?” You ask as you hug him tightly. You and Chris have been friends for the last few years, living together for a year now. It had been working well, until you started to fall for him. It wasn’t hard; Chris is the epitome of a good boyfriend. Attentive, kind, genuinely listens when you talk about your day. He makes you laugh, helps distract you when you need it, and is always there to help when you ask. He’s someone you feel safe with, that you trust and know you can count on.

You both sit down to eat dinner, the silence a little awkward. You can see the wheels in his head turning as he chews a bite of his food.

“What cha thinkin about, roo?” you wink at him.

“Huh, oh,” his face turns a light shade of pink, “Nothin, I um,” he sighs.

“Y/n,” he asks and you look up over at him from the rim of your glass.

“Do you trust me?”

“What?”

“Do. You. Trust. Me?” he asks again.

“With my life,” you answer honestly. He takes a deep breath and stands up, holding out his hand to you. You look from his face to his hand back to his face before hesitantly taking his hand and standing up. He pulls you close to him, the height difference not much, just a few inches or so, and he softly presses his lips to yours. You stand there for a moment, eyes wide, lips frozen.

“You said you trust me,” he says, voice an octave deeper.

“Let me help you relax,” he mumbles against your lips, hands resting on your hips. Your eyes flutter closed, moving your lips against his as your hands rest on either side of his neck. The kiss quickly turns heated, passion exchanged in every movement, tongues daring to dance together in something that���s way over the line of friendship.

“Chris,” you whimper. You feel him smile against your lips. He pulls you to your bedroom.

“Can’t tell you how long I’ve wanted this,” he says as he gently pushes you down on the bed. His eyes are dark; lustful and hungry.

“How many nights I heard you moan because of your own hands.” He says as he hovers over you.

“How many nights my cock would throb and I’d have to get off, imagining it was you on top of me.” He groans in your ear, making you shiver. He slips off his shirt before leaning back down, his thumb brushing over your bottom lip.

Without even thinking you dip your head down, capturing his thumb in your mouth, lightly sucking on it, tongue swirling around the tip of it. His eyes widen, watching your mouth suck and his pants start to tent. He pulls his thumb out of your mouth, before raising your shirt over your head.

“Fuck,” he breathes as his eyes stare at your chest, “Look at you, so fucking perfect,” he groans as he places kisses down your neck. Your fingers thread into his hair, his teeth sinking into the flesh.

“God I wanna taste you so bad,” he almost whimpers in your ear. Your face flushes.

“Wanna feel you around my tongue,” he says as you whine, hips involuntarily shifting toward him. He notices and chuckles.

“Don’t worry, baby girl, Daddy’s got you.” He says before trailing more kisses down to your chest. He kisses the top of each breast, tongue darting out over your skin. You sigh in satisfaction, watching him, cradling his head as he kisses just between them.

His hands reach behind you, slipping the bra off. He moans, mouth automatically going around your left nipple, flicking it with his tongue. You bite your lip to keep from moaning, eyes closing to concentrate and Chan bites down.

“Ah,” you jump.

“Let me hear you,” he smirks and goes back to flicking his tongue and you oblige, letting out the noise. His other hand comes up to pinch and lightly twists, causing your mouth to fall open, before he switches and gives the right one the same kind of attention.

“Chris,” you whimper feeling your panties grow damp. You figure he must know what you want because he kisses down your stomach.

“You know,” he says before kissing your stomach.

“I’ve dreamt,” he kisses your flesh again, “About having my head between your legs,” he says before nipping at the skin of your hip. Your walls clench around nothing at his words.

“Dreamt of how you taste. Dreamt of hearing you moan my name like it’s the only thing you know,” he says as he pulls down your pants.

“And tonight,” he says before planting a kiss to your clothed core, “I’m not stopping,” another kiss, “Until I hear it. M’gonna make you feel so good baby,” he says and kisses the inside of your thigh. He flattens his tongue and drags it up the damp cloth covering you.

He feels you squirm, watching as your hips roll involuntarily.

“Patience baby, we got all night.”

“Chris I have work tomorrow,” you whine.

“If you’re able to walk tomorrow, I didn’t do my job.” He smirks before hooking his fingers into the fabric and pulling it down.

“God you’re so beautiful,” he says before diving in. His tongue is slow at first, teasing you with slight pressure to your clit, causing you to gasp and sit up, better watching him between your thighs. He chuckles against you, adding just a bit more pressure.

“Better enjoy this, I won’t be gentle all night,” he groans before lapping at your entrance, tasting you. He moans something sinful, eyes rolling back in his head.

“Knew you tasted good,” he says against you as he hooks his arms around your thighs, fully determined to make you see stars. His tongue applies forceful pressure, making you gasp as he curls it up and flicks it back and forth, the sensation causing your eyes to close, and body to go slack against the headboard. Chan flits his eyes up to you, smiling to himself when he sees the look of pleasure and relaxation on your face.

He teases your entrance with his finger, slowly inserting it and curling it upwards, hitting your sweet spot each time.

“Chris,” you moan out, hips once again moving against him as he continues his assault on your clit.

You whimper as he quickly adds another.

“Fuck,” you say as he moves them quickly, hitting the spot perfectly; tongue like lightening as your body tenses.

“Fuck I’m gonna cum,” you mumble, hand in his hair pushing his face into you.

“Fall apart baby,” he mumbles against you. You gasp, body shaking as you feel the heat in your stomach dissipate and your body shake against him.

Your chest rises and falls as Chris works you through your orgasm, slowly pumping his fingers as your walls attempt to suck them in.

“Such a good girl for me,” he praises kissing his way back up to you. His hand comes around your throat, causing your heart to tick right back up before his lips slam onto yours, rough and needy.

You whimper against him, desperate to touch and feel more of him.

“Chris please,” you whimper against him. He chuckles before helping you flip onto your stomach.

“I didn’t even have tell you to beg,” he whispers in your ear, smirk evident in his voice.

“That needy, huh? My needy little slut?” you groan as your cheeks tint a shade of pink. You hear his belt come undone and your body rushes with excitement.

“Hands,” he says as he positions himself on your back. You put your hands behind your back and feel his belt come around them, securing your wrists together.

“I told you I wouldn’t go easy all night.” He mumbles in your ear. He drops his pants, positions your hips up and teases your folds by rubbing his head up and down them.

“Christopher,” you warn as you desperately try to move your hips back. He audibly laughs at you.

“You’re in no position to negotiate, love.” He says and you can only imagine the dimpled smile on his face on right now as your cheek is pressed into the mattress.

You groan again and roll your eyes as he pushes in hard and fast making you choke out a moan. Chan smirks, drawing himself out slowly, only to slam into you again, hitting that beautiful spot inside you.

“God,” you choke out, eyes screwing shut. Chan sets a brutal pace, causing your forehead to dig into the mattress, breathing becoming labored quickly. Chris can feel your walls squeezing him, signaling your close, he slams into you even faster, helping your orgasm along by rubbing your clit. Your mouth opens in a silent cry, walls sucking his cock in.

Chris moans at the pressure as you come undone, but he isn’t finished.

“Fuck,” he groans as his hand wraps around your throat, pulling you up against him, fucking into you, body limp in his arms, legs slightly shaking.

“You can give me one more, yeah? I know you’ve got it in you. You make yourself cum at least twice in a night, so let’s see if we can break that record. Think you can do that for me?” he grunts as he kisses up your shoulder to your neck; his breathing now becoming more labored.

“Yes, daddy,” you whimper as you feel him slow down just a little, teasing you, before pushing you down on the bed, his back hovering directly over yours with long deep thrusts.

“You take me so fucking well,” he says with a kiss to your shoulder blade.

“Make me feel so damn good,” he grunts.

“And to think, you let other guys do what I could’ve been doing this whole time,” he grits his teeth, his pace picking up little by little until its punishing.

“I’m better than them, though. I can make your body tick by simply looking at you the right way,” he taunts with a cocky attitude.

“Isn’t that right, baby?” He asks and his palm lands on your ass cheek. You whimper as he lands another.

“Yes,” you call out; the sting a stark contrast to the pleasure.

“Fuck you’re gonna make me cum,” you whimper out, eyes screwed tight. You feel Chan slow down once again, and the restraints come off your wrists. Your arms cheer with relief as you’re able to bring them down and you flip onto your back, Chan repositioning himself, your legs wrapping around his waist.

“Fuck you’re so beautiful underneath me,” he murmurs as he slides in, causing both of you to moan together in harmony.

“I’ve wanted you for so long,” he whispers as his pace is slow and deep once more.

“Wanted to feel you around me,” he sighs as your walls flutter.

“Wanted to call you mine so many times and tell those losers you’d bring over to fuck off,” he says before dipping his head down and connecting your lips, hips rocking faster, his hand going to play with your puffy clit. Your breath hitches, and your noses touch as you feel your body begin to stiffen quickly.

“That’s my girl,” he whispers in your ear as his cock throbs.

“I’ve got you, baby. Cum for me,” he drawls. Your arms go around his neck, back arching into him as your nails go down his muscular back, drawing red lines down it as your walls clamp around his cock.

Chan moans, hips stilling as he cums with you. The two of you stay frozen like that for a moment, the initial shock of what just happened weighting over you. The two of you look into each other’s eyes. For what feels like hours, you stare at each other, unsure of what to say or what’s ok to feel.

Chan is the first to move. He moves some hair away from your face as you settle against the mattress, the moment surreal.

“You ok?” he asks cautiously. The tone of his voice calms your fears. A lazy smile spreads across your face before you bring his face down to yours.

“Better than ok.” You smile just before kissing his lips. Chan smiles into the kiss and pulls himself out of you, both of you wincing slightly. He looks at you, dripping with his seed.

“That’s so hot,” he whispers to himself as he slowly forces himself away to grab a towel. He comes back a little bit later, longer than normal, helping you clean up, and helps you stand, legs wobbly and body sore.

“Lets get you cleaned up, yeah?” you nod lazily, your body spent.

You walk into the bathroom, candles are lit and a small tray filled with snacks and water in sitting across the tub with warm steamy water underneath it.

“Come on, it’ll soothe your muscles,” he whispers in your ear.

“You’re joining me, right?” you ask almost innocently.

“If you want me to,” he says, not making eyes contact with you.

“Of course I do,” you whisper turning around and placing your hand on his cheek. He smiles and leans into it, kissing your palm.

You both step into the water, the warmth enveloping your muscles. You sink down into the tub, Chan behind you, rubbing your arms trying to help them relax.

“So how about you call out tomorrow,” Chan says in your ear, “And you let me pamper you, hmm?” he asks.

“I have to go back to work eventually.”

“I mean, you could just let me take care of you,” he says with a kiss to your shoulder before reaching around and opening one of the snacks for you.

“You know I like having my own money.”

“You don’t even hardly pay for anything anyways.”

“Chris,” you begin, “That’s because you always beat me to it.”

“Just one day,” he says.

“A three-day weekend,” he encourages.

“We can do whatever you want.” He entices. You blush and rest against him.

“Fine, I doubt I’ll be able to walk properly anyway, considering I looked like a baby deer just getting to the bathroom,” you joke.

Tags: @breakmeoff @thelovelybireader @crystal005 @velvetmoonlght

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[shadowlord420sgf]

⟡ ݁₊ . You Always Come Back (right?)

✮⋆˙ xxXshadowl0rd420Xxx | skips x reader .⋆♱

⌗ summary: Skips can't stop wondering if you'll leave him for good. So, he pulls you close and makes you promise- over and over again- that you're his forever …

⌗ warnings!: female reader, p in v sex, unprotected sex, shameless smut with feelings, possessive and clingy skips, SLIGHT mention of stalking/mastrubation, creampie, porn with no plot basically, established relationship …

⌗ author’s note: hi guys can you tell I don’t write a lot lmao + this is crossposted on my ao3 ! (the format is better there imo)

No matter how much you tried to tell him, Skips wouldn’t believe you. He couldn’t. Not when you’d leave him every morning, and only visit him at night. It hurt him. It physically hurt so badly that he wanted you, needed you, but could never keep you with him. “Skips, it’s fine,” you tried your best to assure him. “For you it is!” He cried, “Every time you leave me I have to wonder if you’ll even come back.” It pained you to see him like this, how his brows knit together in sorrow, all at the fault of your own.

“Why do you have to go in the morning? Why…Why can’t you just be a shadow and stay with me? ” He begged, noticeably closer to you now. “Skips…” you started, running your fingers through his long black hair, to which he groaned softly. “We both know it’s not that simple.” You whispered, trying to get him to understand on any level.

Before you could say another word, he pulled you in for a kiss. Merely a peck before he stammered, “Fuck- I’m sorry. I just…you’re so—” You shut him up by pressing your lips to his, deeper. One that set off whatever was spewing inside the two of you all this time. He groans into your mouth, low and needy, like he’s been starving for this (he has). His hands hold your face ever so gently, before moving lower and lower…Down your neck, shoulders, gripping at your hips. You can feel his heart beating against your own chest. Fuck.

A string of saliva connects your mouths as you’re forced to pull away for air. By now, you and Skips are panting hard, holding onto each other like your lives fucking depend on it. “My penumbra…” Skips mutters, and you sigh. That name always did it somehow. A whine escapes your throat on its own and Skips chuckles. His lips are on yours again, tongue roughly exploring your mouth as you both rush to take off your clothes.

Once you’re left bare, Skips pupils are blown wide and you swear he swallows his drool. “Just look at you, penumbra. The most beautiful woman alive.” Oh god, you couldn’t possibly have gotten wetter at his words. Skips brings his hand down to your sex, barely ghosting a finger at your slit. Your back arched as you whimpered, “Oh fuck, Skips please . I need you.” His hips bucked ever so slightly as he choked out a, “Say it again- please, please say it again for me.” Who were you to deny his sweet begging? “Ah- I need it, Skips, I need you. Need you inside me now pleasepleaseplease,”

With that, he thrusted into you with the greatest sound you’d ever heard in your life. “You’re—mnh— so f-fucking tight.. all for me, huh?” He moans and lets out a little shaky laugh, like he’s almost in disbelief of how incredible you always feel. You gasped beneath him, grinding your hips like you’re still so desperate for more, before mewling out, “Shit… Skips, please move— c-come on,”

You didn’t need to tell him twice. He pushes into you unbelievablely deeper, relishing at the way you hissed in the amazing pain of the stretch. “Ngh— my penumbra,” he pants, thrusting in and out of you before leaning down to kiss you once again. He swears he could actually die on your lips, tasting you, feeling you like this. “You’re mine , mmf… say it.” he whispers against your lips, and you nod hard, strings of yesyes,imyours,pleasedontstop leaving your lips.

“I’ll never let you go, you’ll be my penumbra forever,” he sighs into your neck, although you’re not sure if he’s telling you or convincing himself that. That didn’t matter. The only thing that seemed to matter was how warm and wet you were inside, how intimately he made love to you, how mesmerizing it looked between where your two bodies connected. “You feel.. so good.. Like you’re just made for this, made for me .” He practically pleaded. Oh, Skips. Why, why must it be this way?

You’re knocked out of your thoughts by Skips’ hand reaching down where you united, rubbing your clit in gentle circles. You squirm and moan hotly at the sensation, hands tangling in his hair, nails dragging down his back, like you don’t know where to put them— and you don’t, because you need to touch him everywhere. Where had he learned to do something like that? Probably when he watches you, when you think you’re all alone, late at night, hand sliding under your waistband as you make the sweetest sounds— which is unimportant at the moment…

Skips thrusts become sloppier, his pace uneven. Your heart fluttered at the way he moaned your name, just a little higher. Fuck, you knew what this meant and you couldn’t wait any longer. “Penumbra— I’m gonna come, fuck , I’m gonna come inside you, where it belongs,” He tells you, “ Come with me.. please, ” As if Skips commanded it himself, you feel the knot of pleasure building up in the pit of your stomach, getting harder to hold back until—

Fuck. Skips comes in you, hard, like— he’s trying to get you pregnant or something. You cry out as your orgasm comes crashing with his, creating a gushing mess between you. He pants and desperately whines your name as he makes sure to fuck all of his seed into you. You writhe under him, absolutely fucked out, seeing stars.

All that can be heard is your panting and his ragged breathing. It's beyond intimate, how you two hold each other in the softest way. “I love you, Skips. Okay? We’re both trying our best here.” You assured him with a kiss. Skips pulls you closer to him and sighs, “I love you too.”

[vicolette]

𝐒𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐝𝐲 𝐂𝐚𝐭 !

– Warnings : English isn’t my first language, uses of y/n, part two of Brother's Admirer, not proofread

"Why did you drag me here?"

Irene gave you a look that told you everything you needed to know, awkwardly avoiding her gaze as you stared at your suddenly-very-interesting shoes. Embarrassment washed over you as you now not only had to endure her teasing, as if that wasn't bad enough already, but also meet Pau.

Pau Cubarsí – the little brother of your friend, who was the psychotherapist of your mother. You had met Irene months ago, when she had randomly approached you and asked if your mother was her patient, and that is how the two of you became best friends.

Irene and you immediately hit it off, going on dates together and sharing a love for many interests, yet you never planned this.

You were in love with her younger brother.

Now, as you stood by the gates of FC Barcelona's training ground and heard some yells from the players, you felt your heart race incredibly fast, that it almost hurt you. With a dizzy min and a shaky voice, you struggled to maintain your composure.

"Wait-" Your friend suddenly said as she tapped her chin, wondering about something that was definitely not important. Before you could ask her to drive you home and get away from here, Irene lightly grazed her hair as she looked at you.

"Hey, I need to check if I still have something in my car." At that moment, you had genuinely believed her and gave her a nod, staring at Irene for a few seconds and then looking back at the facilities. All of a sudden, you didn’t feel her presence beside you and got the hint.

She was trying to hit you up with Pau.

A few quiet curse words left from your mouth as your gaze followed her figure, until she took a corner and eventually was out of vision. Some time after, athletes from the big club started to come out to get back home, who always stared at you. Raphinha had firstly thought you were a crazy fan, before you avoided his gaze and awkwardly whistled. Kounde just nodded at you and Lamine?

Oh, Lamine.

Lamine slightly narrowed his eyes, a smirk dancing on the corner of his lips before he practically came up towards you, dragging Pau behind him. Your heart dropped to your feet, publicly shaming yourself for every single life decision that brought you here.

"Yo! I know you." Lamine said with the very same way too much enthusiasm in his voice, his eyes sparkling with mischief as he tried to remember your name. "Who were you again? Y…"

"Y/n." Pau interrupted him on instinct, his eyes completely focused on your features before he turned his head to look away, earning a slap on his back from his best friend.

"Right! Well, I see you here sometimes." You nodded and were about your speak, yet your mouth was left hanging open before Lamine realized something.

"Oh, shit. I need to go, my dad is gonna be mad." Although you hadn’t met his parents, from what the media told you, they were actually pretty chill and not too strict. However, as you watched Lamine sprint to his father's car, you had thought otherwise.

Pau, who had met his parents, didn’t think so. It was obvious that Lamine was purposefully trying to keep you two alone, even if it wasn’t much of a smart decision when their teammates continued to walk out and they could only see two teenagers not even daring to physically touch each other.

"You know where Irene is?" Pau suddenly questioned, wiping the sweat off of his hands as he saw you lightly tense up.

"Yeah, said she needed something from her car, and then she would be back." You answered honestly with a shy smile gracing your beauty, making Pau also smile and nod his head.

Nevertheless, it soon became clear that she was taking her sweet time and not beating around a bush just to talk with someone, which was definitely not what the two of you were doing.

"So, uh-" As you tilted your head to look at Pau, confusion growing while he stared at you, he mentally started to beat himself up for even speaking, feeling his cheek get redder by the minute.

"Do you have a boyfriend?"

"Sorry, what?"

"Nothing! Nothing…"

And after that, it was pure silence as you stared at him with a shocked expression, before shaking your head 'no' and biting on your bottom lip. This was embarrassing.

"No?" Pau repeated, as if he couldn’t believe what you were saying, which was obvious by the way he looked at you up and down to both admire your beauty and to question every other man's choice of love.

In response, you could only laugh and shake your head in disbelief, surprised by how bold Pau was being. "No."

"Oh. Wow. Okay..?" He curiously remarked, blinking a few times to make his point clear. Meanwhile, you only felt your heartbeat speed up, feeling shy under his gaze.

"Wait, so that means that we can go on a date, right?" All of a sudden, he blabbered it out and gave you a stare that told you everything – he was dead serious.

"Well, yeah."

"No, wait." Pau raised his index finger to stop you from speaking, thinking for a while about his own words before he finally said his thoughts out loud, repeating himself. "Dear Y/n, do you wanna go out with me?"

His words were endearing to you, and even more so when you had noticed his obvious seriousness. Pau was a sweet boy, after all, bug you had never seen him from this perspective. "Sure, whenever you’re free."

Pau pumped his fist and grinned at you, awkwardly rubbing his nape as he realized how odd his actions were and muttered a quiet apology. Just then, you two felt Lewandowski walk by with his phone held on his hand in a suspiciously manner.

"Lewy." The said person stopped walking, hiding his phone in his pocket while he turned around to face you two with a big smile on his face.

"My favorite teammate, Pau!" He so clearly emphasized the word 'favorite', as if it would save him from being jumped by the younger. "What do you need?"

"Delete that video, idiot."

"Uh…" Lewandowski hesitated for a moment, or at least feigned hesitation, before a wide grin grew on his face as he already took some steps back. Pau followed with slow movements, before their movements began to speed up. "Nah, good luck on your first date, though!"

"Come back here, you bastard!"

– A/N : eighth I hate this the title doesn’t even suit ts

[chimckenns]

Showing vulnerability was something…foreign to Darlin’. They were so used to being on edge, reacting to other people’s actions, constantly being aware of what they might do or perceive them as.

Of course they never showed Quinn any of their real self. He was there for pleasure - a distraction from the loneliness they felt after running away from the pack.

And that clearly turned out well.

With Sam it felt different.

It wasn’t that they felt like they couldn’t show him any vulnerability in fear that he’d hurt them in some way.

Darlin’ was more scared that once they showed that side of themself he’d leave them alone.

Quinn always said they were a burden.

The last thing they wanted was to hear those words coming out of Sam’s mouth.

So they built up a mask.

They finally felt the touch of what heaven could feel like when the southern vampire made his way into their life. The last thing they wanted was for him to leave them.

They finally got a bit of their family back.

Darlin’ didn’t want to be alone again.

They spent five hours watching the love of their life be tortured by the poison of their past spilling out of Quinn’s mouth.

Five hours.

They couldn’t bring themself to look at Sam, afraid to see the look on his face as he heard everything they did with Quinn. Darlin’ kept their eyes to the floor, the only thing holding them together was David’s firm grip in their hand.

When they finally got the information about the girl out of Quinn, Sam came in the room, clearly exhausted, and wasted no time to pull Darlin’ into a hug.

Darlin’ didn’t reciprocate.

They felt like they didn’t have the right to anymore.

He knows how tainted they are now. The shit they did under Quinn’s control was out in the open. The past they tried desperately to hide was unearthed.

They kept their gaze on the floor, bracing for the moment Sam would tell them that he couldn’t do this anymore. That he wanted to leave. That they were more than he could handle.

That they were a burden.

The moments after felt like a blur, and when they blinked they found themselves in the living room of their home, sitting on the couch, with Sam next to them holding their hand.

Darlin’ couldn’t bring themself to say much. They tried listening to Sam’s words of comfort, but their mind kept echoing the toxicity Quinn had said moments before. It overwhelmed them, replaying over and over again.

That was all they were, wasn’t it.

A thrall. A blood bag. Something to be used.

How naive of them to think they could ever be more.

They spiralled, feeling themself slip away and start to accept the truth. Better to mentally prepare now for the inevitable. They’ll end up alone again. They were a fool to think they changed at all.

Darlin’ faded in and out, only registering some of the words Sam had said. They knew they should listen - it’s probably the last time he’d ever bother to talk to them. But the fear of hearing those words they dreaded kept them from focusing.

There was so much noise.

Sam’s hand on their cheek, gentle like he always was, stopped them in their tracks.

“Darlin’… you are nobody’s thrall. Least of all his.”

They finally looked up.

And he could see in their eyes that they were about the fall off the edge.

A singular tear spilled onto their cheek - a final call for help.

In one swift movement he gathered them in his arms, enveloping his whole body around them.

The comfort of his warmth helped them let go, and they released the dam of emotions they had built up over the months.

He held them through all of it, each sob racketing through their body like a shot to his heart. He held them like they did for him back when he was in a dark place, never letting go or loosening his grip.

The noise and mess of thoughts were immediately silenced the moment they fell into his arms. They didn’t know if it was the magic in him, but for the first time in what felt like a long time their head wasn’t splitting open, and they found themself relaxing in his embrace.

They almost forgot what peace felt like.

“I’m not going anywhere, Darlin’.”

[princessbumbles-blog]

ꪮꪊ᥅ ᦓꪻꪖ᥅ᦓ

ᴡʟғ!Aʙʙʏ × ʙᴇsᴛ ғʀɪᴇɴᴅ!Rᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

Content: fluff; Friends that like each other but are too dumb; Abby and more Abby

June, 2039

Pt. 3 - Afections

You were sitting on your rooms floor, Your back against your unmade bed, feeling your hands shake slightly against your will, when the door opened and closed.

"Dumbass" Abby's voice reaches you, together with her strong footsteps.

She went down those couple of stairs to your side of the room and stopped, staring at you.

"Did you really need to hide in here?"

She is joking, using that usual voice tone for moments when she is unsure about what to do.

"What happened?"

You really didn't want to speak, not because you were mad but because it felt like torture to make a sound. Any vibration seemed to make your anxiety worse.

"The usual" you manage to say.

"Which one"

"Don’t make me talk, Abby" you ask and the silence lingers.

You focus your eye's attention on the animals down there through the window in front of you. You loved them, the cows and the shep, they were so simple yet sometimes difficult to deal with, but it was the kind of trouble you feel grateful for having.

If nature is your biggest problem then your life is good.

"Nick told me you were out there and..."

"Maybe I should change positions" You interrupt her "And work on the farms"

Abby frowns. "You would hate cleaning their shit," she smiles, trying to strike one in you.

But It doesn't work.

"Better then having to kill a fucking kid" you say, in a monotonous voice tone.

You feel Abby's eyes on you, waiting for more explanation, but you can't, so you just bite the inside of your cheek.

"So, Nick said you encountered Scars and it all went to shit" Abby says "What happened?"

"Nothing"

"Why don’t you talk to me?"

"Because I don't want to!" You raise your voice. "I dont want to remember what happened"

Abby notices your shaking hands and looks again into your eyes. Glossy. You want to cry, but, like usual, you are trying too hard to block it.

She crosses her arms in front of your chest. "Get up"

You roll your eyes.

"Get up" She insists "You know what's going to happen if you don't"

You sigh, annoyed, blurting a "for fuck's sake" before aggressively getting up from the floor.

"Here, happy?"

"{Your Name}...." She calls your name softly.

Your eyes avoid hers, looking everywhere. Your hands find your arms whose skin is picked by your nails, a sign that you are either nervous or anxious, maybe both. Abby keeps her eyes on you, knowing it will eventually break you.

It took a while to figure out how to make you open up to her, after a lot of insults from you. Abby hates it in some part, because she always cries like a baby in front of you, melting instantly, but you are built like a rock.

She wants to make you melt too, so she repeats your name, gently, again and again before she starts to see the tears forming in your eyes.

"You can tell me. You know that. I'm here" she says.

A knot forms in your throat. "I...hm...I...the kid tried to....you know" a tear falls "he tried to ....so I ...shot him. On the head"

More tears fall and you hug yourself, still avoiding your friend's eyes.

"Then my hands started to shake and I.....I lost it."

"You had a panick attack?"

You nood, fast, trying to controll the huge wave of tears that were threatening your voice.

"I killed a kid, Abby I...a fucking kid for fucks sake. I killed a boy" you start to rumble, scratching your arms like your skin was bothering you.

Abby's hands flew to your wrists "Hey, hey...I know, I know" and she squeezed them, pulling them off your arms. "I'm sorry that happened. It's alright, you didn’t mean it. Unfortunately, it is the most common thing around here."

"It shouldn't be"

"Yhea, but....think that maybe you did a favour to that kid. He is at peace now, and not hiding away with hammers and wars"

You swallow, anxiously trying to find some relief on Abby's words, but the sensations on your body where corrupting your thoughts, disseminating panic everywhere.

"I feel sick" you cry out.

"It is just the anxiety" Abby says, but she knows dam well your fear of vomit is something irrational and extremely overwhelming.

"I feel so sick, Abby ...I'm scared." Your hands began to shake again under Abby's grip. "I'm so scared....Abby....Abby.."

"Shhh, I know. Breath in and out, it is not real"

Your lower lip trembles. Fuck, it is so rare to see you like this, Abby's chest tightened.

"Abby..." your voice breaks "What if I..."

"Nothing is going to happen" She says, with a determined tone "Come here"

As you feel your friends arms around you, you let yourself cry out the panic. Abby smeels the same, pine, so familiar.

"Everything's fine, nothing is going to happen" She repeats like a mantra, just like her father used to say. Like she wished someone had done that to her after his death.

But now, she had someone she wanted to protect, and it gave her a sense of comfort.

The next day, Abby was at Isaac's office, frustrated.

"She is too good. We need strong soldiers out there, strong, " Isaac repeats himself.

"Fuck that" Abby says "She did enough. You have a lot of strong soliders. Put her on the farms, she will be useful"

For some reason, Abby couldn't bear the thought of you out there again, dealing with shit that had nothing to do with you and ending up like last night.

"She will remain on ground coverage, end of story"

"I can take her shifts!" The girl exclaims

But Isaac just sighs.

"Is this friendship going to bring me trouble?" He raises his voice "There’s already you and Owen. Now, this?"

Silence.

"You better focus on your responsibilities, Abby, or do I have to intervene? I need loyal soldiers, not brats. Are we clear?"

Abigail stares at him, feeling the anger rise up and down her chest.

"Yes, Sir"

She had no other option.

"Good."

It was unfair. So unfair. Abby walked down the hallway with strong steps, frowning so deeply that people moved out of her away faster than usual.

She never cared for the injustices of the system Isaac had put up, but she was alone before and her goal occupied all the space in her mind.

But now, you existed. Your friendship started as something casual but it developed to something stronger, even tho Abby didn’t like to admit it.

You became an essential part of her life, like you have always been there in the first place.

"Hey Abs," Owen's voice makes Abby stop on her tracks.

There is only two people on that place that call her by the nickname her father used with her: You and Owen.

Him because he always did, and you because you started using it naturally, with such care and happiness that it actually gave Abby some sense of familiarity she hadn't felt in years.

"Hey" Abby says, turning around.

He stared at her in silence for a couple of seconds. "Bad day?"

Abby sighs, nodding with her head. "Isaac's being a dick"

Owen scoffs. They walk together with their shoulders bumping on each other. Too close to Abby’s liking, but she can't resist.

"It really sucks," Owen says after hearing what happened to you.

"Yhea, I'm really scared for her"

"She's a big girl. I'm sure she will be able to handle herself"

"She will, but...He could give her a break. I don't understand why he refuses"

"I mean, no one should receive special treatment"

Abby looks at Owen with a frown. His words were too direct and too brutal.

"Why are you being so mean?" She asks, automatically stepping away from him.

"I'm not trying to be mean. I just understand that if Isaac starts making favours like these to everyone, people would take advantage of that. He needs to give everyone the same treatment and opportunities, and that's on us to manage it"

Abby keeps staring at him, up and down, judging his words, trying to understand if he was being serious.

"Gosh, don't look at me so suprised!" He complains, with a smile.

"For someone so liberal and unhappy with your life, you sounded like a true loyal fucking soldier" The big girl crosses her arms in front of her chest, making Owen roll his eyes.

"C'mon Abs, I may be unhappy, but that doesn’t mean that I don't understand what Isaac needs to do to maintain a place like this functioning"

"So it is okay to ignore his soldiers' struggles?"

"No, but keeping this perception in mind helps me to not freak out. Like, I'm the only one who can make my life easier. " He opens his arms a little, like it is the quote of the year,"Maybe it can help {your name} too"

The girl remains in silence, digesting it, while he observes her. It's been a while since they had spent proper time together.

"You two are inseparable now" He comments "Is she that good of a friend?"

"What type of a question is that?" Abby laughs.

"Is she better than me?" He teases, bumping his elbow on hers.

"You are such an idiot" Abby says, just a tease she always does to him...like old times.

"Alright, but answer me. Do I have competition?"

"Holy shit Owen " She takes some steps foward, challenging "Are you jealous?"

He scoffs. "Please. I know nobody is better then me"

"Careful, your girlfriend may interpret this wrong"

"Always using the girlfriend card, uh?"

Both let out some laughs, like old friends catching up. But it wasn’t like that.

Owen was feeling weird, he hated it, how jealous he actually was because before you, he was the only one deeply close to Abby, but suddenly you appeared out of nowhere.

He had a girlfriend. He liked her. He and Abby were past now, it didn't work. But he hated the feeling of losing Abby. He hated that maybe you making her feel the way he used to make her feel.

However, he doesn't really hate you. He actually respects you, for being able to crack Abby open.

"She's weird, in a good away" Abby says, quietly "she makes me feel less alien, and she is also cool to be around"

It was a very short version of what Abby could actually say, but she didn't feel comfortable telling Owen about it.

"Good. That's good, Abs"

Later, after work, Abby entered the cafeteria that was buzzing with voices and laughs. She approached the usual table with some food, sitting by your side.

"That's why there's no really true Americans" Manny was saying, with his mouth full of food.

"Of course. We all are a mix of communities ...or nationalities, if you want to call it like that." You speak, giving Abby a quick smile.

"But if you were born in America then you are American" Nick says, sitting by Manny's side.

Abby nooded to some people passing by. That place was full, a little unsual, but maybe it was summer lightning up people's modds.

"Yes, but we sre discussing the blood argument. Like, what the fuck does being a pure American mean? Being white and dumb? We are a mix of people from everywhere. Oh, we are descendents from...shut up. Even cow's shit goes on the equation" You argue, angrily shoving some rice into your mounth.

Abby arches her eyebrown. "What hell are you three talking about?"

"Your girl here is throwing her intellectual knowledge at us," Nick mocks you, throwing a bit of rice at your arm.

"I'm just communicating the facts," you defend yourself. "You know, some of us actually read books, not just patrol schedules. STOP THROWING THE RICE AT ME GOD DAMMIT!!"

Manny and Abby laugh. "We heard Robert say some problematic shit earlier," Manny says. "She is calling him a fascist," he points at you.

"And isn't he? Oh wait, Nick, do you know what a facist is?"

"You are so fucking funny, aren't you?"

Abby's gaze stays on you, admiring the smile adorning your face as you tease Nick. It was so good to see you alive again. Your version from last night had nothing to do with this fierce and stubborn girl. Your eyes were shinning.

When she turns her head back to her plate, she notices Manny staring with a grin.

"What?"

"Nothing"

After eating, Abby slapped your arm slightly, signaling for you to get up and get out of there.

"Are you sleeping on her room again?" Manny asks, making her look between him and Nick awkwardly.

"Yhea?"

"Just checking. If I'm lucky I will be able to bring that nurse with me tonight" He blinks at Nick who laughs proudly at his friend.

In your room, your roomate, Max, was already sleeping, so you and Abby layed down on your bed, reading your books in silence by the lamp's light on the bedside tables.

After half an hour, you two put away your books and turn the lights off, staying in the silence of the dark, laying on your sides, staring at each other.

"How was your day?" Abby whispers.

"Good, I guess. Maybe just normal. And yours?"

"Normal as well"

You lift your hand, tracing the sides of Abby’s arm, like you do so many times.

"Can I braid your hair tomorrow?" You ask

"Sure"

Your fingers dance on her skin, building that nice sense of comfort in Abby's chest. She closes her eyes for some seconds, enjoying the feeling.

You drag your hands up her face, tracing the lines of it with your fingertips, slowly, feeling every inch, every curve of her nose, every bit of texture. Then, you slip one finger over her lips and she is quick to bite you.

You laugh, covering your mouth with your other hand to muffle the sound.

"Idiot" you whispered, and the only thing in response was Abby's muffled laugh.

Suddenly Abby's fingers are on your face, doing the same thing. It was not the first time, and probably wouldn't be the last. You two didn't know why you were doing it, it just felt too good to stop.

You closed your eyes as well, like if you focused enough, Abby could feel all the love you felt for her with her touch.

When her fingers reached your lips, Abigail was expecting some revengeful bite, instead, you kiss them, gently and lightly. She doesn't react, just stays there with her hand, and you kiss the knots on her fingers again, and again.

It was during nights like these, in the dark of your room, when the two of you would perform acts of affection, like it was natural. The limits of friendship didn't seem to exist, or maybe you two just didn't need it. Deep down, you wanted to share this kind of intimacy, and doing it with each other seemed...right? None of you judge the other, and together, you slowly explore, crossing the line step by step, without saying a word about it.

However, It was so confusing to you. On one hand, it happened too naturally and it felt too good to need to name it, but on the other hand, questions would rise.

Was this wrong?

Suddenly, you join your toungue, licking her fingers and making Abby pull them away. You muffled another laugh as Abby makes indignation sounds.

"Ew!!" She laughs "you are so dead"

You feel her hands grabbing you and her body coming closer so you scream silently, fighting Abby away but failing miserably, receiving her toungue licking your cheek in a pretty nasty way.

"Abigaillll!!!" You complain, using the sheets to clean your skin.

"Someone got what she deserved" she mocked you.

Abigail loved these nights, where she felt so free and careless. Without any pressure, any responsibilities or drama. It was just the two of you, laughing around, feeling good.

She never really questioned these acts of affection. At least not yet.

The two of you drifted into sleep, still tangled in the warmth that lingered after your playful clash.

In the morning, you woke up naturally, with your eyes opening slowly as though stirred by a breeze.

It was rare, but this morning, your body felt truly rested. Abby was still sleeping beside you, unmoved by the world, so you stayed still, listening to the soft rhythm of her breathing.

Her hand, as always, had found its way towards you in slumber, reaching, half-curled, almost touching. Did she know her hand sought you, even in her sleep.

So, you took it quietly, weaving your fingers with hers, tenderly, careful not to wake her. Her hand was so broad, calloused by the weight of life’s demands, but still pale and oddly delicate in your grasp. You thought, for a heartbeat, about kissing her knuckles again, but the thought drew too much of the world back in, and so you stayed still.

Everything, in that moment, was perfect. Despite all the violence you had to face every day, Abigail somehow made it all feel distant.

You smirked quietly to yourself. Manny truly did deserve a life changing head in for bringing her into your orbit.

With a sigh, you nestled just a little closer, forehead resting against her shoulder and her hand still curled in yours, now resting gently against your chest.

It felt so good.

Suddenly, Abby’s body shifted in her sleep, rolling towards you, and in one smooth, unthinking motion, she wrapped herself around you, pulling you tight like a child clutching a stuffed toy.

You froze.

Never had the two of you slept like this before. It was… intimate in a way you hadn’t dared imagine.

But Abby didn’t stir beyond that so it must’ve been an accident. Of course it was.

You tried to shift but Abby weighed like a fallen tree so you surrendered with a sigh, already spiraling through the thoughts of how impossibly awkward this would be when she woke up. Yet the heat of her body was an inviting weight. Your eyes began to flutter closed not out of sleep, but surrender, and gently nestled your face against the curve of her neck.

God. She smelled so good. Like something sweet and quiet.

Like the smell of a newborn soft and innocent and warm. You knew that scent. You’d once held a baby in the maternity wing of the base. But Abby also smelled like sunlight.

You’d only seen the sea once, on a rare warm morning where the waves met a meadow strewn with tiny white flowers the kind used in chamomile tea, you’d later learned.

She was that exact memory: brightness and breeze. And here you were, face buried against her skin, drowning in the scent of home.

Minutes passed like mist. Then, slowly, Abby stirred.

Still heavy with sleep, she shifted. Her brow furrowed faintly when she realized her arms were around something. She looked down and found you tucked there, but she didn’t jolt or pull away. She just yawned, adjusted her limbs, and let her eyes fall closed again.

How could this not mean something to her?

“Good morning,” she mumbled, voice cracked with sleep.

“Good morning,” you whispered into her neck.

“Sorry. Rolled right over you.”

“It’s fine.”

She shifted again, the weight of her arm draping back over you. “You’re so warm,” she said not annoyed, “I should get up, but you’re making it really hard.”

You laughed, though something cold unspooled in your belly. “You’re the one who tried to smother me in your sleep.”

At that, Abby deliberately collapsed her full weight on top of you just long enough to make your heart spike in panic. Then, with a smirk tugging at her lips, she rolled away and sat up, leaving you alone under the sheets.

She stretched, her long, sun-worn hair cascading down her back.

“Have you been having any nightmares?” you asked.

“Nope,” she replied casually, already rummaging for her usual pants.

“So I’m officially anti-nightmare,” you teased, making Abby turn to shoot you a playful grimace.

Once dressed, she ran her fingers through her hair in a quick sweep. “Weren’t you supposed to braid this?” she asked.

“Hell yeah. Come here.”

She sat on the edge of the bed, and you moved behind her, kneeling, your fingers already parting strands with practiced care. You started the tight, perfectly symmetrical braid she wore every day, and if done wrong, could break the day before it even began.

You day unrolled separately. Isaac wanted to catch up with you, witch made Abby nervous, while she was sent to the medical wing to help to carry boxes of new found stuff.

It was boring, but definitely better then going outside. She was not in a mood for that.

"So, how's the married life been?" Max, your roomate, asked.

Max was a very versatile girl. She could be doing anything. Teaching children how to read, fixing the jeeps or helping with an amputation. Somehow, she had multiple jobs, and today she was giving a hand together with Abigail.

"What?"

"I'm just kidding," She smiles. "I just noticed you have been sleeping a lot in our room"

Abby puts down a box with a loud bang. "Yhea, I mean, It is better then sleeping in the same space as Manny"

Manny was always the best excuse.

"Mhm, I see. If I had a very close friend I would probably have sleepovers every night as well. I guess I understand"

Abby noods, hoping it to be the end of the conversation. Oh, but she does't know Max.

"Actually" She goes again, opening a box and taking a bag of something Abby doesn't pay attention to "I can't spend that much time with my friends, I always need some alone time to recharge, ya know? However....I don't mind being with my booboo everyday"

"Your what??" Abby blinks, confused.

Max laughs. "Your face is so funny. Booboo is what I call my....crushes? Boyfriends? Girlfriends? Romantic interests? My special person? You know, that one person we can't get enough of"

The way Max is smiling, like she knows something or is accusing Abby of something she can't quite grasp.

"Right...yhea...I guess" Abby says, not sure what to say or even think.

"Don’t you get tired of {your name}?"

"Hum...No?"

After putting down one more box, Abby realizes Max's smile is even bigger.

"You are acting crazy, dude" Abby notes, looking her up and down. "Stop smiling like that!"

"Do you know {your name} likes girls?"

"What the...yes, I do, Max"

"Hmh. I'm just checking. I have had some friends like that too, you know, close friends. But we always ended up making out"

And with that piece of information, she grabs some medical stuff and turns around, happily disappearing through a door.

Abby stayed behind, frozen in place, realizing just now what Max was trying to imply.

☆▪︎☆▪︎☆▪︎☆▪︎☆▪︎☆▪︎☆▪︎☆▪︎☆

Note: It's been hard to express my ideas into English. Sorry if some parts are more developed than others. And sorry for the mistakes.

@lia-winther

[writeformesinpie]

Love Bound

Heeseung x Fem!Reader 

Summary - You shouldn’t have tried to escape. 

Genre - Yandere

Warnings - Suggestive, yandere themes, dub-con elements, restraints, handcuffs, implied kidnapping, obsessive behaviour, training, gaslighting, toxic relationship

Word Count - 1.1K

A/N - This is part of the 2k follower event from this request. I hope you like it and thank you for the request! 🥰

Struggling against the cool metal you twist your wrists back and forth, pulling your thumb and pinky finger together to try and push your hands through the biting grip of the handcuffs. It’s useless. They aren’t the toys you’re used to playing with.

The bed is comfortable, down bedding and egyptian cotton, but your arms held up above your head makes it hard to do anything except think. Which is what he wants.

There’s nothing else in the room besides a dresser and a little side table which you can’t reach even when you strain against the cuff and jut your leg out towards it. There’s nothing to use as leverage. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit!

What had he said? Something about knowing your place? Then he left you to sit and wait for him like a dog. The only light in the room is that from the small bulb, behind the corner which leads up to the main part of the house, that illuminates the area enough to see monsters in the shadows.

The temperature is perfect, exactly where you need it for the cute little matching set of pyjamas he made you wear. Silk shorts and a lacy camisole. Black with a spicy red trim. The material drapes across your skin, hugging it like an old friend.

It makes your skin crawl knowing he picked it out specifically for you. What did the clerk at the store think when he was browsing for it? Let’s be serious, she probably wished he was buying it for her.

Heeseung is the type of guy who knows how to garner attention, his stunning looks and the way he holds himself demands it. Not to mention he oozes money. Women love that. It’s not that he’s necessarily a fashionista, it’s just so very easy to look good when you have money. Not that he even needs to try. He always looks good. It’s maddening.

The click of a door closing echos out down the hallway outside the room, followed by light steps padding down the stairs letting you know he’s back before he rounds the corner. His face is in shadow until he flicks on the light. He’s holding a water bottle, the liquid inside a putrid green brown mix. Black jeans and a white shirt. He’s keeping it simple today. Is it the weekend?

“How are you feeling?” he asks, crossing the room and setting the bottle on the nightstand.

“How do you think I’m feeling?” Raising a brow you jangle the cuffs together. “When are you going to let me go?”

“I want to.”

“Then do it. You can release me right now.”

“I would like that,” he says, sliding across the bed, his long limbs bringing him next to you in quick succession. Crawling across your lap he wraps his arms around you, a smile on his face. It’s calming. You don’t like to admit it but his smile can light up a room. “If I could trust you, if I knew you wouldn’t try to escape again, I'd let you go right this instant.”

“Then do it. What’s stopping you?”

“Do you think I like to keep you tied up down here?” He sits up, his face devoid of emotion. When you shrug he continues, “I’m doing this because you need to learn where you belong.”

“I belong here. I belong with you,” you whisper, holding back the anger that threatens to erupt from within. He stares at you for a moment before his smile returns. Sliding down he nuzzles his head in your lap. “I won’t leave.”

“I could stay here forever.”

“I want to touch you, Hee. Let me use my arms,” you plead, swaying your arms back and forth against the headboard. “Don’t you want me to?”

“Mmm,” he hums, his eyes closed. “Let me rest a little longer. It’s been a long day.”

Scrunching your fists up into little balls you stab your knees into his side alternatively back and forth until he rolls off. His eyes are wide for a moment before they narrow. Pinning you down, his knees on either side of your hips, his fingers dig into your jaw tilting your chin up to look at him.

“This is why I can’t let you go. You haven’t learnt a thing.”

Your scowl is quickly morphed into a grimace as his fingers bore deeper into your skin before he pulls your face to his, his lips on yours in an instant. You bite into his lip. Hard. His fingers dig even further into your skin and you worry he might puncture through the skin as you cry out from the pain. The metallic taste of blood drips into your mouth as his tongue slides against yours with tentative daps. Testing the waters, or rather testing you. If you bite him again, who knows what he’ll do.

Tears spring at the corners of your eyes as you think how much you used to love the man in front of you, how much you maybe still do. If he didn’t have this need to possess you, to own you, the spell he created for you would never have broken. You would be oblivious to his true intentions and wouldn’t that be better than this?

“Heeseung, please,” you whisper the words between kisses, his soft lips melting into yours and you almost forget the reason you’re so angry at him. Almost. If it wasn’t for the throbbing pain in your arms, in your wrists. “Please.”

“What, baby?” he murmurs against your neck as he kisses down your jaw.

“Please. At least let one arm go. I can’t feel them anymore. I’m scared.” You let the tears tumble forth to punctuate the point. “I won’t try to leave. I promise, Hee. I don’t want to lose my arms. Please don’t hurt me anymore.”

He pulls back and for a moment and you think he’s going to leave before he slides across to the small table next to the bed. Pulling out the key he leans down next to you and whispers, “You best not try anything, sweetheart. Because you won’t like what happens if you do.”

“I won’t.”

You won’t. Not this time.

The click of the handcuffs releasing you from their inflexible grip leaves you with a sense of relief. A smile creeps across your features as you pull your hands to your chest, twisting them a few times before you rub at the marks the restraints left on them.

“Your poor wrists,” he says, kissing the red line around them. “Maybe next time you’ll do what I say the first time I ask.”

Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed this content! If you did, please consider liking, commenting, reblogging and/or following, and check out my masterlist for similar content. Have a great day!

[bweeeb]

BATH BREAK

Summary: The reader wants to please Pedro before leaving home.

Warnings: blow job, couple without restraint, they fuck like rabbits, short, bad writing, bullshit, love this and hate it

requests are open, I write anything!!!

Morning 《 》 rounds game

Pedro stood under the stream of hot water, eyes closed, trying to pull himself back together. His arms were braced against the shower tiles, steam rising around him as he breathed deep through his nose.

A quick rinse. That was the plan.

His thighs were still sore from the way you rode him earlier, and the ghost of your nails was still carved into his shoulders.

But of course, you had zero intention of letting him recover.

You stepped into the shower quietly, barefoot, naked, your skin already glistening with steam by the time you slid in behind him. You let your hands glide up his back slowly, just grazing.

He tensed.

— Baby… — he said without turning. — We alread—

You leaned forward and kissed between his shoulder blades, then lower, letting your lips graze the curve of his spine.

— You said this was going to be a quick shower.— —It was. It is. — he said, voice already wavering. — We’ve got shit to do, remember?—

You let your hand slide around his waist, trailing lower, until your fingers wrapped around the base of his cock — already twitching to life.

— Doesn’t feel very quick to me.— He cursed under his breath, bowing his head as you began to stroke him slowly under the water, your body pressed to his back, warm and wet.— Fuck, cariño…—

— Thought you said you needed recovery time — you whispered in his ear, licking the shell of it. — You wanna tap out, baby? Or are you gonna let me take care of you?— He turned fast, one hand grabbing your hip, the other your face, holding your eyes with that heat that always made your knees weak.

— You’re playing with fire — he warned, voice low. You smirked.

— Then burn me.— Before he could say anything else, you dropped to your knees right there in the shower, the warm water cascading over your back, soaking your hair, your lashes — and you looked up at him, tongue sliding slowly across your bottom lip. Pedro gritted his teeth, his hand reaching instinctively for your hair.

— Jesus fucking Christ…— You didn’t wait. You wrapped your lips around the head of his cock, slow at first — gentle, teasing — but then deeper, taking him down your throat inch by inch. You felt his legs tremble under your hands as you gripped his thighs for balance.

— Fuck, baby, just like that… — he groaned, his voice raw, full of desperation.

You set the pace — slow, deliberate sucks that had him twitching in your mouth, his hand tightening in your hair but never forcing. Just holding on. You pulled back only long enough to pant: — I want you to come in my mouth. Can you do that for me?—

— You’re gonna kill me — he whispered, eyes shut.— No, baby. I’m gonna ruin you.—

You swallowed him again, deeper this time. Faster. His abs flexed under your palms as his body started to shake.

— Shit, I’m gonna— And he did.

With a growl that echoed in the tile, hips jerking forward, hand tangled in your wet hair, he spilled into your mouth as you moaned around him, taking everything he gave you. You stayed there until he twitched, sensitive, pulling you gently off with a shaky breath.

You stood slowly, licking your lips, smug as hell.

— Still think this was gonna be a quick shower?—Pedro pulled you to him, kissing you so hard it stole your breath, his hands running down your back, gripping your ass with a growl.

— You’re officially not allowed to call me the filthy one anymore.—

— Oh, but I am the filthy one, baby. I just know how to act innocent until I’m on my knees.—

He bit his lip, looking you up and down.

— You're marrying me just to destroy me, aren’t you?—

You grinned.

— Exactly—

[ladykailitha]

Shut Up and Drive Part 4

If you didn't see chapter three, it is not your fault, Tumblr has hidden the damn thing and it's been two weeks. I can see it on my dashboard and even through the app, but site wide and on browser, nada! I even looked through it and couldn't find anything mature to shadow ban it. Hopefully you'll be able to see this one and it'll have the link to the third chapter.

This story is almost complete. I just have one or two more chapters to go and it's done. I am so excited for you guys to see the end.

In this we have Eddie in AP history, along with Robin and Steve. Yes, Steve. I am still on my Steve is smart and a history nerd agenda.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

~

Monday morning was rife with speculation on who had called the cops. Eddie chuckled as the racers tried double speak their way out of revealing themselves to their peers.

The only one who wasn’t there come Monday was Steve Harrington. The rumor mill was as much a buzz with his absence as they were with cops breaking up the races.

Eddie had his own theory on who had called the cops. It was either King or Chronos. King for being beat to hell and not being able to race and not wanting to lose. Or Chronos for not wanting to go up against King and lose.

Then he spotted Tommy Hagan.

He looked smug as hell and suddenly Eddie got it. Holy shit, that asshole! He knew Chronos was going to beat King or at least get a hell of a lot closer than Titan would have and didn’t want to be shown up in front of everyone.

Eddie was tempted to go over there and punch Tommy in the face, break a nose, knock out a couple teeth, but he promised Wayne he wouldn’t start any fights, but he was allowed to finish them.

Billy Hargrove caught him staring at Hagan, though. “Hey Munson, take a picture it’ll last longer. Never mind, you’d fwap to the photo.”

“You jealous, Hargrove?” Munson shot back. “You worried I’ll stop jacking off to your picture?”

Billy flexed his arms as if he was going to hit Eddie, but just then a teacher walked by, and Eddie fell in step with them, keeping the teacher between Billy and himself.

The teacher looked over at him and then sighed. “I know what you’re doing Mr. Munson, and I do not appreciate being used as a human shield.”

Eddie grinned down at him. “But Mr. Burton, I am merely on my way to class and we are going the same direction. Besides I am sticking to the edict of avoiding fights with my peers.”

Mr. Burton shook his head. “I thought you had Mrs. Click this period and I am certain she is on the other side of the building.”

“Then are you not heading for your own class, Mr. Burton?” Eddie asked all wide eyed. “I assumed that to be the case when I started walking with you, as your class is right across from hers. You know, both being history teachers and all.”

Mr. Burton turned and looked up at him with a small smile. “I can’t pull the wool over your eyes, you got me. You are going the right direction. I just wanted to see if I could trick ya.”

“Mr. Burton! You tease!” Eddie gasped. “They should take back your teacher of the year award for being so saucy.”

Mr. Burton laughed. “How do you think I got the award in the first place?” He winked at him.

Eddie never had a problem with his history or English classes, so he always got along with the history teachers. Well... most of them. Mrs. Click was a damn fine history teacher, but no one liked her.

“I wish I was in your class this year,” Eddie admitted, ducking his head.

Mr. Burton patted his arm in sympathy. “I know. I also heard she’s flunking you and that’s one of the reasons you’re not graduating.”

Eddie let out a shuddering breath. “I don’t know why I’m forced to take a history class again, anyway. I have enough credits for history. It’s math, science, and PE that I need.”

“I don’t know, Eddie,” Mr. Burton said sadly. “But I’ll see if I can get together with a couple of the other teachers and see you can’t graduate based on your actual credits and not just them having you repeat your senior year ad nauseum.”

“Thanks, Mr. B.,” Eddie replied with a pained grin. “This is me, so I’ll see you around.”

“Bye, Eddie.”

Eddie slumped down in the desk farthest from the front of the room and waited for the rest of the students to file in. Mr. Burton might be ignorant about why Mrs. Click was failing him, but Eddie had no such delusions. He was in her AP class and she was so sure he was cheating instead of, you know, actually knowing the subject.

He watched as the other students filter into the class. It was a strange mish-mash of juniors and seniors and then whatever the fuck he was.

The smartest of the juniors were Robin Buckley and Fred Benson. They definitely deserved to be there. Most of the class were seniors and the greatest dark horse of the class, even more so himself was Steve Harrington and as near as Eddie could figure, he was writing Mrs. Click’s tests.

He was that good. And because he was that good, she let him get get away with murder. He loved to stroll in fifteen minutes late with a bagel that he would eat, making a mess.

That wasn’t even the worst part of the bagel. It was the way he would chipmunk the thing, his cheeks bulging with the large pieces of bagel that he would shove into his mouth. Eddie had to moved directly behind the guy so that he wouldn’t go feral at the sight.

But there would be no bagel porn today because Harrington was home sick. Thank whatever higher power was out there for that.

When Buckley walked in and saw that the seat in front of her was empty she sighed with relief. Most likely for a similar but opposite problem Eddie had. While Steve was Eddie’s crush, he was pretty sure Steve was drawing all the attention away from her crush.

Which even as far as girls went, Tammy Thompson was not on Eddie’s radar at all. Like sometimes he could tilt his head and go, ‘oh yeah, she’s cute’ and not want to bang said girl, but Tammy? He just didn’t get it.

Yes, yes. He knew he was being hypocritical with the Steve crush especially with what he told Jeff just a couple of months ago. But Steve seemed to grow on him.

Not that Steve improved upon closer inspection. Steve was still a smart ass with more sass then sense. But instead of irritating him like it had done in the past...Eddie found it...argh...cute!

He kept that shit to himself though.

He suffered through the class and shambled out the door to his next class, which thankfully was was Mr. Cohen’s class. Science fiction and fantasy writing. Eddie had taken it as an elective to see he could get more English credits.

Mr. Cohen was also the journalism teacher and yearbook supervisor. So he was having the class write poems and shit for the Reflections magazine because there was a distinct lack of interest that year.

Poems were just song lyrics not set to music yet, so Eddie was a having the time of his life.

“The king on his steed

A heart filled with greed

Races to fill some other need

He rushes forward thundering at great speed”

Okay so it wasn’t his best, but he got Mr. Cohen to laugh at all of them rhyming so he counted that as a win.

“All right, class,” Mr. Cohen said after the bell rang. “We going to read a relatively new book in the sci-fi genre called ‘Ender’s Game.’ It came out in January but it took me this long to get it approved for this class. So I want everyone to come up and pick up a copy. On the inside of each book is a number from one to twenty-seven, you will put your name on the signout sheet next to the number of your book. Please do not outline, draw in, or otherwise deface this book, if you do or you lose it, you’ll pay for it, do you understand?”

The class nodded.

They all filed up to the front of the class to grab their book. Eddie hung back until almost everyone else had picked up theirs. He strangely got number eight, but he dutifully put his name to next to the number and shuffled back to his desk.

“All right, everyone,” Mr. Cohen said. “I want everyone to start reading chapter one to yourselves. Then be ready on Wednesday to talk about your thoughts.”

Eddie started reading the book and was immediately drawn into the world, he was pretty sure he finish the book by tonight.

Which meant he would probably reread the thing several times before the class was over. Which was a plus as far as he was concerned.

He was actually disappointed when the bell rang for lunch. He shoved the book into his backpack and made for the lunch room.

Again not having Harrington gaze at, made for dull lunch. Well he would have to make his own entertainment then.

He got up on the lunch table and starting a rant about how unless the kid enjoyed it and wanted to do something with math or science, students shouldn’t have take them past the basic level. He was never going need to know the golden ratio or e=mc2 or whatever working for the factory down or as a mechanic.

Just as the principal came rushing in Eddie leapt off the table and neatly on his feet.

“Hi!” he said brightly.

“How many times do I have to tell you not to climb up on the furniture of this school,” Principal Higgins snarled. “Just because you were raised in a barn does mean you get you get treat other people’s property like you’re an animal.”

“Ahh...” Eddie said with the tilt of his head. “I wouldn’t go around talking about my mom that way if I were you. It’s not her fault she got cancer and passed away.”

Principal Higgins looked like he had swallowed a very sour lemon. “Just don’t do it again, do you hear me, Munson?”

Eddie just grinned at him, hands on his hips, staring him down. Eddie cocked his eyebrows and tilted his head, daring the principal to put him in detention, suspend him, or out and out expel him.

Principal Higgins did none of those things. He turned on his heel and stormed off, snarling something at one of the lunch ladies as he passed.

“Well that wasn’t very friendly,” Eddie told the assembled students. “Lunch ladies are sacrosanct, everyone knows that.”

He walked up to the offended lady in question and offered to buy her a Coke, one which she gratefully accepted.

He went back to his table and Jeff glared at him. “You do know you only need two years of both math and science, right?”

“And what good is algebra or geometry going do me working at Thacher’s Tires?” Eddie growled back. “All I need is to know fractions and weights and measurements. I don’t need to find pi or know the circumference of a circle to change a fucking tire.”

“No, but you need to know the radius of the tire to make sure you don’t put the wrong one on,” Jeff said cocking his head to the side.

Eddie blinked at him for a moment. “Well, shit.”

“Hey, leave him alone,” Brian bit out. “He just found out that it was those two classes that held him back. Again. They’re not for everyone. And yeah some basic geometry is required for life, but pass me on needing to know what a fucking cosign is for working at Bradley’s Big Buy.”

Jeff’s jaw dropped. “Oh. Damn, man. I’m sorry, I didn’t know.”

Eddie picked at his pretzels and kicked the leg of their table. “It is what it is.”

“Still,” Jeff said with a heavy sigh. “I shouldn’t have yelled at you like that. I know it’s tough for you.”

“It’s okay,” he mumbled and went back to mindlessly chewing on his sandwich.

It didn’t even have mustard on it. It wasn’t like he forgot, it was that they couldn’t afford to get to the store. All the money he made over the weekend went to buying tires for Wayne’s truck. They were starting to get more bald then the owner of the truck and that was dangerous.

Which meant no mustard for his bologna sandwich.

He jumped when something landed square in the middle of his lunch box. He picked it up and it was one of those mustard packets you get at ballparks and the State Fair. He looked up to see Jeff looking at him.

“The deli my mom gets her pre-made sandwiches from,” Jeff said, “comes with little packets of mayo and mustard and since I don’t like mustard I figured you could use the extra.”

Eddie swallowed around the lump in his throat. It was as good as an apology as any. “Thanks, man.”

He ripped open the packet with his teeth and smeared it all over one side of his sandwich. He took another bite and moaned happily, mustard catching on the edge of his mouth.

“Gross,” Jeff said shaking his head and throwing napkins at Eddie’s face, one of them managing to stick to the glob of mustard.

Eddie cackled, wiping off his face. “Mustard is the seed of life, dude. You are seriously missing out.”

“Seed of life or not,” Jeff huffed, “that stuff is nasty. I can smell it from here.”

Brian shrugged his shoulders. “Mustard isn’t that bad. I like it in my mom’s meatloaf and in my potato salads.”

“But that’s mixed with other things to mask it’s vile nature,” Jeff insisted. “Anywhere else and you’re beggin’ the devil’s pardon.”

Eddie sat back with a smile on his face, already feeling a little better than when he started his lunch.

The lunch bell rang and he packed up his stuff, listening his friends talk among themselves, thinking today hadn’t be a complete bust.

As he made his way to his last class he over heard a couple of rich kids talking about some big party that was happening that weekend because their parents were going to be in Indy for the weekend.

Eddie slowed down as he took in the details. Things were definitely looking up.

~

Jeff's views of mustard are the views of the author. :D

ETA: Mr. Burton is a real person, or was I'm pretty sure he's passed considering he was my dad's teacher mentor when he did his student teaching. My 8th history teacher and he was exactly like this. He would start each class with a joke and it would always be terrible. And yes, he even got teacher of the year for his sass.

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