#I just bought his skin and know I am going insane

[von327]

PGR Chrome Headcanons!

Because of being a perfectionist always that the strike hawk members are out would organize and clean the whole dormitory.

At least one time per week will host some kind of little event for the Strike Hawk members, eventually calling the gray raven commandant to join.

Is a hopeless romantic and cry while watching drama/romance.

When out with commandant and felling insecure would want some kind of touch, be it just holding the commandant arms or hands or a side hug.

During missions break on earth would look for books or other tipe of media from the golden age to study by himself.

Likes to study humanity Victorian era.

When possible will ask the Gray Raven members about the commandant health.

During events where the commandant and John Smith are in the same room want to put himself in a role (he knows the tension is because of him).

Knows how to dance because of how he was raised.

Also know instrumenta like flute, violin and piano.

Likes classical music.

Knows how to cook very well ( he's the perfect malewife).

I believe that if he falls in love with someone, be the commandant or other, very soon he would want to form a family, even if he's a construct.

Is easy fooled by others with tricks for him to feel ashamed.

Extremely shy with anything out of his duties ( basically his comfort zone).

Is the little spoon for sure (⁠◕⁠ᴗ⁠◕⁠✿⁠)

Always needs to be remembered of how he's important for the people around him ( the poor baby is really insecure).

That's all folks.

[jj-one]

9:20 AM.

Jungkook (your boyfriend) knew exactly how to make you feel good, only he knew how to please your body.

pairing: bf!Jungkook x gf!reader genre/tags: smut, fluff, teasing, dom!jungkook x sub!reader, marking, jungkook has a tongue piercing, fingering, oral (f. receiving), mentions of crying (from pleasure), female orgasm words: 1.2k

**old repost from my deleted blog

You were excited for your boyfriend to come back home from his morning jog. You woke up after he did and he left the cutest little handwritten note on the refrigerator. It said on the note that he went out for his morning jog and is heading to the market after to pick a few things up for tonight’s dinner. You smile at his note and thought it was so sweet how he could’ve just sent a simple text but wanted to go the extra mile by handwriting a note for you. Deciding to do your own thing while he’s gone, you pick a romantic comedy movie to watch on Netflix to pass the time. Patiently waiting for Jungkook to arrive back home, you heard the door suddenly unlock and hurry to get up to go leave out of your room.

“JUNGKOOK!” You shout eagerly, almost pouncing on him once he gets through the door.

“Y/n, my baby girl,” He greets you back with a doting smile, wrapping his arms around your waist, encasing himself into you.

You wasted no time to start kissing him, immediately going in to grab his pretty face with both of your hands, crashing your lips into his. He must’ve been thinking about doing this all day because once you two start making out, he carries you straight into both of your guy’s bedroom and places you gently onto the bed.

Jungkook knew exactly how to make you feel good, only he knew how to please your body. He’d begin by peppering your jaw and neck with a plethora of kisses, leaving a faint trail of hickies behind. He’d also be rubbing your inner thigh with his large hands that always turn you on every time you look at them. The prominent veins on his hands and arms when he flexes just a teensy bit is enough to make you cum in your panties.

“I love you so much,” Jungkook murmurs against your skin, still kissing and sucking on your neck as if he’s a vampire.

“Love you too koo— fuck…” Your response was interrupted by what he was doing to you next. Jungkook’s tattooed hand makes its way down to the tight shorts you were wearing. The shorts were pink and had a cute hello kitty design on them, Jungkook was the one who bought them for you actually. He’s always loved seeing you in the clothes he bought for you over the years, acting like a little kid on Christmas.

Jungkook is rubbing you over your shorts and the friction is driving you absolutely insane. You can just feel how wet you’re becoming, the juices from your heat start to overflow; seeping through your panties and he feels you throbbing on his fingers. He’s got a sinister look on his face and you already know that means you’re in for something amazing to make your morning.

“Sheesh baby, look how wet your pussy’s getting…” Jungkook looks in awe, hissing at the sight of a giant wet spot forming in your panties after he took off your tight skimpy shorts.

Jungkook begins caressing, kissing, and licking your lower body, touching every curve and crevice of you, not missing a single spot. His touch is so gentle, so warm, so inviting. His tongue rolls along the inside of your thigh, the steel metal of his tongue piercing feels cold but the sensation tingles down your spine. Flinching from the action he performed, he notices straight away, eyebrows raised in a sudden stir of confusion.

“You okay baby?” He asks softly before continuing, wanting to make sure nothing he did hurt you.

“Y-yes, just feeling a little sensitive that’s all…” You say quietly.

You feel him smile against your soft flesh, planting more wet kisses against yours thighs and laid his head there for a while to feel your warmth.

“I could be like this all day y’know?” He basks in your presence, speaking in a mumbled tone, half his face still buried in your thighs.

“I know koo.”

Jungkook raises his head a tiny bit just to face your clothed pussy again. He couldn’t stop smiling like an idiot, bringing his face—specifically his nose, closer to you to get a whiff of your sweet aroma. He practically buries his nose into your panties and drags it down your slit.

“You smell so good..” He was intoxicated by your scent, loving the natural, but fragrant essence.

He licks a stripe to your clothed core, making you moan out loud and bring your hand to latch onto his fluffy hair. You love to play with it and make it a mess of his hair after he’s done giving you the best head of your life.

“You taste really good too babe,” Jungkook couldn’t get enough of you, he was literally drunk off your pussy.

You were so desperate for him to take your panties off as you were starting to make more of a sticky mess in them but he seemed to be enjoying it more that way. He wanted to prolong the action of coming into contact with your bare pussy. He wanted to tease you so much until you were begging for him to touch your clit. You wanted nothing but his tongue against your wet folds right now.

“J-jungkook…” You mutter so lowly, he almost couldn’t hear you.

“Hmm, what’s my name baby?” He asks while still teasing your entrance, now sliding one of his fingers inside your floral panties.

“Jungkook!” You moan louder this time, feeling somewhat better that you’re almost getting to where you want to be.

“Want you to scream my name for hours, can you do that for me babydoll?” He asks in a serious tone, pushing his finger in and out of your soaked cunt.

You nod submissively, “o-okay daddy..” arching your back against the bed from the amazing feeling, Jungkook knows exactly how to use his fingers on you.

He kept fingering you harder and deeper until you look him in the eyes and visibly start to tear up from all the pleasure he’s giving you. It’s so good but so unbearable at the same time. He made you feel like you were in heaven, crying out his name, just saying “Jungkook, Jungkook, Jungkook” on repeat whilst he’s finger fucking you. He’s scissoring your tight hole from the inside out and your juices were now running so far down your legs. You were super close to your orgasm and he could tell by the contorted face you were making.

“Jungkook… Jungkook.. fuck I’m gonna cum!” You scream for him, eyes rolling to the back of your head and your vision was going insanely blurry.

“Yeah baby that’s it, just relax…cum for daddy,” Jungkook coaxes you through it, encouraging you to reach your high but still adding slight pressure to your clit. You couldn’t take it anymore, just letting go and being in eternal bliss as you reached your climax. You moaned his name a couple more times and he called you his good girl for cumming when he told you to. You went back to making out and he was now massaging your boobs.

“You’re really horny today, huh?” You ask Jungkook, stifling a giggle at his overly naughty behavior.

“The real question should be when am I not horny whenever I’m with you y/n..” Jungkook shamelessly admits, grabbing your face once again to kiss you harder.

At least you can say you don’t have issues with satisfying your man in the bedroom !

[destinationtrekk]

arcadia

This is only a dream, and you will never hear that laugh again.

1.9k, wesker lives, referenced sex, flashbacks, angst with a happy ending, also kind of ambiguous ending, descriptions of depression

a/n: all my fics are cross posted to my ao3. named after the lana del rey song. also, i have a post-re5 wesker playlist if anyone wants it!!!

-> masterlist

-> arcadia on ao3

This day starts out like every other day since he died. 

You wake up an hour before your alarm, though you think it’s generous to say you woke up if you never really slept. Your bedside clock reads 5:09 am, and you crawl out of bed anyway. You start getting ready for work, carelessly throwing on something vaguely professional looking. You had taken up managing a few of his labs. Not doing any real science of course, you were never as smart as him, but helping with hiring and on-boarding, being the pretty face that introduces young people to the insanity that is - was - his world. 

You think they pity you, his employees and peers, because they ask quietly how you are, what have you been up to, how are you liking the job? You know they just want the gossip on how their dead boss’ widow is surviving without him. You had no clue where his money came from, or his nice house, his expensive cars, your expensive car he bought you. You had just taken everything he gave you with a blush and a smile, with devotion to him that ran deeper than blood. 

You were worried, once you were able to stop crying and pleading for him to come home, how you could possibly manage to handle his assets. You quickly realized he had taken care of it, he had taken care of everything, just like he always had. A lawyer stopped by and handed you a few files, apologized kindly, and left. You only read enough to know that the house was yours, and you had enough money in your bank account to last you the rest of your life, if you were smart with it. 

Now, you look at yourself in the mirror, your eye bags covered perfectly in makeup, and you feel sick. His towel is still hanging behind the door. His cologne is still sitting next to your perfume on the counter. You can’t bear to touch either. 

You drive his black Jaguar to work. You remember when he brought it home, angry after a long day and storming into the house like there wasn’t a sparkling new car in the driveway. You had calmed him down, and kissed him sweetly until he let you drive it to town for dinner. You park the car at the lab and don’t look back. 

Your day drags on but you can’t remember any of it. Everyday feels like this. You smile politely and drink coffee, shake hands and sit in meetings, drink more coffee. After lunch you make two cups of coffee, and you stare at the second cup with too much sugar and no cream until your eyes burn. You give it to an intern and ignore them when they try to thank you. 

Your drive home is stunted by an hour of traffic, so you turn the music up until your head pounds and you aren’t tempted to look in the back seat, where he had fucked you so hard on your anniversary that he scratched lines in the leather with his nails. 

It’s raining when you finally pull into the driveway. You go straight for the shower, scrubbing until your skin is pink and staring at nothing but his half empty shampoo bottle. You go through the motions of cooking dinner, but you feel too sick to eat. It gets portioned away in the fridge, where you know you’ll eventually just give it to someone at work, claiming you’re not hungry. 

You lay on the couch for a few hours, eyes staring unfocused at the TV screen, until you migrate to bed. You do the same under the cold covers, which smell of nothing but laundry detergent now. Your eyes fixed blank on the ceiling. You doze off, just to repeat the day again, and again, and again.

You're splayed across the couch, his broad form crushing you into the cushions. You're both laughing, gasping for air and clutching at each other like teenagers. You don't remember the joke, but you do remember the way his blonde hair glowed like an angel across the table at dinner, lit by candles and the rosy haze of a bottle of wine, domestic in your kitchen. He sits up, straddling your thighs with his own, and looms over you. His eyes glow red in the dim room, and you smile so wide you swear your mouth would be stuck like that. He leans down, whispering sweetly against your neck, hands gliding over your clothes, under them, touching your skin-

This is only a dream, and you will never hear that laugh again.

Before you know it, nearly a year has passed. You had stopped going to the labs a month ago, and soon after the BSAA raided every known location of his research. You don't know who the rat was, but you're happy he's not here to see it. You've done nothing with your time except sit around, cook too much food for one person, and occasionally go running until you make yourself sick.

You're having a... better day than usual. It sets you on edge, thinking that you're on the path to heal and move on. You don't ever want to move on, to forget him, but it's inevitable. You had gone into his closet tonight, taking a sweater much too big for you that had long lost his smell. It was only the second time you had touched his clothes, but you thought you could handle it. Now, laying curled in bed, his sweater nearly swallowing you, you weren't so sure.

He's been gone for a week, and you've taken to sleeping in his shirts. The expensive fabric wraps around you in a poor mimic of his calloused touch, but it smells like him. When he finally comes home, he finds you curled up in bed, face buried in his pillow. Obviously, he has no choice except to drop everything and crawl under the covers, wrapping you tight in his arms. You groan as you come to, immediately smiling as you recognize the vice grip he holds your body in. It makes you laugh, and your joyous sound makes him smile into your neck.

"Nice shirt you have there," he rumbles, breath warm against your cheek. "Where did that come from?"

You giggle and turn in his arms, and you press your lips to his. "Just some guy I met, no one special."

He rolls you onto your back, gaze dark and adoring, and-

You snap awake. The front door alarm was blaring through the speakers downstairs, but it was silent by the time you jumped off the mattress. The alarm could only be turned off with a code, which meant-

You felt panic begin the climb up your throat, and you scrambled for his pistol, still tucked neatly in his bedside table. Your steps were quiet, the gun raised as you searched the house. Nothing was out of the ordinary, until you rounded the corner to the kitchen. You froze immediately, gun falling to your side as your eyes widened in shock.

Albert was hunched over the sink, white-knuckling the counter. His head shot up as the sound of your gasp, his eyes meeting yours in the reflection of the window. The gun clattered to the ground beside you and you nearly fell to your knees. His arms were around you in an instant, holding you up against his chest. A sob escaped you, and you squeezed your eyes shut, shaking your head and struggling in his grip.

"Quit it, you animal." His voice was the same dark murmur, a deep rumble against your cheek as he held you still. One of his large hands was cupping your head against him, his other arm wrapped around your shoulders. He buried his nose in your hair, breathing deep while you cried and squirmed against him. "Relax, sweetheart, breathe."

A few moments later his grip has loosened enough for you to pull away, and your heart breaks all over again at the sight of him. His hair is longer than you've ever seen it, hanging limp over his forehead and curling slightly behind his ears. His eyes are a familiar red, but his exhaustion is palpable in the air around you. His hands come up to cup your cheeks, and your expression falls at the texture of his skin. Your head rears back, and you take his hands in yours. He's covered in thick scars, pink and white flesh rigid under your fingers. You look up at him, noticing the same scars climbing his neck and crawling over his cheekbone.You reach a hand up to cup his face, and a devastated sound leaves you when he leans into your palm. "Albert..."

He lets out a sigh and closes his eyes, turning to press his lips to your wrist. He doesn't need to say a word, not when you can still read each other perfectly even after a year apart. You can see it in the corners of his mouth, the stiff way he moves his shoulder, the rasp of his voice, like it takes too much effort to open his jaw. This isn't the same Wesker you lost. This is someone else entirely.

All at once, the person you used to be comes back, like you never lost them at all. You take his hand in yours and lead him to the guest bathroom downstairs, flicking the light on and pushing him to sit on the toilet lid. He's slouching and avoiding your gaze, an act so unlike him that it makes you pause. You make him undress to his boxers, and he obeys without question. Confusion and grief and relief are clouding your mind. You reach again for his cheeks, and you can tell he wants to resist but you pull him to face you anyway. Under the fluorescent lights his scars look even worse - no, you won't say worse, you love him - you trace the lines gently up to his cheekbone.

"Do they hurt?" You whisper, turning him to take a closer look.

He doesn't answer for a moment, and then barely tilts his head in a nod.

You apologize, and quickly pull your hands away. He grabs your wrists and holds you still, before correcting himself. "Just sensitive."

You can tell now that he isn't injured - he isn't bleeding at least. You spend a long moment just looking at him, taking in the ways his body has changed, and the ways it hasn't. He looks a little thin, his collar bones prominent, new scars riddling his skin that aren't from burns. However, the burns do continue past his neck. One of his shoulders looks, well, frankly it looks like it had been shredded - the thick burn scars the apparent reason for his stiff and pained movements on his right side. The scars continue down to his ribs, all the way to the v of his right hip, where they fade into smooth, unmarred skin.

The shock on your face must be apparent, because he reaches back for his shirt, and you quickly stop him, your voice breaking. "No, don't- I'm sorry, I just... how are you alive?"

He looks uncomfortable, his jaw clenched tight as he still avoids your eyes. "Honestly, I don't know. It's... a very long story." His voice is still hoarse, and you start to think it's not just from exhaustion.

He finally looks up at you, and his red eyes are wet. You decide then and there that, even if this is a dream, he's the most beautiful you've ever seen him.

"Then why don't you start from the beginning?"

[horny-p0et]

Hi could you write some breeding kink for wilbur ? That ends with sone fluff and a kid and hr would be as a dad of maybe even multiple kids ?

🦭-annon

split the request into two parts, this is the smutty nsfw half and the cute, fluffy sfw part will come soon. entirely smutty stuff so its all under the cut, remember to wear a condom kids lol.

warnings: porn without plot, unprotected p in v sex, breeding kink, oral sex (male receiving), cum eating, established relationship.

wordcount: 1607

dont like, dni. please just block me and move on.

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"f-fuck, shit- you are stupidly good at that..."

wilbur groaned, hands tangled in your hair as you slid your mouth up and down his dick. you let out a hum of approval, glancing up at him to see his facial expressions. his head thrown back, skin flushed pink as biting his lip so hard it could bleed.

the vibration from your throat has him bucking into your mouth, gagging slightly but you keep your pace. when he's making sounds this good, you don't want to slow down. you grip his thighs, digging your nails into the skin subtly guiding him to stay put- not that it's easy for him to.

"shit, baby. love your mouth, so fucking warm.." he praised, sitting up slightly so he could look at you properly. you make eye contact with him, giving him a wink before sliding down to the base. your nose pressed against the hairs at the base of his dick, swallowing around him. he groans loudly, tugging you off his dick hastily.

you pout at him, a line of saliva connecting your bottom lip to his engorged cockhead. "sorry love, don't wanna cum yet." he said with a lopsided grin, pulling you up so your straddling him and pressing his lips against yours. its a messy kiss, all tongue and teeth. you wrap a hand around the back of his head, fingers playing with the curls at the nape of his neck. he's rutting up against your bare stomach, smearing the skin with his pre and your spit.

"come on baby, ride me?" he murmured, trailing open mouth kisses down your jawline and neck until he's nipping at your shoulder. you let out a content sigh, reaching past him to open the bedside table drawer. you grab the box of condoms, letting out a groan of frustration when you find the cardboard box empty.

hearing your sound of annoyance he pulled his head back, watching you show him the box with a frown. "sorry baby, i thought you said you bought more?" you sighed, sitting back on his thighs with a defeated expression. he holds your hips, his thumbs drawing idle circles on the plush skin. he's silent for a while, looking down at his erection still twitching with need.

"i mean, would it be the worst thing in the world if we didn't use protecetion?" he asked in a quiet voice, a cheeky smile on his face. your eyes shoot up to meet this, mouth opened in surprise. you and wilbur had talked about it plenty of times before, taking your relationship to the next level- marriage, kids, you already lived together so it wasn't an insane idea.

"are you meaning what i think you're meaning?" you ask with a small smile, reaching up to cup his cheek with your hand. he gave you a grin. "yeah, i am. i mean, it's not like it'll happen after one go or anything, but.. we can start trying." he clarified, tilting his head into your touch. you bit your lip, knowing it was something you wanted too.

"and you're sure you aren't just saying this because you're super fucking horny?" you tease, using your free hand to gesture to his hard cock. he let out a laugh, brushing some of the sweaty hair from his forehead. "it might be a contributing factor but... the thought of coming inside you, getting you pregnant? sounds like fucking heaven." he said honestly. the desire in his eyes and words sent a rush of arousal between your legs, something primal and animalistic about his hunger for you.

"okay, we can do it." you said after a moment of consideration, his face lighting up into a big grin. he gripped your waist and flipped you onto your back, causing you to squeal in surprise. his mouth is on yours again, his dick poking against your inner thigh as he hovers above you. he pressed his face against your throat, mouthing at the sensitive skin. you smirk, sliding your fingers into his hair and pressing him closer. "stop messing around and fuck me already, don't you wanna put a baby in me?"

wilbur let out a grunt in response sitting back and sliding his hands under your knees to open you up wide. "yeah, i really fucking do. wanna fucking fill you with my cum, leave you dripping with it. make you so fucking pregnant, you'll look so hot carrying my kid." he practically growled, his expression hardening to one of pure lust.

he gripped the base of his cock, rubbing up and down your slit. he glance up at you for a final okay, and when you nodded it was everything he needed to see before pressing forward and sliding his thick cock inside you. you both groan, your head rolling back against the pillows while his gaze never leaves where you guys are connected. he pushes forward steadily until his hips are flush with yours, his eyes flickering shut for a moment before snapping back open when you purposefully clench around him.

"sh-shit baby, you are so fucking wet. why haven't we done this before?" he moaned, moving his hands back to the underside of your knees so he can prop you open and beginning to move his hips in a slow, deep rhythm. he's barely pulling out before pressing back deeper each time. "feel so good, like you were made for me."

you give him a lazy smile, looking up at the gorgeous man above you with pure adoration. wilbur seems lost in it, his movements speeding up and bending your knees up to your chest so you're almost folded in half. he keeps shifting the angle of his hips, like he's trying to find some magic angle that'll somehow get you more pregnant. he's panting and moaning, sweat building on his brow as he exerts himself.

you can tell by the expression on his face he's loving every second, something clearly awakened in him at the thought of knocking you up- maybe something he wasn't even fully aware of himself until it was actually happening. he let out a whimper, his hips stuttering slightly. "f-fuck, i'm not gonna last- sorry darling. do you mind? can i.." he looked up at you, practically pleading as he struggling to keep a steady rhythm due to the overwhelming pleasure of your cunt wrapped around him without any barrier between the two of you.

"of course, my love. go on, put a baby in me like you promised." you smirk, noticing the way even your words cause him to whine and speed up. he's slamming into you now, the bed creaking with each movement as he chased his orgasm. you decide to tease him further with your lewd words. "fucking breed me, you want that, huh? knock me up? give me your babies?"

he whimpered pathetically, eyes struggling to stay open as his movements became erratic. "y-yeah honey, wanna get you so fucking pregnant. give you my kid. make you a mummy.. god, shit- fuck i'm-" he doesn't give you much warning before he's using his weight to pin your knees to your chest, gripping your hips and slamming home. he cried out, pressing his face into your neck as he funny comes, spilling deep inside you. you can feel a warmth, a satisfying sensation as he shoots ropes of thick seed inside your welcoming womb.

he's letting out small whimpers and whines, his hips rutting occasionally as he tries to squeeze as much pleasure out of his climax as possible. once its finally over he went limp, his weight pushing the air out of your lungs and hey lay atop you. he pressed his nose into your neck, eyes closed as exhaustion overtook his body. you trail your fingers up and down his back, gently praising him with sweet nothings as he comes back down to reality.

after what felt like a life time he finally sits back up, his skin covered with sweat but undeniably satisfied. with a groan he pulled out of you, wasting no time pressing two fingers back into you to force his cum to stay inside your pussy. "sorry that was so quick, it was just really fucking hot." he murmured, his fingers lazily fingering his seed into your cunt. you shake your head before relaxing back into the bedsheets. "its fine, babe. just means we can do it again another time."

his fingers stop and he looks up at you, a faint smirk curving across his lips. "again, huh? i like that idea." he grinned, finally sliding his fingers out and popping them into his mouth to taste your combined arousal. its an erotic sight you could definitely get used to. you glance down at his cock, still half hard and coated in your juices and his seed. he follows your gaze and begins to pump his dick lazily.

"by again, do you mean in about 10 minutes when i'm ready? cause fuck... i could do that a hundred times and not get sick of that." he said with a small laugh, using his free hand to trail his fingers over your stomach- already imagining how it'll look distended once you start showing signs of pregnancy. you give him a nod, reaching out to grab his bicep as he strokes himself, his cock already twitching with renewed interest. "yeah, maybe you can even get me pregnant tonight if you give me enough loads." you smirked.

wilbur let out a growl of approval, shifting atop your body again and pressing his lips against yours eagerly, ready to fulfil your shared desires again.

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taglist: @lillyspeakz@multifandomhallucinations@xxvalentinezxx@charlidog@bellelikesmcyt @heartofwritiing (reply or send an ask to be added/removed)

[scientia-rex]

I am crushing it at Christmas gifts this year. I think. I never know for sure until people report back several months later but apparently my oldest nephew (the funny smart kid who’s also a complete dumbass, turning 16 this year) ended up really liking the skincare kit I got him last year even though on Christmas Day he was like “I don’t need this, my skin is perfect, people always tell me that” so if the day of goes a little rough just know they might realize they love it down the line. My goth weeb nibling, who is his younger sibling, will like what I got them because I shopped as if for my younger self and the only real difference between us is that I didn’t get into anime. I bought designer purses on a great sale for my sisters in law, nice shoes (he made a comment about it last spring, “some nice Italian leather loafers,” and he might have been joking but hey it’s an idea) for my one good brother in law, a rocking camping chair for my worst brother in law, and nothing for my ex brother in law because if he shows up at Christmas he’s getting something from the Box of Generic Gifts (mostly plaid throw blankets from Five Below). I bought my mother in law a real cashmere sweater (not like 400 dollar nice but still nicer than the “this is technically cashmere” I always see in the mall) and a rose gold and pearl necklace (pearl pricing is stupid and insane, but a solid gold chain is worth something if she ever needs to sell it for cash). The hubs is working on a genuinely nice idea for a present for his dad. I’m going to get my mom jewelry again and my dad can suck eggs. Probably get him a box set of Why Racism Is Bad Actually books or something. I like passive aggressive presents, like the year I sent him a DVD set of documentaries on pre-colonial African civilizations. Mom made a genuine lemon face about that one. Maybe Dad needs to hear more about how the Europeans deliberately separated Africa into countries where the borders would actively create strife. I got my MA a bottle of perfume because she noted out loud how good one patient smelled and it’s an easy to find fragrance (Victor & Rolf, Flowerbomb).

I love shopping, I love Christmas, I love getting people presents. I just wish my worst brother in law would stop trying to ruin family Christmases like it’s his job. It’s been 15 long, long years of knowing him, and in that time I have never ONCE slipped him a sedative, and I deserve a martini and a medal for that. I could 100% poison that man and get away with it and I WON’T because MORALS.

[connectionterminated13]

A Dead man who just needs a pack of cigarettes

Short little fan fiction I worked on in a couple minutes on Tumblr because I was bored BTW this takes place in my AU Inferno! Also please don't expect stellar writing quality this is mostly just a joke and for fun and I'm not doing the best editing on this (Fuck you Tumblr (The app) I'm going to write something tonight If it fucking kills me)

"You're telling me you're out"

Michael stared down the store clerk with what he could only describe as pure hatred. He was focusing every bit of rage and anger and general unhappiness from a miserable life at this man.

"I told you sir we sold out an hour ago.."

The bleary-eyed teenage boy behind the cast register of a convenience store somewhere in Arizona was not acknowledging the pure hatred that Michael was staring at him with. This made Michael even more mad

"Well Mr. I ran out of them an hour ago, I just saw some guy leave with a whole Fucking bag full!!"

This was a lie but Michael assumed if he got more threatening with his tone and maybe yelled a bit and made up this total this stupid probably high teenage boy would tell him where the goddamn cigarettes were!

The boy just blinked at him tired and boringly like he wasn't looking at an affront to God Screaming his face about cigarettes.

"LOOK KID I DON'T THINK YOU GET IT I NEED FUCKING CIGARETTES I AM GOING TO BE ON THE ROAD FOR THE NEXT OH SAY 8 HOURS, 8 HOURS IN THE DESERT, 8 HOURS WITHOUT A TASTE OF NICOTINE. WHICH I THINK IS TAUTAMOUNT TO TORTURE."

Michael was going to break something if this stupid boy didn't at least give him a reason why there was no cigarettes. Because Michael knew barely anyone passed through here so it was safe to assume that this stupid dumb future Hippie boy or Trailer truck Owner had stolen these also precious rations away from Michael as some elaborate plot against him!!

"I told you sir we're out someone bought up the last pack an hour ago if you wait till tomorrow they'll be more..."

The boy didn't even have the gall to look at him staring down at his stupid phone.. Disgusting absolutely disgusting.

"Do not know what I am boy?? I am not human I do not need what you need all I need is cigarettes AND IF YOU CAN'T GIVE THAT TO ME WELL I'LL JUST HAVE TO DRAG YOU TO HELL WITH ME!?"

Michael with much anger picked up a display of gum and threw it against the ground. The boy did slightly raise his eyebrows and let out a small "Damn"

"Are you going to pick that up?"

The boy looked down at the mesh Michael headmaid clearly thinking about how annoying it would be to clean up later.

"Not until you tell me where the cigarettes are.."

Michael said with the smuggist face his lack of lips and cheeks and general facial features would allow.

"Look sir... I get you think you're some kind of crypted supernatural entity but please trust me when I say we're out of cigarettes..."

The boy rubbed between his eyes clearly beginning to lose patience and by extension beginning to care about what Michael had to say.

"Okay let's believe you you have no cigarettes.. But do you really think I'm just putting on an act? no no this is what I am. You see a long time ago, I was like you human stupid handsome..."

Michael paused for a moment remembering his beautiful hair and his handsome untainted face... As for some reason the teenage boy continued to look bored and mildly distraught about the idea of cleaning up the gum Michael had spilled on the floor.

"Anyway up until my sister and her other insane clown robot friends ripped out my insides and used me as a human skin suit!! This went on for 2 months... Do you know what it feels like to be a human skin suit for 2 months???"

The boy just existed there for a moment before realizing it was a question in shaking his head.

"And you know what I survived!! Sure I'm dead and bruised and maybe a bit more crazy than I was before but I survived!!"

Michael punctuated the word survived By knocking over another display. This time it was for some kind of chocolate egg. For good measure Michael even stamped on some of the packaging as the boy with a giant sigh responded to michael.

"What does that have to do with cigarettes or your continued violence to our products sir?"

"WELL EVERYTHING OF COURSE!! BECAUSE IF YOU THINK AFTER ALL THAT I'D GIVE UP WHEN YOU SAY THERE AREN'T CIGARETTES WHEN THEY'RE CLEARLY ARE AND YOU'RE JUST HIDING THEM FROM ME, YOUR JUST AS INSANE AS PEOPLE CLAIM I AM!!!"

The boy seemed genuinely pissed off at this point which made Michael feel proud.

"Look Mr. Unholy Damon guy if I give you my Own cigarette Package will you just leave me alone??"

The boy slapped a box of cigarettes on the Cash register sliding them towards Michael. Michael looked down at them immediately noticing they weren't his brand of cigarettes but they would do.

"Thank you"

Michael took the cigarettes with a smile before walking out of the convenience store ignoring the fact the boy was flipping him off behind his back. Michael was still smiling when he opened the RV door and was face-to-face with Charlie.

"What did you break this time?"

Charlie said with a tired but unannoyed voice

"Just a couple of standies nothing to worry about..."

Michael said with Sing song voice voice lighting up a cigarette

[pricescigar]

Love Bites Pt3

Summary: With Elvira still hoping that she would escape from the wrath of Dracula, he has other plans for her ...

Admin note: After 4 months! I'm bringing this bad boy back to life, maybe because of spooky season, and maybe because I bought a limited edition of Bram Stoker's Dracula..

(News flash I apologise if this particular part is dry, there will be more to come. Calm before the storm.)

It was something about seeing her again that made Price's undead heart stirr again, centuries he had gone without seeing her beautiful face. And here she was again… She came back to him, it almost felt unreal to him while Elvira was currently lying unconscious in his arms. He ran his hand down her cheek, his sharp nails gently grazing against her soft pale skin. Now picking her up in his arms, he took her upstairs into the master bedroom so she could sleep properly. As a Vampire he never really felt any need to sleep, he couldn't remember the last time he slept. Unless he was gravely injured then that's a different story.

He knew she came back to him for a reason, her fate was already sealed the moment Elvira walked through those doors. Now all John had to do was to make sure that she would never leave him again, no illness, no injury. No one… Would ever take her away from him again, not even those hunters would take her away from him again. The only way to keep her safe was in this castle, locked away and in his arms. If her Hunter friends dare to come and get her, then they'll meet the wrath of Dracula himself.

The door opened to the master bedroom, Price strided in carrying Elvira in his arms who was still unconscious. He laid her down on the King sized bed. The linen fabric was soft, and the mattress was comfortable sinking Elvira into it. First thing Price did was to remove her hunters outfit, she wouldn't be needing that anymore. Besides, he's got much prettier outfits for her.

Swiftly he removed her outfit. Dumping it aside for it to be disposed of, in the wardrobe he brought out a black lace nightgown. Putting it over her body with ease, gently guiding her arms in through the holes so it would fit comfortably on her body.

“Perfect…” Price muttered under his breath, he leaned down to her forehead. His beard tickled her skin slightly before placing a tender kiss on her head. His Lips lingered there for a moment before pulling away, after that he disappeared into the shadows.

He wasn't stupid. Part of him knew that her Hunter friends would try to come to her rescue, but little did they know Dracula had a few tricks up his sleeve when it came to dealing with hunters. He had to play the waiting game, and he was okay with that. After all, he had been waiting for her for so long.

The next morning Elvira opened her eyes, rubbing her eyes slightly. Vividly remembering what had happened yesterday, the battle she had with Dracula didn't go well as she expected. Looking around she noticed that the rook was entirely dark, keeping all forms of sunlight out. For good reason of course.

“I need to get out of here.” Elvira quickly removed the bedsheets off of her body, just about seeing the outline of the door. She walked over to it, before she could even grab the door handle. A hand from the shadows grabbed her.

“You know that won't do you any good dove.” Price looked down at Elvira, he continued to hold onto her arm before gripping it slightly.

“You're not leaving.” He revealed himself from the shadows, standing in front of the doorway not letting her escape.

“Let me go, I am not your dove.” Elvira spoke sternly.

“No, I'm not letting you go.” Price shook his head. “You're mine now.’

“I'm not your property-” Elvira then got interrupted when Price grabbed her chin, making her look up at him.

“Not another word from you.” He almost spat at his words.

“You may hate me now, but when I'm finished with you… You'll remember.”

“God, they were right when they said you were insane…” Elvira mumbled.

“Now, sit. I'll go and get you some food.” Price ushered her to sit on the edge of the bed.

“I'll be back.” It was all he said before he left the room, the soft click indicated he had locked the door.

“Of course he'd lock the door…” Elvira mumbled to herself. Standing up, she looked around the room, heading over to the curtains that were draped over the windows. She opened them slightly.

The sun was shining brightly, Elvira tried to open the windows but of course they were locked too. This Vampire was one step ahead of her, clearly she had underestimated the Vampire King.

“Fuck,” She'd say as she backed away from the window, the long curtains hiding the sunlight again. She almost felt herself beginning to panic, but that'll do no good now will it?

She would have to make her escape tonight, she would die trying, she would try to escape from him. Get all the other hunters together and-

Her thoughts were interrupted when Price had returned.

“I do not have Human food anymore, so I hope fruit would suffice.” Price had a small bowl full of all kinds of fruits, along with a goblet full of liquid for her to drink too. He placed it down on the table.

“I won't eat that,” Elvira said, approaching the small coffee table and two chairs that were in the bedroom. “What if you poisoned it?”

“I don't do poison.” Price’s voice was gruff. “If I wanted you dead, I would've killed you the moment you walked through my doors.” His gaze was somewhat different. “But I didn't.”

Price placed down the bowl and the goblet, looking back at Elvira once more, his gaze lingering on a little longer than usual.

“Maybe later.” Elvira didn't give him a definite answer.

“Suit yourself dove.” Price stepped towards the door. “You'll remain here.”

“Wait but what if I-” Elvira watched him leave once more, the door locking again. She kicked the door in frustration. “You can't keep me in here!” She yelled.

Price walked down the hallway not saying anything, he wanted to deprive her. Keep her locked up until she can think of anyone else, but him. His little Princess was back. He held himself back quite well, his primal instincts almost got the best of him. The urge to bite her then and there was strong, but not yet.

He wanted to break her first, to show her that he could only take care of her and no one else.

Price looked to one of his servants who were cleaning the hallway.

“Make sure she doesn't leave that room, I want her to remain in there at all costs.”

“Yes sir.” The two servants replied in unison bowing down watching Price walk by as they resumed back to work after he had left.

Price retired somewhere to “rest.” Leaving Elvira in the large bedroom by herself, with nothing to entertain herself with.

She eventually gave in and ate the bowl of fruit he gave her along with the drink that was there, the fruit tasted good. The drink? Well it had a strange taste to it, she didn't know what it was. But it satisfied her enough.

Evening soon was on the horizon. Elvira knew it was her chance to try and escape, she got a small pin out of her hair and went over to the door picking the lock. Twisting and turning it, she heard the indication that the door was unlocked. Opening the door she stepped out of her room.

Elvira felt relieved that no one seemed to be around, but she still didn't lower her guard. She had none of her weapons, or her crosses, no holy water. She was taking a risk.

“I'm sorry but you cannot leave.” A voice said to her out loud.

Elvira turned over to see a servant. That being Soap. Of course Price would have men roaming around watching her. “I'm leaving.” Elvira said a little more blunt this time.

“Can't have ya leaving lass’ yer Majesty will get mad.” Soap grabbed her before she walked away from him, taking her back into the room.

“Let me go otherwise-” Elvira was beginning to become agitated as she got pulled back into the bedroom.

“There's no point in fightin’” Soap commented, looking down at her. “He's been waiting for ya for ages.”

Elvira held back from saying something she would eventually regret, and so she pulled her arm away when they were back in the bedroom

“I appreciate you keeping an eye on her Soap.” Price stepped forward seeing the two standing there.

“Soap?” Elvira scoffed. “What kind of name is Soap?’

Soap didn't say anything but he left the room in a blink of an eye, leaving Price and Elvira alone in the room.

“I have my trustworthy men.” Price stepped forward into the room. “You'll see the others soon.” He smiled sheepishly. “Did you enjoy your breakfast?”

“Well yes, that's all I've been given.” Elvira spat in anger.

“Now, now dove.” Price tried to calm her down, he was getting closer to her now.

“I've got a special occasion for us tonight.”

“Oh and what's that?” Elvira crossed her arms.

“Now if I say it, it'll spoil the surprise now won't it?” Price grinned.

Elvira stayed silent watching Price saunter over to the wardrobe, taking out an outfit for the evening.

“You'll wear this.” Price commented. “I know it'll compliment your features.” He left the dress on the bed, getting footwear out too to match with it.

“You know nothing about me.” Elvira looked at him with anger in her eyes.

“I know plenty.” Price suddenly turned to look at her. “I know that your father got you up at the crack of dawn, head down on books, fighting outside at midday.” He said as he stepped towards her.

“How your grandfather always made sure you had time to draw, to read…”

Elvira stayed silent. “That is only basically about me-” She then got interrupted by Price.

“Your father killed your mother, but we don't speak about that do we?” Price taunted her.

“I know plenty about you, I know everything. Things that you do not know about yourself either.” His eyes glowed ever so slightly.

“I will show you such wonders, when you're ready.”

Elvira glared up at Price. “I'll wipe that smirk off your face.” She mumbled in anger.

“I'd love to see you try, see you tonight my love.” Price stepped out of the bedroom, closing the door behind him. Allowing one of the female servants to enter to help Elvira get dressed.

“We have a situation.” Ghost walked towards Price, Gaz was with him too as they stood opposite of him.

“We overheard that a large group of Vampire hunters will be here tonight.” Gaz commented. "We scent about fourty of them."

“Then tonight, we feast.” Price responded to Ghost. “And she will watch.” He added.

[baronessblixen]

Prompt: 11. “You lost it. Well, we lost it."

Angsty first kiss fill-in for "Paper Clip": What happened on that elevator ride? (wc: 1,093)

Tagging @today-in-fic @xffictober2023

Fictober Day 15: Temporary Insanity

“How are you, really?” Scully asks once the elevator doors have closed. Her hand is reaching out to touch him, to make sure it’s really him, that he’s here and alive.

“Feeling pretty good for someone who was dead.” Always making light of everything. Always joking in the worst possible moments. Her elation of seeing him here, of having him back when her hope was beginning to wane, fizzles out and is replaced by niggling frustration.

“It’s not funny,” she says, shoving him. Mulder’s eyes widen, stunned.

“Hey, Scully,” he says gently, with a smile. “It was just a joke. You know me.”

And yes, she does know him. She knows he runs into danger without a single care for anything in the world, except finding the truth. She’s been on his his heels for all of it, saving him when she has to, when he goes too far, and putting herself in danger in the process. And for what? For him to stand here laughing after she thought she’d lost him.

Maybe last year she would have laughed. Maybe last year she would have just rolled her eyes, declared it a classic Mulder move, and be done with it. But that was before. Before everything. This year, she’s almost her sanity and her soul. Her life – several times. Now, she almost lost him, too. And right now, it’s too much; her carefully stitched-together composure unravels.

“Do you have any idea how scared I was?” Another shove, harder. “How worried I was I’d never see you again?” Another show before she drills a finger into his chest, not far from where she shot him.

“I do, Scully. I do. I was-”

“I dreamed about you,” she says, going on undeterred. “I heard you,” she admits, angrily wiping away tears. “I felt you.” She says those words quietly, ashamed that she utters them at all. How ridiculous they sound. How ridiculous all of this is.

“I dreamed about you, too,” he says, taking her hands into his. They feel like they always have. Warm and strong; determined. “I was trying to reach out to you.”

“Yeah, well.” She huffs. “There are phones for that.”

“I wasn’t in any position to use a phone.”

“You traveled here, didn’t you?” Another shove because she needs to remind herself of his solidness, but also to have him not trespass in her personal space.

“I thought you’d be happy to see me.”

“I am,” she says. “Mulder, I am, but I-”

“You lost it,” he provides softly, cracking a small smile.

“My anger is justified,” she says and he nods.

“Well, we lost it then. And hey? I’m glad I’m standing here arguing with you, instead of being dead somewhere in a ditch. Better?”

“Yeah.” But it isn’t. How many times has she cheated death this year? Two times? Three? She’s come so close that she’s stopped counting. Every time, she just picked herself up, bought a new blouse if it was torn or bloody, threw away shoes that weren’t as lucky as she was, and calmed herself down when a nightmare tried to take her under. She’s done. She feels it in her fingertips. She feels it like a current running through her body. She needs something. Something to make her feel alive.

She doesn’t think as she grabs Mulder’s shirt with both hands, going all in. Their mouths meet in a bruising first kiss, but the pain melts away with every second that passes. She pushes Mulder against the wall and he takes her with him, his arms tightly wound around her. He lifts her and she lets him, their mouths fusing. She feels his hardness against where she’s soft and wanting. Time disappears. Everything that happened this year vaporizes between their lips. Desire is all she knows. She wants to feel his skin against hers and to taste every inch of him. Isn’t that what she deserves? What they deserve?

He’s the one who deepens the kiss, always ready to jump in first. He tastes like danger and life, salt and coffee. He tastes like Mulder. The thought brings tears to her eyes, hot and angry. She kisses him harder, trying to drive away new doubts and fears. But it doesn’t last. It was never meant to last. The elevator dings and Mulder’s arms release her. She slides down the front of his body, still feeling him. They remain that way, breathing heavily, staring at each other. His lips are swollen, and she knows hers must look the same. She licks them, still tasting Mulder, and wanting more.

“Don’t,” he says softly, closing his eyes. “Thank you for reminding me that I really am alive.” He smiles, his eyes still closed. Undoubtedly trying to shield himself from reality. She wants to apologize, but the words don’t come. She straightens her clothes and her hair; always the professional. Mulder blinks his eyes open slowly as if he were waking up.

“You’re getting out or not?” There’s an elderly man glaring at them and for the first time since they got on this elevator, Scully feels like smiling. Like laughing out loud. She bites her lip and just nods.

“Yes, sorry,” Mulder mumbles, his hand finding its place on Scully’s back. Her skin sizzles, remembering moments ago when his hand was there, too, holding her in place, holding her close.

“That was-,”

“I should haven’t,” Scully says, not looking at him. “I was just- I’ve just been under a lot of stress with you being dead- gone. Your father’s funeral and the threats and-”

“Scully.” He stops her ramblings and her walking. His face is close to hers, and she knows now what it’s like to be even closer. She knows what he tastes like, and his little noises, and where his hands go when he’s given permission. As much as she wants more of this, of this oblivion she’s only gotten a taste of, she knows it can’t happen. Won’t happen. Not while the truth is still out there, and while they’re being hunted for sports.

“I shouldn’t have done that,” she repeats. "It was a moment of temporary insanity."

“No, it wasn't and I’m glad it happened,” he says.

“There’s a but.” And he nods.

“I’m not saying I’m not interested. I think you know I, um-”

“It’s a not now,” she finishes for him.

“Yeah,” he replies. “A not now. Are we- we’re okay, right? You’re still with me?”

“Of course I am. Where are we going?”

He tells her and she follows him.

[forabeatofadrum]

Ljubili se (6/21)

Notes: Well folks, the December Fanworks Challenge has come to an end, officially. This fic still has a long time to go. Like its predecessor, the fic will be finished, but it's just taking some time since I am super duper busy!

But I really wanted to publish a chapter today, to at least acknowledge the work that the people from the @klaineadvent have put into it and to thank them, so hooray, here I am! I am glad that the Advent lives on in whatever way. I'm really happy that this (smaller) fandom is still kicking.

Thanks for reading! Time for Kurt and Blaine to reunite!

AO3 | S&C

–

INSCRIBE

Kurt’s waiting at the airport. It’s the third time in a short while that he’s here: he landed here from Ljubljana, he sent off his dad and Carole, and now he’s picking up Blaine. God, he’s so excited. He went all out. He even brought one of those boards with Blaine’s name on it, so that he can wave it around like all the others who are picking someone up. Kurt even went the extra mile and inscribed it in a piece of wood.

And it pays off, because when Blaine arrives in the lobby and Kurt waves it around, Blaine’s entire face lights up.

“Kurt!”

“Blaine!”

They run towards each other and hug each other tightly. Kurt buries his face in the crook of Blaine’s neck and Blaine tightens his grip.

“You’re here,” Kurt says against Blaine’s skin.

“I am, love.”

“Welcome to New York!”

They stand there for a few more seconds, but then it’s time to go. Kurt’s eager to show Blaine around. They’re first going to drop Blaine’s suitcase off at Kurt’s apartment, and then they’re going into town. New York has a lot to offer.

--

“This place is insane,” Blaine says as he looks around Times Square. Kurt knows Blaine’s been to New York before, but he gets it. New York also takes his breath away. You get used to it when you live here, but it’s nice to be reminded. When Kurt came back from Ljubljana, he had to take it in as well.

He’ll miss it when he goes to LA.

If he goes to LA.

Classes start next week, so then Kurt can really sink his teeth into this. But now, he doesn’t need to think about being with Blaine in LA, since Blaine is here.

Blaine makes some photos of the billboards.

“Ljubljana was never this flashy.”

“True.”

“But I wouldn’t want it to be.”

“Same.”

When Blaine’s done taking photos, Kurt takes his hand and they make the trek to Central Park. Kurt had prepared a little picnic. He even bought a second hand picnic basket at a bargain store!

It’s a nice August day as well. It’s perfect. They roll out a picnic blanket and feed each other food. It’s too cute for words and Kurt loves it. He loves seeing Blaine smile.

“We’ll take the train back to your place next?” Blaine asks after a while.

Kurt nods.

“Do you already want to go home?”

Blaine shakes his head.

“No. Not necessarily, but just checking.”

“Why?”

“Because of your roommates.”

“Ah.”

Yes, they’re going to tell Rachel and Santana. They won’t be home until the evening, which is fine, because then Kurt will have Blaine for himself for a bit longer, but they will be home and they will notice that someone else is there.

“Could you tell me about them?” Blaine asks.

“Oh. Well. They’re cool, albeit busy,” Kurt starts, “They come from the same school and decided to live together. I joined the household later. Santana is a professional dancer. She works at this dance studio and she has a girlfriend named Dani. Rachel is driven and passionate. She landed an agent while I was in Ljubljana, so she spends most of her time auditioning and what not. Not going to lie, she almost makes me feel bad about it.”

Blaine frowns, so Kurt elaborates.

“It’s just… she’s advancing in her career. I fucked off to another country and she’s actually going somewhere.”

“But you also did it for your career!” Blaine argues, “It looks amazing on your resume. And career aside, it was also a lot of fun.”

Kurt sighs. He knows that. And he met Blaine, which is arguably the best part of his semester abroad. Rachel unfortunately tends to make remarks about how much better she’s doing. She’s not even doing it to hurt him, more to show off, but it’s noticeable.

“Besides, multiple ways lead to Rome, and with Rome I mean a theatre career,” Blaine continues, “Your degree is important and you’ll do an internship this year too, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Have you already started thinking about that? You can show that off to Rachel!”

“I haven’t,” Kurt lies.

He needs to change the subject. He can’t dwell on the internship thing and accidentally spill the beans.

“But yeah, that’s Rachel!” he quickly says, “And Santana. My roommates.”

“And you like them, right?”

Kurt nods.

“I do. They’re my friends. I actually miss them.”

He does. Kurt, Rachel and Santana are roommates first, friends second. It’s the truth, but they’re still friends and Kurt cares for them and he knows they care for him too. Rachel and Santana truly haven’t had time to just relax and catch up. Well, maybe Santana has had, but she prefers spending her free time with Dani.

“I can’t wait to meet them, then,” Blaine says.

They finish their picnic and then they take the train back to Kurt’s place. Kurt’s desperate to have some time with Blaine in private and judging by the way Blaine keeps reaching out, the feeling is mutual.

It’s almost as if the train ride is endless.

But once they’re inside and Blaine’s pushed Kurt against the door to kiss him, it all goes so fast. Kurt doesn’t mind. They take off their shoes and dump the picnic basket before heading to the bedroom.

-

Kurt and Blaine decide to make themselves presentable before greeting Rachel and Santana. They have a quick shower and then get dressed.

Then they wait.

They’re lying in Kurt’s bed, holding each other. Kurt has his head rested on Blaine’s chest and he can hear Blaine’s heartbeat go fast.

“It’ll be fine,” Kurt reassures him. Santana is a lesbian and Rachel has two dads, so they luckily don’t have to worry about homophobia.

“Yeah,” Blaine sighs.

Then, after a few more minutes, they hear the front door open.

“Anyone in here?” Santana screeches out. The walls of this apartment are relatively thin, so Kurt can hear her crystal clear.

“Santana, Kurt’s shoes are here!” Rachel says back.

“… together with another pair of shoes,” Santana notices.

“Kurt?” Rachel also calls out.

Kurt looks over to Blaine. Blaine nods. It’s time.

Kurt rolls of Blaine and Blaine slides out of the bed and walks towards Kurt’s mirror to check his appearance. What a ridiculous man, Kurt thinks fondly, He wants to look at his best when he meets my roommates.

“Ready?” Kurt whispers, so that Rachel and Santana will not overhear.

“Yeah,” Blaine says under his breath.

Kurt also gets out of bed and walks towards the door to open it. He does and pokes his head out of the doorway.

“Hey,” he says lamely to Rachel and Santana.

“Hey,” Santana says back in the same tone.

Rachel’s already moved to the kitchen to probably make tea with honey for her voice, but she also says a quick hello.

“So?” Santana says with a knowing smile, “Something you wanna tell us, Hummel?”

“Yes, actually,” Kurt says and he looks back over his shoulder. Blaine gives him a thumbs up. “Ladies, I have a boyfriend.”

Rachel lets out a delighted shriek.

Santana just yells: “Called it!”

“And he’s here. Ladies, please meet my boyfriend,” Kurt opens the door even wider. It feels so formal. Blaine appears in the doorway, next to Kurt, and he opens his mouth to speak, but then his eyes widen.

Santana has a similar look on her face.

“Blaine Anderson?” she asks in disbelief.

“Santana Lopez?”

[aanabear2803]

hi i've seen your posts about body weight and I as a fat girl, was wondering if you are open to talk about it or give advice about it

I have been struggling real bad with it lately, I thought I was ok and had been for a few years, turns out I hate my body so much and you seem so confident, you got any advice? would you be open to talk about it in dm's?

feel free to ignore this if it's uncomfortable tho

Hi :3 um... so. I struggle with my own body weight a lot. I wont really talk about the bad thoughts that lurk about.

Ive been overweight since I was a wee lad. It especially hurts when my meds make me constantly hungry. Like I am always fucking hungry. So I just snacked the day away without any thoughts of consequences. I still eat these meds to this day. I am still as hungry as ever.

Id say I wont have very awesome advice? Because what I would normally do when those bad thoughts do happen is... post nudes on my kinky tumblr? Which, you know I dont expect others to do. Im sure there are healthier ways to express yourself than to go on tumblr and do shit like being half naked. However there are tons of gorgous women who dress in lingerie and post on tumblr all the time. You kinda just need to know where to look.

Ive also been trying to loose weight. But its more for a health thing since Im close to being diabetic and Im super duper not down for that myself. Im already tired of the meds Ive eaten I dont want to have to subject myself to stabs of insulin.

Im not on a fad diet of any kind. Im just eating 1200kcal a day watching as my weight slowly goes down~ I calculate all of this stuff too.

There's also the difference in how being fat and being unhealthy are wildly different. There's also that thing on how genetics have a say in the weight a person can be. But that is not my expertize at all! But you can be more than welcomed to go search and read up on those.

Ive been more open to exposing my skin a little at a time? Like wearing a bikini while in the pool when Im exercising. Ive been very recently trying to get corsets to work out too! Altho whether you like it or not there will be stares from people. But I would say start from the clothes, buy stuff you think would make you strut a runway. Dont just buy tshirts and pants and call it a day. Find a top in your size and fucking go for it. (Altho I understand many curvy people will not be able to find it cheap and Im just saying if you are desperate for the cash.... you can try Shein. Which I understand many Americans are banning and all the problems with fast fashion into overproduction but they do have many plus size clothes that most store dont normally have for people like us so you know its entirely up to you! But I was close to tears when I bought something and it just.... fits you know? Just dont go all out and buy their entire stock. I buy 5XL on there and dont worry about the number being so high, its probably based around the chinese style with their insane standards)

But hey look, people are going to judge no matter what ok? They always will. They will always find a way to trash talk. Its hard to ignore them, I get it. But theyre not you. They dont know if youre trying to loose weight or whether the food youre eating is a reward for having done a week of gym. Id honestly just say the fries are delicious and they should try it and we move on with our day. Its like online haters, you dont waste an hour of your life justifying things to them, so you have no reason to need to justify things to irl people.

I do hope this helps a little? I dont mind dms if you have any other questions of course :3

[iminthemiddleofyourpicture]

She took a deep breath. It wasn't the first time they had talked about this topic. And for some reason, like an avalanche that can't be avoided, the usual conversations about family, the weather or studies always ended up leading them to questions about her health, especially the one she neglected like a dog dumped on the street. She tried to speak naturally, of course; scaring them wasn't what she wanted. Maybe, one day, she would have liked them to be afraid of losing her, but at that point, the only thing she wanted them to understand was that she was someone ill and that they should, at least for once, act a little more gently; she would have liked them to speak more softly to her, as if these feelings were a severe headache, to touch her skin more affectionately as if the anguish were a summer fever.

Of course, her father had his own opinions. "It's all in your head", "you smoke too much!", "you need to control yourself!", "why don't you control yourself?". Her mother seems more patient, and touches her on the wrist when she recriminates her father's words and says that he doesn't understand, she cuddles the familiar skin that was once in her womb and says to him "it's not as simple as you say, some things need more help, more patience".

She can't remember when she raised her voice. "Listen to me!", "Listen!" and how she got to the point of saying, in all honesty, that she had tried to end her own life at the age of fourteen, long before she tasted cigarettes for the first time, long before all the things he considers terrible were part of her life. "You don't have a bad life," someone shouts back, "you think I don't know? I know… I have a good life, I have great friends, I'm loved, I'm finishing college, I'm in a good job, I have a nice house… That's the point! I know that everything is great and that I should be grateful. But why am I still so tired? Is it all in my head? Do I have to stop looking for help because it's all my fault?"

"My best friend died looking for the same answers," she wanted to go back home or to work or anywhere she didn't have to feel so vulnerable. And when her father held her, she felt like she could melt in the arms of someone she hated for almost half her life. She barely hugged him back. She knew it was too late to be the little girl who rests on a warm, familiar arm and lets herself be accepted. She received the kiss on the top of the head with the same levity as a handshake. "I'm not alone," she said, trying to end the conversation in another way, "I have good friends, people who care for me and who will help me, I just need you to be patient. I get up every day, I work, I eat, I'm sitting here in front of you now… That says a lot about how hard I try! Just be patient with me, please."

There was a confusing silence for the first few moments. The coffee was getting cold and the food was showing signs of bad digestion. She knew she should be silent, she knew she should act like someone completely normal in front of those who had given her life; but most of the time she found herself kneeling at their feet looking for something, something she couldn't even describe in words. Some specific look, some expression that would make her feel that going mad wasn't so predictable. Her mother said, in the middle of dozens of sentences, that she had always been like that. "You've always had these things…"

"These things…" she wanted to reply.

She wanted a cigarette, according to her father, the supposed cause of part of her depression. At the same time, she felt the almost inevitable agony to throw herself into the sea and feel at least once more the terror of icy water entering her lungs. She tried to change the topic, to talk about the preparations for Christmas, the clothes her mother had bought, the cats, the taste of food… Naturally, the conversation turned once again to the weather, the family, her studies. Not a word more. Nothing that could be added about her insanity. Her father never looked at her again and she doesn't even remember saying goodbye to him when she left.

Everything was "fine". And everyone could get on with their lives. Again. The wound was already open, gaping and bleeding. And she could walk through the door and leave them to their coffees, their quiet lives, their sewing lines and their warm, welcoming home. They wouldn't remember that conversation, how they broke her in half and made her spew out unwanted truths. And she would continue, one step to the next, on her way to work. And get on with her day. Simply. As all families do.

She felt, deep down, that this was a good thing for the most part. Being able to talk about how she really felt after years of hiding her pain. Being able to tell them, even if they didn't really listen. This clarity of mind, this feeling that she was completely clear and that she no longer needed to lie in order to appear even remotely adequate. "Please don't fuck with me, I'm a sick person," seemed more acceptable than when they treated her like stone. As if she felt nothing at all. They know and can no longer hide the fact that they know. That's enough for her, at least, she tries to convince herself of that.

No apologies, no hugs and even less help (that would be too late). But the mere feeling that they are aware. That's enough somehow. That her potential, that everything she has always planned has never come true and that this thing she is today, this aspect without palpable feelings, distant and cold is not necessarily arrogance.

Maybe, somehow, they can love her a little more by knowing that it's not anger. Just tiredness.

[fangirlstorycreator]

Hey hey! I've missed your writing! Do you think you could write a story about kk3 Terry and his beloved at an event he's hosting at his home. She's a little bit sad and wants to have him to herself for a moment so she trys to provoke him and get his eyes on her by showing off some skin😏he does get provoked and ends up taking her upstairs for a little while to "fix" her dress. He knows she's a little down but gives her the well deserved attention she needs. A little steamy is you will! Thank you💚💚💚

Aww thank you anon 🤗 I can absolutely do that for you 💚 I hope you enjoy 💚

Tonight was the night of Terry's house party for all his friends and workmen, he had been planning this for a long time and you were both very excited. You loved events like this because it gave you a good excuse to use make up and wear one of your many gorgeous dresses Terry had bought you. He was all ready in his cream and red coloured suit, and you had just walked out in one if your favourite blue dresses.

"Wow baby girl! You look absolutely stunning" "Thanks babe, you are looking very nice yourself" He gives you one of his cheeky smiles before planting a kiss on your lips, and his hand resting on your hip. "There are days where I look at you and think to myself, how the hell did I manage to land you" "That's because your the most wonderful man I have ever known babe....plus your 'stamina' is insane!" You both share a little laugh, he knew he was good in the bedroom, but hearing you say little things like that really made his day. "Oh yeh baby, this is all for you-" Terry us suddenly cut off by the sound of the front door bell ringing. "The first people are hear! Are you ready baby?" "Absolutely, let's go"

The evening was wonderful, there were nearly 30 people there and everyone was having a nice time. There wasn't many chances for you and Terry to be close to eachother, but that was mainly because his business partners were pitching ideas and keeping him busy. And you knew a handful of people there too so you were charging to them as well. You were just getting another drink from the counter when a young woman approached you, she looked about 20 years old and she was wearing a very bright pink sparkly dress. "Hey!" "Hi, I'm not sure we've met before. I'm Y/N" "Hi Y/N I'm Gina! I was just wondering if you've seen Terry around?" "Oh yeah, he's just talking to that guy over there by the indoor fountain. It he looks really focused, if I were you I'd wait to talk to him" "Oh really? I was really hoping to get him alone" "I'm sorry?" "You know...have you seen how sexy he is?! I'd love to see if I could try my luck with him. And the fact that he's super rich too is amazing!" Is this girl for real? You really try to keep your cool and tell her what the deal is. "Gina, that's not going to happen I'm afraid" "What? Why?" "Because I am with Terry. He's my fiancee, hear the ring to prove it"

Gina gasps when she realises what is happening, she feels embarrassed as well as many other emotions. "Oh my god I'm so sorry! I swear I didn't realise!" "Its ok Gina you didnt know, I was just being honest with you" "Oh god I feel so bad, I thought you were his assistant, or maybe his cleaner?" "You thought that?" "Well yeh, you also seemed to be a lot older than me and I thought he would want someone olde-" "Wait wait wait, how old do you think I am?" "I don't know, 35 maybe?" "I'M 27! I'm only one year younger than Terry!" "Alright maybe I got that wrong-" "Did you just come hear to try it on with Terry? Tell me the truth" "Kind of yeh, but-" "But nothing. Adam!" One of Terry's bouncers approaches you. "Adam would you please escort this girl from the house, she is not welcome hear" "Of course miss L/N" "Hey hey wait! I didn't mean-" But she couldn't finish her sentence before Adam dragged her out of the house, leaving you feeling quite sad about the whole thing.

You just stood there agsint the kitchen side, everyone else was enjoying themselves while you just held yourself as this overwhelming feeling of insecurity came over you. You could see Terry talking to someone on the other side of the room, and you were in desperate need of some comfort from him. When he looked over to you, you try to catch his eye by pulling the strap down a little from your shoulder, this definitely got his attention.

But he could read you like a book, your body said come hear, but your eyes said please I need you. "Would you excuse me Harry? My fiancee needs some help fixing her shoulder strap of her dress" He leaves this man and walks straight over to you, not caring who tried to talk to him as he walked past, you were his only priority. "Hey baby, come on let's go somewhere a little quieter shall we?" You give him a silent nod as he delicately took your hand and guided you to the stairs. "Edgar, please make sure noone comes up the stairs to the next level of the house. Me and Y/N need a private conversation" "Of course Mr Silver" This was another bouncer in Terry's house, he had a few, and Edgar was making sure noone was snooping around his home. Once Terry took you upstairs, he opened the bedroom door and yly both walked in once he closed the door behind him. You sat on the bed twiddling your thumbs when he could see something was up with you.

"Baby? What's the matter?" "Terry...do I look old?" "What? Of course you don't, your younger than me remember? Why would you think that?" "I don't think that but, there was this girl downstairs who didn't realise I was with you, and she was quite open when she said she liked you and wanted to get you alone" "Seriously?! I hope you told her that I belong to you!" "I told her that I was engaged to you yes, but she thought that I was way older than I actually was, and she thought I was your cleaner, not your fiancee" "How dare she say that to you! How old did she think you were?" "She thought I was 35" "35?! Your nowhere near 35! I'll make sure she's removed from this house right now!" "Terry it's ok, I've beaten you too it. I asked Adam to take her out of the house" "That's good, I'm glad you did that. Baby listen to me" He says kneeling down infront of you and holding your hands in his. "Don't listen to what that stupid girl said ok? She was probably just jealous because she knows that she can't have me, I'm yours and only yours, and that's the way its going to stay. And by the way, weather your 27, 35 40, 60 or even 100! I'll always love you and that will never ever change. And by the way, 35 isn't old at all"

"I know, I know...it just put me out of sorts that's all. I just wanted to have you to myself for a few minutes. It always makes me feel better" "Aww my poor baby, come hear" He kneels up a little and gives you a sweet hug, it was instantly making you feel more at ease and relaxed. What you weren't expecting though, was during this hug, Terry started kissing your shoulder and down your arm. "I'm sorry baby girl, but your just so beautiful that I can't help myself. You know...Edgar is on duty downstairs making sure noone disturbs us. Why don't I spend this little time we have, making you feel better? I can show you just how lucky you are to have me, to be the only woman who will ever have me..." "Terry....that sounds like a very good idea..." He gives you a delicious smirk before he locks his lips with yours, he could always make you feel light headed weather it was a kiss or more. His hand comes up past your thigh and up to your chest, he slowly and gently pushed you to lie down on the bed as he stayed in place, still kneeling inbetween your legs.

"This dress your wearing is giving me this primal feeling inside baby girl, but...we also can't get you too untidy can we? It's better to keep this dress on" "I don't understand? How can-" He stops you mid sentence by grabbing your hips and pulling towards his chest in one quick pull. "Were going to have to look presentable when we go back downstairs don't we? So just lie back and enjoy..." His finger pulls your underwear to the side, and be slowly round his tounge agsinst your sensitive and swollen clit. It makes you shudder and he starts going a little faster, just giving you a moment to get used to his tounge. But it appears he simply can't control himself as he buries his face inbetween your legs and holds you closer by grabbing your hips and not letting go. No matter how many times he does this, it always feels electrifying, and you know your hips are going to be bruised by his fingers but you were so far from caring. A strong orgams starts to build as he tounge shows you no mercy, and your grab and pull at the bed sheets, desperate to hold onto something as it builds more and more. You wanted to pull at his hair, but you know if you did, it would mess it up, so bed sheets it is.

"Oh jesus! God Terry!" You try so hard to keep the internal scream inside of you, but when he makes your legs shake and your body feel waves of ultimate extacy, you can't control yourself. He never let's go and he never stops despite you writhing on the bed and moaning and whimpering. You didn't think you could cope with this orgasm, that was until he finaly stoped after making you feel another 2 earth shattering orgasms. You were lead on the bed trying to catch your breath as he leaned up over you. "My god baby girl, you taste so sweet. Let's take a few minutes for you to get your breath back and we can head back to the party. Bit don't worry, when everyone goes home, I'll give you even more of what you deserve, and there will be no need to hold back either" "Now that Terry, sounds like a very good idea..."

[seitmai]

Many thoughts...

"I thought you bought first class seats because you love me and Rosie and wanted us to be comfortable."You were looking up at him with your chin propped on his arm and a smirk on your face. "Well, yeah. That, too," he promised, and you laughed. "But I'm getting old, and the seats are uncomfortable." "You're not old, Roo," you told him with an eye roll. "You're just right."

They are just right for each other 🥰

But truthfully, Bradley had really only chosen it with you in mind. The luxury resort was right on a beautiful beach, and there was a chef who taught cooking classes every day. Bradley could already picture you happily sunbathing before attending the hot sauce demonstration. He was just along for the ride, happy to go anywhere that you and Rosie wanted to.

He is just so cute and thoughtful 🥹

"Why do you think I talk to everyone like I do?" Bradley asked, pulling you into his arms when you were finally alone with him in your hotel room which overlooked the beach and had a private plunge pool. "You never know when they might decide to give you an upgraded room."

Very good thinking there

"Bradley, did you seriously bring the blood pressure cuff with us?" you asked as he unhooked your bra. "Yeah," he grunted. "Of course I did. I promised Dr. Morris we'd keep a close eye on it."

He's like "Did I bring the blood pressure cuff? What a question! Duh!"

"My bras don't really fit anymore," you whispered as he dropped yours to the floor.

These are probably magic words to Bradley lol

He was obsessed. It was like he couldn't help himself. And he seemed to be getting worse, which you actually kind of loved, if you were being honest. Your weird, pregnant body seemed to just make him hornier, but especially your breasts. As he nipped hungrily at your chest, you decided to test a theory that had formed in your mind. "If you love them this much now, what are you going to do when I'm actually lactating?"

He is gonna lose his mind lol

Your husband looked embarrassed as he nodded and pressed his nose to the valley between your breasts. His mustache prickled your skin as he said, "I don't know why. I just can't get enough. They feel... warmer. And you smell insanely good. And I just can't stop thinking about how you look and taste right now."

He reminds me (in a cute way) of a purring cat that rubs all over you

You took his face in your hands as you wiggled your hips, and you were rewarded with the needy sound of his grunting. "You're blushing so much, Bradley. But you don't need to be embarrassed. I don't think I'll ever get over how much you like my body this way."

And this is why they are absolutely perfect for each other! 👏🏻🥰

And when you got dressed earlier, he made a comment about how good your breasts looked and threatened to take you back to bed. If you didn't have plans with a hot sauce professional for the afternoon, you'd have let him.

Hot sauce > getting dicked down

Bradley would be holding Rose to let her watch, telling her about how hot the peppers were and then probably singing a Red Hot Chili Peppers song to make her giggle. You'd be in your apron, dancing around to their nonsense.

🥰🥰🥰

"This is purely selfish," you told him, licking his ear before putting a dab of sunblock there. "If you get a bad burn, you'll be out of commission, and you know how horny I am right now."

Valid haha

"Come on, Daddy," you coaxed as your feet hit the water. You were grinning nonstop as you added, "If you're good, I'll show you my boobs when we get out there." Bradley made sure his footing was solid, and you squealed when he picked you up and carried you into the water. "Roo! You're a maniac!"

His pilot reflexes and gym routine come in handy 😏🤭

"In Loreto?" he asked, kissing your forehead. "We can always come back again when Rosie is older. The two of you can take a hot sauce class together." You made a soft sound and said, "Yeah, I like it in Loreto, but I was talking about being snuggled up in your arms."

🥰🥹🥰🥹

Rose Carole Bradshaw. The words swirled around in his mind, and he knew that was without a doubt his daughter's name. She would always get to carry a piece of the grandmother she would never get to meet. The grandmother who would have loved her beyond measure.  It was hard to breathe as a happiness he'd never felt before filled his chest. All he could do was nod and whisper, "That's absolutely perfect."

Aim for the Sky Part 12 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: You and Bradley embark on the babymoon of your dreams where a warm beach and hot sauce await. When you not only indulge his current fantasy but allow him to take it to the next level, he's more excited than ever for the future.

Warnings: Fluff, smut, lactation kink, cockwarming, slight exhibitionism

Length: 4800 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

Aim for the Sky masterlist. This was written to accompany my series Is It Working For You? along with a bunch of my one-shots and other series, but it can be read on its own! Check my masterlist for the reading order.

"I wish you could fly us there in your Super Hornet. We would save so much time."

Bradley kissed the top of your head as you wrapped your hands around his bicep and snuggled against him. "Sweetheart, I got us first class tickets for a reason," he murmured. "I'm getting sick of sitting in an uncomfortable cockpit seat every day."

"I thought you bought first class seats because you love me and Rosie and wanted us to be comfortable."

You were looking up at him with your chin propped on his arm and a smirk on your face. "Well, yeah. That, too," he promised, and you laughed. "But I'm getting old, and the seats are uncomfortable."

"You're not old, Roo," you told him with an eye roll. "You're just right."

Bradley relaxed back in his aisle seat as you stretched up to kiss the gray hairs that were starting to show along his temple. He was tired, but he knew you were as well. It had been a long week at work for both of you, and now the commercial airplane was starting to pull away from the gate. In approximately five hours, it would touch down in Loreto, Mexico for five days in the sun.

A bit of a January cold snap had taken over San Diego, and everyone at work seemed a little jealous about the babymoon location. But truthfully, Bradley had really only chosen it with you in mind. The luxury resort was right on a beautiful beach, and there was a chef who taught cooking classes every day. Bradley could already picture you happily sunbathing before attending the hot sauce demonstration. He was just along for the ride, happy to go anywhere that you and Rosie wanted to.

You kissed his ear and whispered, "As soon as we get to the hotel, I need you."

Bradley groaned in response and then laughed. "I literally just fucked you three hours ago."

"That was three hours ago."

"How do you make it through a day at work right now? Please explain that to me."

"Very carefully," you told him.

Your hormones were all over the place, and Bradley had taken to checking your blood pressure before and after any sort of sexual activities. He knew he was probably going overboard, but you had mild preeclampsia, and he was feeling more protective of you than ever before in spite of your protests that you and the baby were fine.

"I'll make a deal with you," he murmured as the plane took off. "How about you order a meal from the flight attendant while I take a nap, and then when we're alone, we can do whatever you want."

Your eyes lit up, and Bradley was already half asleep a few minutes later when he heard you ordering a wrap and a fruit bowl.

---------------------------

The resemblance of the hotel in Loreto to the Four Seasons in Waikiki was uncanny, and you were trying to keep your cool while Bradley chatted with the woman at the concierge desk. You were having honeymoon flashbacks, and it was making you dangerously horny as you laced your fingers with his and gave him a little tug.

"Roo," you whispered, pressing your nose to his bicep and inhaling deeply. You knew that he knew what you needed, but he just kept on laughing at everything the other woman said. Now he was asking her questions. Another few minutes of this, and you were going to lose it. 

You were about to tell him that social hour was over, but she started laughing at something. As soon as he mentioned that you were pregnant, she looked at you instead of Bradley and started making a fuss over your belly. Next thing you knew, you got a free room upgrade. 

"Why do you think I talk to everyone like I do?" Bradley asked, pulling you into his arms when you were finally alone with him in your hotel room which overlooked the beach and had a private plunge pool. "You never know when they might decide to give you an upgraded room."

Now he was the one following you around, trying to undress you, while you checked out the stunning accommodations in awe. "Good job, Daddy," you muttered. "You got us a private pool. And we can sit out on the patio and watch the sun rise tomorrow. Oh! And we can order room service for breakfast!"

You were about to step outside and see how warm the pool was when Bradley grabbed you from behind by your hips. "Get back in here. You can't just whine for my cock for an entire flight and then act like a brat in the lobby and expect me not to be hard as a rock by the time we get to the room."

It was impossible to contain your smile as his hands found their way up inside your shirt. And that's when you felt just how hard he was. "I wanted to check out the pool," you whined, knowing you'd get an even bigger reaction out of him.

"And you will," he promised, turning you around and pulling your shirt over your head. "Just as soon as I fuck you and check your blood pressure."

"Bradley, did you seriously bring the blood pressure cuff with us?" you asked as he unhooked your bra.

"Yeah," he grunted. "Of course I did. I promised Dr. Morris we'd keep a close eye on it." Then he swiped his thumb along your nipple, and your entire body reacted to him as he stared longingly at your chest and said, "Good god, your tits are exquisite."

"My bras don't really fit anymore," you whispered as he dropped yours to the floor.

He moaned your name. "I did happen to notice that." Your breasts were in his big hands, and he gave you a hard squeeze, making your head tipped back. Your nipples felt a little sore, but his calloused fingers gave you an undeniably delightful sensation when he touched you. "Jesus, Baby Girl. They are fucking huge. And so warm." Your husband had been fixating on your chest throughout your entire pregnancy, but right now, his pupils were wide, and his voice was impossibly raspy as he gently pinched you. 

"Roo," you gasped, unable to process the pleasure with a bit of pain except to grab him closer. "Do it again."

"Fuck." He guided you so you were sitting on the edge of the bed, and you watched him unbutton his shirt. He tossed it aside and pulled his undershirt off as well, and you placed a kiss to his abs before unzipping his jeans. Once he was undressed, you tried to suck his cock, but all you were able to do was get one good lick in before he took a step away from you.

"Please?" you whined, but he was shaking his head.

"I'll come in two minutes if you start doing that," he rasped. "And I want to spend some quality time with your tits first."

"Oh," you said with a smile, smashing your breasts gently together. "Like this? A titty fuck?"

You watched him touch himself as his eyes were glued to what you were doing with your hands, but he shook his head again. "No," he whispered, licking his lips. "I want my mouth on you."

As you leaned back on the bed and started to pull your leggings and underwear down, you watched his cheeks grow a deeper shade of pink as your breasts bounced. "Roo," you whispered. "You can put your mouth anywhere you want." But his gaze never wavered as he palmed his cock and climbed into bed with you. Neither suitcase was unpacked. You hadn't even finished exploring the room. But your husband was pulling your nipple between his lips, and you knew you were in this for the long haul.

He released you with a pop as you dragged your fingers through his hair, and he murmured, "You're fucking perfect." Then he kissed your round belly and said, "And so are you." Then he tossed all of the throw pillows to the floor and sat with his back against the headboard and patted his thigh. "Come here?"

You crawled up the bed to get to him, and he groaned as he watched you, his cock jumping with excitement. He wanted full access to your boobs; you knew that much. But you desperately needed to feel him. When you straddled his waist, his hands were on your chest, but when you eased yourself down around his length, his eyes went wide. "Let me just keep you warm while you take your time," you told him with a smile.

The sensation of feeling so completely full was incredible, and Bradley kissed along your tender breasts as he let his hands rest on your bump. "God damn it," he panted. "Your nipples are fucking delicious." He lapped at the underside of one breast before trailing his nose along one furled peak and then the other. When you moaned and clenched around him, his hands crept back to your hips, pulling you down harder until you gasped. But his mouth stayed on your chest.

He was obsessed. It was like he couldn't help himself. And he seemed to be getting worse, which you actually kind of loved, if you were being honest. Your weird, pregnant body seemed to just make him hornier, but especially your breasts. As he nipped hungrily at your chest, you decided to test a theory that had formed in your mind. "If you love them this much now, what are you going to do when I'm actually lactating?"

Bradley met your gaze, cheeks flushed and eyes wide. "Fuck," he whimpered. His Adam's apple bobbled as he swallowed hard, and he thrust slowly up into you.

You kissed his forehead and whispered, "You've been going wild for months, Roo."

Your husband looked embarrassed as he nodded and pressed his nose to the valley between your breasts. His mustache prickled your skin as he said, "I don't know why. I just can't get enough. They feel... warmer. And you smell insanely good. And I just can't stop thinking about how you look and taste right now."

You took his face in your hands as you wiggled your hips, and you were rewarded with the needy sound of his grunting. "You're blushing so much, Bradley. But you don't need to be embarrassed. I don't think I'll ever get over how much you like my body this way."

"It's perfect. You're always perfect. I love you."

You nodded and kissed his forehead again as he ran his fingers along both of your nipples. "I love you, too. But I want an answer, so I'm going to ask you one more time... If you love them this much now, what are you going to do when I'm actually lactating? Leaking breast milk and feeding the baby?"

Your husband's brown eyes looked like melted chocolate as he took a few deep breaths. His brow was furrowed, and his voice was deep and needy as he asked, "What will you let me do?"

Your eyes went wide as you gasped, and you ran your thumb across the scars on his pink cheek while he squeezed at your tits, his expression timid and skittish. You weren't used to seeing him like this, and you knew you were completely in control here. You were turned on beyond reason as you took a deep breath and asked, "Would you like it if I let you taste me when I'm lactating?"

He didn't hesitate, voice low as he said, "Fuck. Yes."

You tipped your head back for a beat while he kissed your nipples. "And would you like to rub your cock all over them while they leak, Roo? Titty fuck me until I'm an absolute mess?"

He growled your name, and then in an instant, you were on your back in the middle of the massive bed. He was fucking you hard, your breasts bouncing as he watched them before burying his face against your neck. His hips were relentless, pounding into you as he muttered, "I want to taste what you'll feed to the baby."

"Oh, god!" you moaned, voice quivering from how hard he was fucking you.

"I want to lick you everywhere, but especially all over your gorgeous tits, Sweetheart. I keep thinking about how you'll taste when you have milk, and it's driving me crazy."

"Bradley," you whined, tugging on his hair as his mouth found your breasts. "I'll let you do anything you want."

He withdrew his cock and knelt above you, one hand gently caressing your belly as he jerked off onto your breasts and your necklace charms. His cheeks were still pink, but he was looking at you with needy certainty now. There was nothing to worry about. You knew what he wanted, and he seemed pleased that he didn't have to put the words together himself.

He leaned down and kissed your lips, running one finger through his cum and then feeding it to you. "If you'll let me, then I'll do it all."

----------------------------

Bradley thought perhaps he should be embarrassed. He knew his thoughts were a little depraved as of late. Your breasts were his achilles heel at the moment, and he already knew he wouldn't be able to contain himself once you actually started leaking breast milk. He liked to imagine it. Liked to think about sucking on your swollen tits. He even enjoyed the mental image of running the tip of his cock along your leaking nipples before asking you to give him head.

But you just indulged him in his fantasies. You got him to admit what he wanted, and you told him he could have it all. Then you licked up some of his cum as he fed it to you before pulling him into the shower and holding a completely normal conversation with him while you lovingly washed his hair. Alright. So you were definitely more than okay with how badly he wanted to lick up after your breasts as soon as they started leaking.

"I'm so in love with you," he interjected as both of you toweled off. You just smiled and kissed him before flouncing back into the bedroom with your hand on your belly. Then he took your blood pressure, making sure it was completely normal, while you looked at the room service dinner menu.

"Bradley!" you almost screamed, and he dropped the blood pressure cuff on his foot. "They serve twenty different kinds of hot sauce!"

"Why do you think I brought you to this specific resort?" he asked, picking up the cuff and putting it away safely while you read off all of the different kinds of hot peppers in the sauce varieties. "I signed you up for a private hot sauce making lesson with one of the chefs tomorrow."

"You did?" you gushed, looking up at him like he just told you he bought you a hot pepper farm of your own. "That's the sweetest thing I've ever heard."

"I thought you and Rosie would have a good time trying some specialty samples and making one of your own," he said with a shrug before running his hand along your belly.

"Well, you're officially the best husband ever." You handed him the menu and said, "Rosie and I are starving. I want the tacos, the taquitos, and the catch of the day, but I'm too embarrassed to call it in myself."

"Got it. Why don't you go relax on the patio, and I'll meet you out there?"

He watched you though the open French doors, admiring the perfect curve of your cheek and your round belly in the fading sunlight as he ordered an absurd amount of food along with two virgin margaritas. He asked them to send a few of the hot sauces for you to try, and then when he ended the call, he went rushing outside to be with you.

Just as you finally got cozy on his lap, the plethora of food arrived, and Bradley groaned as he stood to let them bring it in. As soon as you had the taco platter in front of you, your eyes lit up, and you started trying all of the sauces. Once he took a sip of both margaritas and confirmed there was no tequila involved, he handed one to you and took a seat at the patio table.

You laughed and asked, "What do you want me to do with this?"

"There's no alcohol. I got two in case you want both." He bit into his own meal which tasted even better than he anticipated, and the sound of the Gulf of California just beyond the short stretch of beach left him feeling very relaxed. "Or maybe the Nugget wants her own."

You took a sip and grinned. "Well, you've thought of everything. What else do you have planned for this long weekend?"

"You'll find out," he promised. 

That first night, you fell asleep curled up at his side with a full belly and your hand resting on his chest. He'd left the Nugget notebook at home, and truthfully he didn't have much on his mind other than the fact that anything involving your tits was apparently fair game for him, so he decided to just talk to his daughter quietly instead of jotting anything down.

"Hey, Rose the Nugget," he whispered, feeling her thump as soon as he let his hand rest on the side of your bump. "It's Daddy." He smiled as she squirmed a bit, and honestly he didn't know how you were ever able to get any sleep when she was like this. "I love you. I can't wait to meet you in about eight weeks. Don't give your mom too hard a time, okay? No blood pressure spikes or anything like that. You just take it easy in there while I take care of her out here."

-----------------------------

"Let's start with one habanero and see how you like the spice level before we add too much."

You nodded at Chef Santiago and did your best to mimic him cutting up the hot pepper. You were in the kitchen wearing latex gloves, a hair net and an apron over the adorable dress you bought. If you had known what Bradley had planned, you'd have packed something other than a pile of cute outfits and lingerie for the babymoon.

Not that your husband was complaining. His cock was in you just moments after you woke this morning. And when you got dressed earlier, he made a comment about how good your breasts looked and threatened to take you back to bed. If you didn't have plans with a hot sauce professional for the afternoon, you'd have let him.

"That looks perfect," Chef Santiago told you, and you moved on to the next step, trying to memorize everything you were learning. There were so many tiny nuances that would apparently raise or lower the spice level of a hot sauce, and you never knew it. 

You could already imagine turning your own kitchen at home into a workshop while you make a signature hot sauce for Christmas presents at the end of the year. Bradley would be holding Rose to let her watch, telling her about how hot the peppers were and then probably singing a Red Hot Chili Peppers song to make her giggle. You'd be in your apron, dancing around to their nonsense.

"Now we're ready to blend." You looked up at Chef Santiago as he pulled you from your beautiful daydream. He was plugging in a blender, and you nodded in agreement. 

"Yes. Time to blend it."

When you were finished, you left the kitchen with two bottles of the most delicious hot sauce you could imagine. Even the orange-red color was pretty, and you went right out to the beach instead of back to the hotel room. Bradley had supposedly gone kayaking while you were creating your masterpiece, but when you found him on a lounge chair between the pool and the sand, he was laying on his stomach, sound asleep and snoring.

"Roo," you whispered, running your fingers along his glistening, sweaty bicep. His mustache twitched, but that was it. "Bradley," you said a little louder, tracing a scar on his cheek. Even when you poked his neck and raked your fingers through his hair, he just kept snoring. "Lieutenant Commander Bradshaw."

With a groan, he cracked his eyes open against the afternoon sunlight. "Are you talking to me or yourself?" he asked, carefully rolling onto his back.

"You!" He liked to tease that you both had the same name at work, even though your last name was hyphenated. "You're going to get sunburned."

"Nah, I sprayed myself before kayaking," he insisted, reaching for your belly. "Did my girls have fun?"

"Absolutely," you replied, shaking your hot sauces as he pulled you down onto the chair next to him. "How was kayaking?"

He flexed as he lounged back on the chair. "It was a decent upper body workout. You gonna let me try the hot sauce?"

Now you were distracted. "Do that again," you whispered with a smile, and this time when he flexed, he tightened up his abs too. "Let's go back to the room for a quickie and some more sunblock, and I'll let you taste my hot sauce."

"That sounds like a euphemism," he murmured, but he was already standing up. "I'm in."

When you got back to the room, he wasn't quick at all. He was languid and methodical, skin warm from baking in the sun. His hair smelled like sweat and salt water, and his voice was deep as he made so many promises to you.

"I can't wait for Rose to get here. I love her so much already. I'm gonna take care of both of you forever."

True to form, his mouth was all over your chest, and he made sure you came before he indulged himself in some deep thrusts, filling you up as he called out your name against your neck. Two minutes after he cleaned you up, you already wanted more, but he looked tired, and he definitely got more sun than he thought he did.

"Come here," you coaxed, leading him out to the patio where you took a few minutes to coat him up with sunblock, kissing him each time you had to squeeze some more out of the tube.

"Thanks, Baby Girl," he murmured.

"This is purely selfish," you told him, licking his ear before putting a dab of sunblock there. "If you get a bad burn, you'll be out of commission, and you know how horny I am right now."

When you started to walk away, he reached for the hem of your dress and grabbed your thigh. You met his gaze once again, and the needy look there made you swallow hard. "Why don't you put on your red bikini from our honeymoon? We can go down to the water for a bit."

You knew he really wanted to see you wearing it with a big belly, but you felt a bit self conscious. The thing was skimpy enough before you were pregnant. But when he started stroking your tattoo through your dress, you whispered, "Let me get changed."

----------------------------

Bradley had his arm casually slung over your shoulders as the two of you walked along the beach in the early evening sun. It was a little less crowded now, and you were chattering away and wearing his aviators as you dropped your tote bag off at two empty chairs. Everyone was looking at you and your bump. You were some sort of combination of adorable and sexy at the moment, but he especially appreciated that you were wearing his sunglasses. 

Just when he was ready to settle down and potentially take a nap with you this time, you shook your head and started leading him down to the water. He was exhausted from the sex and sun, but you were wearing your tiny honeymoon bikini, and he could see your rooster tattoo below your belly.

"This was your idea," you told him, playfully tugging on his arm while your tits bounced slightly. "You're the one who wanted to go in the water."

Bradley grunted softly and pretended that you were capable of pulling him where you wanted him to go. "I thought it was your idea," he teased, and you shot him a bland look over his aviators

"Come on, Daddy," you coaxed as your feet hit the water. You were grinning nonstop as you added, "If you're good, I'll show you my boobs when we get out there."

Bradley made sure his footing was solid, and you squealed when he picked you up and carried you into the water. "Roo! You're a maniac!"

The salty water splashed up around your body as you laughed, and soon Bradley was in waist-deep water with you clinging to the front of him. "You act like you don't know exactly what's going to get me going right now," he said, nipping at your lips. "Now show me the goods."

You kissed him hard and then whispered, "You have to work for it."

You wiggled free, and he chased you around in the water for a few minutes while you splashed him. Every time you glanced back over your shoulder to see where he was, your smile grew. Slowly he closed the distance, reaching for you under the water. When his hands found your hips, you let him pull you back until you were pressed against him. He could feel your quickening pulse when he kissed along your neck, and it matched his. Bradley spun you slowly in his arms so you were facing him, and he toyed with the ties on both sides of your bikini bottoms as your belly pushed against him.

With bright eyes, you looked up at him and bit your lip. Water droplets fell from his sunglasses where they were perched on the end of your nose and splashed against your tits. You glanced to your left and right, but there was nobody else in the water near the two of you. Saliva pooled on Bradley's tongue as his gaze followed your fingers to your bikini top, and you slowly pulled at the red triangles until he was staring longingly at your pert nipples as the salty water dripped onto your chest.

"That's more like it," he grunted, running his thumb along your wet skin and leaning down to kiss you there before you covered yourself up again. You always got his heart pumping harder, but right now, everything felt perfect. Your blood pressure seemed to be under control, and the baby was healthy. He was tired, but you were clearly having a great time.

The sky was growing darker now as the sun had set, and the purple and pink swirls mixed with blue giving everything a dreamy feel. You held onto him in the water, your head coming to rest against his shoulder so your lips brushed along his collarbone when you spoke.

"I love it here."

"In Loreto?" he asked, kissing your forehead. "We can always come back again when Rosie is older. The two of you can take a hot sauce class together."

You made a soft sound and said, "Yeah, I like it in Loreto, but I was talking about being snuggled up in your arms."

He felt soft inside as he whispered, "I love you." Then he closed his eyes, memorizing the feel of your pregnant body against his and the sound of your even breathing. 

Just when he didn't think the moment could possibly get any better, somehow it did. You kissed his chest and said, "I was thinking about middle names and trying to decide what sounds good with Rose." You paused and tipped your head back, so he opened his eyes, and you asked, "What about Carole?"

Rose Carole Bradshaw. The words swirled around in his mind, and he knew that was without a doubt his daughter's name. She would always get to carry a piece of the grandmother she would never get to meet. The grandmother who would have loved her beyond measure. 

It was hard to breathe as a happiness he'd never felt before filled his chest. All he could do was nod and whisper, "That's absolutely perfect."

-----------------------------

Kink: unlocked. I can't wait to see Bradley in action after Rosie arrives. Just a few more chapters without the little Nugget! Thanks @beyondthesefourwalls

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[carolmunson]

HERE WE FUCKING GOOOOO:

Time stretches like a rubber band, lengthening each moment. People in uniforms hurry past, paying you no attention as you call out his name. The smell of damp earth mixes with the acrid scent of diesel from the idling vehicles. Bright lights from inside the house spill out into the dark from the open front door.

Jelly this is so gorgeously written, I can literally see and smell it.

Frightened doe eyes peer back from a pale face tinged with blue. Sitting in the back of the ambulance, he looks much smaller, like the world has pressed its full weight down on him. The gray blanket covering his shoulder doesn’t protect him from the shattering of the only life he knows. 

MY BABY.

“I’ll do the brioche french toast with the salted caramel and bananas. And extra whipped cream, please. Oh, and a side of sausage links.” “What?” Robin asks after the waiter has left. “I’m hungry.”

The smile across my face right now, God. Your characterization is insane.

“Yoga actually wasn’t that hot this morning,” Robin admits, biting her lip, reaching for the creamer pitcher at the center of the Formica table.

I AM HERE FOR SLUT ROBIN.

“I know.” You pick at your eggs. It’s moments like this that make it clear they’ll always be Steve’s friends first. 

Oof, fuck. Yikes.

“Because then it wouldn’t have been a surprise,” Nancy tells her, “You’ve never been able to keep a secret.” “But you’re very pretty,” you chuckle, diffusing the situation. “Thank you. I am,” she responds, swirling her last bite in caramel before popping it into her mouth.

Jelly, the dialogue between the three of them is so smooth and real. This is like, how me and my friends talk to each other. It's so seamless. Again, I feel like I'm sitting at the table with them.

“Whoa. Careful, doll,” he says, surprise lacing his tone.

FUCK OFF.

“Doll-” Keeping your pace purposeful, you push past people heading in the opposite direction, feigning deafness to his voice amidst the sound of traffic. “Doll, just wait,” his hand brushes your elbow, but you spin before he can secure a grip. “Jesus. Will you give me a minute,” he mutters, frustration etching lines on his forehead as he rakes his hand through his hair.

I WILL GIVE HIM SEVERAL MINUTES. HE CAN HAVE MY WHOLE LIFE. I LOVE HIM.

You nod, turning in the direction of your car, leaving him standing on the sidewalk to watch you walk away, the city filling the space between you.

I am ripping my fucking hair out.

"Damn.” He pauses with his coffee cup suspended halfway to his mouth, eyes roaming up and down your body. ‘Someone’s a lucky guy.”

Do not fucking do this to me rn.

“Just an hour,” he reiterates, “Then I’m taking you to dinner alone. And we’ll go home for dessert,” he promises as his lips find their way to your neck.

I am conflicted on my affections and deeply unwell.

“Yeah, I know.” You glance at him, offering a warm smile. "But I wanted to run through my outline for the series with him so he can be fully prepared,” you explain, pulling your phone from your pocket and opening your email.

Liar! You lie!

“I think he bought it,” Jonathan says, coming up beside you, weighted down with bags full of equipment.

Nothing I am thinking right now is in the bible.

Standing in the room’s center, you take a slow spin before locking your gaze with Eddie’s. “What a dump.” A deep furrow appears on Eddie’s forehead as his lips press into a disapproving line. 

OMG READER (ME), DON'T BE MEAN TO HIM!

Eddie waits for Jonathan to wander back into the hall before he crosses the room in three big strides, stopping directly in front of you, closer than what would be considered polite. But this is Eddie, and it’s all part of the game. Your hands move to your hips as you straighten in defiance. The scent of mint on his breath reaches your nose as his index finger barely brushes your skin as he lifts the gold circle and bar necklace that rests at your throat.  "Harrington’s money has sure got you spoiled, princess,” he mocks, giving it a light tug, causing the anchor end of the chain to rise up the valley of your breasts. When your eyes flash, his lips pull to the side, twisting in a smirk. 

DO NOT. FUCKING. LOOK. AT. ME.

He settles next to you, spreading his legs wide and crossing one over his knee, his arm landing on the top of the cushions behind you. He’s sitting too close, the heat of his thigh pressing against yours, the spice of his cologne surrounding you. Close enough to see the light stubble on his jaw as he swallows. You shift forward to the edge of your seat, creating some space between you. “You can’t even sit next to me anymore?” He asks, his tone a mix of disappointment and irritation. 

-feral animal squealing and snarling in the distance-

“My god, you’re like a little kid.” Switching the phone to your opposite hand, you hold it at arm’s length, “Haven’t you grown up at all?” His lips turn up until his dimples are on full display. “Why would I want to go and do a thing like that? 

I'm truly aching.

“I’ve read everything you’ve written,” he prattles on as you cross your arms over your chest, your fingernails leaving half moons in the fabric of your jacket.  “I buy a subscription to Stax every year. I get Wayne one, too. Do you know he saves every–” “Stop, Eddie,” you say, cutting him off. “You don’t need to do this.” “Do what?” He asks, his brows sinking. “This.” You wave your hand between you. “Whatever this is. I’m going to write a good story. You’re getting what you want.” “What I want?” He looks surprised. “You think this is about the article?”

no no no no no fuck fuck fuck, jelly i am gonna kick your fucking ASSSSSSfnrjgotgndkmgfnd

You narrow your eyes, inspecting Eddie as he gets into position.“Did you cut your hair again?” “I’m a thirty-two-year-old man. Sometimes I do that,” he responds, scratching at his beard. “Tip your chin to the right,” Jonathan instructs from behind the camera, the shutter clicking in short bursts. “Well, it looks stupid.”

lma she's so fucking MEEEEE. (i cannot wait for him to plow us)

“Is it?” he asks, his eyes locking onto yours, giving your hand a gentle squeeze. “All I see is you.”

stop. doing this. to me.

“Steve, the house is going to be a museum to her ex-girlfriends. We’ll be able to give guided tours.”

LMAOOOOO AHAHAHAHAHA

You: He doesn’t have to hope. Don’t you have anything better to do than annoy me? The wait for a response is short-lived as an image pops up on your screen. Sockclad feet are propped up on a coffee table beside a take-out box of tacos and a half-drained glass of beer, its foam running down the side. A hazy view of a television screen in the background. 

Why am I folding for this LOSERR whe my hottie rich husband is IN FRONT OF ME?!

Eddie: Thanks for clearing it up. I should let you get back to your date. Steve probably has steam coming out of his ears. You: He had to take a call. Eddie: He left you all alone? It’s a good thing I was around then.

The entire text exchange I...I'm not well. I am not okay.

Jelly, this is a fucking masterpiece. It ended and I literally was transported back to my kitchen table. I am so sunk in when I read this. I am there, I am her. I am in 2012 and wearing faux leather leggings and Litas. I am aching for my fiancee and my ex lover, I am tasting the salmon at dinner and breakfast at the diner -- I know exactly what that painting looks like and would look like in my office.

This is easily truly one of the best series I have ever read, I cannot WAIT for part four.

Forgotten sons, Forgotten dates, & Florence.

Masterlist

TW: 2012 AU, Older!Eddie, Older!Steve, Femreader, Second Chance Romance (not a slow burn), Love Triangle, Smut, Mentions of DV, 18+ No minors WC:8554 beta'd by @superblysubpar

The slow roll of red and blue lights reflects on the big picture window in your living room, casting a glare across the TV screen. Shifting from your stomach, your head turns to meet the anxious expressions worn by your parents. The handful of popcorn you were holding falls to the beige-colored carpet where you’d been sprawled. 

‘Honey…” your dad’s concerned voice cautions, but it’s too late. You are on your feet, greasy fingerprints transferred to your flannel pajama pants as you walk straight toward the door.

“Honey, don’t. It’s not our business.”

As the door swings open, a gust of frigid November air washes over you. Your bare feet meet an icy sting from the frozen boards of your porch. The staticky voices from police radios crackle through the cold night air, their words blending into an indecipherable hum as they float down the street. The wood underneath your feet turns to the scrape of cement as you leave the warm safety of your home and run down the rain-washed street towards the ambulances and police cruisers. Fallen red and yellow leaves stick to the pavement, their colors vivid in the flashing lights reflecting off the wet road.

Time stretches like a rubber band, lengthening each moment. People in uniforms hurry past, paying you no attention as you call out his name. The smell of damp earth mixes with the acrid scent of diesel from the idling vehicles. Bright lights from inside the house spill out into the dark from the open front door.

“Eddie,” you cry out again as a hand closes over your elbow, tugging you back.

“You can’t be here.”

You struggle, attempting to break free from the policeman's grip as he pulls you away. Your head turns, and your eyes finally find his. Frightened doe eyes peer back from a pale face tinged with blue. Sitting in the back of the ambulance, he looks much smaller, like the world has pressed its full weight down on him. The gray blanket covering his shoulder doesn’t protect him from the shattering of the only life he knows. 

“Eddie,” you whisper his name, your voice trembling. He tries to stand, shrugging off the woolen blanket, his hand reaching out as the EMT seals the doors. The ambulance roars to life and speeds away, leaving you alone with the taste of salt from your tears mingling with the cold, crisp air. A gurney rolls past, bearing a figure lying motionless beneath a white sheet. Only a portion of her face is visible, her features obscured by a patchwork of black and blues, her dark hair falling to the side like a shroud.

"I've got her."

Your dad's strong voice breaks through the chaos as he sweeps you up from the policeman's grip. He holds you close, carrying you away like he did when you were much younger, your face buried in his shoulder, tears dampening the fabric of his jacket. The world blurs as his steps bring you closer to home. You cry for the boy who will face the rest of this world alone.

“Egg-white omelet with tomatoes, mushrooms, and onions. No spinach. And I’ll have a side of bacon, very crispy but not blackened,” Nancy says, handing her menu to the waiter before shifting her eyes toward you. 

“Two eggs over easy, please–avocado toast and the fruit salad.”

“I’ll do the brioche french toast with the salted caramel and bananas. And extra whipped cream, please. Oh, and a side of sausage links.”

“What?” Robin asks after the waiter has left. “I’m hungry.”

“We just worked out,” Nancy scolds. 

“I did hot yoga. I need to replenish,” Robin explains, raising a mug of tea to her lips.

After moving here, a night out always ended with breakfast at The Friendly Toast, welcoming the sun as it rose over the city. As habits and routines changed, it evolved into a standing brunch for just the ladies after morning gym sessions. The diner’s retro black and white flooring and red vinyl upholstered seating still bears the same traces of syrup as it did all those years ago, but the food is good, and the wait is never long. 

"Was it the hot yoga or you're Saturday night with Taylor," you tease, earning a dreamy smile from a pink-cheeked Robin. 

"Yoga actually wasn't that hot this morning," Robin admits, biting her lip, reaching for the creamer pitcher at the center of the Formica table.

Now that you all have a bit more cash to spare, Nancy leans towards the idea of brunching in a bougier spot in your shared Gold Coast neighborhood, but Robin is a stickler for traditions. The charm of Nancy Sinatra playing over the speakers and the selection of boozy milkshakes are what win your vote. 

The food arrives quickly this morning. “Three hot plates for three hot ladies,” the waiter winks as he delivers generous portions on the ceramic oval plates. The smoky scent of bacon mixed with the sweetness of caramel. He pulls a silver canister from his apron pocket, giving Robin’s dish an extra squirt of whipped cream.

“Oh, he’s getting a very good tip,” Robin says, placing her napkin in her lap.

Laughing, you pick up your fork and break the yolk, letting the soft yellow drip onto the smashed avocado. Nancy rolls her eyes and picks up her beeping phone. 

"No phones," Robin chides around a mouth full of French toast.

"Sorry," Nancy says, tapping out a quick reply before placing her phone face down on the table, "My brother is driving everyone crazy.” She unwraps her silverware before continuing, “He wants us all to come to Florida for Christmas since it will be the first one in their new house, but Hawkins is so much easier for everyone. Holly is still in school, and Jonathan doesn’t want to take that much time off from work.”

“Sounds like Steve.” Your eyebrow lifts as you take a bite.

“Steve only works so hard because he wants to take care of you,” Robin says, pointing her fork in your direction.

“He adores you,” Nancy agrees, “You're lucky.”

“I know.” You pick at your eggs. It’s moments like this that make it clear they’ll always be Steve’s friends first. 

“Did you get the Bulls tickets for his birthday?” Nancy asks, before picking up a piece of bacon with her fingers and biting into it with an audible crunch.

“I ordered them last week,” you tell her, taking a bite of pineapple.

“I hope you got extra,” Robin says, dabbing some whipped cream from the corner of her mouth with a napkin. 

“You're not thinking of going now?” Nancy looks at her, surprised.

“No. Not for me,” Robin says, waving her off, “I’m sure he’ll want to invite Eddie now that he’s back in town.”

You sit up straighter in your chair, just the mention of Eddie's name has tension rippling down your spine. “I got him six tickets. He’ll have three extra to invite whoever he wants,” you say, settling the matter.

“Let me know how much I owe you for me and Jonathan,” Nancy tells you.

“I got it,” you assure her, “Just buy him a foam finger or something.”

“It’s his birthday. You’re really not going?” Robin prods, her voice carrying a note of judgment.

“Not if I can help it. You know I don’t like sports.” It's the same answer as the first time she brought it up, a few weeks ago. “He’ll have more fun with people who appreciate it. I’ll celebrate with him when we’re alone.”

“Say no more,” Nancy says, raising her hands as she looks down at her plate.

“Come on, Nance,” Robin laughs, “You used to celebrate with him in the exact same way.”

“Robin,” Nancy whispers through clenched teeth, darting her eyes toward you.

“I don’t care, Nance. It’s ancient history,” you chuckle. Steve’s high school relationship with her ended with a lot of heartache, but they obviously weren’t right for each other. The friendship that they share today is different from his and Robin's. She understands the pressure that he's under. 

“I’ve always wanted to know,” Robin says, her eyes glinting with mischief, “Who is better, Steve or Jonathan?”

“Don’t answer that,” you chuckle, patting Nancy’s hand as her face cycles through several shades of pink. 

“I won’t,” she glares at Robin. “Oh, wait. I don’t owe you,” she says, turning back to you and shifting the conversation, “You owe me. I can’t believe you scooped us on Eddie’s studio opening.”

Sighing heavily, you fill your mouth with a big bite of your breakfast, but the taste is off now. This story is a relentless storm cloud, always hovering, disrupting the peace. He's only been here a week and here's another argument. Hurricane Eddie. He must be pleased, relishing the storm he's brought into your life.

“Spectrum doesn’t even write about music,” Robin points out with a slice of banana at the end of her fork.

“It would have been a great piece for Chicago Lifestyles. We even could have hyped it up on an episode of Chronicle,” she complains, mentioning the human interest show that Spectrum runs profiling things happening in the city. “I’m the one that organized his welcome night, and this is the thanks I get.”

“Don’t look at me." You raise your hands in front of you. 

“Why did he tell you and not me that he was moving here?” Robin adds her own touch of gripping. “I should have been in charge of that.”

“Because then it wouldn’t have been a surprise,” Nancy tells her, “You’ve never been able to keep a secret.”

“But you’re very pretty,” you chuckle, diffusing the situation.

“Thank you. I am,” she responds, swirling her last bite in caramel before popping it into her mouth.

Your laughter blends with the background din of conversation and the gentle clinking of silverware as you savor the last bites of your meal. When the check arrives, Nancy insists on covering the bill, urging you to put your share toward the cost of Steve's tickets, and Robin leaves behind the promised very generous tip. With your plates cleared and goodbyes exchanged, the three of you leave the crowded restaurant.

As you trail behind Robin and Nancy, your phone starts vibrating with an incoming call. Fumbling through the pockets of the jacket you're carrying, you step out onto the bustling sidewalk, teeming with people entering and exiting the diner. Lost in distraction, you collide head-on with a solid chest. Strong hands instinctively grasp your biceps, preventing you from stumbling further. As your gaze lifts, you're met with the chestnut eyes that have been the wind, stirring up your world. 

“Whoa. Careful, doll,” he says, surprise lacing his tone.

“What are you doing here?” You demand.

Flecks of gray paint pepper the tangle of dark curls pushed back from his face, joining the streaks and spatters covering his ripped jeans and a long-sleeved white tee, his wide eyes drinking you in.

“He’s meeting me,” Robin says, appearing beside you. “I’m taking him to meet an artist he’s commissioning. See, I can keep a secret.”

He’s still holding you, his eyes locked with yours, each ridge of his fingertips searing into your skin, the pressure of grip alternating like he’s reluctant to let you go. 

“I’m late,” you murmur, pulling away from his touch and turning in the opposite direction to walk down the road toward your car. 

"I’ll be right back,” he tells Robin before his footsteps echo on the sidewalk behind you. He waits until the restaurant is just out of sight.

“Doll-”

Keeping your pace purposeful, you push past people heading in the opposite direction, feigning deafness to his voice amidst the sound of traffic.

“Doll, just wait,” his hand brushes your elbow, but you spin before he can secure a grip. “Jesus. Will you give me a minute,” he mutters, frustration etching lines on his forehead as he rakes his hand through his hair.

“What do you want?” You ask, cradling your jacket closer to your chest.

“I had no idea you were here. I wasn’t trying to ambush you back there,” he tries to explain.

“It’s fine, Eddie.” Your eyes glance at the people passing around you. “You made it perfectly clear you’re going to go wherever you like.”

His tongue peeks out, wetting his top lip as he shakes his head. “Look, I wanted to tell you I don’t want you to do the interview.”

“Wow, okay.” Your eyes scrunch as the sting of rejection overpowers the butterflies filling your stomach.

“No,” he winces at his choice of words. “I want you too.” 

“You’re giving me whiplash here.” You finally meet his gaze. 

“What I’m trying to say is that I want to see you. Talk to you, but I don’t want you doing this interview hating me because you were forced into it.”

“It’s a little late for that-”

“No. I don’t want you to be uncomfortable. I can tell them…I can say I changed my mind.” His words carry a weight of earnestness, a sincerity that chips at the wall you’ve built between you. The instinct not to trust him, to remember all the times he’s let you down, wars with the truth in his eyes, begging you for acceptance. 

“We are both professionals. I can write it.” Your foot taps a quick rhythm against the pavement, as your face stays blank with defiance.

“If you’re sure...” he trails off, his eyes burning into yours as he waits for your answer.

The words form and reform on the tip of your tongue until the truth slips past, “I don’t hate you, Eddie,” you admit just above a whisper. 

“Well, that’s something,” he murmurs, searching your face.

The buzzing from your pocket resumes as the world shifts back into focus, breaking through the momentary understanding. 

“I’ve got to go,” you tell him, motioning towards your car. “The magazine will call and set something up soon.”

He blows out a breath as his shoulders lower. “I guess I’ll see ya round then,” he says, shoving his hands in his pockets. 

You nod, turning in the direction of your car, leaving him standing on the sidewalk to watch you walk away, the city filling the space between you.

Steve’s assistant is at his desk, fingers flying across the keyboard as he speaks into a headset. With a pleasant smile and a wave, you pass by him, pausing at the double doors to knock once under the brass nameplate reading Harrington. You turn the knob without waiting for a response. Steve is seated behind his immaculate metal and glass-topped desk, not a paper out of place. The floor-to-ceiling windows behind him frame a breathtaking view of the city's skyline while the afternoon sun casts long shadows across the plush beige carpeting. 

"Damn." He pauses with his coffee cup suspended halfway to his mouth, eyes roaming up and down your body. ‘Someone's a lucky guy.”

Biting your lip, his compliment has a smile lifting your cheeks. The velvet blazer covering over your shoulders crowns the plunging black silk tank you put on this morning. Its lacy edges trace the curves of your breasts, while your faux leather pants and ankle boots make your legs look miles long and hug your curves just right. 

“Yeah, well, big assignment today,” you reply, running your fingertips along the edge of his desk. 

In the past six years at Stax, you've delved into Ozzy's addiction, engaged Thom Yorke about climate change, and held the hand of a teary-eyed Taylor Swift as she cried over her ex. Your words have canonized the music that has woven the fabric of our culture. Eddie Muson is going to see you're not the same girl with stars in her eyes and headphones pressed to her ears. 

Steve’s brow furrows, etched with a deep V. "I was talking about me. Date night tonight, or did you forget?"

The blood drains from your face as you respond with a forced smile, "Of course, I didn't forget." The lie tastes bitter in your mouth. “I always want to look pretty for you.” Spinning his chair, your knees find their place on either side of his thighs as you straddle his lap. Your fingers gripping his starched collar. The notes of sandalwood from his cologne hit your nose, mixing with the scent of coffee. His features soften as his hands glide to your hips, and you tip your head and press your lips to his. “We’re meeting Robin’s new girlfriend tonight, right?”

“Taylor,” he confirms with a nod. “You’ll like her. She paints naked while listening to Jane's Addiction.”

“And how do you know this?” You laugh, your lips meeting his for the second time.

“I met her the other day when I took Robin to lunch.”

“Ahh," you respond with a playful grin, your thumb tracing along the stubble that lines his jaw. "That explains it."

“So, just an hour at the gallery, okay? We’ll have a drink and say hello-”

“If Robin lets us go,” you interrupt.

“Just an hour,” he reiterates, “Then I’m taking you to dinner alone. And we’ll go home for dessert,” he promises as his lips find their way to your neck.

“Hmm. Where are you taking me?” You ask as your eyes flutter closed.

"I'm not sure," he mumbles against your neck, “My assistant booked the reservation.” His lips trail lower, his grip tightening as his phone suddenly dances across the glass surface of his desk, its baseball jingle shattering the moment.

He picks up the phone, checking the number before setting it back down. “I’ll call them back,” he says absently before turning back to you. “Not that I’m not happy to see you, but I have a conference in fifteen minutes. What are you doing here, Ace?” He asks, his eyes glancing towards the desktop screen that has been chiming with incoming emails. 

“I’m meeting Jonathan. He’s driving over to CursedSound,” you say, climbing off him. “Thought I’d come say hi before I left.”

"Okay, you can tell me about it tonight," he responds, his tone distracted, as if he might not have truly registered your reply. He adjusts his glasses before refocusing his attention on the screen.

“Alright.” The clacking of his keyboard drowns out your quiet tone. You smooth out your shirt, sensing that you’ve been dismissed. He squints behind his glasses, tugging a handful of hair. Worry nags at the edges of your thoughts–he’s pushing himself too hard.

“See you tonight,” you call over your shoulder as you leave his office, not bothering to wait for the response that won’t come. 

"All set?" Jonathan asks as he slides behind the wheel of his Volvo XC, his camera equipment already secured neatly in the back.

"Yup," you reply, clicking your seatbelt into place and settling into the plush leather seat.

"You know you didn’t have to come today," he comments as he maneuvers onto the bustling streets of the Loop, navigating the notorious Chicago traffic. "I’m just taking a few shots of the inside before it’s all put together and maybe a few portraits for the digital content."

"Yeah, I know.” You glance at him, offering a warm smile. "But I wanted to run through my outline for the series with him so he can be fully prepared," you explain, pulling your phone from your pocket and opening your email.

Eddie hadn’t reached out or texted once since the diner. The clock ticked slowly all week long, surrounded by magazine articles and album inserts, piecing together clues about what Eddie had been doing for the last eleven years while your outline came together, his silence crawling under your skin like a nagging itch. Maybe press for the studio had been all he was after, and his interest after all this time had nothing to do with wanting to see you again. Well, this time, he doesn’t get to dictate the terms, to decide if you’re useful or if you should be discarded like a day-old newspaper. Given the circumstances, showing up uninvited and unannounced seems fair. 

After circling the block once, Jonathan finds a space to park across the street from the old brewery.

"Is this it?" You ask, using a hand placed over your brow to shield your eyes from the sun.

The older building stands out amidst the sleek, modern high-rises that dominate the commercialized neighborhood. Its rough limestone-clad facade wears the scars of time, with colorful graffiti adorning any surfaces within arm's reach of the fire escapes and a rather questionable-looking bodega with covered windows attached to the corner. However, the copper-framed bay windows gleam with a warm, aged patina, and the asymmetrical turrets, adorned with stamped rosettes and scallop patterns, give it a soul hiding beneath the urban decay—very Eddie.

"I wonder how much he’s paying to rent for this place?" You mumble.

"I think he bought it," Jonathan says, coming up beside you, weighted down with bags full of equipment.

You follow Jonathan around the corner to a rusted metal door adjacent to a brushed steel sign displaying the CursedSound Recordings name and logo, securely affixed to the brick wall. He presses the buzzer next to the door, and a screeching bell reverberates from inside. Metal grinds against metal as the locks release, and the door swings open.

"Right on time, Jon," Eddie greets, his eyes widening when he catches sight of you standing behind Jonathan. Your lips raise into a smirk as you stride past him, catching a whiff of the smoke and leather that cling to his skin as you enter through the open door. The short hallway opens into a bigger space. The heels of your boots clack against the scuffed parquet flooring as you move further into the room. Sofas and chairs covered by sheets surround a custom reception desk in the dimly lit room. Dust motes float in the beams of light that pierce through the rips in the brown paper-covered windows, revealing that this is inside of the bodega.

"This, uh... this will be the lobby," Eddie offers, gesturing vaguely around the room before his fingers rake through the curls at the back of his neck. He’s clad in a pair of expensive jeans that seem tailor-made for him and an open light grey dress shirt with a white tee underneath. His hair and beard are freshly trimmed but not too short, giving off that effortless California cool vibe. He’s grown into himself, carrying a confidence that comes with age and success. He looks good – it's annoying.

His stare prickles on your skin as he blinks at you like maybe you’re really a ghost of his past come to call. 

"Is there more?" You ask, your tone haughty.

"Yeah. The studios are upstairs." He nods toward the propped open door, revealing a stairwell behind. He takes one of the heavy bags from Jonathan before following him up the stairs. You grip the green-painted metal railing as you climb the grey-bubbled stair treads, pausing at the landing to take in the view of the street. The city moves by at the same blurring pace, unaffected and unaware of the collectives of its inhabitants. Someone should stop and look once in a while. 

The door at the top of the stairs leads to the wide hall that smells of drywall and paint. The deep red wall-to-wall carpet, the kind you’d find at a theater, looks new and plush, a contrast to the stark walls primed but not painted. Heavy black doors with the silver letters – A, B, & C denote the entrance to each studio. 

Jonathan sets the bag he’s carrying down by his feet and eyes the room. "Mind if I look around?"

"Knock yourself out," Eddie tells him, placing the other bag beside the first. "Studio C is the farthest along."

Jonathan crouches to unzip a bag, pulling a camera from its depths, fitting the strap over his head before he wanders to the first door marked A and lets himself in.

"Didn’t expect to see you here today, doll. You aren’t on my calendar til next week." Eddie turns to you once Jonathan disappears from sight.

"I came to see what I was working with." 

"By all means." He waves you forward.

Moving down the hall, you choose the door on the opposite wall – Studio C. The carpet is different in here, a rich velvet blue. The glass wall that is already in place reveals a spacious live room with strips of soundproofing covering half of the walls and more neatly piled on the floor. An isolation booth, where artists can focus on their vocals without distractions, has been framed out but remains unfinished.

"Well, what do you think?" Eddie asks.

An Interesting question. Your eyes wander, exploring the mixing room, where an impressive-looking soundboard remains veiled in plastic. A newly painted mural dominates the entire back wall – graffiti art portraying a massive skull shedding tears made of music notes that cascade onto yellow-bricked path winding through a cityscape. It exudes raw emotion and authenticity, just like the music that will soon resonate within these walls. You can already sense it murmuring from deep within, poised to fill the voids in people's souls, for that's what music does – it's an indelible tattoo on the heart, amplifying both pain and joy. This music – his music, will endure.

Standing in the room's center, you take a slow spin before locking your gaze with Eddie's.

"What a dump."

A deep furrow appears on Eddie's forehead as his lips press into a disapproving line. 

"Should I be wearing a hard hat?" You raise your hand above your head and inspect the sturdy ceiling like it might collapse at any moment. "Has a building inspector been out?"

He crosses his arms over his broad chest as his eyes narrow, pausing for a breath as his lips part. Jonathan strolls into the room, unaware of his interruption, surveying the space with a thoughtful expression. 

"Nice art. Is this the guy Robin hooked you up with?" He questions Eddie, who remains locked in his scowl. 

"Yeah, it is. He’s coming back to do a wall in the lobby," he answers without looking away from you.

"That will look great," Jonathan says, nodding. "I’m going to set up some lights and get a few shots in here." 

Eddie waits for Jonathan to wander back into the hall before he crosses the room in three big strides, stopping directly in front of you, closer than what would be considered polite. But this is Eddie, and it’s all part of the game. Your hands move to your hips as you straighten in defiance. The scent of mint on his breath reaches your nose as his index finger barely brushes your skin as he lifts the gold circle and bar necklace that rests at your throat. 

"Harrington’s money has sure got you spoiled, princess," he mocks, giving it a light tug, causing the anchor end of the chain to rise up the valley of your breasts. When your eyes flash, his lips pull to the side, twisting in a smirk. 

"I make my own money, Eddie." You remove your chain from his hand. "You sure have a lot of opinions about my life, considering you don’t even know me."

"I think I know you, plenty–"

He steps back when Jonathan reappears, bags in tow. He sets them down lightly before casting glances back and forth between the two of you, "Have you gone over your outline?" He asks. 

"Not yet," you reply, flashing a sweet smile up at Eddie.

Jonathan clears his throat, growing slightly impatient. "Well, this won't take me long, and I'll be ready to head back. Why don't you go downstairs? I don't want you in my shot."

As you stomp down the stairs behind Eddie, the echo of your boots reverberates off the empty walls, the window glass reflecting an image of the unassured, sad girl you left in Hawkins. He’s wrong. He doesn’t know you or the lengths you’ll go not to be her anymore. 

The reception area sits in hushed stillness, broken by the distant hum of traffic outside and the gentle ticking of pipes like a clock counting the seconds. Eddie pulls the sheet covering an orange velour couch, sending a light cloud of construction dust into the air. Without waiting for an invitation, you take a seat at one end of the sofa. He settles next to you, spreading his legs wide and crossing one over his knee, his arm landing on the top of the cushions behind you. He’s sitting too close, the heat of his thigh pressing against yours, the spice of his cologne surrounding you. Close enough to see the light stubble on his jaw as he swallows. You shift forward to the edge of your seat, creating some space between you.

"You can’t even sit next to me anymore?" He asks, his tone a mix of disappointment and irritation. 

"I’m sitting next to you right now." you point out, straightening your back further.

"Then relax. Jesus. You used to get mad if there wasn’t a seat for you next to me."

"Well, we’re not in high school anymore, Eddie."

"I’m not talking about high school," he murmurs, looking down at his lap before he raises his eyes to lock with yours. 

The first few notes of a song you never wanted to hear again ripple to the surface, dragging up memories that should have remained weighted down in the cold depths of things forgotten. He disarms you so effortlessly, whether with a smile or his words. This was all a big mistake.

"I'm sorry," his fingers encircle your wrist, knowing he crossed a line he shouldn't have. You pull your hand away from his grip, and he quickly changes the subject before you have a chance to stand up and leave. "Did you want to tell me about the article?"

Lips parting, you pause to exhale, the sting slowly dissipating. "My editor…" you clear your throat, reaching into the pocket of your blazer for your phone. "My editor wants a series. There will be three featured articles." You tap on the screen bringing up your notes. Eddie raises his eyebrows and leans in, trying to read over your shoulder, but you angle it away as you continue, "That means I'll need three interviews…will you stop," you say when he tries again to see the screen. 

"It's about me. I just want to see it," he argues, leaning further into your space.

"My god, you're like a little kid." Switching the phone to your opposite hand, you hold it at arm's length, "Haven't you grown up at all?"

His lips turn up until his dimples are on full display. "Why would I want to go and do a thing like that? 

The exasperated scoff that leaves your throat is accompanied by your eyes rolling to the side. 

"Not like you," he admits, his gaze roaming over you from head to toe. "After you interviewed Win Butler, he told me he couldn't have denied you the truth, and I'm beginning to understand why. Harrington’s got good taste. You've only gotten more beautiful."

Your features remain even as a gentle heat rises up your chest. "I'll be sure to pass on your compliments. I'm sure Steve will appreciate it. Three interviews," you say, displaying that number of fingers, dragging his attention back to the matter at hand. “The first will be on your past – early career, your move from Hawkins to LA. Then we'll move on to your present. Why you chose Chicago.The work you're putting into the studio and any projects you have booked when you open." You refer back to your notes, and this time, his eyes don't leave your face, intent on studying you. "The big finale will be the future. Where you see the studio in five years, your predictions on the direction of the industry. "

With a final tap, you show him the mock-up displayed on your screen, "I’m titling it Behind the Mixer: The Past, Present, and Future of Eddie Munson's Cursed Sound." You look up from your phone, your gaze locking with his.

His eyes are hesitant before he breaks your connection to look down at the device in your outstretched hand. "Wow, I'm impressed, doll." A rosy tint colors his cheeks. "It's so professional. Not used to seeing my name printed like I'm somethin'."

"You’ve had plenty of press," you remind him. "What did Rolling Stone call you? The man with the ear for platinum."

"Yeah, that's true. I've been written about before." He looks up, brown eyes burning into yours, your heads now just a few inches apart. "But never by you. They weren't your words."

The weight of his stare is too heavy. You turn your head to look around the room. Liar. The familiar itch prickles beneath your skin. 

"I’ve read everything you’ve written," he prattles on as you cross your arms over your chest, your fingernails leaving half moons in the fabric of your jacket. 

"I buy a subscription to Stax every year. I get Wayne one, too. Do you know he saves every–"

“Stop, Eddie,” you say, cutting him off. “You don’t need to do this.”

“Do what?” He asks, his brows sinking.

“This.” You wave your hand between you. “Whatever this is. I’m going to write a good story. You’re getting what you want.”

“Isn’t it?”

“What I want?” He looks surprised. “You think this is about the article?”

His mouth parts, words teetering on the edge of his tongue, when Jonathan's footsteps cause the stairs to groan under his weight. "Finished?" Jonathan inquires, "I'd like to wrap up with a few shots of Eddie by the sign."

"We're done," you confirm, slipping your phone back into your pocket.

"No, we're not, doll," Eddie argues, "Actually, you go ahead, Jon. I'll give her a ride home."

"No, you won't." You stand, not sparing him a glance. "I have somewhere else to be."

"We're losing the light," Jonathan laments, camera in hand, gesturing for both of you to follow.

“You got big plans tonight? Sure you aren’t looking for an excuse not to finish our conversation?” Eddie presses, trailing behind you as you step through the side door out onto the street.

“Believe me, it’s definitely finished,” you state, firmness lacing your words, stepping aside to get out of Jonathan's way.

"Just stand in front of the brick," Jonathan directs, "To your left," he motions with his hand.

“And not that it’s any of your business," you let an air of condescension lace your tone, "But I have a date tonight with my fiancée.”

“Relax, Eddie. Don’t look at the camera," Jonathan instructs when Eddie's jaw clenches.

Eddie's thumbs hook into the pockets of his jacket. "Sounds romantic," he snarks. "How long have they been engaged now, Jon? Two years? And we still haven't received a wedding invitation. Someone's having cold feet. My money's on Harrington."

"His name is Jonathan. No one calls him that, Eddie." You cock your hip, crossing your arms. 

"I'm sure he would tell me if he minded," Eddie retorts, matching the irritation in your voice.

"I don't care," Jonathan sighs, "Can you just move around a bit and look down."

You narrow your eyes, inspecting Eddie as he gets into position."Did you cut your hair again?"

"I'm a thirty-two-year-old man. Sometimes I do that," he responds, scratching at his beard.

"Tip your chin to the right," Jonathan instructs from behind the camera, the shutter clicking in short bursts.

"Well, it looks stupid."

"Okay, I think I've got it," Jonathan says, lowering the camera. "Jesus, what is it with you two? If I wanted to listen to bickering, I’d go home to Nancy," he complains, with a red face. "Let's go."

The rush of water as it overflows from the upper stone basin into the fountain's pool blends the conversation of the other diners at the 3 Arts Club into the background. The atrium is dimly lit, relying on the massive crystal drop chandeliers cascading golden light and the flickering hurricane lanterns spilling candlelight onto the marble-topped table you're seated at. Steve smiles, holding your gaze as the waitress sets the plates in front of you. Swirls of green in his soft eyes are set off by the towering olive trees behind him, that give off a subtle woody aroma. 

“For a minute, I thought we weren't going to make our reservation.” He unwraps his silverware from the cloth napkin and places it in his lap. 

“We almost didn’t,” you point out, “I think Robin wanted us to stay and join them after Taylor’s show.”

“I’m glad we didn’t. I want some time alone with you.” He reaches across the table, fingers closing over yours.

“Thank you for bringing me here. This place is really beautiful.” Your gaze sweeps upward toward the towering glass ceiling, where the night sky glows a deep plum hue painted by the lights of the city.

“Is it?” he asks, his eyes locking onto yours, giving your hand a gentle squeeze. “All I see is you.”

Your cheeks warm, a shy smile tugging at the corners of your mouth. “Eat your salad, you charmer.” You roll your eyes before looking up at him from under your lashes.

The side of his mouth lifts as he lets you go to pick up his fork, mixing the shavings of parmesan in with the crips romaine and the delicate bites of chicken. Your phone vibrates against your hip through the pocket of your blazer.

Eddie: What I said had nothing to do with the article. 

Without answering, you place your phone on your thigh, picking up your fork to break off a piece of salmon. The honey and black pepper melt on your tongue as you take your first bite. 

“What did you think of Taylor?” Steve asks, spearing a few of your truffle fries with his fork and setting them on the edge of his plate.

“You were right. I liked her,” you tell him as a faint buzzing emanates on your thigh. 

Eddie: If you would quit running away, I would have told you that in person. 

Run away? A knot ties itself in your stomach as you blink down at the message on your screen, only hesitating for a moment before tapping out a reply. 

You: I didn't run away. I had something better to do. 

"Did you like the blue watercolor of the thistles she did?" He asks as you look up, placing your phone face down on the table. 

"It matches the blue of the built-ins in your office. We could get rid of that old chair from your parent's basement. Redo the whole thing."  His eyebrows lift hopefully as your phone rattles on the marble.

Eddie: Is that why you're texting me right now because you're busy doing something better?

“You're not touching my chair. My entire office is off-limits. I like it the way it is,” your voice comes out too sharp. Your gaze flickers between Steve and the glowing screen of your phone as you type your response. 

You: Good point. An error on my part. Goodnight.

“I can always hang it in the guestroom. Who are you texting?” 

His question captures your full attention. “Sorry. It’s for work.” You switch the button at the top to silent and set it back down on the table. “You bought it, didn’t you?” You ask, sinking your fork into a few fries before dipping them in aioli. 

His eyes crinkle at the corners as he takes a big bite of his salad, avoiding your question as he chews.

“Steve, the house is going to be a museum to her ex-girlfriends. We’ll be able to give guided tours.”

He laughs, wiping his mouth with his napkin. “Art is an investment. Even my dad agrees.”

“Oh, your dad, huh? I didn’t know he agreed with anything. Can I have a bite of your salad?” Your fork hovers over his plate as you catch the light of your phone screen lighting up out of the corner of your eye. 

“Yeah. Go for it.” He pushes his plate closer to you. “How was the salmon?” 

“Good. You want some?” You ask around a mouth full of lettuce.

“I’ll try a little,” he says, swapping around your plates as you set your fork aside and pick up your phone.

Eddie: I bet Harrington took you somewhere real fancy. He’s probably hoping it will get him laid.

Your eyes narrow at your screen as your jaw clenches and your heel taps beneath the table.  

You: He doesn’t have to hope. Don’t you have anything better to do than annoy me?

The wait for a response is short-lived as an image pops up on your screen. Sockclad feet are propped up on a coffee table beside a take-out box of tacos and a half-drained glass of beer, its foam running down the side. A hazy view of a television screen in the background. 

“Is that still work? Who’s texting you?” Steve asks, his eyes speculative as he leans forward and glances at your screen. 

“It’s just Eddie,” you dismiss the question with a wave of your hand as you darken the screen. "What about you? How are things with the radio launch?"

He studies your face a moment longer before his features soften, and he answers, "My workload has more than doubled. City Beats has as many divisions as Second City collectively, and I’m overseeing all of it.” His elbows land on the table as his hands tug through his hair. “I’m coordinating with marketing trying to promote it all across the city, and today, Richard called me into his office and said he wants me to meet the sponsors with Ted. Doesn’t think he can handle it on his own. Says I’m more advertiser-friendly.” He uses his fingers to quote the title.

“Can you tell him no?” You reach across the table for his hand. “It’s too much, Steve–for anybody. You've been working like this for months.”

“I can’t. The launch is in a few weeks, then I'll talk to Rich—” He stops mid sentence as his ringtone breaks through the peaceful ambiance. Pulling his phone from his breast pocket, he squints at the screen in the low light, a frown making him look more weary than usual. “I’m sorry, Ace. I need to take this.” He stands, giving your hand an apologetic squeeze before walking towards the entrance. “Hi, Richard. No, you're not disturbing anything…”

As Steve's voice trails off, leaving you on your own in the dimly lit atrium, the room continues to hum with conversations, laughter, and intimacy. You pick up your wine, the cold glass feeling delicate in your fidgety fingers, the crisp acidity of the sauvignon blanc offering  little comfort.  Dining alone shouldn't feel strange. People do it all the time, relishing their own company as they leisurely turn the pages of books or savor each bite. It's a skill you've yet to master, haunted by an irrational discomfort under the imagined weight of judgmental eyes, a residue of being the girl no one would sit next to in Hawkins. It's absurd, of course, but that old fear lingers, an uninvited companion. 

As you reach for your phone, Eddie's name sits at the top of your notifications, and this time, the distraction is welcomed. 

Until you read it. 

Eddie: I read your album review of Lungs. You really stunk up the page with that one.

You: Lungs by Florence and the Machine? That was two years ago!

Eddie: I told you I read all your work. x

You: And what exactly did you take issue with?

Eddie: You trashed her. You said her vocals were overpowering and meant to cover up mediocre musicians. Said she was an alt Britney Spears.

Your nose scrunches with wince, recalling the words you choose to print.

You: I wrote what I felt at the time.

Eddie: The album sold 3 million copies. Don’t worry, Flo forgave you. 

Eddie: Eventually

You: I doubt Florence Welch reads Stax.

Eddie: Well

Eddie: I had a copy.

You: YOU SHOWED IT TO HER!

Fury. Blind, hot, raging fury rolls through your veins. Your hand smacks onto the table with a resounding crack, causing the silverware to clatter and plates to rattle. A few diners stop to look at you, and you give them a bashful smile as heat creeps up your neck. 

You: I’m going to hurt you. Slowly.

Eddie: Relax. No need to get kinky. It’s all water under the bridge. I worked on that album, and I intentionally asked for that bold, unapologetic vocal style. It was meant to be raw. It seems like the fans agreed.  But, hey, everyone gets it wrong once in a while. Maybe you were on your period or something.

Your fingers dance across the keyboard, a torrent of response surging, ready to pour out, but you restrain the urge to send them – every ugly word remains unsent. His three dots flicker on the screen, and another message swiftly follows.

Eddie: The only reason I remember it was because her album dropped the same week you got engaged. At first, I thought it might be personal, but I wondered why after all these years. Then I realized you were probably far too busy writing Mrs. Harrington with big hearts around it in your diary to be worrying about me.

Words, false as a cracked melody, slip from your fingers with practiced ease, but beneath it all, guilt settles in your chest like a haunting refrain, its weight growing heavier with every truth left unsaid.

You: I don’t remember if I knew you worked on that album.

Eddie: I’m sure you didn’t. 

He went down this path searching for something. Unspoken lyrics to a hidden refrain that have long evaded his grasp. Whatever he’s uncovered and what it means to him isn’t clear, but for now, he’s letting you off the hook. Relief sweeps over you like the final notes of a song, the recording skipping and cracking, ushering in something new between you– a tune you haven’t heard before.

Eddie: Thanks for clearing it up. I should let you get back to your date. Steve probably has steam coming out of his ears.

You: He had to take a call.

Eddie: He left you all alone? It’s a good thing I was around then.

Steve approaches the table, his smile painted on but not quite reaching his eyes. You discreetly slip your phone away into your pocket. 

"Investors from Tokyo," he explains with a sigh. "Richard wants me on all the calls with them until we launch."

You reach out, your fingers tracing the contours of his stubbled jaw, "You're exhausted, baby."

"I know." He turns into your touch. "I've already paid. We can go if you're ready."

He takes your hand as you rise from the table, leading you through the restaurant and out onto the street. His arm goes around to waist to hold you close as you walk home. His hand occasionally dips lower than your waist as he presses a kiss to your temple. It's easy to take the comfort he offers. 

His warm, eager lips meet the sensitive skin of your neck, kissing, nibbling as he pushes you against the inside of your front door, sliding your blazer from your shoulders until it catches on your elbows.

"I thought you were tired," you gasp as his mouth journeys lower, leaving sparks of heat behind. His lips trace the curve of your collarbone, descending to the crest of your breast, where delicate black lace meets flushed skin.

"Not for this." He moves down to one knee, removing your boots one by one. "Never for you." They hit the hardwood with a clatter, their sound reverberating up the stairwell.

He moves back up your body, cursing when he struggles to find the zip at the back of your pants. Your laughter earns his smile as your head rolls against the thick oak door, your fingers searching for purchase on the soft material covering his forearms.

“Steve,” you breathe, your voice a heated whisper, just before his mouth finds yours. 

The baseball rounding of the bases blares from his pocket like a hammer shattering glass. He pulls back, breathing hard, closing his eyes as he leans his forehead against yours. The ringing continues, too loud, echoing off the quiet walls of your home. His apologetic eyes lock with yours before he steps back, pulling out the ringing device.

“Fuck.” His knuckles turn white as his grip tightens, Richards's name lighting up on the screen. He holds it a little higher for a moment like he’s preparing to smash it on the ground. 

"It's okay, Steve." You move closer to his side. Your hand gently glides down his arm, offering reassurance. "I've got a little work to do anyway. Take your call."

"Yeah?" he questions, his thumb hesitating over the accept button.

"Yeah, go ahead." You smile, giving his arm a squeeze.

Steve answers the call with a hint of annoyance in his tone, "Richard." His voice gradually fades as you make your way down the hallway to the small office you've claimed as your own, tucked away behind the kitchen.

With one hand pushing up the creaking door, your fingers fumble along the wall for the switch to the banker's lamp perched at the corner of your desk. A faint light filters in as the first raindrops ping against the glass, leaving meandering trails down the black-paned windows dominating an entire wall. You approach the peacock-blue shelving that Steve had crafted to house your ever-expanding collection of CDs, records, and books. Running your fingers over the album spines, you find the one you're looking for and slide it out of its protective sleeve. 

The mauve vinyl reflects the lamp light as you place it onto the waiting turntable. With a twist of a knob and a careful drop of the needle, the soft crackle emanates from the speakers, filling the room's quiet spaces. A honeyed voice purrs the lyrics as you settle sideways into the old leather chair rescued from your parent's basement. Legs dangling over the patched arm, you reach for the half-smoked joint in the ashtray beside you, lighting in time for the drumbeat to pound out a steady rhythm while the mild burn travels down your throat and into your lungs. 

The soft haze reaches your brain, quieting the uncertainty as the scratch of the guitar joins in with the melody. Curls of thick smoke spiral and twirl with your exhale, dancing through the air. You sink deeper into the embrace of the leather, taking a few more deep puffs before returning the burning joint to the ashtray and pulling your phone from your pocket. 

You: Yeah, Eddie. It’s a good thing. 

Song 4 Coming Soon. Follow @tornupdates for notifications

AN: Sorry I'm a day late. The holiday weekend kept me busy. I'd love to hear from you. Comments, reblogs, and asks are always welcome and appreciated. I'll be doing some traveling soon, so updates might be affected but I will be writing.

Hugs and kisses for all my kittens - Jelly

P.S. To the lovely person who suggested Linger. I can't find your ask because my brain is broken or Tumblr is. I just wanted to know that your song inspired an upcoming scene in chapter 5 that I'm so excited to write. I can't imagine this story without it now. So, extra big thanks.

So everyone keep sending me your song suggestions, please! I promise I'm listening to everyone.

[knivesenvy]

worst roommate ever.

atsumu miya x reader!

hi!! this is my first story on here! i would love some feedback as i am very nervous about posting here! i hope to make this a series and will update depending on my schedule! i hope you enjoy this:)

word count - 1186

part 1 (currently reading) | part 2 (here)

Atsumu loved his apartment. It was nice to have a place to come home to after a day of dealing with the boisterous personality that is Bokuto. Constantly practicing sets and serves with a team of adults who act like pre-teens half the time. Sakusa included. 

 Of course, he loved it though, loved anything that involved volleyball. That doesn’t take away from the fact that it’s rigorous and zaps the energy out of him.

That’s why Atsumu’s apartment was his favorite place. He would get to come home and just finally fucking relax. 

Lay in his extravagant bed he bought with all that beloved pro volleyball player money he’ll never get tired of. Watch replays of his games or some lackluster show on his couch. Maybe attempt at cooking something in his kitchen, though he knows it will just end in him callin Samu pleading for some onigiri instead. 

This was the one place he got some peace and quiet. 

And he fucking hated it. 

Years of growing up and sharing everything with Samu made him desire to have someone to share his peace and quiet with. He wanted someone else in his living space with him. Someone to annoy, pester about random things, maybe even cook for him. 

Slyly he tried to see if his twin would be his roommate once again. Wouldn’t admit he missed him, missed having someone around him.

“I’ve had plenty of years of you stealin’ my shit and drivin me up the fuckin’ wall.” He didn’t even sugar coat it when Atsumu bounced around the idea.

So, his search for a roommate began. He didn’t want a stranger, considering his status that was out of the question. Took him nearly a month before he met you. A friend of a friend’s friend. 

He saw you after games when Akaashi and you would greet Bokuto with praise for how he played during the game. He knew you worked with Akaashi, and became acquainted with Bokuto through that. He’s had some idle talk with you, but you’d barely consider each other acquaintances. 

That was until Bo-Kun was rattling on and on about how your neighbors are driving you insane and you’re looking for a new place to live. 

After more than a month of trying to find someone who fit his “not a stranger” roommate requirement, he finally saw his chance. Yeah, he hardly knew you, but he could know you. If you can deal with Bokuto’s energy you already have to be a good person in his book. 

Three months later, you’re well-acquainted with Atsumu. Well acquainted with the way he walks out without a shirt after a shower, water dripping down his torso just the right way. Acquainted with the way he attempts to cook dinner for you when you’re stressing about work, when he smiles at you a little too long and a little too bright, when he laughs and it instantly caused laughter to rise out of you too.

It took less than a month after you moved in to realize you have a small, school-girl crush on your roommate. He’s annoying as fuck. Constantly whines when things don’t go his way, doesn’t wash his dishes after eating, says they “need to soak” then just forgets about them, always happens to be in the bathroom when you need to use it. Leaves his obnoxiously blonde pieces of hair all around the house.

Yet you can’t help but notice the way he carries himself. It’s admirable. The way he can focus on things and notice every little detail yet be so oblivious to the simplest things at the same time. Like your crush on him for example.

He’s like a guilty pleasure. Something you hate to like. 

You’d never admit to anyone, not Keiji or Kou that you had a crush on the blonde, hardly even admit it to yourself. 

You can’t express how much he’s a pain in the ass. And how there is just something so endearing about him though. 

“What’s got you so zoned out today?”

Jumping out of your skin sitting on the couch, you didn’t even pick up that Atsumu had been home for a couple of minutes.

“Nothin.”

“Yeah sure, and that’s why you haven’t been noticin me? I’ve been home for like-”

“I get it,” you sigh. “Sorry I was just thinkin.”

He plops down on the couch next to you. You see a hint of concern in his eyes. “Bout what?”

And there it is. He obviously wants to go straight to bed after his day, but he won’t sleep if he thinks something's up with you.

That’s what you find so endearing about him. How can you not like him when he subtly cares for you like this? Hell, he’s an attractive 6’3 pro volleyball player with a body sculptured by the gods. Even if his personality was shit (which you can admit, he is a bit of shit sometimes) you’d still be drooling over him. 

You thought being roommates with someone of the opposite gender would be fine since it was Atsumu. You knew plenty about him from Bokuto and never once expected he’d be crush material. 

“New hire at work. He’s stupid as shit, makin it a livin hell.” you wave your hand in the air with your excuse to cover the fact you were zoned out thinking about how the man next to you weaseled his way into your life and made you fall for him just by being his stupid blonde fuckin’ self.

“More work problems? You really just need to find a new place to work already! This place stressin you out too much. Didn’t last month your boss fuck up and was jus expectin’ you to fix it all? Sound like you work with a bunch of shits. Akaashi aside.”

You can’t believe he remembers that. He listens to you so well. You’re falling so deep into this enamourment towards him. 

“Yeah yeah, but it pays well and I feel like searching for a new job would be even more stressful than working the one I already have,” you ramble as you turn off the television and stand up.

“I don’t like seein you so drained from your job, it makes me worry you’re not taking care of yourself.” He says as you put a hand out to help him up off the couch. 

“I’ll be fine, Atsumu, I’ve got Keiji there to help me” You give him a small smile. 

He yawns and stretches out his long limbs as he says goodnight to you. Then you both head to your separate rooms.

The moment you get into your room you close the door and run straight to your bed. Fighting the urge to scream into your pillow, you look at the ceiling.

Less than five minutes with him today and you still feel like you’re buzzing. Feel high off the way he speaks to you at times like this, when he’s too tired to pester you or play around the usual way he does. 

Being roommates with Atsumu Miya is gonna kill you.

cross-posted to my ao3

just comment if you wanted to be added to the tag list!

IF YOU WOULD LIKE TO POST ABOUT THIS WORK please let me know first! if it’s on tiktok my username is koukaku pls tag me

[hollandsmushroom]

Could you maybe do a smut where the reader never had a big o, and Sarah and kie got her a vibrator, and she thinks no ones home while she’s using it but jj is home to check on her and they end up doing a mutual masterbaustion

First Peak || JJ

okay but literally i feel so attacked by this because my friend told me that and i straight up pulled up bellesa asked her about her vulva and then picked out the vibrator i thought she would like best lmao. (not me answering this imediately)

word count: 1366

warnings: Smut, mutual masturbation, use of a toy

"Wait wait wait" Sarah stopped, looking at you with wide eyes and her mouth dropped open. "You are telling me that you have never had an orgasm?" Kie was looking at you with a similar expression to Sarah. "JJ has never given you one?" she clarifies.

"Um" you stuttered, stalling with heat rising through your body, you were embarrassed at yourself, the fact that you had never cum, never made your own toes curl. Your hand brushed over the back of your neck anxiously, worried about their reactions. "No, we um, we haven't really gotten their in our relationship" you muttered it, they had heard you earlier when they were talking about their best highs and you had blurted out that you didn't have any to rank.

"Oh we need to fix this, Kie, give me a phone" Sarah stuck her hand out, still intently wanting you as she waved her hand around gesticulating for a phone which Kie promptly set in her hand.

"We gonna find them a toy?" Kie inquires, scooting closer to Sarah on the log. Your eyes widened at her words, this wasn't the way that you thought this was going to go, you thought that they would be shocked and then they would move on but alas your friends were too good, they wanted to assure you felt good in every way possible.

"You bet your ass" Sarah exhales as she taps violently away at the screen before turning the phone to you "Which one do you like?" you were speechless at the sight in front of you, the screen filled with so many toys of all shapes and sizes, it was nearly intimidating and also...arousing?

"I don't exactly know what I am looking at" you mutter, scrolling through the options, was that a...tentacle shaped dildo? Some toys looked more appealing than others but you didn't wanna get too adventurous, you wanted to play it safe, not get too adventurous with something that you were going to have to learn the basics with.

"Just choose whatever you think will feel best" Sarah suggests, nudging you with her shoulder "And don't worry about the price, I'll just use my dad's card"

"Won't that show up on his credit card history that like...you bought a vibrator?" you looked at her in shock.

"Nah, it usually just says that I bought like a really expensive blouse from a boutique or something" she laughs before pointing back to the phone. "Now chose something!"

"Okay okay, I think I like this one" you spoke as you clicked on the icon of small bullet type vibe and handed her back the phone.

"Good choice for your first toy, I think you are gonna have A LOT of fun" she chuckles, adding the item to the cart and typing in here fathers credit card number. "It should show up at your house soon, let us know how it goes after" she wiggles her eye brows at you and returns to the previous conversation.

A week later the small unmarked package arrived on your front doorstep and even the concept of it had you fluttering in between your legs as you ran back to your room, closing the door and falling onto your bed, tearing open the cardboard and pulling out the small oblong with a soft button on the bottom to control the speeds, pressing the button and feeling how it shook in your palm.

"Oh fuck" muttering to yourself as you examined the object, feeling how it felt as it rolled across your skin before apprehensively rolling the plastic toy between your legs, your eyes immediately rolling back at the sudden pleasurable sensation. It felt like nothing you had ever felt before this insane sensation of a cold burning and it made you want to scream, so that is exactly what you did, letting the euphoric sounds escape your gaping mouth.

"Y/n? Are you okay? Why are you screa-holy fuck" a familiar voice came into your pleasure filled haze making you shoot up, your eyes rolling back and settling on a slightly burnt and sandy looking JJ leant against your doorframe with his arms crossed, his eyes wide as he examines the scene in front of him with joy.

"Fuck-uh-JJ!" you cry out, pulling the toy from between your legs and eyeing your boyfriend timidly.

"Don't stop on my account, seems like you were having fun" He was smiling at you, a genuine smile that also contained strong hints of temptation and arousal.

"Are you serious?" you gape at him, the toy still vibrating against your thigh, still tempting you, any apprehension that you would normally have melting away by the pure horniness that was burning against your skin.

"Oh yes, you think I am gonna pass up the opportunity to watch you get yourself off? You are strongly mistaken" he mutters, leaning down and pressing his lips to yours, pushing you back with the force of his kiss. His fingers were dipping beneath your waistband, teasing the heated skin with his calloused touch. “Can we talk these off, wanna see you” he mumbles, pulling back and toying with the buttons on your shorts, you couldn’t form words, too wracked with lechery to truly convey how much you wanted him to take them off, to leave you bare for him to see. “Words, babe, need words”

“Yes, JJ, fuck, please” you groan and he doesn’t waist a second, pulling you off your clothing and letting your core become exposed to the air, the coolness of the room reaching your heat and making you gasp. 

“You look so pretty, baby, so fucking pretty” JJ sighs, examining your cunt as he pulls back, tugging at his own shorts catching your attention. 

“Wait, J babe, I am not ready for us to um” you stutter.

“Oh no, baby, no I know, I just um, I was gonna get myself off while you do you, like if thats alright” his ring clad hand scratched at the back of his neck anxiously thinking that he had overstepped. 

“Fuck yes please” you whimper, setting your toy to the side and undoing his cargo shorts, tugging them down as he watched but you were intently eyeing his hard cock, your mouth watering. “Oh fuck yes” falling back against the bed you pull him down with you his cock brushing your stomach before he wraps a hand around it, tugging at the flushed flesh as you grasp out for your vibrator, bringing it to your now exposed cunt making your cry out, JJ watching you with hungry eyes as he kissed your lower lip passionately, drinking in the sounds of your moans as he groans against your chin. 

“Fuck fuck fuck” moaning against your skin, it was burning everything was burning for the both of you and JJ was fighting a fast approaching orgasm, it was hard not to rush to the peak when he was watching his beautiful partner fuck themselves beneath him, he could hear the sounds your cunt was making and watched the way that your face pinched as your wrist hit his thigh while moving your toy.

“JJ, fuck, I-I-I’m think I’m cu-” you cut yourself off mid word with a loud cry, your back arching up into his chest as he sped up the pace of his hand, spilling his seed onto your bare abdomen, milking himself for everything that he had as he heard you get wetter and wetter, it was nearly overwhelming how hot it was. 

When everything calmed down, JJ rolled off of you panting as he looked over at you with inquisitive eyes. 

“What did you mean you ‘think’ you were cumming?” he asks, brushing his hand over your cheek(the on that wasn’t just on his dick)

“Oh uh, I had never had an orgasm before” you mumble, looking away from him as not to see his judgmental face but when he was silent you looked back at him, finding a soft smile on his face. 

“Well I am glad I was here to experience it with you” he grins cheekily as he moves to press his hot mouth to yours. 

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@hollandsvogue