#I’ve never been more confident about someone not being straight

[steph-the-4th-robin]

Day 13 of Characters That Are Definitely Queer but Comics Won’t Let Them Be:

Cassandra Cain

[chelseeebe]

(i only have) eyes for you

18+. mdni. smut. violence! horror themes throughout!! ghostface!eddie

day seven of spooky week and happy halloween freaks!!! i can’t believe i did it… seven days of consistent posting has taken genuine years off of my life lol. pls pretend they’re in college for this, i wrote it entirely that way and then decided they were going to be in steve’s house.. who knows

a/n: i listened to this song a lot while writing this because it is so creepy but so perfect for this fic! this was sorta kinda rushed but i’ve been working this entire week so finding the time to really delve into it the way i wanted to :,(

⛧☾༺♰༻☽⛧

tap tap tap

the sound of something, or really someone rattles against your window, the faint sounds of someone whistling follow shortly after.

despite being wise to eddie’s tricks, the ominous tune makes your skin prickle, too spooked by the news of some masked murderer to think straight.

your window cracks open, the wooden frame scraping upwards loudly, a prolonged creak that signals that whatever it was, was now inside.

his cologne gives him away first, and then the lingering smell of weed that catches up to your nose soon after.

it was eddie, basking in the moonlight, just waiting for you to turn and see him.

“oh my fucking god,” you hiss, “you scared the shit out of me!” scowling as he pulls his limbs through the window. 

he wastes no time in kicking off his shoes and practically diving across the room to land atop of you. his heaving chest pressed against yours, finding your frowning lips for a gentle kiss. 

“‘m sorry sweetheart,” pouting his lips in an attempt to mock your worried tone, eddie found it endearing really, that you cared about him so.

“there’s a murderer out there, you know?” you scold.

“mhm, is there?” 

“yes,” dropping the stern expression the second his hands find the hem of your shirt, delving underneath to grasp your waist, “and i’d really appreciate if you didn’t die.” 

“i’m not gonna die,” he says entirely too confidently, “and neither are you.” 

“what were you doing out there?” 

“i had to.. do some business,” hoping you’d get the hint. 

your upper lip snarls, having never liked the fact he dealt on the side. it was mostly a bit of weed to freshmen but the weekends were always busier. “oh,” you huff, running your hands along his sore shoulders. 

“you asked,” eddie states plainly. it wasn’t as if he was entirely lying, because he had dropped off a gram for some useless kid. 

he had just neglected to tell you what he and steve had done to the kid afterwards. 

your eyes roll back, running your fingers up his neck and into his mane of hair, “i wish i hadn’t,” though judging by the fact that you hadn’t kicked him out, you can’t be too mad. 

eddie hums, desperately trying to change the subject by trailing his hand further upwards, palming your boob with a soft groan. 

“and what if i told you that i was the scary killer?” his knee shifts slightly, moving on top of yours to keep it pressed to the mattress. he’s got you trapped beneath his body, his large hands enveloping both of your wrists. 

if you didn’t know eddie so well, you probably would’ve been much more afraid than you were. but you do know him, this had to be some stupid prank, something he’d thought up while high. so you do what he wants you to do and play into it. if he wants to pretend that he’s a weirdo then fine, you can play that game too. 

“oh yeah?” you smirk, a feeble attempt to wriggle out of his grasp, “what’re you gonna do to me, mr ghostface?” rutting your hips up to meet his, sighing softly when you feel his hardened cock. 

the fact that you’re even into this is simply abhorrent but you can already feel the wet patch growing in your panties, needly bucking your hips desperate for any friction to satiate the growing ache between your thighs. 

he chuckles lowly, readjusting his grip on your wrists, leaving one hand pinning them both above your head, “well first..” his breath hot on your cheeks, “i’m going to fuck the shit out of you.” his pupils grow larger, darker somehow, “and then..” prodding his forefinger to your chest, slowly tracing down the length of your torso, “i might just gut you,” his eyes follow his finger all the way down. 

you quiver under his touch, breathless. holy fuck. it’s disgusting. it is. but you can’t help yourself, practically panting with animalistic need. it’s not like he was actually going to kill you see, eddie was a lot of things, but he wasn’t a murderer. 

“please,” you beg, squirming as his hand slips into the waistband of your jeans. he’s so cold, fingers like blocks of ice that make your skin prickle. 

“you want that? hmm?”

you’re gasping at this point, pleading with him to just touch you. he had gotten what he’d wanted from this game so why couldn’t he hurry up? you’re literally jelly beneath him, malleable and just so eager to touch. 

“gotta use your words baby.. i wanna hear you,” pausing his descent into your underwear, much to your dismay. legs springing apart as a sort of encouragement to get him to continue. 

“yes.. yes i want that,” desperately panting underneath his sly smirk, he’s enjoying this far too much and you can’t help but to just give it to him. so desperate to please, even if it was borderline psychotic. 

“good,” he breathes, curling his fingers around the waistband of your sodden underwear. his teeth emerging to graze upon your neck, making sure to leave splotches of violet and deep maroon so that everybody knew whose you really were. 

your hips cant upward the second eddie’s fingers tease your hole, crying out for him to cut the shit and just touch you properly. he was a cruel man, unable to satisfy himself with any normal level of foreplay, no. for eddie, he needed to keep this charade up for as long as possible. 

“you been thinkin’ ‘bout me?” using his other hand to control your chin, keeping your flickering gaze somewhat on his face, “waiting f’me all night.. i can feel it,” plunging his fingers into your sopping cunt, drawing a sharp hiss from your lips. 

“think about you all the time,” you nod, whimpering against his mouth, keeping a strong grip on his neck. 

eddie grins, the twinkle returning to his dark eye, letting the charade slip only slightly, “i know you do, and i know it because you never.. ever leave my mind,” his thumb beginning to swirl around your clit, letting go of your jaw to wrap his hands loosely around your neck instead. 

“fuckk,” you shudder, canting your hips in response to his fingers gliding in and out of your hole, thumb performing laps around your clit and sensitive folds. 

“you’re so beautiful like this,” he utters, dotting hungry kisses to your wetted lips, punctuating his longing words. “i just wanna keep you like this forever,” the hunger returning to his blown out pupils, fingers squeezing your throat. 

he wouldn’t hurt you, not on purpose. but his grip was getting mighty tight, restricting your breath as your leg slides up between his. the twisting in your abdomen only worsens, dizzying as the pleasure intensifies. 

squeezing out a garbled, “eds,” that makes him loosen his grip, flashing back to reality as you squeeze around his fingers, thrashing around underneath his body as your orgasm rocks your bones, the sweetest sounds fill the room. 

“that’s it sweetheart,” eddie coos, sliding his hand from your shorts to grasp your hip, kissing over his previously made markings. 

“i love you,” muttering breathlessly as you regain control of your limbs. 

he breathes heavily into your neck, cocking his head up to meet your gaze, “i love you too,” beaming at your lovesick gaze, praying to god that you’d never find out about the horrific things he was truly doing tonight. 

-

eddie’s idea of date night usually entails him being able to whisk you off somewhere dark and alone at some point during the night. so when you’d suggested a drive-in movie, he’d been positively over the moon. 

he’d thought seeing a nightmare on elm street was a little on the nose considering the shit he’d been up to recently but you couldn’t know and besides, it meant you’d be curled into his shoulder for the majority of the movie anyway. 

you sit now, with your face buried into his shoulder, both arms clinging tight to his. 

not because of the movie though. no, this was because his right hand had crept underneath your skirt, pumping his fingers in and out of your soaked hole. 

it wasn’t as if every other couple weren’t doing the exact same thing, it was an unspoken custom of the drive-in experience. 

“wait,” you pant, “let me-,” letting go to reach down, pushing your seat further back. your fingers curl around something plastic, reemerging with the damning mask he’d shoved beneath the seat. “what the fuck is this?” you shriek, sitting straight up. 

eddie’s blood runs cold, frozen as you flap the plastic mask in his face. it wasn’t even supposed to be in here, let alone for you to find so easily. 

“oh my god,” he sighs, thinking on his toes, “it was for a prank,” grabbing the rubber from your fingers, “me and steve were gonna scare argyle and jonathan… it’s not what you think babe,” hoping that measly excuse would be enough to get you off of his back. 

“a prank?” you hiss, “is that funny to you? pretending to be some psycho murderer?” funnily enough, he didn’t really have to pretend. 

“no!” he frowns, pettily grabbing at the mask though you keep it out of reach, “that’s why we didn’t do it,” sounding completely desperate as he’s lying through his teeth, “sweetheart, i know what it looks like but i promise it’s not like that,” the guilt ripples through his chest, he didn’t want to lie to you but what choice did he have? 

you frown, gripping the cracked plastic as if it could tell you the answer itself, “that’s not funny eddie,” lowering your clenched fist at last, “what if someone had seen you? what if someone else found this?” 

you’re angry, it doesn’t take a genius to figure it out. pupils dilated and your jaw clenched, he couldn’t bare to ever see you like this. god only knows how you’d react if you ever found out he was truly responsible for these killings. 

“i’m sorry,” utterly exasperated, you couldn’t find out, not now, not ever. “i wasn’t thinking.. i’ve just been-,” his nostrils flare, hoping you could forget about this and quickly, “thinking about everyone dying, you know? i’m scared,” grabbing your hands to really accentuate his point. 

“we’re all scared, eds,” his nickname allowing him to breathe at last, you’d never use eds when you were mad, never. “that doesn’t mean you should start pretending to kill people too, you’re so.. stupid,” said endearingly, far calmer than you were five minutes ago. 

“i know.. i’m sorry baby,” squeezing your fingers together, “i love you, okay?”

your pout could solve wars, an immediate punch to his gut that had him instantly crawling on his knees for forgiveness. it’s no different now, jutting your bottom lip out with a slight quiver, vowing him to never make such a stupid mistake again. 

-

eddie drives this time, rushing back from the large house they’d been at. he doesn’t even know the kids name, he just knows his spleen no longer resided within his gut. 

this one was his idea, some kid that’d stiffed him for a couple grams a few months ago. stupid stuff really, but they’d needed to throw the cops off the scent. 

“so,” steve begins, pulling eddie from his head, “you still wanna do this?” 

he didn’t, not really. not while you were there. 

“i don’t see any other way we can end this,” he sighs, turning onto the darkened street, “it has to end,” you were getting too wise, thumbing at the scratch marks on his arm or questioning why he was always out so late recently. 

nothing would ever be worth losing you. not in a million years. 

“alright,” steve pouts, enjoying this far more than he first let on, “what’re you gonna do about that sweet girlfriend of yours? i think we should spook her first, really up the stakes,” bouncing around the cab of the van. 

“absolutely not, don’t even think about getting her involved with this shit,” baring his teeth, appalled that steve would ever even suggest something like that. you were all wide spoke about, filling up his thoughts even as he was driving a knife into the back of jason carver. 

“whaat? you don’t even wanna scare her a little? make her squirm,” his smirk evident in his tone. 

“i mean it steve,” eddie warns, flashing the boy a harsh glare, “if you touch her, i’ll kill you.” 

the car goes silent for a moment until steve cackles, his grin shining through, “not if i kill you first.” 

eddie’s blood runs cold, they could end this entire thing right now if that was what he wanted. his knuckles glow white, gripping the steering wheel as opposed to wrapping his hands around steve’s neck, “are you fucking serious?” spitting his words out, “because i’ll do it steve, i won’t fucking hesitate.”

steve pauses, trying to control his heaving breaths, “calm down loverboy, i’m not gonna hurt her,” sucking his teeth as if eddie were the crazed one here, like he hadn’t just been speaking complete sense. 

“don’t even joke about that shit,” slapping his hand against the leather steering wheel, “fucking dumbass, i can’t believe you,” looking to steve with utter disbelief in his eye. 

“chill out man,” steve calms, relaxing into the seat, “i’m not gonna do anything, wouldn’t wanna piss you off now, would i?” 

-

eddie had thought the entire night through, every second meticulously planned so that you’d never end up in the crossfire. he just needed your willing cooperation and reassurance that his partner in crime wouldn’t lose his mind. 

the last, he can’t promise. 

steve had been more erratic than ever, obvious that letting go of this power wasn’t anything he wanted. eddie doesn’t know how he can live with the guilt, but then, steve didn’t look into your bright eyes each night and feel that same stab of betrayal he did. 

he takes your hand now, leading you up the steep staircase and into the bathroom, under the guise of getting away from the noise, locking the door behind him as you stand at the sink, only slightly concerned. 

“what’s this for?” dipping your chin when his hands meet your waist, pressing your back against the cold porcelain. 

“i just wanted to.. get away,” eddie remarks, knowing that any minute now, all hell would break loose downstairs and he’d have to stab the shit out of people he called his friend. 

“oh yeah? that’s all you wanted me in here for?” walking your fingers up his chest, settling on his shoulder. 

“well,” letting his grin cock to the side, “what do you suggest we do in here?” 

you hum, a sweet sound that makes his heart race, “i think we could start with a bit of kissing and then.. see where it goes,” weaving your fingers into his hair, bringing his face closer. 

“i like the sound of that,” he coos, but the guilt is unimaginable, your oblivious smile soon to be wiped off your face and it’ll be all his fault. 

your lips connect in a harmonious symphony, he can feel your smile radiating against his skin, your fingertips tracing light lines on his scalp, a motion that would usually soothe him has him anxious instead. 

he so terribly wants to stay here for the duration of the night, or at least until steve had pushed his luck too far and ended up dead. 

but that can’t happen, without eddie, this wouldn’t end. 

you shift closer, pressing your body to his with a hum, hoping to turn this into something more that he just can’t give right now. 

as if by magic, there’s a loud thud from downstairs, a blood curdling scream that echoes through the walls follows behind. your eyes full of pure dread meet his when you spring apart. 

“what the fuck was that?” tightening your grip on the back of his neck. 

“i.. don’t know,” a barefaced lie, “i’m gonna go and check it out, alright?” coming eye-to-eye with you, a plea of the highest order. 

“what? are you fucking crazy?” 

“stay here,” he orders, kindly slipping your bra strap back onto your shoulder, “lock the door after me and don’t come out.”

“no! don’t leave me in here,” true terror ringing through your words. he wishes he could tell you that you truly have nothing to worry about. not like the rest of them.

“you’ll be okay,” eddie soothes, grabbing your hand, “i promise,” his thumb tracing patterns onto your wrist. 

“please come back quickly,” pleading with him not to go, your fingers shaking as they grasp his arm. 

“i will,” pressing his forehead to yours, giving one last squeeze before he breaks apart, “promise,” slipping out of the door, only waiting to hear the quiet click of the lock before scuffling along to steve’s room. 

his outfit had been stored in steve’s closet, the dark robe and rubbery mask that had now become dark and cracked. something about the fabric cascading over his skin had him more confident than anything, forgetting all about who was killing, unfazed by their distant screams. 

he tiptoes down the stairs, careful not to bump into any stragglers, the knife poised in his hand when he hits the kitchen, fingers twitching around the handle ready to slash whoever came out first. 

something squeals from behind the door, giving away their location immediately, some girl steve had tried to fuck, an obvious victim, someone quick and easy, someone you wouldn’t care about too much. 

the knife plunges into her side, the dark red liquid spurting out and all over the linoleum floor, he’s sure steve’s dad wouldn’t care too much. 

steve stomps through the kitchen, eyeing the scene before nodding to eddie, gesturing he follow him into the living room. it’s a silent affair, they could never know who was listening. 

but eddie does as he’s told, walking in to find a barely-breathing tommy hagan, his hand reaching out pathetically as his eyelids flutter and his lungs fill with blood. eddie’s never liked him, he certainly wouldn’t be sad to see him go. 

after the house is emptied, steve was to dress tommy in his robe and mask, plant the knife in his fist and call the police. they’d rehearsed it a thousand times, how steve would slash himself with his knife and eddie would scurry back up to the bathroom with you, waiting until the cops came to get you. 

steve’s laugh echoes through the quiet house, maniacal as he drives his blade into tommy’s gut, his last attempts at protesting come out as squeaks before the couch turns a deep red and the sputtering comes to a sudden stop. 

but eddie doesn’t want to play that game. 

steve was too sporadic, untrustworthy and downright stupid, if he were to be honest. who’s to say he’d never turn on eddie? kill him or worse, you? eddie couldn’t trust him, the boy was out of it, drunk on the power it gave him. 

so instead of doing anything they’d rehearsed, eddie forces the knife into steve’s chest, quickly taking it out to drive another jab into his throat, deafening his screams. steve’s eyes full of confusion, a lingering look of betrayal that makes his chest sting, if only for a second. 

his body thuds as it hits the floor, a garbled sound full of air escape his throat, an anguished cry that vaguely resembles eddie. 

he stares down at his accomplices twitching body, a sadness twinging his heart. steve would undoubtedly still be alive if he hadn’t been stupid enough to start joking about hurting you, all he’d had to do was keep his mouth shut and let the night play out. 

but he hadn’t. desperate to make some edgy joke that now lead to him bleeding out on his living room floor. 

eddie clears his throat, unwilling to dwell on his emotions for too long. he had to dress tommy and find the phone. there was too much at stake now to let steve ruin this from beyond the grave. 

out of the corner of his eye he spots that same glittering top that he’d left locked in the bathroom. he can’t believe you’d been stupid enough to come out of there. why you couldn’t just listen to him for once was completely beyond him.

he bounds along behind you, esnuring that absolutely nobody was skulking around the grand house before clamping one hand over your mouth, the other snaking around your hip to bring you to the cold, wooden floor. 

you scream against his palm, vibrating the skin with your pleas for help. eyes wide and watering as they meet the mask, he’s not surprised, for all you know, the knife in his hand was going straight into your side next. 

he straddles your waist, keeping your pressed into the floor and not a problem for him, “shh.. sh-shut up,” he hushes, ensuring that the hall really was empty before he revealed his identity. 

the thrashing stops, stilling as the cogs slowly turn and his voice becomes familiar, a blood-chilling flash of hurt overtakes your fearful eyes instead. 

bile rises in his throat, sick to his stomach with the fact that he could do this to you, make you so scared of him. 

“it’s me, it’s me sweetheart,” frantically trying to get you to calm down, to maybe not be so angry at him when this was all over. “promise not to scream and i’ll let go,” itching to take his gloved hand from your mouth, to prove his love. 

you nod hopelessly, flashing him an expression that he really can’t place, somewhere between terror, disgust and relief. 

he does as he promised, removing his hand from your mouth to slide the mask up, hoping that maybe seeing his face would help, would make you not hate him. 

“baby.. it’s not- i can explain everything to you, i just need..” panting his words, scrambling for some kind of excuse to get you back to safety, “you have to listen to me, okay? you trust me, don’t you?”

your face says anything but, watching your bottom lip tremble makes him fume, so incredibly pissed off that he was capable of this. 

“please,” eddie begs, pleads even, “i’d never.. ever hurt you, you know that, right?”

“i.. i trust you,” the words squeaked rather than spoken, accompanied by salty streams falling down your cheeks. 

he nods, daring to lift his mask. maybe eye contact would make you comfortable, “i’m gonna take you back to the bathroom.. okay? wait for me.. i’ll be five minutes, yeah?” running his knuckles over your mascara stained cheek, “and then i’ll tell you everything,” his tone reeking of desperation. 

much to his surprise, and utter delight, you lean into his hand, nodding with your pitiful trembling lip, “okay.. okay,” so innocent, totally unassuming about what he was going to admit to. 

eddie clambers off of your body, offering his hand out and praying to whichever god would listen to make sure you wouldn’t run. 

you don’t, of course you don’t. taking his hand as you climb up off of the floor, shoulders slumped over as you allow him to move you down the hallway, a gentle hand resting on your waist as you go. 

“five minutes baby.. i’ll be back,” he reassures for the hundredth time, “promise me you’ll stay here this time?” 

you nod, grabbing his hand just to feel his skin on yours, “i love you,” so sickly sweet he almost forgets what he had to do. but he had to do this for you, or he’d never hear that again. 

“i love you too,” with full sincerity, letting the door shut between you as he continues his mission, sprinting back to the living room to get tommy in his clothes and shake any hints of evidence off of himself. 

tommy’s heavier than he once anticipated, his lifeless body proving hard to contort into different clothes. 

but he does it, dropping the knife on the couch next to his body, giving steve one last sympathetic glance before barrelling down the hallway to the bathroom, pummelling his fist against the door. 

he hopes you’ll understand, you had to. everything he did, he did it with you in mind. 

his fist pummels against the wood, relief washing over his body when he hears the tiny click that lets him inside and confirms that you didn’t hate him. you trusted him, completely, just as he thought. 

eddie’s quick to lock it again, even while knowing the killer was inside of the room with you, the other strewn dead across the floor in a pool of his own blood. 

before he can even breath long enough to curate his explanation, the echoing sound of shouting and footsteps fill the house, the cops forcing their way inside and discovering the scene. 

the bathroom door splinters, eddie’s arms shielding you from the crossfire of wood. it’s the police, flashlights pointing right at your horrified faces, sharing concerned glances between one another. 

“we’ve got two confirmed alive,” one of them squawks into his radio, a fuzzy crackle coming back.  

“eddie? eddie munson? we’d like to speak to you about your friend, steve harrington.”

[airytaurus]

astrology observes🦷

Scorpio risings have this mysterious and interesting aura about them like you are so fascinated by wanting to know everything about them

Aquarius placements especially mars have a reputation imo for being odd or doing something very different from others especially in the work environment/social media

I’ve notched fire signs love fall

air moons especially (gemini and libra) have a good poker face they like to play “peacemaker” or try not to be the “in everyone’s business” but in reality they do care but hide it very very well

having libra and pisces in the big 6 can cause for lying or telling people what they want to hear

sun-mercury aspects can make someone talk very fast and loud and even nonstop lmaoo

the influence of 4th house sun can make someone very easily vulnerable and open if they trust you doesn’t matter how long they’ve known you

scorpio placements are more secretive than cancer and pisces

scorpio 5H can make someone have interest for the human mind and how it works

having a cancer 7H could mean attracting someone with mommy issues or someone who didn’t have a stable/reliable mom in their life

Scorpio and Aries rising have very similar features imo

Having Leo Jupiter means you could have lots of hair like really thick or just luscious hair

Virgo mercury will ask a ton do unnecessary questions about anything

people with mars-Neptune aspects have very big goals/accomplishments

Pisces 3rd house means you might have been a pushover a lot at school or in your community like you were too nice too everyone

Aquarius risings and moon too possibly have a oval shaped face

having cancer 3rd house could mean making or building a “family” at school/neighborhood for example calling people “sis” “bro” “cousin” etc.

taurus/scorpio in big 3 makes someone very possessive over ANYTHING OR ANYONE

having taurus 11H especially mercury means you don’t care what anyone says and you like to do things your own way and on your own time

Earth risings have a basic style

Having air in 6H could mean you know alot about animals and pets

Sagittarius in the big 6 makes someone very knowledgeable and knows everything

Sagittarius risings are THICK😁

Cancer moons give of parenting or older sibling energy

Moon in 1st people have very round faces and plump lips

having Saturn in 1H can someone have non straight teeth or they need braces of some sort

Saturn in 11H could mean having or needing discipline and boundaries between friendships , may even have friends who are holding you back

mars in 6H makes someone very anxious and overwhelmed

moon badly aspecting sun could mean your mom had a big ego and never gave you the confidence and reassurance you needed growing up

12H venus/mars could mean you get drained or tired from relationships and need alone time a lot , and being overly infatuated

having Saturn-Midheaven aspects or Capricorn 11th house could mean you’re very interested and make content about history or the past

moon in 7H could mean finding emotional support in every relationship you’re in

Gemini suns are more social than the other air suns

having libra/taurus/pisces MC could mean wanting to do something related to beauty (makeup, music, artist) and relating to others on a deeper level like psychology/therapy/social worker etc.

having Pisces 6H could mean you ignore health issues or don’t think they’re that much of a big deal

Aquarius suns are even supportive and energetic people when it comes to others

Scorpio moons have a dark and Grungy aesthetic just like scorpio risings

9H placements mainly sun and mars probably moon LOVE traveling or being anywhere else but home , they the most confident and happy away from their hometown

having Scorpio 11H could mean being overly protective of your friends and your online appearance you share what you want to share.

Mutable risings have a very different and complex style and how they dress they’re experiment alot with clothing and buy anything they think will make a good outfit to them

moon 5H/leo/pisces/scorpio and 3H moons may deal with their emotions through music or through any type of poetic words

[rowdyluv]

what a shame that he’s leaving

summary: Jack and y/n have been wanting to spice up their life in the bedroom.

word count: 3.8k

warnings: 18+, nsfw, ‘sensory deprivation’, threesome, talks of alcohol consumption, unprotected sex, deceiving, oral (female rec and male rec) fingering (female), there’s probably more but I can’t think

notes: hi bff @mirrorballmcgroarty convinced me to post this monstrosity of a fic. i hate it so much i wish i never created it or spoke it back into existence BUT enjoy anyways

Jack, Luke, and John sat around the sticky table at their favorite dive bar, the smell of greasy burgers and spilled beer lingering in the air. They were deep into their third round of drinks when Jack leaned in closer to John, his eyes glinting with a mischievous twinkle. "Hey, man," he said, his voice barely above a whisper, "are you still down for that thing I talked to you about?"

John's eyebrows shot up, he had been serious about that? He took a sip of his beer, the condensation cool against his top lip. What Jack was referring to wasn't about the upcoming Olympic Games. John adverted his eyes over to Luke quickly and back over to Jack. He had to admit, Jack's proposal had been a bit of a shock, but also intriguing. John has always had a bit of a wild streak, and the thought of being part of Jack's and y/n's intimate experiment had left him more than a little curious. "Yeah, sure I'm still game," he murmured over the top of his beer mug, his voice low and casual, trying not to be betrayed by the sudden thrill that shot through him.

"Good," Jack said with a knowing smile, slapping a hand down on the table. "Because she's down for it too…sometime." Jack leaned back in his bar chair, watching John's reaction carefully. "But I've been planning it out, and tonight's the night. She thinks it will just be me coming home, but I've got a little surprise for her. If you’re going to come with me."

John nodded, his heart racing with curiosity. Jack wasn’t someone who typically beat around the bush. "What's the plan?"

But before Jack could elaborate, Luke slammed his hand down on the table, interrupting the hushed conversation. "You two are giving me a headache with all the whispering," he complained, a scowl etched on his face. "I'm gonna head out." He tossed a few crumpled bills onto the sticky wooden surface and stood up, swaying slightly.

“Don’t go home. You won’t get any sleep.” Jack snickered.

Luke narrowed his eyes at his brother. “Don’t worry, I wasn’t going to. You two cannot whisper no matter what you think. You also are not sly as to what you’re going to do.” Luke pretends to gag before he stalks off from the two older boys and their laughs.

Jack's grin widens as the door swings shut behind Luke. He turns back to John, his eyes full of excitement. "Alright, let's get to it," he says, leaning in closer. "Here's the plan: I'll go in first, set us all up. I’ll have her believing it’s just her and I, but I’ll get her all hot and bothered. I’ll get her riled up more by blindfolding her. She'll be thinking it's just me the whole time, wait until I get her blindfolded then you’ll come in.”

John nods slowly, his pulse quickening. "And what do you want me to do exactly?"

Jack's grin turns devilish. "I'll have her all ready, practically begging for it, and you go straight for the good stuff, man."

John laughs nervously, feeling a mix of excitement and trepidation. "If she thinks it's you, then it'll be your name she yells out," he points out, raising an eyebrow.

Jack's smile doesn't falter. "Well, that's half the fun, isn't it?" he quips, downing the rest of his beer. "No don’t worry man, I’ve got something worked up for that too.”

John raises an eyebrow. "You've thought of everything, haven't you?"

Jack nods confidently. "Almost everything. Let’s go.”

They left the bar, the neon lights flickering in the early evening darkness. Each man climbed into their respective vehicles, the engines rumbling to life as they pulled out of the parking lot and headed towards Jack and y/n's apartment. The city streets were alive with the low murmur of traffic and distant laughter, a stark contrast to the heated anticipation that filled the confines of their cars.

Jack's mind raced as he navigated the familiar streets, his thoughts a whirlwind of excitement and apprehension. He'd been planning this night for weeks, ever since the trade had been confirmed. It was the perfect opportunity to push the boundaries of their relationship, to explore the wild side that y/n had hinted at but never fully embraced. The leather seats of his SUV hugged him tightly as he sped through the yellow lights, the wind in his hair feeling like a freedom he hadn't experienced in a long time.

As they pulled up to the apartment complex, Jack's heart hammered in his chest. He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself before they executed the plan. They parked side by side, the engines ticking as they cooled. They both knew that once they walked through the door, there was no turning back. John's eyes met Jack's, a silent confirmation of their shared excitement.

Jack stepped out of the car and unlocked the front door, calling out to y/n, "Hey babe, I'm home!" He waited for a moment, listening for her response. Her footsteps echoed down the hallway, and he could feel the tension in the air thicken as she grew closer. She appeared in the doorway of the living room, her eyes lighting up when she saw him. She was wearing nothing but a large t-shirt that barely hung to her thighs, her skin glowing with the warmth of the setting sun.

“Hi.” She smiled softly.

Jack took three strides forward lifting her over his shoulder.

“Jack! What are you doing?!” Y/n squealed.

“I want you baby girl, I can’t wait.” His voice low, seductive. His statement true, but he was also needing to move away to allow John inside.

Y/n giggled, throwing her hand over her mouth. “Jack, put me down!” She protested playfully, her laughter bouncing off the walls of the hallway.

Jack smacked her ass gently. “Oh, I will, but not yet.” He said, carrying her into the bedroom. He tossed her onto the bed, his eyes full of hunger. He took a step back, admiring her in the soft light that filtered through the blinds. Her t-shirt had ridden up, revealing her red underwear and the tops of her thighs. She leaned on her elbows, her eyes shimmering with excitement.

Y/n watched as Jack approached the bed, his movements deliberate and predatory. He leaned down, his warm breath tickling her skin as he whispered, "I've got a surprise for you tonight, baby." His lips grazing against the column of her throat ever so slightly, before he playfully nips at her neck. He leans over to his bedside table and pulls a bandanna out of his drawer, holding it up.

“Are you ready to have some fun?” Jack’s voice was gravely. Y/n only nodded, her eyes shining like diamonds in the sun. Jack grinned, over eager to get the bandanna on her.

Jack returned to his original space over her, the soft fabric of the blindfold brushing against her cheek. His eyes searched hers, looking for any signs of doubt. She bit her lip, but nodded. He could tell she was nervous but incredibly turned on. He placed the bandanna over her eyes, tying it tightly behind her head. The room was plunged into darkness for her, and her pulse quickening in anticipation.

Before she could react her panties were stripped from her, her legs spread wide, and she heard Jack’s tale-tale moan. “Oh babygirl, you’re already so fucking wet.” He drug a knuckle over her clit. Her hip bucked. “Fuck, Jack. Please” Jack smirked and retreated from the bed to wave John on down the hall.

John’s heart was racing as he tiptoed into the room, the sound of y/n’s breathless gasps guiding him like a beacon. He took a moment to appreciate the sight before him: her half naked body stretched out on the bed, her chest heaving with every breath, the blindfold hiding the secrets of the evening from her eager eyes.

Jack gave him a nod, gesturing for him to join her on the bed. John’s pulse quickened as he approached, his eyes drinking in every inch of her exposed flesh. He climbed onto the bed, his body quivering with anticipation as he positioned himself between her thighs. The scent of her arousal was thick in the air, and he couldn’t help but lick his lips at the thought of tasting her.

John leaned in, his mouth hovering just above her sensitive flesh. He took a deep breath, savoring the sweetness of her. Then, ever so gently, he kissed the inside of her thigh, his tongue darting out to trace the delicate skin. He could feel her body tense with excitement, her legs instinctively spreading wider for him. He continued his kisses, moving closer and closer to her center. He teasingly hovered right above her core. He could feel the heat radiating from her core, and he knew she was ready.

Finally, John couldn't resist any longer. He parted her folds with his thumbs and flicked his tongue over her clit, eliciting a sharp gasp from y/n. She squirmed beneath him, her hands reaching out to grasp the sheets tightly. He licked her slowly, savoring the taste of her. Her hips began to rock against his face, seeking more pressure, more friction. He chuckled darkly against her, his breath hot against her skin, before he gave in to her silent plea. His tongue swirled around her clit, licking and sucking until she was bucking her hips up to meet him, her moans muffled by the pillow she had buried her face in.

Jack watched from the side of the bed, his own arousal growing as he saw y/n's body respond to John's ministrations. He had never seen her this wild, this uninhibited, and it was a sight to behold. He began to strip off his own clothes, his eyes never leaving her face. The way she thought the way she writhed and moaned, the way she arched her body off the bed, was all for him—made his cock harden. Every whimper she let out, every desperate plea for more made it hard to resist touching himself.

John's tongue grew more insistent, his hunger for her clear in every stroke. He lapped at her like a man starved of water in the desert, his mouth greedily devouring her wetness. He could feel her getting closer, her legs trembling and her breaths turning ragged. He knew she was on the edge, and he was eager to push her over. His thumbs pressed into the soft flesh of her inner thighs, spreading her wider, giving him better access. He took her clit between his teeth, sucking gently before letting go with a pop, making her cry out.

Y/n's body was a symphony of sensations, her mind a whirlwind of pleasure. She had never felt anything like this before. The mystery of not knowing where the next touch was coming from, when it was coming, who was touching her added an extra layer of excitement, making her crave more. She let out a whimper, her body begging for release. "Jack," she elongated his name as she moaned, her voice strained with desire. "Yes, Jack, right there."

Jack grinned triumphantly, he leaned over her grabbing her chin. “Oh sweet girl, it’s not me doing this to you.” He all but growled.

Y/n's breath hitched, her eyes flying open in shock. She reached up to rip the blindfold off, the room coming into focus with a jarring suddenness. Her eyes darting down between her legs frantically, her pupils dilated with lust. They fell on John, meeting his eyes dark with desire as he hovered just above her apex. When their eyes met, John took his fingers and plunged two deep inside her. Eliciting a sharp scream guttural scream from her. Her eyes darted over to Jack. She felt her cheeks flush with a mix of shock and arousal, her body betraying her with a needy moan.

Jack leaned in, his eyes dark with his own hunger, and whispered in her ear, "Surprise, baby." His hand reached out to cup her cheek, his thumb stroking her skin tenderly. "John's here to help me give you the night of your life." He kissed her neck, his teeth grazing her sensitive skin, making her shiver.

John took his tongue swirling around her clit once more before pulling away. "You're going to come so many times tonight," he murmured, his voice thick with lust. "But not yet." He replaced his mouth with his fingers, working her clit in a steady rhythm that had her writhing and begging for more.

Jack chuckled darkly, his hand sliding down to his own erection. He stroked himself leisurely, watching the scene unfold before him. "You're so beautiful like this," he whispered, his voice barely above a murmur. "So open, so ready."

Sliding his fingers out of her and replacing them with his cock. John pushed in slow, watching her face contort with pleasure and surprise. "Jack's not the only one who knows how to make you feel good," he said, his voice a gravelly growl. He began to thrust, his movements measured and deliberate, drawing out her pleasure. “I can promise you that.”

John's cock filled her completely, reaching deep inside her and stroking against her g-spot with every push. Y/n's eyes rolled back into her head, a silent scream building in her throat. Her body was no longer her own, it was a playground for Jack and John's desires. She felt so full, so complete, and the sensation was overwhelming. Her hips began to match John's rhythm, her body begging for more.

Jack's hand was at the back of her head, guiding her mouth onto his erection. The salty taste of him filled her mouth, and she took him in eagerly, her tongue swirling around the head of his cock. She could feel him pulsing with every beat of his heart, the veins in his shaft throbbing with his excitement. He talked dirty to her, his words a mix of praise and filth that sent shivers down her spine. "That's it, baby," he murmured, his voice thick with lust. "You look so fucking good with his cock in you, with my cock in your mouth."

John's thrusts grew more powerful, his hips slamming into hers with a force that had the bed shaking. Y/n could feel him stretching her, filling her completely. Each stroke was a delicious mix of pain and pleasure, pushing her closer and closer to the edge. Her own moans vibrated against Jack's shaft, muffled by his skin. She could feel her orgasm building, a tight coil in her stomach that threatened to unravel at any moment.

Jack's grip tightened on the back of her head, his hips moving in a matching rhythm to John's. His words were a constant stream of filth, his voice a dark caress that only served to heighten her arousal. "Look at you, baby," he murmured, his voice low and sinful. "Taking both of us like a champ." He groaned as she took him deeper, her tongue swirling around the head of his cock. "You're such a good girl, letting us both use your tight little body."

John's eyes met Jack's over y/n's trembling form, a silent communication passing between them. They had been friends for years, and this was a moment they had never dared to imagine. The shared excitement was palpable, the tension in the room thick with lust and the thrill of the taboo. John leaned back, his hands on her hips, watching as Jack's cock disappeared into her mouth, her cheeks hollowing with each bob of her head.

Jack's hand slid from her cheek to the back of her head, guiding her movements, setting a pace that had him groaning with pleasure. His eyes were locked onto hers, watching as they watered with the effort of taking him deep. She was so eager, so hungry for it, and it only made him want to fuck her face even more. He could feel John's thrusts into her pussy, the mattress squeaking beneath them, and he knew she was being driven wild by the sensation of being filled in both places at once.

“You think you could take us both at the same time here?” Jack reached behind him grazing his hand up the side of the globe of her ass. A drug out moan shuttered out from her throat and around his cock. Her pussy clamped down around John’s cock both in response. “I take that as a yes?” Jack raised on eyebrow questioning her.

Y/n pulled Jack out of her mouth with a pop. "Yes," she panted, her voice shaky with need. "I want it all."

“Who do you want where sweet girl?” John’s question hung in the air, his eyes burning with lust.

Without missing a beat, y/n responded, "John, I want you in my ass," she said, her voice shaky with excitement. "And Jack, I want you in my pussy." She looked at both of them with glazed eyes. If some one didn’t know better, they’d think she was pure and innocent.

Jack's eyes went wide, but he didn’t hesitate. He grabbed a bottle of lube from his nightstand, handing it to John. "Looks like someone's eager," he said with a smirk, watching as John's eyes darkened with lust.

John took the bottle, pouring a generous amount onto his fingers before sliding them into her ass. Y/n whimpered, her body tightening at the sudden intrusion. But she didn't pull away. Instead, she pushed back against John's hand, urging him to go deeper, faster.

Jack leaned in, his lips crushing hers in a bruising kiss as John's fingers slid in and out of her ass. The feeling of being filled in both her ass and her pussy was unlike anything she had ever experienced, a delicious pressure that had her pussy clenching around Jack's shaft. He groaned into her mouth, his hand tangling in her hair as he began to thrust into her.

John's fingers worked her ass, stretching her, preparing her for his thick cock. He watched her face in the mirror across the room, her expression a mix of pleasure and pain, her mouth open in a silent scream as he replaced his fingers for his dick and stretching her wider, stroking in deeper. He whispered dirty words into her ear, his breath hot against her skin. "You're so fucking tight," he murmured, his voice thick with desire. "I've never felt anything like this."

Jack's hips moved in tandem with John's, their bodies working together in a rhythm that was both mesmerizing and carnally intense. Y/n's moans grew louder, her breaths coming in short gasps as they both pushed into her, filling her completely. She could feel their muscles tensing with every thrust, their sweat-slicked skin slapping against hers, the sound echoing through the room.

Their words a symphony of filth that had her pussy contracting around Jack's cock. "Look how good you're taking us," Jack said, his voice deep and commanding. "You're such a dirty little slut, aren't you?"

John groaned in agreement. "Fuck yes, you are," he said, his voice strained. "You're going to come so hard with both of us inside you."

Her orgasm building faster and faster, a crescendo of pleasure that was almost too much to bear. She clung to Jack, her nails digging into his shoulders as John's cock hit that perfect spot deep within her ass, at times nudging against Jack’s. She was lost in the sensation, her body no longer her own.

Jack's hand slid down her body, his thumb finding her clit. He began to rub it in tight circles, his movements synced with their thrusts. She bucked her hips and cried out. The two men held her tight, their movements growing more frantic as they felt her approaching climax, as well as their own.

Her moans grew louder, her body tightening around them. "I'm going to come," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "Oh, fuck, I'm going to come."

Jack's grip on her tightened, his thumb pressing down harder on her clit. "Come for us, baby," he said, his voice low and urgent. "Come for John and me."

Their strokes grew more powerful, their bodies moving as one. And then, with a scream that seemed to shake the very foundations of the room, y/n came. Her orgasm washed over her, a tidal wave of pleasure that left her trembling and gasping for breath.

Jack and John didn't let up, their strokes unrelenting as they chased their own releases. They watched her face, the way she bit her lip and arched her back, her body shuddering with the force of her climax. It was intoxicating, a sight that pushed them closer and closer to the edge.

With a load groan of ecstasy, Jack came with an intense shudder, inside her. John followed suit, his cock pulsing as he filled her ass with his cum. They collapsed onto the bed, their bodies slick with sweat and their hearts pounding.

For a moment, there was only the sound of their ragged breathing, the three of them lost in the aftermath of their shared passion. Then, y/n reached up, her hands shaky as she touched Jack’s face. She looked at him, her eyes filled with a mix of satisfaction and amazement.

"That was... amazing," she said, still breathless. "I never knew I could feel like that."

Jack and John shared a grin, their eyes gleaming with a newfound camaraderie. They had given her an experience she would never forget, and the memory of it would surely fuel their fantasies for weeks to come.

But for now, all that mattered was the here and now, the three of them tangled together in the afterglow of their shared desire. They lay there, panting and sweaty, the warmth of their bodies melding together. It was a moment of pure, unadulterated pleasure, a moment that would forever be etched in their memories as the night they pushed the boundaries of their friendship and their love lives to the absolute limit.

“It’s a shame you’re leaving man, might’ve considered doing it all again.” Jack laughed tugging y/n over a little closer to kiss her a top the head.

John smirked, his hand idly tracing patterns on her hip. “Maybe we can make it a send-off tradition?” He suggested, watching her face for a reaction. “When Utah plays the Devils it becomes a thing?”

“Ehhh. Maybe. Don’t get too excited Marino.” Jack stiffly chuckles while he’s moving y/n around to get her up for a bath. She’s already falling asleep on him. Making it harder on him. “Not saying no, not saying yes, it’s upset to babygirl here. I’ll do anything for her. Absolutely anything.”

[gb-patch]

Sorry to send another ask amongst the sea I'm sure you're receiving, but I find myself more concerned about Rose being a sensitivity reader as I find more information. One of Rose's friends continues to insist that the conversation about Tamarack and male MCs was part of a larger discussion about biphobia in the fandom. However, they claim that Rose's position is "people erase Tam's bi/pansexuality by refusing to portray [her] as being attracted to anything other than men." This explanation of Rose's belief is, in-and-of-itself, biphobic. It claims that portraying Tamarack as attracted to men erases her queerness. This is textbook biphobia and bi-erasure that I as a bisexual encounter every day. It is NOT a good-faith defense of a queer character. It reduces us down to our partners and makes the claim that if we end up in a relationship that's "straight-passing," we're erasing our queerness. Especially as a bi sapphic myself, it reduces my identity strictly to the perceived-man I'm dating, and not my inner or previous experiences, or those of my partner. It's very uncomfortable that Rose, a non-bisexual, was discussing this like they're defending Tamarack's queerness when they're doing the opposite.

This is a doubly strange position when Our Life is a game about the acceptance of love in all its forms. The conversation could be different, MAYBE, if Our Life was a TV show or a book or a comic. But this is a game where people are meant to play as characters of their own design. I do not feel confident about Rose being a sensitivity reader for a game with bi/pansexual love interests if these are their beliefs about bi/pansexuality, particularly if they're unable to adapt their opinions to be relevant to different formats of media; this shows they're lacking in skill in the areas of media literacy and critical thinking.

I’ve been trying to make a post that presents the concerns people have about this, but your ask touches on the points I was going to, and I’d say it’s better to have it said by a player than me deciding what people are thinking. So, this is something that I want to make clear- that I see this and other asks/comments about it. What you’ve said is something a lot of people are unsure and upset about. I am sorry that you feel so out of place in this community now. And I am also sorry to players of any sexuality who use a male MC. That comment dismissed players and Tamarack’s identity.

It did come from a longer discussion about bi-phobia issues. The overall feelings were “if people did only want Tamarack to be interested in men, I really wouldn’t like that and wouldn’t it be a funny concept if Tamarack then left them for a woman?”. The comment itself didn’t encompass that idea at all. It does not give a good impression about where they’re coming from. It was unkind.

The viewpoint Rose is trying to have isn’t that “Tamarack can never express an interest in men” which would be wrong, it’s “I stand by the fact that Tamarack is someone who wouldn’t only be interested in men and no one else”. If it’s true that Rose likes Tamarack being interested in all genders and doesn’t want her bi-ness to be forgotten, I’d say that’s an acceptable view. If the point actually is that Tamarack should only be with women and if she’s not than Tamarack is no longer bi or she’s a bad character, then you're right- that isn't acceptable and that is going to get someone removed from the project. I do believe Rose agrees with what you’re saying and means it when they say they want to stop bi-erasure, not participate in it for real. But they had a very harsh way of talking about it.

I understand that people don’t know Rose and this situation has made them believe they do seriously hold that first view. But from working with them, there’s never been any feedback that shows an opinion of the sort.

Right now, I think that comment was being edgy and making a quick, very poorly-worded quip to people they’d been chatting with about that topic already. Rose has left the GB Patch discord servers, they used to be a mod, and may or may not ever be back in there. Rose won’t make blog posts responding to players going forward. They’re going to take a break from this and then try to give helpful feedback. We’re going to see if things can be okay from here.

And with this coming up, we’re all really aware that it’s something to consider about the game. I’m going to be as conscious as I can for any advice that seems to go against the character’s identities and I’m going to question my own knee-jerk choices for how I handle things. Other sensitivity readers will be able to give their viewpoints as well, so will the players. If the game’s content isn’t welcoming or is biased people will notice, and I’ll be here to accept what I’ve done. I don’t want that to be the result of this, of course. I hope the game will be thoughtful and considerate, but I can’t fire Rose at this point to try doing that.

No one has to keep following the game, though. I’m sympathetic to anyone who is too uncomfortable with all this to stay around.

[lumismuseum]

🏛️ HSR Characters with a Vampire S/O

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✨ FEATURES ; gender neutral who’s a vampire, basically how they treat you, reader is very gentle (sometimes), established relationship with all of them, reader is more dominant with the men but more submissive with the women if that makes sense (basically me)

— Characters ; Dan Heng, Jing Yuan, Blade, Kafka

📜 NOTES ; probably 15+, mentions of violence and blood, some spicy stuff, these are my hcs, idk all the characters well I kinda just have an obsession with two or three soooooo….mb yous are eating rations tonight.

ALSO, I’ve written this so that reader’s spit has healing benefits, meaning it can heal minor wounds (like bites), so that they can keep whoever they’ve bitten alive longer. Like recycling.

DAN HENG

DRINKING HIS BLOOD ;

Is very reluctant to let you drink his blood at first (understandably).

He’s quite paranoid in case you accidentally drink too much.

You don’t push him to do it since you can find other sources of nutrition, it’s just that he’s the… easiest source.

The first time he let you drink his blood, it was when you were getting quite malnourished. As your lover, he felt like it was his responsibility to sacrifice himself for you. He immediately offered his neck to you after zipping down his collar on his turtleneck. You didn’t take a lot of blood from him, but it was enough to sustain you for the time being. Whilst you had been rejuvenated, he grew slightly limp in your arms and so you had to carry him back to your room.

After that though, he was still hesitant to offer himself to you, but he wasn’t against it completely anymore.

His favourite place for you to drink from is his neck - he feels a little too nervous for you to try drinking from anywhere else since the data bank only has information on drinking from the neck. He also likes how close you are to him when you go for his neck.

He also just loves the way you slide your tongue up his neck once you’re finished drinking.

BITING HIM ;

Won’t admit it, but he really loves it when you trace your teeth down his skin, especially his neck. He loves the way it raises goosebumps all over his body.

Idk about you guys but I believe Dan Heng is 100% SUBMISSIVE so for him, the thought of being completely at your mercy just gets him so excited.

Like, when he’s stripped of his clothing with your body laid on top of him and your sharp teeth grazing his neck, his collarbones, chest, stomach, THIGHS?? Plus the thought that you could quite literally do whatever you wanted to him in this state (even though he knows you’d never hurt him) makes him go crazy.

As for actually biting him, he’s a little less into that. He still adores the occasional nip that you give him but he isn’t entirely comfortable with you full on biting him unless it’s necessary.

In his vidyadhara form, he also has fairly large fangs (not as prominent as yours but still impressive), so I feel like he has a thing for nipping you as well. Sort of like a playful revenge for the bites you’ve given him.

Also, he’s so much freakier in his vidyadhara form anyway. Since he doesn’t feel totally helpless with his full strength, he definitely gets more confident - nipping you back, putting your fingers in his mouth and vice-versa…

Basically when he’s in his dragon form you two just turn into straight animals with each other, especially when shit gets heated ;)

JING YUAN

DRINKING HIS BLOOD ;

Actually quite into you drinking his blood - he likes the feeling of being vulnerable in someone else’s arms. He views it as a display of trust between the two of you.

He doesn’t want to do it very often though as he’s also cautious about blood loss.

Sometimes, especially when you’re drinking from his neck, he gets a little too into it and forgets to push you off. This has led to some close calls (he’s fainted multiple times), but thankfully you’ve had enough self control to pull back before it gets dangerous.

The first time you drank from him was a result of his curiosity. He genuinely wanted to know what it felt like to have his blood sucked out of him and so offered his neck to you. It ended up being much more enjoyable than he imagined it would be - the close proximity to you as well as the feeling of him being weakened by you gave him such a thrill.

His favourite place for you to drink from keeps changing. He adores it when you bite his shoulder from behind whilst giving him a back hug in the process but he also LOVES having you drink from his thigh. But really he's okay with you drinking from anywhere. He doesn't even see any danger in what you're doing, rather he sees it as a bonding moment or a moment of intimacy between you two. Just the thought that he's making you stronger while you're making him weaker makes him feel so good.

BITING HIM ;

Like I said above, he accepts you drinking his blood from any spot, so he's even more lenient with just biting.

He's particularly fond of you biting his chest, collarbones and neck since he can cover it up. It excites him when he's talking to someone and they don't know that underneath his clothes he's covered in your bite marks.

I feel like there's a tiny part of him deep down that genuinely wants you to just go to town on him. And I mean going proper feral, treating him like you're going to eat him for dinner - tearing into his skin and getting your fangs as deep as you can.

But that's a very small part of him and for the most part he would much rather you be pretty gentle with him :( the thought of you actually being ferocious with him makes him more uncomfortable than anything.

BLADE

DRINKING HIS BLOOD ;

First and foremost, this guy's a freak. Seriously.

Oh, you think you're the wild one since you're the literal vampire? Think again! This man WANTS you to rip him apart, like actually DESIRES IT. The second you two are alone together he’s taking his clothes off and pulling you onto him.

Since he can't die (or at least, he keeps coming back to life when he does), he has no problem with you taking as much blood as you want from him, whenever and wherever you want.

Sometimes when you're drinking from him he'll actually bite you back if you have any exposed skin near him, either because he wants you to just give into your instincts and devour him OR because he just gets a little too excited (usually both).

The first time you drank from him was because he kept provoking you to bite him. You initially didn't want to for fear of going too far, yet he kept persisting that he needed it - he needed to feel your teeth draining his life from him. So, you complied and sunk your teeth into his neck. He groaned with pleasure at the feeling. When you pulled your head back, thinking you'd taken enough, he grabbed your head and forced you back to his neck, getting you to go even deeper into his neck. He kept holding you in that position until he eventually collapsed in your arms.

He has two favourite places for you to drink from. The first is definitely his neck. The fact that there's so much risk in you taking blood from there just exhilarates him, he almost gets high off the feeling. His second favourite place is his chest, right where his heart is. There are times when he just wants you to just snatch his heart out and eat it, but those are thoughts that he'll keep to himself for the time being.

BITING HIM ;

He actually doesn't really like it when you bite him and don't draw any blood. It makes him feel like you're going easy on him, so whenever you do that he riles you up by saying shit like "That all you got?!" to rile you up.

HOWEVER he does like it when you nip him a couple of times before digging your fangs into him. I can't explain why he just gets a thrill out of it.

But for the most part he much prefers when you get aggressive with him.

KAFKA

DRINKING HER BLOOD ;

Kafka almost views you as her cute little vampire pet. Because of this she takes GREAT care of you.

She has tons of blood vials ready for you whenever you get hungry, but if you plead her long enough then she’ll let you drink from her instead, since she knows fresh blood is the best.

When you are drinking from her though, she needs a little time to get ready. She’ll settle down into bed with you, maybe have some candles on for atmosphere, then let you drink from her.

I feel like she’d make you wait like a little dog for her command. Like you’ll be sitting beside her or straddling her, desperate for her to give you permission to drink, and as soon as she says ‘Drink’ you just dive in like a starved animal. She might even tease you a little and make you wait for a few minutes, saying things like “You’re so hungry, aren’t you? So desperate for my blood, hm?”

She doesn’t really have a favourite place for you to drink from, she likes it anywhere. Although, she is particularly fond of places where she gets to grab your hair and basically control how much blood you get.

BITING HER ;

Loves it when you bite her. She much prefers it over you drinking her blood.

Likes to incorporate your biting into make out sessions, having you slowly work your way round her neck, littering her skin with delicate bites. As you do this, she strokes the back of your head or scratches your scalp.

[azurevi]

everyone loves you (at least i do)

pairing: leona x gn!reader (reader = prefect)

note: inspired by first love and the song by matt maltese under the same name. 2.6k; not too proud with how it came out but it’s just a lil something to get the idea out of my head :P

The first time Leona caught someone asking you out in the botanical garden, he was irritated to say the least.

The garden had always been the first choice for those who wanted to confront their crushes, what with the cozy temperature and flamboyant plants making for an idyllic atmosphere, not to mention the lack of wandering students.

Except for Leona, that was.

As time went by, he learned to tune out the pathetic confessions and over-the-top declarations of love. So long as they weren’t doing it right next to his napping spot, he had no interest in others’ dating lives. 

His disinterest went down the drain when he picked up your presence one day, automatically rousing him from his sleep. It was undeniable that he enjoyed your occasional visits and that you were good company, but that was all. 

Still, he waited for you to spot him under the tree, but you never came. Instead, you stopped a few feet away. and that’s when he picked up another foreign scent.

“I’ve been feeling this for a long time,” the faceless student started, his voice shaking near the end of the sentence. “But I really like you. Would you like to go out with me?”

Leona’s tail smacked loudly on the grass, but it went unnoticed. His eyes were wide open now, face as still as a statue as he processed his words. Someone was asking you out when he’s just steps away. It’s weird how it planted a bitter taste in his mouth, but perhaps he was just infuriated that he got woken up by something so… trivial. He should just go back to dreamland.

Instead, he listened closely for your answer.

“Um, thank you,” You sounded conflicted. “But I'm afraid I can't do that, sorry.”

“Ah…” The student was audibly disappointed. “I see. Sorry for bothering you.”

“It’s-” you opened your mouth to reassure him, but he was already scurrying away, head low like a child who just got berated by his parents. The corner of Leona’s lips quirked up, amused by your candid rejection.

Moments later, he heard you leave as well. It bugged him that you didn’t think to find him, but he’s too caught up with relief to care.

Relief. How strange that he would feel comforted by that. Shaking his head, he lowered himself onto the grass and dozed off again.

To his surprise and dismay, it didn’t end there. A week later, the same thing happened: another underclassman invited you to the garden with a box of chocolate in hand. Your position worked in Leona's favor— if he just shifted a little, he could observe the whole interaction through the broad leaves. It took an embarrassing amount of effort to stifle his curiosity and the urge to take a peek.

The moment the blonde second-year opened his month, Leona knew that he was a lost cause.

“You know, I’ve been thinking about how we would be a good match. You’re always the center of attention, and I’m handsome and popular, together we can be the hottest couple of the school. So what do you say? Go on a date with me?”

The boy spoke with such confidence, hand flipping his bangs and torso leaning against a thin tree trunk, that Leona almost scoffed. Though he could not see your reaction, from the way you tilted your head and crossed your arms, he could tell that you were not having any of it.

“If it’s being in the spotlight you want, perhaps you’ll have more luck dating someone more special. Like Vil. He’s a celebrity, after all.” You said in a calm voice, as if you weren’t basically suggesting that he walk straight into embarrassment. There’s no way Vil would even look at him, let alone listen to his arrogant and loveless proposal.

“Huh. You do have a point there. Good advice. Thanks a lot,” he patted your shoulder before strolling off like he hadn’t just tried to score a date with you. 

The moment he’s out of sight, you let out an exasperated sigh and turned around. Leona settled into a more comfortable position as you neared, hiding himself behind the lush bushes.

“Leona?” You called, shoving the blades of leaves out of your face as you wandered further in. “Oh, here you are. Wake up, sleepyhead.”

You shook his shoulder, and he pretended to be stirred awake, grunting in annoyance. “What do you want?”

From where you were looking down at him, the glass ceiling casted an almost angelic halo of light around your head. “Wanna grab lunch with me? I heard they added something new to the menu.”

He watched your eager expression before rolling to his side. “I don’t want to go.”

“Oh,” it’s impossible to not notice the drop in your voice. “Okay then.”

As you turned on your heels, he cleared his throat, “We can eat here if you get me one of the new stuff. It’s got meat in it, right?”

That made your mood change as swiftly as lightning. “Loads, actually. I’ll be right back!”

His eyes followed as you dashed away with lightness in your steps, a fond chuckle rumbling in his chest. 

After you returned, you talked some more about the shenanigans your classmates had been getting into and some gossip that had been circulating around the campus. Never once did you bring up the minor hiccups involving the two students, so he didn’t ask. A sense of security had settled in his head now that he’d seen you turn someone down twice, but it would turn out to be short-lived.

If he hadn’t been aware of your popularity among your peers, he certainly did now. It’s only been a month and he already needed two hands to count all the times he’d been roused from peace by someone asking you out. Some were as insincere and playful as the second pursuer, but most were serious, and creative about it too. He'd seen you being presented with balloons, flowers, handmade plushies, all kinds of crafts, heirlooms– there were too many to list. Not to mention the more poetic ones among the followers, who managed to turn their affections for you into something straight out of a fairytale. If he had had a single romantic bone in his body, he might've wept at one of the verses too.

On the surface, he had no idea that you were so popular, but a deeper look gave him all the explanations he needed. You'd stumbled into this world with nary an ounce of magic in you, crashing the entrance ceremony with a cat that breathed fire, and within months of settling down, you managed to stand against not one, not two, but three overblot dorm leaders. There was a courage that burned like a fire inside you.

But that's not all. You were kind and loyal and friendly and genuine, always ready to give a helping hand to whoever was in need. You somehow got on his good side, for sevens' sake. That alone said a lot about you.

It only made sense that all the things he liked you for were adored by others as well, but that knowledge was threatening. There might come a day when you're finally wooed by one of the admirers, or when you eventually set eyes on someone else. There might come a day when you say yes to their confessions and spend so much time with them that you forget all about him…

But then again, he couldn't imagine being on the receiving end as you apologetically turned him down. His pride couldn't take that. Plus it would just make things awkward between you.

How utterly preposterous. As if a prince like him would care if a human or two stopped bothering him.

"I think I have an idea as to what this is about." You said to the boy in front of you.

His ears twitched in your direction. Okay, so maybe he did care. His back was turned to the scene from where he was sitting behind the bench, but he was close enough to catch every word.

"I thought so. People are actually starting to guess who you'll end up with, including me."

Leona knew the owner of that voice. Not personally, but he was usually seen sticking to your side. From the scattered pieces of information you'd told him in passing, that guy was your study partner for alchemy classes and had been one of your best buddies alongside Jack and the other first years. There were times when he spotted the two of you walking down the corridor, matching smiles stuck on your faces.

Was this it? Perhaps the reason you'd rejected all those people was because you wanted to be with someone close, someone whom you knew. This guy– whatever his name was– would be a good choice in this case.

He refused to acknowledge the fear snaking down his spine.

"I wish you would still let me ask though," he said. You didn't outright refuse. Leona's heart sank.

"I've come to fall in love with you in the time we've spent together. I was really worried that confessing would jeopardize our friendship, but I can't keep my feelings from you anymore, or else I will probably go crazy in my head," Fabrics shuffled, it sounded like a velvet box was clicked open, and a tiny gasp escaped your throat. "This isn't much, but… would you like to grab dinner with me?"

Silence. Those pregnant moments weighed heavily on Leona. For once, he couldn't tell whether the deafening heartbeats were his or your friend's.

"This is-" you inhaled deeply. "This is too expensive, I can't take it-"

"It's yours to have. I figured only something like this can encompass how much I love you, so…" he trailed off before forcing a pathetic laugh through his nose. "You can't take it, or you don't want to take it?"

"I'm sorry, Hans. You're a really good friend, but I don't feel that way about you." 

"Oh. That's… that's alright," he cleared his throat, then laughed again. "Man, I kind of expected this, but it still hurts pretty bad. Will you at least keep it?"

"But-"

"I know, but I really do want you to have it. Plus, I got one for myself too! They could be matching friendship bracelets."

You smiled ruefully. "Alright, I'll accept it. They do look cute when put together."

"I know right?" There was a beat before he talked again, this time in a more hesitant tone. "Can I ask you a question?"

You hummed. 

"Is there a reason why you never go out with anyone? Like, are you just not interested in guys or dating in general…" Before you could answer, he clicked his tongue. "Okay, that's not really what I was hoping to ask. Is there someone that you like?"

“Yea, something like that.” The certainty in your voice made Leona’s chest lurch. So that’s it? Someone had already won your heart? Possibilities dashed across his mind: could it be one of the aforementioned friends? The sociable Cater or the cheery Kalim? Or was it Vil, who somehow made his way into your conversation that one time? Or– his tail swished at the thought– was it…

Smack! It disobediently hit the back of the bench, the creak seizing the moment. Your chatting voices were abruptly cut off and replaced by a deafening silence.

“What was that?” Hans said. Footstep approached, his scent moving closer. 

“What was what?” You stopped him in his tracks somehow. “It's probably just the wind.”

“I guess so,” he scratched the back of his head, “Alright then. We should head back for classes.”

“You should go first, I have something to do around here.”

Damn it.

The air seemed to freeze as soon as Hans was gone, as if one tiny movement would break the stillness. Leona listened as the soles of your shoes cracked the grass. There was an intention to conceal your movement, but you would be naive to think that you could sneak up on him.

As expected, you jumped in front of the spot where he’d been sprawled out on, the victorious grin dissolving into confusion when you saw only the dent he'd left on the ground.

“Boo.”

You jumped a great height in the air at the ambush, shooting him a harmless glare as he scoffed at your response.

“Hey there, eavesdropper.”

“Eavesdropper? You were the one who wandered into my territory. Really should've chosen somewhere with more privacy.”

“I thought you denied being the keeper of this garden.”

"That's not the same thing. I'm not taking care of this place, it's too much work,” his gaze trailed down to the bracelets encircled around your wrist, then back to your face again. Perhaps he could find out who the thief of your heart was if he stared persistently enough. 

“What is it?” You waved your hand in front of his face, ruining his plan. 

“There’s something you said back there,” he crossed his arms in front of his chest, noting the way your back stiffened. “Something about you liking someone…”

“You misheard.” 

His ears twitched. “Try again?”

Thud. Thud. Thud. Leona had never found you hard to read until now, watching you muster a look that said ‘I’m not gonna tell you’ despite your heart beating out of your ribcage. There was an answer in there somewhere, and he wanted to get it, wanted to know if it was him. He wanted to know if you wanted to take things further as much as he did.

As if the timing couldn't be better, the bell rang, easing the tension on your countenance. You took the window of opportunity and took a step back, “Oops, time to go. We’ll uh, continue this conversation later? Or start a new one, probably.”

With the quickness of a kitten on the loose, you turned and tried to make a run for it, only to stagger back when he clasped his hand around your adorned wrist. The pad of his thumb grazed over your pulse, passing under his touch in a hastening stream. Finally he caught something– a glimmer of anticipation lighting up your face, vanishing as quickly as it'd come, but there was no mistaking it. Had you always looked at him with such expectant eyes? 

"...Your bracelet came off," he undid the clasp with a discreet tuck and dangled the string of jewelry in the air. 

"When did it even-" you squinted at him suspiciously before snatching it back. "Thank you. I should really go now."

"Just one more thing. How do you like to be asked out?" He smirked as your eyes widened, clearly taken aback. "Hypothetically speaking, of course."

You pocketed the bracelet, drawing a breath before speaking again, pushing the words out with slow deliberation. "Well. It really depends on who's asking. I'm fine with flowers, but I’m not against surprises. Why do you ask?" 

There was a pause, a break in how natural your previous sentences had been. You'd asked the last question in the sort of tone that betrayed what the fake nonchalance might have him believe. Paired with the warm tint on the tips of your ears, Leona felt his heart tighten at the growing confirmations.

“Curious, that's all."

After you finally waved goodbye, he waited until you’d left completely to pull out his phone, the gears in his head turning in high speed. A plan was already taking root in his head:

The next time you came into the botanical garden, he would be the one asking you out.

[carryonafi]

a little more ‘touch me’.

ashton irwin x reader; SMUT!!! 🔞

a/n: i’m so sorry i haven’t posted in MONTHS but!! don’t forget about me!! this is a little thing i’ve been working on for a while now to mourn the sad sad death of the superbloom era. black hair ash we will never forget u ❤️

enjoy an annoying meet-cute with smut and the super respectful man ashton is :P

words: 2.9k

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

Someone had definitely given your upstairs neighbor way too much encouragement when it came to pursuing his passions, or simply never told him no. The reason being all you had been hearing for weeks after he moved in was the loud pounding of drums, loud guitar sounds, laughing— it was a nightmare. No matter how much you prayed that the sounds would stop, they never came to an end. The frustration ended up giving you enough confidence one night to deal with this yourself.

How you ended up knocking on your upstairs neighbors door with shark slippers on and pajamas that were definitely way too big, you had no idea. The realization that your confrontation might be dramatic just hit you now, but it was too late to turn back. The handle had already clicked and there was someone staring back at you. A taller guy with thick black hair, a few tattoos exposed with the tank top he was wearing and an equally surprised expression on his face.

He cleared his throat. “Can I… help you?”

Your heart skipped a beat, that accent… was it Australian? There was no way, your cheeks were instantly warmer not just from embarrassment, but how insanely attractive your disruptive neighbor was.

“Yeah, actually— Yeah.” You nodded, clearing your throat as well and crossing your arms over your chest. His eyes gravitated, sparkling in wonder.

“It’s almost midnight, and all I can hear are your drums.” You caught his attention again, he blinked innocently and tilted his head to the side. A loose strand of hair fell in front of his eyes, which he immediately tucked back.

“And..?” He asked, and how he was playing dumb definitely made your temper wire very short.

“And I’m trying to sleep.” You replied in the same obvious tone, appalled he would even ask you to elaborate. “I have work early in the morning, and I’m sure other people do too.”

It clicked for the drummer, his eyes lighting up as he nodded and leaned against the doorframe.

“I see.” He nodded, wetting his bottom lip as if to appear in thought. “Well, this is sorta… my job.”

“I guess that’s where we have a problem.” You raised your eyebrows, almost mirroring his expression.

“This is gonna happen often, isn’t it?” He crossed his own arms, eyes burning straight into yours. You didn’t dare to break this eye contact, even though the forestry adorning his irises was physically causing you chest pains.

He let out a sigh. “As long as it’s you comin’ up here to tell me off, you got your phone on you?” The first few words were nothing but a slight mumble under his breath, but you didn’t care enough to question what he had to say or if you were simply just hallucinating. You nodded in response, reaching for the left pocket of your pajama pants.

“I’ll give you my number, that’ll be easier for both of us.” His eyebrow quirked yet again.

“Mm. Smooth, I guess..” Your response even surprised yourself, as you were opening your phone you could see a smile start to tug at the corners of his lips. He was holding it back, you could tell. Something told you that this solution he offered wasn’t going to do much, if anything this might make your situation worse. That sort of depends on what outcome you consider as being “worse”.

As you got your phone back, the contact in your phone simply read “Ashton” with the standard blank icon. That was such a drummer name, Ashton… you nodded and shoved your phone back into your pocket.

“I’ll make sure to keep it down for you, ‘kay? Bug me if I’m ever too loud.” He assured you, flashing a similar smile to the one you saw earlier. Strangely enough, you smiled back. Ashton eyed your appearance up and down one last time after you bid your “goodnight”s and closed the door quietly with purpose. It worked out, because you definitely got good sleep that night. The next two nights actually weren’t that bad… but the third, he was at it again.

Your head was already pounding, the bass drum or… whatever it was, all of the moving parts started to piss you off again. Ashton did give you his number, and in his words, advised you to bother him.

‘dude. please shut up.’

You slammed your phone back down onto the pillow, facedown. The noise paused for a few seconds, then immediately started again.

‘please oh my god, can you be quiet?’

Once again, your phone went down onto the pillow. It didn’t stop for at least a minute, in fact, it seemed to just get worse. It was all nice when people explored their passions and whatnot, but there came a limit to thinking of those around you. Especially your downstairs neighbor which got each kick of that stupid loud bass drum.

No response during that minute and a half, then the sounds stopped completely. You squinted at the text bubble, appearing then disappearing, then reappearing… finally a response.

‘Come up here and tell me yourself.’

Accompanied by one of those little emoticon smiley faces that you knew was purely passive aggressive, an exasperated sigh left your lips before you even had the chance to leave your bed and process that you were going to do this. Ashton wanted to be told? There wasn’t a doubt that you would be challenged.

Hair still messy, oversized shirt and shorts that were only meant for sleep, you were walking with purpose and frustration through the halls again. It had only been 2 minutes since Ashton sent that text, but you were already knocking on his door. You swore it took him longer to answer than it did for you to get here, but of course, it was a very short amount of time. As soon as the door opened and you were met with his familiar face, bright eyes narrowed at you as he propped the door open, you fired.

“I told you to shut—“

He kissed you. This man swiftly leaned in and pressed the most gentle kiss to your lips he could despite the circumstances, it lasted a hot second. Your eyes were wide open, but his were contently shut before you pulled apart with one of those really satisfying kiss sounds you only heard in movies. Ashton slowly opened his eyes again to see yours staring dead into his, every little detail of his face you could see in a very… strangely intimate way. An angry blush settled on your cheeks.

“What the fuck was that?” You demanded, sounding out of frustration, but the way he had caught you off guard made you slightly defensive.

“Did you not like it?” Ashton replied in a much calmer tone, straightening his posture and he became restless in his own nerves. Shuffling against the floor, twirling his thumbs as he waited for some kind of answer to come from you. All he was getting were a few short huffs of breath.

“I… well, I mean.. it’s— it’s not that I didn’t like it.” You mumbled, your own hands weaving together at an awkward attempt to ease the tension within you. For a moment, you both hesitated. Where should this go, and how? Your answer fueled something in Ashton, you saw the shift in his gaze and the moment that he made up his mind.

He was kissing you again, and you weren’t fighting it. Your hands went to his chest, placed firmly on him as one arm snaked around your waist to bring you into his apartment. Within the short moment, Ashton had turned you around without breaking the kiss to kick his door closed and press your figure against the surface.

“Love seeing a pretty girl like you so fucking pissed off ‘cause of me.” Ashton murmured against your lips, like a desperate plea to tell you how he felt.

“Stop talking…” You breathed, feeling his hands creep lower towards the hem of your sleep shorts and catching in the elastic. His lips moved to your neck, leaving gentle kisses as if he could break you.

One needy whimper from you drove him to use his teeth, nipping and sucking the sensitive skin like he had forgotten his whole gentle act.

“Oh—“ You let out a gasp of surprise, tightly gripping Ashton’s shoulders as you briefly looked around the apartment. Worn black sofa, records hanging above the T.V, miscellaneous items strewn about like pencils, pens, notebooks, earplugs… he wasn’t just playing the drums for fun. It seemed like this guy had a real career. The hallway was a bit darker, but you couldn’t see too much because of those thick black curls obstructing your view. If you were to guess, that’s where the culprit of your sleepless nights were.

However, those ‘black’ curls didn’t seem to be natural. The dirty blond roots of his hair were starting to grow in and it made you smile to yourself, sneakily so Ashton didn’t see your amusement. Learning these little things about him… it felt so sweet.

“You’re blond..?” You breathed, feeling Ashton’s lips halt on your neck before he slowly pulled off of you. He laughed, this fucker. He laughed at you.

“Yes?” He cocked an eyebrow and blinked knowingly.

“Well, your roots. They’re long, y’know? And… You’re really close to me right now, okay?” You blurted out, pure embarrassment all over your face as you flushed and tried to swallow down the feeling of your cheeks turning bright red. Ashton simply stared back at you, stars in his eyes as he pressed another one of the softest, sweetest kisses to your lips like you had been together for years.

“Maybe that’s something you could do for me, yeah? Give me a touch-up.” He mused, rough hands feeling delicate as they traced indescribable shapes on your sides.

“Is that what this is now?” You huffed, still heated from your flustered moment.

“Mm?” Ashton hummed, a non-verbal way to get you to elaborate… but there was nothing. Just scrambled up, useless thoughts as you looked at him and eventually shook your head. He got the hint, starting to kiss you again and eventually moving you to the couch where your legs were on either side of his hips. This felt like an absolute workout, trying to keep yourself contained as he kissed you and the realness of it all finally pressed against you in the form of his erection against your thigh.

“How far?” Ashton whispered, holding you close like you would slip away from him if he let go. There was a sweet, playful glint in his eye.

“Huh?” Your mind was all dazed from how kiss-drunk this was making you.

“How far do you wanna go?” He was a bit more clear for your mind, clearly overwhelmed with dopamine. You still had to blink and process how thoughtful that question was.

“I.. don’t know. Not all the way, I don’t think.” You replied in a more useful tone of voice as well, and this— this you thought, would be the moment Ashton kicked you out because he wasn’t getting what he truly wanted. Although, he just smiled and his hands stroked your thighs.

“I want us both to be happy.” He said genuinely, leaning a bit closer with a hand now braced on the small of your back to keep you steady as he leaned you forward. “And honestly, doing anything to you right now would make me the happiest man in the fuckin’ world.”

God, who was this guy? His admission made your jaw slack with excitement and disbelief, stunned to the point of pure silence as you nodded in understanding. Ashton was still grinning, even more so when he saw the effect his words had on you.

“Would you let me eat you out?” He asked like it was a simple task and not a fantasy, those little ink-patterned freckles in his eyes you could see so clearly… and they were hypnotizing you.

You realized that you needed to say something, nodding and licking your lips since your mouth had gone completely dry. “Y.. Yeah. Yes- please, actually.” You stammered, watching the playful expression on his face grow.

It didn’t take long, Ashton had skillfully laid you down on the couch and kneeled between your legs, pushing your oversized sleep shirt up and kissing his way down your torso.

“Soundgarden? Nice choice…” He mumbled against your skin, nuzzling his nose into your hip appreciatively and the casualty of his words had you laughing in disbelief yet again.

“You’re really cute.” Were just about the only words that could make it past your lips right now, earning a huff of air from Ashton and a gentle bite to your skin. You moaned unashamed, a hand moving into his fauxly black, messy curls and guiding him lower.

He easily tugged your shorts down, gesturing for you to lift your hips so they could be discarded onto the living room floor. Ashton made eye contact with you, a stray lock of hair falling in front of his left eye. However, you could still see that beautiful gaze boring right into yours. Right as he spread your thighs open. You felt the crescent shape of his nails digging into your flesh — but it still seemed so gentle. Ashton leaned forward and pressed the flat of his tongue to your clothed core, causing a needy ache to rock your nerves as you let out a loud whimper.

“I wanna hear you.” He muttered, the low vibration of his rough voice sent shivers down your spine and a ripple of pleasure all throughout your body. Their neighbors heard him enough… it was time for a change.

Ashton was doing the same that he did to your sleep shorts, tugging your panties down in one more swift motion and immediately diving in. He didn’t take a single moment for himself, purely making sure you were basking in pleasure.

It worked, another loud moan tore through your throat and both hands were tangled in his hair. He was working nothing but magic with his tongue, and those sweet pink lips… worshiping you with everything he had in him. Ashton only broke eye contact to blink, feeling prideful in the way that he could make you moan and squirm.

You tried to close your legs from the overstimulation, still moaning, but his grip was too strong on your thighs and he was simply too willing to make you cum. Ashton was so attentive, occasionally squeezing your thighs and stroking them soothingly to calm you down, but it only drove you more insane.

It was to the point where you couldn’t take it anymore, endless gasps leaving your lips as you brushed Ashton’s hair away from his face and tilted your head back. Eyelids fluttering shut, your muscles tightened then relaxed, even showing him signs of an orgasm.

“Ashton..” You whimpered weakly, and even then Ashton didn’t stop. He knew what was coming, keeping a tight grip on your thighs as you trembled and the intensity shook your body to no end. Your back arched off of the couch, leaving Ashton with a mess on his tongue that he did not complain about one bit.

In fact, he still had an award winning smile on his face. Ashton sat back on his heels to watch you come down, his chest heaving as he caught his breath and looked at you with adoration dilating his pupils. “You liked that?” He had the audacity to ask. You opened your eyes to the sound of his voice and giggled.

“God, yeah. Yeah I did.” You paused, taking a moment to slowly lean forward and pull Ashton back up. “I think I forgive you for waking me up.”

Ashton’s lips twitched into a smirk at your statement, but it ended up turning back into that stupid smile you were really starting to love.

“Don’t know what I would do if you didn’t.” He teased, scrunching up his nose before kissing you slowly. It lingered for a moment, but it didn’t leave you wanting anymore, Ashton was happy, you were happy, everything was completely fine.

—

A knock on your door woke you up this time, rolling over to check the time. It felt so early, but it was actually around half past 10. There was another knock — so you felt compelled to get up out of bed and trudge over to the door so you could answer whoever this person was.

Sleepy and grumpy, not ready to face any other human being today, you opened the door to a bright face and twine-wrapped bundle of Baby’s Breath.

“I know you said you forgive me, but…” Ashton began, the pink in his cheeks making you smile despite the night before. “I just had to say sorry, for botherin’ you and all that. Not quitting when you told me to.” He shrugged sheepishly, extending his arm and holding the flowers out to you. “I just wanted your attention.” He admitted, a bit intimidated at your silence despite how you were beaming like an absolute idiot. You stepped forward, wrapping Ashton in an endearing embrace and pulling in the scent of his body mist. He hesitated for a moment, but hugged you back and rested his hands on your back.

“I definitely forgive you.” You spoke muffled into his shoulder, needless to say, Ashton was relieved. His shoulders immediately dropped and he let out a sigh, pulling away from you and shaking his head.

“Like I said, I don’t know what I would have done if you didn’t.” He replied dramatically, raising his eyebrows in hopes that his joke would make you laugh that contagious laugh again. “I’ll take you out for coffee?” Ashton suggested after a moment of appreciating your satisfaction, a calmer smile crossed your lips as you nodded.

“Of course- yeah. Let me put these in a vase. Make yourself at home, I guess.” You blushed, still smiling with a shrug as Ashton stepped inside and graciously closed the door behind him. He gave himself a mental pat on the back, admiring the difference in your apartment to his as you floated around and spoke to him all throughout your process of getting ready. This was what he had worked towards, and he wasn’t complaining.

[brainddeadd]

Hii could you do a blurb for Baby Devil where she deals with online hate? And maybe at first she doesn't want to talk with her teammates about it, cause she doesn't want to bother them, so she confides in someone else. Maybe Quinn?

Online Hate

Y/N had always dreamed of playing in the NHL, and now that she was living that dream with the New Jersey Devils, she couldn’t have asked for a better team to do it with. Jack, Nico, Luke, and Dawson had become like her big brothers, always looking out for her and making sure she felt like part of the family. Despite the teasing and occasional chirping, she knew they had her back.

But lately, the weight of her growing popularity had come with an ugly side. The online hate.

At first, it was just a few nasty comments under her social media posts—remarks about her skill, snide comments about her appearance, and, of course, the usual garbage about her playing in a "man's league." She told herself it was nothing, that it was part of being in the spotlight, especially as a woman in hockey. But as the comments kept piling up, they started gnawing at her confidence. No matter how hard she tried to brush them off, the words stayed with her, whispering doubts into her mind even as she stepped onto the ice.

She didn’t want to bother her teammates with it. They already had enough to worry about with games, practices, and their own personal lives. Besides, Y/N had always been the tough one—always laughing, keeping up with the guys, never showing when things got under her skin.

But it was getting harder to hide. The boys were starting to notice her mood changes, especially Quinn, who was visiting from Vancouver for a few days. He had a sixth sense when it came to her, despite having known her less time than the others. One afternoon, after a long practice, he found her sitting alone on the bench in the locker room, scrolling through her phone with a tense look on her face.

"Hey," Quinn said, sitting down beside her. "What’s up? You’ve been kinda off lately."

Y/N quickly turned off her phone and plastered on a smile. "Nothing. Just tired, that’s all."

Quinn raised an eyebrow. "Come on, Y/N. I know you better than that."

She bit her lip, hesitating. Quinn had always been the calm, steady presence in her life. Even though he wasn’t on her team, she trusted him more than anyone else. Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to tell him—just him. It wasn’t like he’d judge her.

"I’ve just been… dealing with some stuff," she finally admitted, her voice soft. "Online stuff."

Quinn frowned. "What kind of stuff?"

She sighed, pulling up her phone and showing him a barrage of hateful comments. His face hardened as he read them, his usual calm demeanor replaced by quiet anger.

"Y/N, why didn’t you tell anyone about this?" he asked, his tone gentler now, but still firm.

"I didn’t want to bother you guys," she mumbled. "I mean, you all have your own problems. I didn’t want to add mine to the list."

Quinn shook his head. "No way. You’re our friend. We’d want to know if something’s bothering you. Especially this." He put a hand on her shoulder. "Look, people are always going to have something to say. But you can’t let them get in your head. You belong here—don’t ever doubt that."

Y/N looked down at her hands, feeling the weight of his words settle in her chest. "It’s just… hard sometimes, you know? I try to ignore it, but it’s getting to me."

"That’s because you’re human," Quinn said gently. "But you don’t have to deal with it alone. Talk to the guys. They care about you, and they’ll have your back, just like they always do."

She nodded, knowing deep down he was right, but still nervous about telling her teammates. "I just don’t want to seem weak or—"

"Hey," Quinn interrupted, looking her straight in the eye. "Asking for help isn’t weak. You’re one of the toughest people I know. But even tough people need support sometimes."

Y/N took a deep breath, letting Quinn’s words sink in. He was right. She had been carrying this burden alone for too long, and it was time to let the others in.

Later that evening, back at the team’s shared house, Y/N gathered the courage to speak up. Jack, Nico, Luke, and Dawson were lounging in the living room, casually tossing around a football and talking about the next game. She hesitated in the doorway, nerves twisting her stomach, but Quinn gave her a reassuring nod from the corner of the room.

"Hey, guys, can I talk to you for a second?" she asked, her voice a little shaky.

The room fell silent, and they all turned to look at her. Jack tossed the football onto the couch and motioned for her to sit down.

"Yeah, of course," Nico said, concern already etched on his face.

Y/N sat on the edge of the couch, her hands fidgeting in her lap. "I’ve… I’ve been dealing with some stuff online. Hate comments, mostly. It’s been going on for a while now, and I didn’t want to bother you guys with it, but… it’s starting to get to me."

For a moment, the room was completely still. Then, Jack was the first to react, his face hardening with anger. "Who the hell is doing this? Give me names."

Luke, usually more laid-back, was suddenly serious too. "Why didn’t you tell us earlier?"

"I didn’t want to bother you," Y/N said, her voice small.

"Y/N, you’re never a bother," Dawson chimed in, leaning forward. "You’re family."

Nico placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. "We’re here for you. Always."

Jack stood up, pacing the room. "We’re not letting this slide. We’ll figure out how to handle it, but first, you need to know that those people? They don’t matter. You’re part of this team, and no one’s going to take that away from you."

Luke nodded in agreement. "Yeah, screw those idiots. They don’t know anything about you."

Y/N felt a wave of relief wash over her as she looked around the room. Her heart felt lighter, knowing she wasn’t alone in this. They had her back, just like they always had.

"Thanks, guys," she said softly, a small smile tugging at her lips. "I really appreciate it."

Quinn, watching from the side, gave her a proud nod. She’d done it, and now she had a whole team behind her, ready to fight for her just as fiercely as she would for them.

And in that moment, Y/N knew she was exactly where she belonged.

[wheneverfeasible]

~Wiggly 🧠 🪱 Wednesday~

Eeee thank you for the tag @hotluncheddie, this is my first brain worm tag and that’s super exciting, buuuttttttt…

So I actually just realized that I’ve recently hit the anniversary time of when I went No Contact with my family, and I know that that I’ve began kinning Steve more since then due to his own terrible family.

So then I was thinking about Steve, who it’s been years since he walked away from his family, since he found his true family, and he’s doing okay for himself. Maybe not an amazing career or anything, but he’s found something that he’s relatively happy with and he’s got people who love him in his corner and yeah, sometimes it still hurts, but he’s moved past it all.

Until one day, completely unexpectedly, his mom comes into his place of business.

Maybe they threw him out, maybe he left of his own choice because he realized that they would never be what he wanted or needed them to be. They never truly knew him and never cared about him, at least not enough to ever choose him over anything else, so it hurt but ultimately it wasn’t hard to leave them, only hard to leave the life he used to know.

He and Robin were roommates now, because obviously, and it was a shitty little place, but it was theirs, and they’re happy, and their friends are over all the time to the point that Eddie practically lives there too, which is…nice.

Really nice.

Steve has come to accept the fact that he isn’t entirely straight, and part of that is the reason he no longer speaks to his family, and he’s even come to terms with the fact that he might have a teensy tiny itty bitty little crush on his best friend, Eddie Munson. Which is fine. He’s used to having crushes on friends and having them be unreciprocated.

Except Eddie has been sending him some signals that maybe it’s not entirely unreciprocated. And he’s starting to feel confident, starting to feel like maybe he could actually be genuinely happy with someone…

And that’s when he sees his mom. It’s been years since he last saw her, but suddenly all that pain and hurt he thought he had grown past is tearing through his chest and up his throat and he feels his heart rate accelerating and his breathing is growing choppy and he can’t breathe can’t breathe can’t breathe—

He’s thought about, before, what he would tell his parents if he ever saw them again. About how he would call them out for being terrible people who never cared about him, only saw what he could offer them, about the image they wanted to show the world. Wanted to tell them of all the times he’s almost died and they never knew because they never cared enough to ask why he’d come home bruised and bloodied, or why he avoided the pool, or why he woke up screaming from nightmares. He thought about how good it would feel to say how he never needed them.

But he can’t say any of that now. All he can do is try not to pass out from hyperventilating because they were his family, his parents, and they should have loved him unconditionally but they never did. They never chose him over their friends, their jobs, their image. They never loved him and never would. They would never truly know him or accept him and all he wanted was for them to say that they were sorry and they never would.

Steve would like to think he could face his mother, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t he just couldn’t. So he hides, he runs, he disappears into the back and he can’t stop the tears because why was he never good enough for her or his dad? What was so wrong with him that they couldn’t love their own son?

And there’s no sort of resolution for him, no closure.

He finishes his shift, he goes home, and Robin and Eddie are there just like they were when he left that morning, and their immediate smiles at him being home slowly drops because even though he tries to hide it, they know.

He doesn’t want to talk about it, can’t talk about it, not yet. He does tell them that he saw his mom that day and he loves them because they get it, they understand, and they don’t make him talk about it. Robin makes him his favorite snack and drink, Eddie finds that movie he knows is Steve’s comfort movie and puts it on, and they don’t talk about it but they’re there.

And, curled against Eddie’s side with silent tears dripping off his nose and onto Eddie’s shirt, Eddie’s arm around him while Robin keeps him grounded with a hand caressing his leg on his other side, they let him mourn not what he lost, because he never had it to begin with, but what could have been.

And maybe, maybe one day Steve will be brave and tell Eddie what he means to him, but he’s too fragile at the moment. It will remain unspoken for now because he’s not ready. But maybe one day. And maybe that day is sooner, maybe that day is later, but there in his friends’ unconditional love, he knows that they’ll both wait for him to be ready.

Because his parents should have been his family but they’re not. They never were. And maybe he wasn’t ready yet, but one day he would be able to let them go because he knew that what he had with him right now was his real family, and that love was forever.

Yeah anyways the song Matilda by Harry Styles hits a little too close to home for me, and I think it’s fitting for Steve too.

no obligation tags since Wednesday is over but there’s always next week lololol: @derythcorvinus @stervrucht @katyawriteswhump

[ivymarquis]

Blind Date

Me: “why the fuck is this fic taking so long to finish?”

The fic: *is the longest singular piece I’ve ever written for one chapter*

Pairing| John Price x F!Single Mom!Reader Rating| M Word Count| 8.4k Kinks/Content/Warnings| Drinking (everyone is clear headed), run ins with a shitty ex, mentions of abuse from prior relationship, these two are incredibly down bad for each other, oral (m! and f!receiving), protected piv, squirting

There is a certain catharsis in lamenting your dating horror stories with men to a married lesbian who’s over a decade older than you. Kate is always willing to lend an ear, and you’re positive that she gets a kick out of your misadventures in the way so many married people did while listening to their single friends.

“I swear I’m this close to just giving up all together and embracing spinsterhood,” you grouse with a drink in your hand after the work day had concluded.

You like to think your standards aren’t unreasonable. Someone kind, with their head on straight. It felt like finding a man who respects you as a person is becoming too big an ask and you very simply would rather be alone than deal with the endless hoard of men who seem hell bent on destroying any confidence you have in yourself.

“What about the guy you went out with yesterday?” Kate inquires with her head tilted. Must be fun, listening to your ramblings with a devoted partner at home.

“Oh did I not tell you? He was engaged!”

Kate pulls a face like her drink soured on her, matching how you’d felt at the time.

“Even better- guess how I found out he’s engaged.”

“She showed up at the restaurant?” Kate hits the nail on the head on the first try.

“Bingo,” you raise your glass in a gesture of affirmation before finishing it off. “Somehow I ended up being the one getting yelled at in that situation. Un-friggin-believable.”

You don’t abuse your work privileges to creep on people you meet in your personal life, but public record could have spared you if he’d been married. Harder to find out about an engagement from a total stranger who was determined to not let you find out about it and didn’t have social media.

“There’s always the other side,” Kate teases.

“Women scare me too much, I get all nervous.” You could appreciate an attractive woman as much as the next gal but good God you just could not help yourself when it came to men. The subtle way their breathing would change before they made their move, that low timber growling in your ear. The sheer weight of one on top of you as he manhandled you into the bedding-

Dear Lord, you need to get laid. Maybe you’re fixating on it too much because you’ve had an over 2 year dry spell. That tends to happen after a baby though. Especially with a pain in the ass ex who thinks he can pick and choose when to be around (and becomes absolutely incensed each time you remind him he could be consistent or he could stay home).

Kate is thoughtful for a moment, clearly kicking around an idea she hasn’t fully committed to in one direction or another. You can see the moment she decides to proceed with the thought. “Depending on what exactly you’re looking for, I might know someone.”

—

And here you are on a Saturday night, nerves clawing at your belly like a rabid dog.

Most (well, all) of the men you’ve dated you met online. There’s almost additional butterflies beyond the first-meet jitters knowing that the date is set up by a mutual friend.

There’s more at stake, even if the stakes are relatively low pressure. If the guys you met online did something incredibly out of pocket you never had to see them again, and held no qualms divulging the events to friends. Your romantic life has been full of misadventures but has given you a handful of stories, and as strangers you never have to consider any possible fallout in telling those stories.

Your son is with your mother for the night, allowing you the opportunity to focus solely on yourself this evening. No concern about keeping an eye on him while getting ready, worrying about what possible trouble he’ll get into when your back is turned.

It is hard at times- striking that balance between wanting to be a good mom and also wanting to be acknowledged as a desirable woman who has needs. A lot of men are shitty about it. You’d grilled Kate for every detail of his reaction when being informed of your young son. You don’t need another ambush regarding your disinterest in making it work with your son’s father.

She’d soothed your nerves- he hadn’t batted an eye, was about as worried about your reaction to how often his job pulled him away as you were about him having a poor reaction to being a single mom. You both have responsibilities that have to be placed above a relationship, now go play nice and have fun.

You tell yourself you can have one drink while waiting at the bar of the restaurant you’d agreed to meet at.

White wine ends up being your pick- not quite so easy to suck down as a tasty cocktail full of liquor, but gives you something to occupy yourself with.

You’ve only had the drink a handful of minutes before hearing someone clear their throat slightly behind you, and then your name.

Kate has shown you a photo of what he looks like so you’re not caught off guard when you turn around.

He’s handsome. You expect that but it’s different seeing him opposed to just the photo. Kind eyes, a warm smile on his face as he takes you in.

At least you both seem pleased with the big reveal.

“I’ve got a table waiting for us if you’re ready, love.”

He holds out a hand to let you balance yourself as you dismount from the bar seating, allowing you to steady yourself in your heels.

His hand is warm on your waist as he guides you and you’re already smitten by the time the pair of you sit down.

You’re fifteen minutes into dinner when you decide that so long as he a) is willing and b) doesn’t say or do anything completely deranged, you are going to ride Captain John Price like a mechanical bull at a shitty dive bar at the end of the night.

Perhaps the bar is in hell but either way you have been utterly deprived the past few years and he is checking plenty of boxes for you.

“So you work with Kate?” Starting off on the easy footing- the common ground that leads you both here.

“I do. Not directly- I work more on the tech side. I’m an independent contractor, I basically built the entire system she runs off of.”

“Beauty and brains,” his praise warms you, an impressed expression on his face. “Would explain how we’ve never crossed paths if you were hiding in a backroom surrounded by monitors,” he teases.

“You’re actually not that far off the mark,” not that you hide persay, but keeping that contract keeps a roof over your head and food in your child’s mouth. That keeps you busy. The fewer people who know how to work your program, the harder you are to get rid of.

You may or may not have hidden a few kill switches. Job security you call it. Though it’s not exactly first date material to talk about how you’ve got a government agency in a mutual understanding- keep extending your contract, and the program continues to work.

Either way, you don’t have much contact with the soldiers. Maybe you have passed each other in the halls but probably not- you’re certain a face like that wouldn’t have escaped your notice, introduction via a mutual friend or no. But you decide to utilize that mutual friend to shift the conversation. He’s hedged around talking about his work- on his end, sees that as the thing that might be a deal breaker for you. Probably wants to delay that until you've at least gotten your entrees.

So you go from business to hobbies. And it’s probably not entirely fair, but you’re about to see what his sense of humor is.

“Kate mentioned you’re a big soccer fan?” You make sure your expression is wide and doe eyed as you ask the question.

His eyebrow twitches- caught, no doubt, between wanting to leave a good first impression and biting back it’s football over here, love.

You crack far quicker than you initially plan, the wide grin on your face as you let him off the hook he’s good naturedly trying not to bite.

“Beauty, brains, and a comedian, lucky me.”

“I’m sorry, I had to. In fact, it was in her terms for this,” you make a vague gesture with your hand.

“Trust Kate to wheel and deal just to get my blood pressure up,” he muses as he takes a sip from his drink.

The conversation rolls easily enough- an ebb and flow as one of you poses a question, the other answering before allowing the first to say their contribution to the subject and moving on.

He’s charming, attentive, and a good storyteller. The way he carries himself screams military without being overbearing. He’s relaxed back into his chair and something about the scene in front of you makes you want to climb into his lap like a domesticated house cat.

Being the field captain to a specialized task force it’s no shock that he’s in incredible shape and you find yourself slightly distracted on more than one occasion by his hands and forearms.

The food is wonderful though the company is better- you end up moving back to the bar for fresh drinks and to free up the table for the server.

You spend a good length of time just talking with him at the bar.

John’s attention is on you but it’s clear he’s proverbially chewing on something the further on you go.

“That is the look of someone with a question they’re not entirely positive they want an answer to,” you’ve got a habit of being a touch direct at times. Amazing how it streamlines a conversation though.

“Observant one, aren’t you?” He pauses, takes another sip of his drink. “It’s probably none of my business, but ah- is your son’s father in the picture at all?”

It was your turn to take a drink. This was always such a fun topic of conversation. Frankly the number of men who took your ex’s side when the whole custody arrangement gets brought up alarms you.

But he has a right to his son.

Fuck that.

Your child is not property and you do not give a singular shit about your ex’s feelings- especially if it comes at the expense of your son’s safety. But it saves you a substantial amount of time not wasting energy on someone who could not understand the reason for your decisions.

“The short answer to the question is no. I had already left him by the time I found out I was pregnant, and given I left because he’s a raging alcoholic- with the emphasis on the rage-,” what a nice, polite way to say he is an abusive asshole. Your gaze shifts down towards the bartop, missing the way John’s expression softens as he reads between the lines of what you say. They’re not pleasant memories, but you’re not a wounded bird anymore- you’ve tended to your clipped wings and grown new feathers. “I didn’t want him involved.”

“He ended up finding out from a mutual acquaintance, and while he claims he wants to be around, he hasn’t done much other than blow my phone up at midnight trying to throw his weight around every time he gets a new girlfriend. So I get to be the cold blooded harpy that he gets to cry about- which is fine by me. On paper he says he wants to be involved, but he’s made absolutely no effort to arrange plans or anything while sober. I haven’t seen him in over 2 years. I can’t trust him to be a safe parent, and since he’s not on any official records I get final say unless he wants to go to court over it.”

Your whole little house of cards hinges on the fact that your ex wants everyone to bend over backwards for him while doing nothing for anyone else. All it would take would be one subpoena for a paternity test and your hands would be tied. He is an incredibly functional alcoholic, so there isn’t a criminal record or anything you can do to prove he would be unfit. There’s no proof of the abuse he inflicted on you.

Which means, if push comes to shove, you would be forced to relinquish sole custody and hand your child over for unsupervised visitation.

But that requires effort on his part. And that effort is the only thing keeping your little house of cards afloat.

“Sorry that’s probably way more information than you wanted-“ good job. Everything was going great until you laid out your drama.

“No apology necessary; I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t want to know.”

And there’s no lecture about how you should give your ex a chance, that the opportunity to raise his son could make him change for the better. No dissertation on how you owe it to your son to do whatever it took to make things work with his father (that had been a weird way to end a date, and the only reason you hadn’t gotten up sooner and left was because it was such a bizarre conversation you’d half convinced yourself the whole thing had to be a bad dream).

You’re not a wounded bird and on the one hand it’s a good thing to get everything laid out on the table, but on the other you don’t want to sit and mope about your personal troubles. You’re actually enjoying John Price’s company, and don’t want to think about your problems.

And yes you are enjoying the time for what it is but part of you can’t help but also keep an eye out for… any opportunities for a transition.

As hot under the collar as you are, John’s gaze makes warmth coil in your gut in a way that has nothing to do with the wine- he’s being a gentleman.

It’s sweet. He’s being polite and respectful and showing sexual discipline while making it clear he’s interested.

And for all your bemoaning of prior dates with other men who aren’t captains of specialized task forces about how they were too pushy and too presumptuous and a nice dinner paired with drinks doesn’t entitle them to you dropping your panties—

Yet here you sit, hours into a conversation when you’d decided 15 minutes in you want to jump his bones. And you have to be patient otherwise you’re a total hypocrite.

You’re not entirely subtle. The pair of you are perched on barstools again, much closer than the table allowed you to be with the two of you angled towards each other.

Your dress looks good on you. A jewel toned blue that compliments your skin beautifully, the hemline stopping above your knees and loose enough to bounce tantalizingly when you hit your stride walking.

It’s not exactly an olive branch, but it is an offering of sorts when you carefully take the leg closest to John and cross it over the other. The hemline of your skirt slips up your thigh, exposing more of your leg. It stops just shy of exposing the top of your stockings and the clip to your garter. It does show just a hint of the darker border to your stockings, the lace peeking ever so slightly before transitioning to the sheer material that covers the rest of your legs.

You’re incredibly pleased with yourself when his eyes flick down for a split second and linger before snapping back to your face. Got you. He tries to hide behind being caught with a sheepish clearing of his throat. It’s adorable, really.

Your cheeks are starting to get sore from all the smiling and laughing that’s occurred over the past few hours. But he’s pleasant company so it’s a discomfort you’re happy to deal with.

You look past him for a split second- nothing in particular catching your attention but just taking in the scenery of the restaurant behind you. Your eyes are back on him in a moment only for your brain to process what it saw after a delay.

There’s no fucking way-

Yes. Yes there is. Your ex is mingling in the background, and you don’t even realize the smile on your face has fallen to a flat line like all the previous giddiness is draining out of you and pooling on the floor below.

It would not take a captain of an antiterrorism task force to see your sharp shift in disposition, so John notices immediately.

“Everything alright, love?”

Maybe he won’t see you. Maybe, if there is a God and he is merciful, your ex won’t look in your direction, won’t see you, and you can continue your cheerful plan of trying to seduce your date.

And whether there is not a God or he is just not merciful- either option remains with you having the same shit result. He turns his head and makes direct eye contact. God damn it.

You look back to John. You’d hoped you could move past talking about your ex for the evening. “Remember how I said I haven’t seen my ex in over 2 years?”

There’s a twinge of relief on his face- the look of a man grateful to not be the cause of your displeasure.

“Let me guess- he’s right behind me?”

“Not quite “right behind”, but yes. Hopefully he’ll just-“ a short huff off agitation leaves you as you cut yourself off.

So much for hoping he’d simply mind his business and stay with his group. He’s making his way towards the pair of you at the bar, and you can tell he’s had a good number of drinks in his system just looking at him.

You’d become extremely proficient at gauging how drunk your ex is at a glance. A skill you developed while still with him and one that doesn’t seem to have faded.

This is, you know without question, going to end up being absolutely humiliating for you. You just know it.

“I am going to go ahead and apologize now for whatever is going to come out of his mouth,” you inform John.

His hand finds your knee, giving a light, reassuring squeeze. “It’ll be alright, love.”

“Well what do we have here?” is the warning shot letting you know he’s not going to show any form of civility.

“Hello, Michael,” you greet cooly, mind spinning a hundred miles an hour trying to figure out how to end this conversation as quickly as possible.

“You don’t have time to answer my texts but you’ve got time to go out. That’s good. Good to know you’ve got your priorities in order,” he starts.

“Answering your texts isn’t even remotely on my priority list, you know that.” You’re trying incredibly hard to keep yourself from being outright nasty but a whole lot of old wounds float up to the surface at the sight of your ex.

Maybe your new feathers aren’t as filled out as you’d initially thought. You feel raw and exposed and it’s difficult to think. You know what you should do, how you should handle it- and there’s still that one little part in your brain that is keeping tabs on John and his response to all of this.

“Your priority should be my son-“ he starts,

“-who is with his perfectly capable grandmother for the evening, thank you,” you finish for him, jaw set tightly. “Why are you here?”

The direct question is aggressive but you know the cycle with him too well to allow him to steer the conversation. He’ll run you in circle after circle until you’re so frazzled you can’t discern left from right.

“Can’t say hello and introduce myself to your new fella? Come on now, where’s your manners?”

Your eyes widen as Michael reaches a hand out- there is no way this asshole is about to grab you in public.

Quick as a snake, John runs interference and drapes his arm across the back of your chair, his fingers holding the shoulder furthest from him lightly.

The entire length of your back and shoulders are blocked by the SAS captain, forcing Michael’s hand back as there was no easy place for it to land that wouldn’t also be touching John.

Up until now, John has been quiet and assessing the situation. Not bowing up or trying to assert himself- letting you deal with your ex and navigate the situation for yourself.

The look on his face is downright unpleasant to put lightly. This is the man in charge of an elite task force, who barks orders at soldiers who drop everything at once because he told them to-

-and you don’t feel so exposed anymore. You find yourself sitting up a bit straighter only for John to gently stroke his knuckles against your shoulder in a soothing gesture. The gesture isn’t a miraculously grand one, but one that makes you realize you’re not alone in this situation even as disorienting as it is. And if you’re being honest with yourself, the upright posture and shifting of your thighs isn’t so much a stress response to your ex as you keying in on John’s response to the whole situation.

“John, Michael- Michael, John. There, now you’re introduced.” Go away now please.

Your ex is too drunk and too full of himself to see the writing on the wall, and continues to poke the bear. “Well, since she doesn’t seem to want to give a proper introduction-“ he sticks an arm out, and you can’t help but notice how the simple gesture causes him to need to correct his balance. Good lord it was barely dark out and he’s already-

Well. Not your problem. Not anymore, at any rate.

John is sitting to your left, his right arm the one that’s draped across the back of your chair. The pair of you flash a quick look to each other, John lifting his arm from your chair to take Michael’s hand and-

God.

Damn.

It.

The exchange is actually as hilarious as it is embarrassing (You can’t quite decide if it’s all the second hand cringe variety, or first hand because Look, John! Here’s the father of my child! I sure know how to pick a partner! Is still coiling in the depths of your stomach). You’d prefer if it simply never occurred at all.

You can see your ex’s forearm flexing as he shakes John’s hand. The microexpression that flicks across your date’s face confirms your suspicion- Michael is (for some reason) trying to use an overexaggerated grip to establish some sort of dominance in the situation.

The quick really? that reads on John’s face rapidly turns to a bemused and subtle if that’s how you want to play then, a barely noticeable shift in his own grip resulting in Michael wincing.

“Captain John Price,” his tone is easy, betraying none of the pissing contest your ex instigated and is failing miserably to get one over on John.

Your ex mumbles his full name, clearly realizing that whatever his brilliant little plan is a) isn’t so brilliant to begin with b) he might just be alert enough to acknowledge the fact that he clearly has no true plan. He came over with the intention of being an asshole and has been flying blind the entire time.

There’s one woman from the group your ex split off from who is watching the three of you keenly. If you were to guess, she is probably his new girlfriend.

You can’t help but wonder- does she know enough to know that this is routine behavior for him? That he throws himself headfirst into a situation he hasn’t planned out- isn’t sober enough to plan out? Situations that don’t need to occur just so he can throw his weight around? Too petty to give a genuine “Hello, how are you? It’s been a while. I want to talk to you about Sam when we’ve both got some free time?”

Everything is vindictive. Constantly worrying about not being undermined and being respected to the point he gets in his own way. Actively sabotages his own opportunities. In dire need of therapy to work through his issues because you know the alcohol is how he copes and you’d sympathized at first but the reasons became excuses and then he’d started blaming you and-

-John places his arm on the back of your chair again and you pull yourself out of your mental spiral.

“I think your date is waiting for you, Michael. Best not to keep the lady waiting.” John observes, his tone neutral despite being a clear dismissal.

“You’ll be hearing from me later. I want to see my son.” Michael’s ignoring John’s presence but taking the hint.

You don’t fling a final barb at him. The venom has been drained out of you and you just want the interaction over and done with. Let him have the last word. You just want him gone.

You merely cast a look over at the woman who is Michael’s date for the evening and hope she’s got better sense than you did- that she leaves before he sinks his claws in her too.

The weight that settled in your stomach upon first seeing him is finally lightening up on you. You know you’ll wake up tomorrow to a barrage of phone calls and text messages that you won’t answer. It’s probably not good you’re so desensitized to the idea that it barely registers as a problem. Merely one of life’s many inconveniences.

“You alright, love?” John’s voice helps you shake the last of the tendrils that cling to you.

“Yes. Sorry. Wasn’t expecting to run into him of all people tonight, is all.”

“Never fun being ambushed, is it?”

You take a bit of a risk- you know enough about his job but he’s steered the conversation away from it every time the topic would naturally shift that direction. You know how Kate’s work can go and you assume his is very similar. “Well you’d certainly know more about that than I would.”

It works. The two of you break out in grins, and you find yourself no longer worrying about Michael and your focus readily settling back on John where it belongs.

At some point- long after the single cube in John’s drink has melted, and the condensation of your wine glass has soaked the bev nap underneath it, and more importantly long enough that you don’t feel that you’re fleeing the restaurant- the suggestion is made to go back to John’s. “No more surprises, hm?”

You gladly follow him. You’d taken an Uber to get to the restaurant, anticipating drinking and hoping to go home with him, so you have no worries about your own car.

You can easily see him being the type to give you a quick, chaste kiss on the doorstep after safely dropping you at home. In another universe you’d appreciate the restraint, enjoy fleeting touches over the course of a few dates that get more intense each time before finally finding yourself in his bed.

In this universe however, you don’t have to wait. Don’t want to, either. You get to indulge your earlier impulse of crawling into his lap, knees spread wide on either side of his waist. Lowering your hips allows you to feel him and what exactly he’s packing between his own legs. Your hips cant in short motions and heat coils heavy in your gut.

From the feel of things he’s proportional and John is not a small man. There’s a brief flicker that runs through your mind that you might be in over your head with him. The pent up lust and desire stifles that flicker. You’re more than game to see what a night with him ends up being like.

His hands are warm against your skin- one cupping the back of your head and keeping you close as the pair of you make out, the other settles on your hip and keeps you steady as you grind down on him.

You are possessed with the desire to get his cock in your mouth.

It’s cute how his face follows yours as you pull away from him.

“Help me with my dress?” Your question is perfectly innocent as you turn your back to him, presenting the zipper that runs down the length of your back.

His pleased laugh warms you, a shiver of desire and anticipation running down your spine as his breath fans across the back of your neck.

You’ve got a surprise waiting for him underneath your dress, partially revealed as one of his hands holds the top of the dress steady while the other draws the zipper down.

You gave him the hint you were wearing stockings when you’d baited him back at the restaurant, letting the heavy fabric of the dress fall to a heap around you before kicking it off to one side.

Turning back to face him, John seems quite enraptured with his surprise.

The lingerie set is a matching shade as your jewel toned dress, the garter belt clipping to the sheer black thigh high stockings.

There’s always that split second hesitation when revealing yourself to someone- the anxiety of if they’ll be pleased with what’s presented to them.

John is the first person you’ve been with since you’ve had your child, and the slight anxiety quells quickly at the look on his face.

John looks like he wants to eat you alive. Any insecurity is knocked firmly aside by desire quickly ramping back up.

Placing one hand on his thigh to steady yourself as you lift a leg to take your shoe off, John is quick to stop you. “Leave them on for now, love.”

It’s a request but it’s not. Really that doesn’t surprise you- he is someone who is likely used to having his whims accommodated to. You find yourself having no urge to defy him, nodding in compliance. If John wants your heels to stay on, then they’ll stay.

He guides you between his legs, enough space between his knees for you to slot yourself in. With him sitting on the bed he’s shorter than you standing straight up in your heels. Bending down to give a quick, teasing kiss you let yourself drop to your own knees.

“You don’t have to-“

“I want to,” you assure him with doe eyes and are rewarded with him settling into the bed as your hands go to work on his belt.

Unable to resist teasing him, you mouth at his bulge through the thick fabric of his pants. You’re rewarded with a soft cant of his hips, having his belt undone and working on the button and zip of his pants in record time.

Your earlier suspicions are correct. John is a big boy in more ways than one. You want him in your mouth- now.

While you’re occupying yourself with getting his pants off, John shucks his shirt and shoes.

He is, simply put, delicious to look at. From the broad muscling to the thick dark hair running from his chest down his abdomen. He doesn’t have the hard chiseled abs of a man who lives in the gym but the sturdy build that comes from having useful, functional muscle that’s put to work.

And that’s incredibly hot. He’s girthy as hell in your hand as you give a few strokes before putting your mouth on him.

You’re not entirely certain if deep throating him is going to be an option, but by God you’re going to try.

“Bloody hell, love.” John grunts while you bob your head up and down the length of him. You’re gauging just how much of him you can get in your mouth- where your threshold is before your gag reflex wants to kick in.

He’s petting you. Doubtless trying to fight the urge to fist your hair, his hips struggling to stay still on the bed.

You want him to. You feel feral, all the pent up sexual energy you’ve been storing for God-knows-how-long welling up all at once. You want this man carnally and your brain presently thinks having your hair held in place and your throat fucked is a fantastic idea.

John clearly has other plans, restraining himself and letting you work at your own pace. That low, deep breathing paired with his soft grunts and voiced encouragements stoke the flames of your arousal hotter.

Eventually you do need air, pulling off of him for a moment. Your hand works his shaft and teases the tip of him as you lean forward to run your tongue up and down the length of him, dropping a bit lower to lave at his heavy sac. He jolts which only encourages you to do it again.

You know your eyes are one of your better features- you’ve heard the compliment enough times both in and out of the bedroom, holding John’s gaze as you lick him back up the length of his shaft and circle the head once before having caught your breath enough to wrap your lips around him once more.

The second time around you’re able to get a bit more of him down your throat, but not all the way. What you can’t reach you stroke with one hand, the other resting on his thigh to help balance yourself as you work. You can feel the tension building in his thigh as he gets closer, pleased with yourself.

It’s a heady feeling. You don’t know exactly all the dirty details of his job but understand enough to know you’ve got a powerful man at your whim right now and that scratches a deep seated itch in you.

“Good girl,” his praise washes over you, warm and welcoming. “Just like that-“

You’re intent on sucking the soul out of him, all doe eyes and hollowed cheeks with those painted red lips. Eventually he gives into the urge to grab a fistful of your hair. He doesn’t do anything to interrupt the rhythm you’ve settled into, letting you move as you see fit.

He bites out your name and you feel the muscles in his leg drawn tight. “I’m getting close, love.”

It’s not quite a question. You give your not-answer by doubling down on him. You’re so close to having him in your mouth all the way to the base. You don’t want to back off. What you do want is for him to finish down your throat.

You get your wish. John’s fist tightens and you let out a grunt as his thrusting results in your nose pressed against his public bone.

The taste of him doesn’t really register as he spills inside your mouth, your focus on breathing through your nose and keeping your gag reflex down.

He’s petting your hair again, praises falling freely from him and soft apologizes. “Lost myself for a moment there, love. You alright?”

You keep your mouth hilted on him for a moment to prove a point- you’re fine, he didn’t push you past threshold- before finally releasing his softening cock.

He’s pulling you up to him after that, an open mouthed kiss that flusters you considering he just came in your mouth. “You’re just a treasure,” his voice purrs in your ear. “Only fair I return the favor, hm?”

He guides you to lay on the bed, knees hanging over the edge before he turns to settle between your legs.

He starts at your neck. You’re ticklish at one spot his lips, squirming in his hold with a giggle. “Sensitive, hm?”

You nod out a “mhm,” that breaks into a breathy moan as he works his way down your chest. Rather than removing your bra his hands work to pull your breasts free from the cups before paying particular attention to your nipples.

His hands are warm as they roam your ribcage, the heat of his body seeping through the lace of your outfit as his fingers trail across your skin and the delicate material.

“You’re so soft, love,” you don’t quite know how to respond to the compliment, mewling wordlessly in pleasure at the attention.

That seems to appease him as he kisses his way down your sternum and to your belly, the expanse of most of it covered by the fabric of the garter belt.

His eyes flick up to your own as his lips travel closer to the apex of your thighs. Where you’ve been lying patient and pliant in his grasp, the eye contact draws something tight in your core and you squirm again.

The next thing you feel is teeth as he nips you. “Be a good girl for me,” he tells you, soothing the soft throb of his bite with his tongue.

You force yourself to still as he moves lower, lower, lower- taking his time and having you thoroughly worked up before moving to the next patch of skin.

When he’s down far enough he slides one of your thighs over his shoulder, that arm looping under your arm and banding across your abdomen.

It’s his turn now to mouth at your clothed sex.

He pulls the gusset of your thong aside after a moment of teasing, his lips descending on you.

“Oh,” your hand immediately finds purchase in his hair, a pleased whimper escaping you at the feel of John’s tongue.

John feasts on you. There’s not much else that can be done to describe it. It’s lewd and wet as he laps at you, the flesh of his tongue doing little to soothe the burning ache inside you and only ramping it up.

Those eyes are wicked as he gazes up at you from between your thighs. The hand resting on your lower stomach is pressing ever so lightly, like John wants the pressure there but not too much yet and you’re once again struck with the idea you might be in over your head with him.

“John, please,” you beg. It feels good but you need more, lust clouding your brain as your hips rock against his face.

“You need to be patient, love. I’ll take care of you. Just relax, hm?”

It dawns on you that he’s probably running down the clock until his refractory period is up. That he doesn’t want to get you going too quick and then be stuck not quite ready to perform.

It’s an assumption, and you’re not 100% sure that you’re correct, but it’s a solid enough option that you move forward with that in mind.

The thought almost makes it easier to relax into the bed- the idea that John is going to pleasure you with his mouth until enough time has passed and he can get it up again. That he’s not just mindlessly toying with you with no end goal in mind.

It feels good you’re just stuck being greedy and wanting more stimulation despite knowing that won’t happen until John decides he’s ready to give you more.

You almost jump when the fingers you’ve been waiting for make their presence known. His mouth moves to focus on your clit, lips making a seal and sucking on it. You cry out, hips canting as his fingers gently rub at your labia.

He starts with one, gently sliding it in and out of you. Your back arches in satisfaction of having something to clench on and rub against. It’s more satisfying than just one of your own- that was for sure.

“That’s it love,” John praises you while easing a second one into you.

The second finger is what you were looking for, stimulation wise. John pets and strokes you, thumb gently working over your clit in soft circles before putting his mouth back on you.

He doesn’t just find your g-spot. John’s fingers are placed so they hone in on that spongy bit of tissue tucked inside you. He doesn’t let up on it, tongue working on your clit as you arch your back helplessly and moan.

That pressure is back on your abdomen, the hand not currently stroking you to nirvana pressing down on your belly.

You moan and buck against his hold. Your orgasm is creeping up on you and it’s like he’s determined to make you squirt.

“You keep that up and I’m gonna make a mess,” you warn him- not entirely certain how he’ll respond to the prospect of you squirting on his face.

John looks delighted and you realize that yes, you are in over your head with him.

There’s a mischievous glint in his eye as he pulls back from you, “You promise, love? Don’t tease me.”

Oh dear God- Next thing you know he’s reaching over you to pull a pillow from the top of the bed, wedging it underneath your hips before returning to his place between your thighs.

You’re flustered at how eager he is to see you squirt. His mouth is back on you, sucking on your clit and making your legs shake as two fingers go right back to abusing your g-spot, his free hand pressing on your belly increasing the pressure that is mounting by the second.

There’s nothing else for you to do but grab a fistful of his hair and hang on. “Please- oh! J-John! Right there,” at your encouragement he locks in on the spot that’s got you arching your back and your thighs trembling.

“That’s it, pretty girl. Show me,” he’s moaning encourments against your skin and you feel like a bow drawn tight and ready to snap. You’re so, so close.

The sounds he draws out of you- both from your mouth and between your legs- are filthy and vulgar and you don’t care at all as he gets you teetering just on the edge.

You’re practically gasping for breath, eyes screwing shut as the hand not buried in John’s hair fists the sheets next to you. You babble his name, chants of John all your brain can muster.

All that pressure coiling in you snaps and gushes out, literally and metaphorically.

“Good girl, making such a mess for me,” John’s praise has you flushing hot while his fingers work you like he’s making sure he can wring out every single last drop.

He stops when you have nothing left to give him, a trembling mess shivering in his hold.

Your brain at some point made the windows shut down noise, needing a moment to settle as you process what John just did to you.

This is the hardest you’ve cum in ages, certainly better than the orgasms you’ve given yourself during your little dry spell.

You return to the land of the living with his lips on yours, tasting yourself as he soothingly strokes your side. “You back with me?” He asks, eliciting a nod from you.

“Please tell me you have a condom,” your tone is pleading. You still want to ride him but you’ve learned your lesson about practicing safe sex. Once was, in fact, all it took for things to go off the rail.

“I do,” he stands, moving to the nightstand and opening a drawer.

Now that your legs feel somewhat compliant you sit yourself back up.

No sooner than John’s got the condom on then you’re guiding him back down, having him lay on the edge of the bed.

It takes a bit of maneuvering, getting yourself situated so your heels don’t catch on his sheets, but you’re straddling him with the leg closest to the edge of the bed hanging over the side as the opposite leg folds underneath you. You hover over him while getting everything lined up. The position of your legs allows you to alternate which one is supporting the brunt of your weight, a factor that is going to be fairly important once you’ve hilted yourself on John.

Even with how pliant your body is it takes a moment for the head of him to breach you.

“Oh,” you let out a breath as you sink down on him. You’re not able to get all the way to the base of him on the first go, getting your weight underneath yourself and lifting almost completely off of him before dropping down again. You get a little further this time, a moan escaping you.

“That’s it, love. Nice and easy,” his voice coos in your ear, that low timber having you liable to melt.

He’s thick. Not in a way that’s insurmountable to manage, but you have absolutely no complaints with how he fills you and anticipate being pleasantly sore in the morning.

Two more slow bounces have you sinking low enough to hilt yourself on him, taking a moment to enjoy the sensation of sitting fully on his lap.

One of his hands braces on your hip, the other his thumb circles your clit. You squirm at the stimuli, relishing in the feel of him before getting to work.

This is what you’ve been drooling over all night. Your reward is very well earned in your opinion. Moaning lowly as you bounce up and down, your movements are initially slow and languid but pick up speed as you get your bearings. John’s heavy exhales and grunts when you clench only serve to wind you tighter.

“You feel good, pretty girl? Hm? You like bouncing on my cock?”

You flush- a ridiculous notion given how you’re quite literally hilted on his dick-, face hot from the dirty talk.

The hand on your hip helps guide you to a pace that’s pleasurable for the both of you, eyes rolling as he thrusts his hips in a way that makes you see stars. “Yes! John- yes! Oh it feels so good,” your voice a low purr as he delivers on every fantasy you’ve had this evening.

The stretch of him in you feels absolutely incredible, knocking the air out of you on each bounce. It doesn’t take long until that knot begins to form again, growing steadily as you rise and fall in his lap. The press of his finger circling your clit draws staggered moans, bracing on him for support.

“Been thinking about this all night,” John grits out. “Wanted to flip you over the bar top and have my way with you right there on the dining room floor.”

You moan at the confession, feeling less like a rabid dog with no impulse control now you know you’re not alone in the intense desire that had struck once you’d laid eyes on him.

“Probably wouldn’t have- ah! st-stopped you,” you tell him. The grip on your hip tightens at that, another moan escaping you as you bounce on him.

Your eyes roll in pleasure, cunt practically fluttering from the way he keeps getting you to clench. The thickness of his girth doesn’t just let him keep hitting that spot in you with lift of your hips so much as the mushroom tipped head of his cock drags across it.

“Aren’t you just a fucking treasure,” he praises.

Your thighs are burning, eased by the position of your legs and John’s grip helping you but becoming more present with each wet clap of your sex against his lap. It almost helps you tip closer to another climax.

Your eyes squeeze shut, a staggered breath escaping you.

“Eyes on me,” he tells you and you comply immediately.

“John, please I’m so close,” your thighs are shaking again, threatening your already precarious balance.

“You need more, pretty girl?”

You shake your head. “No-no. Just don’t stop. Please don’t stop!”

And bless him, he doesn’t do anything to fuck up your rhythm. The fingers circling your clit keep the same tempo and pressure perfectly, his free hand still helping guide you up and out of his lap before sitting you back down.

You know you’re about to come but are caught off guard by how sharp it is as you squirt for a second time.

The sight of you spurting across his abdomen nearly severs any control John has left. The next thing you know John’s abandoned your overstimulated clit in favor of rolling you onto your back, your heels clattering to the floor from the motion. Your legs go instinctively to clamp around his waist for security- only one of them does, the other stopped by wet fingers gripping your thigh by your knee as he spreads you open. His weight is held on the forearm bracing next to your head by the time you process the shift in position.

“You alright, pretty girl?”

You can’t quite get your words out but manage a nod. “Ye-yeah,” you eventually stagger out as he waits for a verbal confirmation.

With the comfort that you were fine, that gives John the assurance he needs to seek his own pleasure.

More than satisfied with your two climaxes, you lay limp and pliant in his grasp while he chases his own end.

The wet squelch of his cock splitting you open with each thrust was loud and obscene although you were too far gone in the blissed out pleasure to care. Your whole body feels delightfully tingly, your head swimming pleasantly.

You clench down on him a few times, more for his benefit than anything else. You’re spent but more than willing to help him across the finish line as he buries his face in the crook of your neck, muttering praises that are punctured with short, sharp thrusts before he stiffens as his own climax hits.

The two of you have both broken into a light sheen of sweat by the end of things. After a moment to recuperate John stands with a “I’ll be right back.” (And you unabashedly enjoy the view of his ass while he retreats to the bathroom.)

True to his word he returns shortly, evidently having disposed of the condom with a towel in hand for you.

The pair of you get yourselves clean and sorted. Before you can decide how you want to ask, John seems to already know what the question is.

“You don’t need to leave, do you?”

Again it’s not entirely a question, but still gives you an out if you want to take it.

You don't want to take the out.

[silhouetteonpaper]

You’re Not Special

Summary: There’s only one goal for your first party as an Avenger: get the approval of Secretary Ross. It should be easy… right? Wanda Maximoff x Reader (featuring Avengers) WC: 1,276 Warnings: Partying, drinking, self conscious thoughts, men being annoying

Party tonight at 8. Play nice, I’ve invited Ross and his goons.

The text makes your stomach churn with worry, your first ever invite to one of Tony’s infamous parties. You’ve only been on the team for a few weeks, creating a flood of introductions with some new department every time there’s an event.

This time is different, though. If you’re going to make a good impression on one person, it has to be Secretary Ross. Not because he’s a high ranking U.S. official, but because he always gets what he wants. And if you appear as a threat to him, it’ll be like your career as an Avenger never even began.

Beyond the idea of meeting Ross, there’s more behind your growing anxiety. Tony’s parties are known to be big, booming events—something you’re not the most fond of. It’s one thing to wear a dress, and it’s another wearing it to the biggest party you’ve ever attended.

It’s like you can already feel everyone’s eyes on you, the newest Avenger. Asking themselves, ‘is she really capable of being on the team?’, ‘that’s who they recruited?’. The self doubt swirls your mind as your anxiety grows.

With just over an hour until the party, you know it’s best to get ready right away. The last thing you want is to appear unkempt and un-ladylike in front of the most important U.S. Official.

Just as 8:15 approaches, you’re strutting down the hallway in your nicest outfit. It’s hard to deny that you’re already tired from working meticulously on your hair and makeup, trying to get it perfect before heading downstairs.

You put on a look of confidence as voices echo up the hallway, a few familiar faces greeting you at the elevator.

“Wow, you really clean up nicely.” Natasha smirks as you stand beside her. Returning the smirk, Wanda joins in.

“You look great,” Her smile makes you perk up a little, the compliment going a long way. Maybe Wanda can see your lingering nerves, because she comments something else. “Don’t be nervous, I think Ross will like you.”

Her words force you to nod and take a deep breath as the elevator doors swing open to reveal a bustling floor full of people. Guests mingle about, drinks in hand as they throw out chuckles and smiles, some more fake than others. Tony’s right at the center, entertaining a large group with a drink in one hand.

You can easily feel everyone turn to look at you, the whole point of the party likely to show off the new Avenger. Keeping your head held high, Natasha and Wanda stand at your side with equally confident appearances. You make a path straight towards the billionaire at the center of it all.

He looks up as your heels clack toward him, sporting a grin as he waves the three of you over. “There’s someone I’d like you to meet,” Tony tells you, stepping aside to reveal a tall man with white hair. “This is Secretary Ross.”

You stand up straight, holding out your hand to shake. He’s not as threatening looking as everyone described, but you can see why he might hold so much power. His handshake is firm, so firm you feel he might be trying to prove some kind of dominance. You squeeze his hand right back.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Secretary.” You smile sweetly.

“The pleasure’s all mine. I��m glad I can finally put a face to the name I hear so much about.” Ross responds, eyeing Tony. “Word has certainly gotten around about you. Hopefully you’re up to the task.”

There it is. You put on the most sweet smile you’ve ever managed, the anger bubbling inside. “Mm, I wouldn’t doubt it.” Nodding once toward Ross and Tony, you turn on your heel and walk away. A deep breath forces its way inside you, the toughest interaction of the night finally over with.

You feel a presence behind you the second you stand before the tall window, and sure enough a certain someone is right there at your side. “He’s all bark and no bite,” Wanda speaks, looking out the window. “You handled him nicely. As long as we keep him in his place, and stay in ours, there won’t be any issues.”

Pondering her words for a moment, you think back to all the terrible things people have said about him. “What about those accords I’ve heard so much about? Who’s to say something like that can’t happen again?” You question.

The pause Wanda creates turns uncomfortable as you watch the gears turn in her head. “I think he had a good reason for creating those—at first,” She finally says. You can tell she’s holding something back, but there’s no time to ask before she moves on. “But you’re right, if he sees any one of us as a threat, there will be consequences.”

“So how am I supposed to convince him that my extremely dangerous powers will only be used for good?” You ask, unsure what Wanda’s getting at.

“You can’t control others’ fear, only your own. Don’t think on it too hard, just do what you think is right. I trust that you’ll get by without any problem.” Wanda smiles, and just like that she’s gone.

Now left to your own thoughts, you contemplate her words over and over and find some sense in them. It’s not up to you how other people perceive you, you can only control your actions and the good you bring to the world everyday.

It’s enough to settle your nerves for now, and surprisingly the rest of the night goes better than expected. You mingle with each guest—introducing yourself for what feels like the millionth time, working through the crowd to find just how appreciated you truly are.

Every conversation brings a new complement. “It’s admirable what you’re doing out there,” someone voices. “I’m so glad we have people like you keeping our city safe.” Another comments. It’s fulfilling to hear all of these perspectives, yet at the end of the night one still continues to grind into you.

“It seems they really like you.” Ross’s voice echoes behind you as the crowd thins out for the night.

You turn and put on that same sweet smile. “I’m glad I can be a role-model for them.” Ross lets out a chuckle, leaving you to quirk your brow.

“Let’s hope it stays that way.” He responds before saying his goodbyes. You’re left alone on the floor, the final remains of the team gathering amongst various couches.

“Don’t tell me he got to your head.” Wanda’s voice brings you out of your spiraling thoughts, the fear of messing up now returning.

You roll your eyes. “We wouldn’t want to give him that satisfaction.” The redhead guides you to one of the couches, sitting down beside you as a deep breath fills your lungs. “I think he hates me.”

“Ross hates everyone, you’re not special.” Tony sips at his drink. You smirk, fidgeting with your fingers. That’s the exact issue, you are special. So special that the U.S. government keeps a microscopic eye on you.

Wanda’s arm makes its way around your shoulder, and suddenly the worried thoughts begin to slip away from your mind. “Stop thinking too hard about it, I know you’re going to do great.” And just like that, you’re no longer anxious at the thought of being a terrible villain rather than a victorious superhero. The only thing you care about at this moment is spending time with those who make you feel like the great person you are.

[wrathofrats]

Thinking about Aether and Phantom quintosis lesson. It's all going well and all, Aether's letting Phant explore his head on his own a little because he's actually really talented y'know! And then he hits a particular spot and Aether goes brainless, practically drooling on spot if yk what I'm onto...

Everyone always comes to Aeth to shut their thoughts up, but now he's on the receiving end for the first time in a whiiiile and he's just gone.

Just a big brainless quint :)

Shakes you violently because I’ve been thinking about this ever since I saw it

(Warning that this is a little dubious but consent is implied and implied to have been discussed prior, just didn’t want it to come out of nowhere in case someone isn’t up for that 🫶

Also I made it weird bc confident phantom has been on my brain recently)

Aether talks him through it. Takes phantoms hands and places them on either side of his head, covering them with his own.

He trusts him under his own supervision, able to step in if something were to go wrong.

It’s easy, to aethers surprise. Phantom being able to pick at different memories, emotions, doesn’t take long for phantom to start trying to control his limbs.

“Am I doing that?” Phantoms eyes light up when aether hand moves slowly to the side.

“You are bug, good job”

Aether thinks it’s cute watching him get so excited over his powers.

Different tour memories flash in and out as phantom practically rummages through his brain like a storage bin. His face muscles twitch while phantom drags over certain nerves. Quintessence can be a dangerous game in the wrong hands, the power to as you please to someone only to be trusted in the right hands.

A particular wave of fuzz washes over aether as phantom gets a little more confident with the electricity he has wrapped around his mind. He feels cloudy, it’s not unfamiliar but he knows exactly what phantom is doing considering he’s done it to the other ghouls countless times before.

“Bug…..” aether warns taking a deep breath. He feels like there’s cotton behind his eyes, his breathing becoming deep and more manual.

Phantom prods again. A sharp buzz in the base of his skull and it’s hard for aether to get out the words to warn him again.

Phantom understands what he’s doing, especially considering this form of mind control has been done to him before. it’s the only reason aether hasn’t removed him yet but it’s a helpless and almost calming sort of feeling, looking up to see phantom smiling at him with his magic completely taking over his senses.

“Please let me take care of you?” Phantom tips aethers chin up to look at him, the other hand caressing his cheek. Aether can feel just a bit more quintessence slip in as he nods.

He’s completely brainless, barely a thought besides what’s directly in front of him and a small attempt to keep his breathing normal. It’s all he can do to keep his vision straight, mind full of static and he can’t help but smile at phantom, giggling slightly. A comfortable mindless state of pleasure.

“Never been able to have you all stupid for me have I aeth?” Phantom teases. It’s light hearted in nature but god it does something to aether. He could practically drool if he really wanted to, phantoms light teasing enough to have him salivating. Something so delicious about being able to have your thoughts shut up and being taken care of, aethers been craving it for a while.

A delicate hand pushes its way under aethers shirt. Phantom looks for any sign of protest before lifting it off of his body and discarding it on the floor beside them. Aethers immediately handsy, giggly and trying whatever he can to get phantom back on him. His limbs feel like they’re full of concrete as he tries to reach up to pull him closer. Time moves slow, almost too slow for him with the idea phantoms put into his head of him doing whatever he wants to him.

Phantom makes quick work of his own clothes while aether chews his lip, small moans escaping as phantom strips in his lap. He’s easy like this, hard and stupid and just desperate for anything from phantom he can get.

“You’re needy when you’re like this” phantom teases, reaching for the buttons on aethers pants. “Big and stupid like a whore should be”

Phantom grabs aethers hand, pulling it around his waist to finger himself with it, “your fingers are thicker than mine, gotta stretch myself out to take you baby” phantom gasps as he pushes aethers fingers into himself

It’s a tight stretch, phantom working himself with two of aethers fingers guided by his own, if he’s not careful he could probably just use aether like this and cum in his lap but oh, he wants to see how bad aeth can get when he sits on his cock.

Aethers streams out incoherent pleas and curses as phantom finally pulls him out, stroking him a couple times just to hear him whimper

“Fuck you’re much better like this, dumb and useful, just a dildo for me to use right?”

[shitsndgiggs]

Could you please write one about Kenan where YN is the sister of one of his teammates from Juventus. They meet one day at the Juventus training centre, then they start dating but her brother doesn’t really approve. Thanksss

FORBIDDEN FIELDS - KENAN YILDIZ

Your brother is not a fan of your newfound relationship with his teammate

Kenan Yildiz x Federico Gatti’s sister! reader

︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿

Being the sister of a Juventus player had its perks, but it also came with its fair share of challenges—especially when your brother was fiercely protective.

I always admired my brother’s dedication to his career, but I never expected that his professional life would lead me straight into the path of someone like Kenan.

It all started on a sunny afternoon at the Juventus Training Centre. I had stopped by to drop off some things for Federico after his training session.

The facility was buzzing with energy—players heading in and out, coaches discussing strategies, and fans lingering around, hoping to catch a glimpse of their favorite athletes.

As I walked through the corridors, I couldn’t help but feel slightly out of place.

It wasn’t the first time I’d visited, but it was always a bit surreal to be surrounded by some of the biggest names in football.

My brother was finishing up on the pitch, so I decided to wait for him in the lounge area.

That’s when I saw him—Kenan. He was standing by the window, talking to a couple of teammates, his laughter echoing through the room.

I’d seen him on the pitch before, of course, but seeing him up close was different. He had this effortless charm about him, a natural confidence that was both captivating and intimidating.

I tried to focus on my phone, but when I looked up again, Kenan was walking towards me. My heart skipped a beat as he smiled, his dark eyes sparkling with interest.

“Hey, you’re Y/N, right? Federico’s sister?” he asked, his voice warm and friendly.

I nodded, trying to keep my cool. “Yeah, that’s me. You must be Kenan.”

“The one and only,” he said with a wink. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

I raised an eyebrow, curious. “All good things, I hope.”

“Only the best,” he replied, his grin widening. “What brings you here today?”

“Just dropping off some stuff for my brother. He left it at home this morning,” I explained, holding up the bag.

Kenan nodded, glancing towards the pitch where the players were still training. “He’s lucky to have such a caring sister.”

We chatted for a while, and I found myself completely at ease with him. Kenan was funny, charming, and easy to talk to.

I couldn’t help but notice the way his gaze lingered on me, like he was genuinely interested in what I had to say.

Just as our conversation was getting comfortable, Federico walked in, still drenched in sweat from the training session. His smile faded slightly when he saw me with Kenan.

“What’s going on here?” he asked, a hint of suspicion in his voice.

“Just chatting with your sister,” Kenan replied casually, though I could sense the tension between them.

My brother gave Kenan a look that said, “Stay away,” but Kenan didn’t seem fazed. He just smiled and gave me a small wave as he left the room, promising to see me around.

Over the next few weeks, Kenan and I started seeing each other more often. It was all very new, but there was a connection between us that I couldn’t deny.

We went on a few dates—nothing too serious at first, but enough to realize that there was something real between us.

The problem was, my brother wasn’t thrilled about it. He’d always been protective, but when it came to Kenan, he was downright territorial.

He didn’t want me getting involved with a footballer, especially not one of his teammates.

One evening, after a particularly heated argument with my brother about Kenan, I found myself questioning everything.

Was it worth it? The sneaking around, the constant tension—it was starting to take its toll.

But then, Kenan would do something sweet—like send me a good morning text or surprise me with my favorite coffee—and I’d remember why I was falling for him in the first place.

He wasn’t just some footballer; he was thoughtful, kind, and incredibly supportive.

Things came to a head when my brother caught us together after a match.

We’d planned to meet up for a quick drink, but he showed up unexpectedly and saw us laughing and talking in the corner of the bar.

“What the hell, Y/N?” my brother snapped as he stormed over. “I told you to stay away from him!”

Kenan stood up, his expression calm but firm. “Look, I care about your sister, and I’m not going to hurt her.”

My brother glared at him, clearly unconvinced. “You’re a footballer, Kenan. You have girls throwing themselves at you all the time. How do I know this isn’t just a fling?”

“It’s not,” I said, stepping in. “This is my choice, Federico. I care about him too, and I want to see where this goes.”

The tension was thick, and for a moment, I thought my brother might punch Kenan. But then, he sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Fine. But if you hurt her, Kenan, I swear…”

Kenan nodded, his gaze steady. “I won’t.”

As the weeks turned into months, my brother slowly came around. He still watched Kenan like a hawk, but he couldn’t deny that Kenan was making me happy.

And eventually, he even started to accept our relationship—begrudgingly, of course.

There were still moments of tension, but they became fewer and farther between. Kenan was patient, understanding, and most importantly, he never pressured me.

He respected my relationship with my brother and gave me the space to navigate it.

One day, after a particularly intense match, Kenan came over to my place.

We sat on the couch, talking about everything and nothing, and for the first time, I felt like we were in this together—no secrets, no hiding.

“I’m glad you didn’t give up on us,” I said quietly, resting my head on his shoulder.

“Giving up was never an option,” Kenan replied, his arm wrapping around me. “I want to be with you, no matter what.”

[absgay]

⋇⋆✦⋆⋇ “Baby, we both know, that the nights were made for sayin’ things that you can’t say tomorrow day.” ⋇⋆✦⋆⋇

words count: 1,6K.

“Maybe I’m too busy being yours to fall for somebody new. Now I’ve thought it through, crawlin’ back to you.”

warnings: 18+ minors dni, grammar, f*buddy!abby, college!abby, sexual tension, some jealousy, someone’s possessive, and idk i’m not good at this, smut.

previous part: heaven.

And, you remembered the next week, the aftermath, the awkwardness linked to it. On friday, you and your roommate were at someone’s birthday party, whose name you didn’t even know at the time.

It was fun, but Abby was invited too. You glanced at the blond from across the room as she talked with friends and flirted with others, as usual. You wouldn’t blame anyone who’d fall for her though, because you did it too, she was too charming.

“I need to use the bathroom.” you said to your roommate as she talked with someone on the couch, then walked away.

Abby’s eyes narrowed as she failed to keep up with your silhouette. “Shit.” she murmured as she drank, your body disappearing through the crowd. “I’ll be right back guys.”

She stepped in the hallway and looked around, strangers talking and dancing as music played loudly in the background. She went upstairs and waited by the bathroom’s door, an idea in mind.

You walked out and frowned. “Neighbour.” Abby said to start the conversation as you remained silent. “We haven’t talked since— You know.”

“I remember— I was there.” you responded, an amused look appearing on the blond’s features as you leaned on the opposite wall.

“You’ve never been so quiet before, it’s new.” You hummed, Abby’s smirk disappearing as she looked down at her boots. “Dammit— If I knew you’d stop talking to me afterwards, I would’ve had fucked you sooner.”

“How romantic.” Abby seemed perplexed by your ironic tone as you responded, arms crossed. “God— You’re such an asshole sometimes, I can’t believe I had sex with you.”

Abby was smart, really smart, when it came to an educational perspective. And then, there’s emotional intelligence… Abby was incompetent, inexperienced, sometimes insensitive. Truth is, she wanted to see you. She missed the arguments, the fights, your complaints, your smart-ass comments, your attention. She wanted it back, all of it.

But the last sentence went straight to Abby’s heart, stabbing it. “It wasn’t even good, anyway.” she sounded annoyed, which caught your attention but didn’t make the cut as your own heart stopped. “Let’s pretend it never happened.”

It hurt way more than it should’ve had. You couldn’t blame anyone but your stubborn selves, who didn’t want to admit that it was, in fact: fuckin’ incredible. But, it was meant to be a one-night stand, it wasn’t supposed to mean anything, anyway.

Your mouth dropped. “What the fuck is your problem— Who do you think you are, huh?” you asked, cheeks flushed as the blond’s smirk increased your annoyance towards her. “Seriously— You’re not that good either.”

Abby’s doubts disappeared as she noticed the distress on your face. “You don’t have to lie.” she said. “I might have hurt your feelings, but we both know you loved it.” You scoffed. “Yeah— You did. By the way, I still have your panties or more specifically, what’s left of it.”

”Keep it.” you responded confidently. “It might help you cum on those lonely nights, when you touch yourself thinking about me.” Abby laughed. “I bet you’ve thought about me while fucking other women.”

“Wow.” Abby mumbled, impressed by your audacity and insolence. She stepped towards you, eyes darkened and mouth craving yours. “You’re lucky we’re in public.”

There it was, the tension, the frustration, the animalistic need to tear the other one apart. You both stared at each other deeply, chest heavy with anticipation.

“Tell me— Why do you keep doing this? Why do you keep flirting with me?” you asked, flustered by your sudden proximity. “I thought I wasn’t good enough for you, especially in bed.”

“Boredom.” Abby teased. She chuckled lightly as you rolled your eyes and sighed. “I don’t know. Why do you keep talking to me? I’m an asshole.”

“You’re right— I should leave, find someone else to talk to, to fuck with.” you said with an unsure tone, hot and bothered.

Abby smirked. “You’re not going anywhere, sweetheart…“ she responded, the woman’s sudden seriousness sending shivers down your spine. “I don’t share.”

There was something magnetic about Abby. A tall woman, who carried herself with so much confidence and arrogance with a sarcastic attitude, it was irresistible. Which means you always wanted to give in, no matter how much you truly despised her sometimes.

You remembered the blond’s rough touch, the murmurs, the sweet praises and caresses. You remembered the sensuality of Abby’s movements as she fucked you from behind, fingers buried into your flesh. You remembered the sheets and its the clean scent as your body trembled, then collapsed against the mattress, the blond’s weight consuming you entirely as she kept going, faster, deeper, harder, meaner… Shit.

Someone called your name. “No way— Hey!” A woman shouted as she headed towards you two, the tension dropping immediately. “I haven’t seen you in months.”

Abby sighed then stepped away from you. “Hey, Katherine.” you responded with an awkward smile. “Yeah— It’s been a moment.”

She laughed. “I’ve been dying to see you, it’s been way too long.” Abby’s eyes narrowed as the brunette touched your shoulder with an unbearable familiarity. “Look at you, still hot and cute.”

Abby hummed and looked away, fits clenched. She shouldn’t care, she doesn’t care, she doesn’t mind at all, fuckin’ Katherine.

“I was about to leave, but—” Katherine winked. “We haven’t seen each other in so long and you’ve always loved my motorcycle.” Abby huffed at the brunette’s words. “I could give you—”

“It won’t be necessary.” Abby interrupted. “If she needed a ride, she would’ve asked me.”

Katherine turned and looked at the blond with contempt. “She knows how to ride that’s for sure.”

“Wow— Okay!” you snapped, cheeks flushed with embarrassment. “It was nice to see you, I’ll text you later.”

Abby chuckled immaturely as you both stepped into someone’s bedroom. She felt relieved, so much better, meanwhile you were standing in the room with an annoyed frown and your arms crossed as you waited for an explanation.

“What the fuck? What was that all about?” you asked. “It was humiliating— You didn’t have to say anything.”

“Oh— Come on!” Abby whined. “Look at you, so hot and cute. We haven’t seen each other in so long— Oh, fuck me, fuck me.” You frowned and stared at the blond as she imitated Katherine’s voice and gestures. “She was annoying, too desperate.”

You laughed. “Oh my god, I knew it. You’re jealous—” Abby scoffed, then looked away. “Yes— Totally. You were so pissed the entire time, I saw it. You didn’t want me to leave with her.”

“Sure.” Abby huffed out a nervous laugh. “If you wanna fuck her, well then, do it.” You hummed unconvinced by the blond’s unsure tone. “She’s probably outside, waiting for you, on her Vespa.”

“Motorcycle.” you murmured, amused as she rolled her eyes. “I could fuck her— I could do it. I know she’ll be nice to me, unlike someone else.” Abby sighed. “You know— She’s been into me for two years.”

“I wonder why.” Abby said with insolvence. “She must enjoy disappointment.” Your mouth dropped once again. “I mean, from what I've seen— I don’t understand why she keeps coming back for something so— Mid.”

“Fuck you!” you snapped and stepped forward, the blond smirking as her back hit the wall. “I hate you, you’re such a—” you pointed at the woman’s toned chest. “You’re—” you swallowed hard. “You’re—”

“Tell me, sweetheart.” Abby murmured in encouragement. “Say it.”

You both sighed peacefully as your lips crashed against hers, eyes closed and hands reaching for each other’s bodies with an intense need to be closer.

Shit. Nothing about this moment was gentle or sweet, groans, moans and obscenities murmured between short breaths as you pushed against each other’s bodies, almost fighting. Nothing about Abby Anderson was soft and gentle, except the blond’s hidden feelings for you.

“Oh— Fuck.” Abby murmured as you kneeled, mouth swollen and braid messy from the kiss. “Wait— What are you— Shit.”

She looked down at you with so much affection, it scared her. But, she couldn’t help it, you looked so beautiful, all ready and needy for her.

You unzipped the woman’s pants, pulling it down, the boxers too. “I wanna eat you out.” you said with kisses along the thigh.

“Holy shit.” Abby breathed in anticipation. “Oh, fuck— That’s good.” she moaned as you held the blond’s thighs tight, your face buried between them. “Yeah— You’re so good at this.” You whined at the praises, your own panties soaked and ruined.

Breathless, Abby pulled at your hair and bucked against your mouth, groaning at each movement. “I— I’m gonna fuck your throat with my strap— Fuck— Yeah.” she moaned loud and leaned back against the wall as she came into your mouth.

You hummed in delight, all sweaty and messy. “Fuck— Baby.” she murmured innocently, your cheeks flushing at the nickname. “You’re so pretty like this— Shit.”

She stared at your fucked face attentively, your mouth opened as she brushed the cum off your bottom lip with her thumb, your pleading eyes asking for more. “Abby…”

She moaned pathetically as you pronounced her name with so much desperation. You kissed the blond’s thumb, teasing. “Suck.“ Abby’s mouth dropped in a sigh as she sensed the warmth of your mouth on her skin. “Holy shit— Good girl.” she murmured as you sucked on it, nice and slow, eyes filled with lust. “I wanna fuck you so bad.”

“Take me home.”

The second time, she didn’t let you go.

⋇⋆✦⋆⋇

[strawberrywinter4]

WIP - A Gentleman’s Shrine

Sneak peak #2 !

I know, I haven’t been active for a while, but this is what I’ve been working on! Some things may not make sense, obviously, but this is one of the scenes that will be in the halfway mark. So in honor of being halfway writing this, here you are! <3

——

“Captain Watson,” Sherlock murmurs in greeting.

“Mr. Holmes,” he says slowly. The name rolls of his tongue. Sherlock shivers. “I didn’t think this was your scenery.”

“It’s…not,” Sherlock answers. Suddenly, words are very hard. He practically blurts his next words out, “Are you going to tell my mother?”

To Sherlock’s surprise, Captain Watson’s eyebrows raise as if he hadn’t even thought of doing so. “No.” He huffs a laugh. “I’m sure she doesn’t wish for you to be out considering she hardly lets you out of the manor, but…you’re your own man. It isn’t any of my business.”

Sherlock exhales in relief. “That’s…good. Thank you.”

He hums. His eyes reach into Sherlock’s soul, seeing straight through him. Sherlock tries not to sweat.

“Is Ms. Bolton all right?” Captain Watson ends up asking.

Oh. Yes. Of course. That’s his main concern. “Uh–yes, I’m sorry. She–she said she had something to attend to.” It isn’t entirely a lie. She has her own fears to attend to about her ex lover having a chance to come back and make her life a living hell.

“I see,” he says, but his voice isn’t laced with disappointment like Sherlock thought it would be. More so, it’s of curiosity. Sherlock has found that the captain is a severely curious man. That can be both dangerous and enticing. “Do you know her?”

“Hm? Oh, no. I simply…erm…” Sherlock doesn’t know what to say. How does he explain his sudden need to speak with her if he doesn’t know her? Captain Watson doesn’t take his eyes off him. “She–I’m a fan of hers.”

Sherlock knows the captain doesn’t believe him. He can see it in the way he stares at Sherlock with strict eyes. Sherlock swallows.

“Right,” he finally says. “Well, I’m glad you could speak with her.”

Sherlock’s shoulders sag in the relief that, for now, Captain Watson won’t push on the matter further. “Yes.”

They stare at each other for a moment. A thought comes into Sherlock’s head that he can’t replace.

“Why are you here?” No. No, that sounds accusatory. “I mean–are you…is there a reason?”

Get a hold of yourself, damn you.

“I heard of this place and thought I would see what the fuss was about,” the captain says, voice smooth.

Admiration creeps through Sherlock. He wishes he could simply go wherever he pleases for the pleasure of it. He wishes he didn’t have to sneak out just to step out of the gates of his own home. Prison, more like.

Sherlock nods. “Good. That’s good.” They’re quiet for a moment. Maybe it’s best Sherlock stops the conversation here. “Um–I should be going–”

“So, Irene Adler.” The tenacity of Captain Watson’s voice makes Sherlock pause. “Congratulations. I had no idea you two were…involved.”

Sherlock’s eyebrows shoot up. That, he can confirm with confidence is untrue. “No,” he says, and this time his voice stays steady. “Absolutely not. I mean–no. She’s a friend of mine.”

Friend. A friend.

Sherlock’s never had a true friend before. At least, not one close to his age. Mrs. Hudson doesn’t count.

But considering someone a friend…it warms Sherlock’s chest before he can stop it.

Sherlock’s heart jumps when he sees something akin to relief wash over Captain Watson’s face. Why relief? Suddenly, his shoulders lose the tenseness it had before and his expression softens.

It’s such a rapid change, Sherlock is dumbfounded.

“I see,” says the captain. “I didn’t mean to misunderstand, erm–you two seemed so…” He cuts himself off, shaking his hand with a light laugh. “Never mind.”

They stare at each other for longer than necessary. Sherlock finds himself tranfixed. The heat of the moment becomes more than palpable, it becomes unavoidable.

Captain Watson clears his throat, looking away swiftly. Sherlock tries not to feel disappointed.

The former soldier waves over the bartender and pays for his drink. Sherlock senses their interaction coming to an end.

“I won’t keep you busy,” Sherlock says. “Good night, Captain Watson.”

However, just as Sherlock walks past him, a gentle grip on his arm stops him. Sherlock’s breath catches in his throat. They lock eyes, and usually, the captain would take away his hand and murmur apologies.

Now, he doesn’t so much as look away.

“Let me take you back to the estate,” Captain Watson says.

Sherlock feels his defenses return. “I’m perfectly capable of going back on my own.”

“Oh! Yes. Yes, of course you are. I meant no such thing.” He stands, and the heat of his body radiates toward Sherlock. “Just so you won’t be noticed or…I only want to bring you back safely.”

Sherlock huffs. “Captain–”

“Mr. Holmes.” Sherlock hopes he isn’t imagining the soothing stroke of his thumb. “This isn’t because I don’t think you can handle yourself. This is because I want to make sure you arrive home safely.”

Sherlock shifts where he stands. His mind is hardly functioning due to the touch. “All right,” he manages, his voice hoarse.

——

Tags: @a-victorian-girl @whatnext2020 @totallysilvergirl @thegildedbee @with-a-ghost-mr-holmes @jawnn-watson @blogstandbygo @lisbeth-kk @holmesianlove @7-percent @itsonlytext @chinike @peanitbear @helloliriels @keirgreeneyes @ghostofnuggetspast @dw91165 @jolieblack @gwendelaneyisjohnlocked @cortina @kettykika78 @johnlockbbc @dapetty @bs2sjh

(If you wish to be tagged, let me know. If you don’t wish to be tagged, let me know as well.)

So yes, I’ve been working very hard with this fic. My goal is to finish writing the whole fic, and then post the chapters! I’ve never worked that way before, but I’ve found that it’s a lot easier for me so I’m not rushing through the process to write and then get the next chapter out lol.

Thank you all <33