#i feel like that's an unsafe tag lol

[skywalkr-nberrie]

Suggesting that Anakin’s love for Padmé was “conditional” doesn’t fit right when you know he continues to love her just as intensely and feel extreme guilt and remorse over what HE did to her for the entirety of his life.

[bloodtwin]

@accultant // continued from here.

        HAD  THEY  ALWAYS  BEEN  so sassy with him ？ No. No, certainly not any time recently. He would not have allowed such a thing. ( He almost does not allow it now. Almost snaps back at them, but he swallows the bark before it bites. )  

        When they were children, maybe. He knows they used to tease him, but that isn’t the same thing as being sassy. Snappy. Within the privacy of his tent, Puck lets himself frown, for he cannot remember.

If he cannot remember, then that aspect of their youth, of Iago’s younger self & their personality, is lost forever. For a moment, Puck feels as if he’s been kicked to the ground, a giant’s boot weighing heavily on his chest. It cracks his ribs. Crushes his heart. He allows the feeling to wash over him, for it may give him even a sliver of understanding. 

He has, once again, stripped his own twin of another piece of their identity. ( He is always trampling over Iago. Cracking their ribs with his boot. ) He has so thoroughly rinsed them of any semblance of individuality that it startles him each time he catches a glimpse of who they used to be. 

        Of course, they had to forget him entirely for those glimpses to even exist. 

        A pretty bug. That’s all. They only want to show him a pretty bug they found. It’s endearing ; it’s sickening. It makes him want to cry. He doesn’t know when the last time they wanted to show him something so simple. 

There was a time once when they were little, though it likely wasn’t the last incident like it, where Iago showed Puck a worm they found & he ate it just to watch their nose scrunch up in disgust before they both started to laugh. Did they remember that before they forgot it all ？ Would they ever remember it ？

Bitterly, Puck wishes he didn’t remember. He never used to think about any of this, but now it’s all he can think about. Every time Iago looks at him but doesn’t see him, he thinks about their childhood. Every time they speak to him like he’s a stranger, he realizes just how much they’ve left behind & just how little he’s actually retained of it. And he’s the one who has to, now. 

Puck realizes he hasn’t answered them. They’re still waiting outside, and he hasn’t answered them. Briefly, he thinks about not answering at all, but he must have changed his mind without informing himself because he’s already opening the flap to his tent. 

Tense silence as he stares at Iago. His eyes flick from their face to their hands where the moth must be hiding before returning to their face. 

        ❝ Show me. ❞ He hates how cold his own voice sounds. 

[kerryweaverlesbian]

"Meg, are you hurt?"

"Shut up."

I'm just. Obsessed with them.

[bisexualdinahlance]

There's only so many pimms fics out there and while I'm happy I'm no longer seeing five million "Kent was an abusive narcissist and jack did nothing wrong" fics i kinda hate that most of the stuff I see now have swung in the almost complete opposite direction to "Kent did nothing wrong and Jack is a self centered piece of shit but it's okay guys bc Kent forgives him". Like that's not really better! What happened to nuance what happened to "we both owe each other apologies"!!

[beesorcery]

google how do i tell my dad that the reason i keep bringing up elon musk's transphobia isn't that i've got gen z political tunnel vision that makes me blind to his "innovation" in electric cars but because i am desperately crying out for you as the father of a trans child to feel just as outraged and angry as i am that that man has so much power

[krockat]

hey. Hey. person reading this right now. if you already feel bad about this, or are aware of this, and you for example have intrusive thoughts about dirt and stuff - don't feel so bad about this.

and i think the implication that 'everyone should feel after touching any public surface like they've touched dog poo'

and by extension that that should feel poison and by perhaps extension even perhaps Should make you feel dread, and perhaps even feel like a bad or shameful person for it?

i think, we should probably walk that back a little. i think it easily comes across as that, and could be triggering people's anxieties about this, in an unfair way.

absolutely - cleaning your hands good and keeping good hygiene is good, but the feeling bad about it part? you do not need to feel bad or anxious or dread about it during or about it.

you also do not have to Make yourself feel so bad about it.

and if you read this and realize maybe you haven't taken your hand hygiene seriously enough, you can always change and improve.

and that it will be okay. change, good change, can always start today. there are also many good handwashing tutorials that came into (re) creation after covid hit 2020.

also, for context - because I do not mean to be rude to op or previous commenter, i am specifically writing this as a person who has intrusive thoughts and dirt phobia, but am recovering,

and I just feel like this post has great points and perspectives that I don't often see shared - that I want to reblog! and also wanted to talk about that perhaps moral ocd/dirt ocd triggery thing, and not let that pass without that commentary.

and that also as a person with intrusive thoughts and dirt phobia, that YES oh my gosh THANK you,

it really is so scary sometimes and isolating how people do not even consider these things with hygiene, and I've also talked to people about it but they still don't see the point!

i know my fears and concerns about dirt are not Just irrational - and I feel like people often dismiss my knowledge about dirt and hygiene Because I have these diagnoses.

And i Guess it's easy to ignore my concerns and pleas if they can dismiss me because of them.

Washing my hands as I come home?? a given. also washing my hands before I touch my cat!

cats can also get covid (last I heard, that was mid early hit of the pandemic hitting though, science might have found more) and so like i do Not want to mess around - not for me Or for him!

also I've known so many people who don't wash their hands after using the bathroom.

tw for below: REALLY nasty hand hygiene

i had a parent (i disowned them) that used to sometimes skip out on washing his hands after he shat.

like I could hear him shitting and could also hear him flushing, not turning on the washbin, and immediately exiting the bathroom.

i tried to tell the rest of my family members and others but they just didn't believe me.

also if you touch your genitals (including dicks) or underwear in the bathroom, or touch the toilet, or the toilet roll that has been used, You should wash your hands! It's Not Cleannn

I Do Not get people who do not get that. at all.

in the vein of "how do you stay safe from getting sick", I wanna say that something I always noticed as a kid was that a lot of the time when I went to people's houses and we would leave at some point to the mall or the park or something and then come back home…I don't remember any of them washing their hands when we got back inside. they'd just immediately lead me back to their room or the living room or something, and then I'd feel incredibly self-conscious about going to their bathroom to wash my own hands. and I always thought it was absolutely bizarre because the way I was raised, the first thing you do when you come back home after taking your shoes and jacket off is go wash your hands. it's common sense. why on planet earth would you not wash your hands. you've just been touching a hundred public surfaces that could have anything on them and you think as soon as you set foot in your own house all the germs you've picked up just evaporate? it's absolutely insane to me to know that so many people don't bother washing their hands. WASH YOUR HANDS.

[non-un-topo]

Any time some of that oil escapes my little puncture site there's a moment where I expect my body to suck it back in, like it's thirsty. Isn't it thirsty?

[fardf150]

ig my problem is that when ppl who ive never spoken to who dont and will never have a reason to refer to me ask my pronouns it feels too much like the "are you a boy or girl" question. like im cool when theyre asking everybody bc they plan on knowing and talking to all of us. but when they approach me and only me and i dont know them it's like Oh youre just uncomfortable with the fact that i confuse you and you need to be able to classify me

[nereidprinc3ss]

weber's law

in which spencer reid comforts fem!reader when she's having a panic attack at the rossi mansion

fluff warnings/tags: panic attack lol, spencer is really cute and sweet my little perfect cutie pie angel baby, classic spencer info dumps bc they're pretty much his love language, established relationship, cheesy and sweet at the end a/n: this one is for my queens with panic disorders who are triggered by literally nothing and everything i see you have this ilysm

When Spencer had invited you to a small get-together at Rossi’s, you’d imagined a small get-together at Rossi’s. 

And maybe that makes you a complete idiot. 

Or maybe Spencer is just so used to FBI work functions that to him, this really is small.

But now you’re sitting on an expensive couch in a very nice house, and you’re surrounded by FBI agents who are all milling around and talking and laughing, and you’re worried maybe your outfit doesn’t look as nice on you as you’d thought it did, and you keep having very vivid visions of spilling your drink all over a furry throw rug that probably costs more than your rent does. 

Music that could reasonably be considered relaxing or at the very least not objectionable plays over the sound system throughout the whole house and thus is inescapable—not that you’d get up from the couch even if you could, because Spencer is sitting to your right and he has his hand on your thigh and it’s the only thing that has until this point been keeping you from a full blown panic attack.

Maybe that makes you a complete idiot, too.

Regardless, you try to focus on nothing but the weight of his hand as it travels slowly up and down from knee to hip over the jeans you’re not so sure about, and the feeling of your breath coming and going, as slow as you can possibly summon it without passing out. 

Spencer is laughing at something JJ is saying as she stands next to the couch with Will and you really like JJ but her voice seems so loud right now, and nothing is going particularly wrong but everything feels so, so wrong it’s scary. 

All the buzzing tension in your body telling you to run away because you’re unsafe and at the same time locking you into place builds until you have to express it somehow. So you revert to an old habit—bouncing your leg rapidly like a rabbit thumping its foot. It’s not entirely conscious, but it feels better than being completely still. That is, until Spencer’s hand strays inward and cups just above your inner knee, where he begins fanning his thumb back and forth over the fabric. 

“What’s this?” he murmurs, head angled toward you and voice low enough to not draw attention. You force yourself to plant your heel to the ground even though it worsens the feeling of gears crunching in your chest. 

“Nothing. Sorry.”

That gets his attention. 

Because of course it does. He’s always telling you to stop saying sorry so often. 

His tone solidifies, still quiet but committed to this conversation now and no longer the whispery apparition of a quick aside. 

“Why are you sorry?” 

“I don’t know, it wasn’t—it’s nothing.”

You barely avoid apologizing again. 

For a moment he doesn’t speak, just watches you—and you make the mistake of raising your gaze to meet his. He has that curious, analytical look about him, concern tightening his eyes and knitting his brow. He’s doing that annoying mind-reading thing again, and as soon as he actually sees your eyes, he’s figured you out. 

“Do you want to go outside for a minute? Get some air?”

After examining his face for any clues that he’d rather stay in here, (not that you’d really know what to look for), you nod hesitantly. Spencer mirrors your nod and stands, holding out his hand for you to take as you follow suit after setting your drink on a side table (without spilling.)

JJ is now wrapped up in conversation with another agent and the two of you manage to abscond without attracting unwanted attention, which makes you feel slightly better as Spencer leads you deftly through rooms with high-vaulted ceilings and big windows and heavy, expensive looking oak furniture. It seems like you’ve been wandering through a maze when you arrive to a quieter part of the house and he opens a french door for you—which leads out onto an empty patio. 

A cool breeze immediately sinks into your skin, and your nervous system is so hyper-alert that it gives you chills. Spencer notices the way you shiver and steps closer after closing the door behind him, his hand finding the small of your back immediately. 

“You okay?” he asks, intentionally avoiding impeding your view of the sweeping backyard and the trees beyond. Sometimes focusing on something stationary is less overwhelming, but they’re so tall they seem imposing. Threatening, even. 

But then again, everything feels threatening right now. 

“Yeah. I’m fine.”

Spencer seems unconvinced by your monotone—when you glance over at him he’s still watching you like you’re a puzzle to be solved. 

“Are you sure? You can tell me if you’re not.”

“Why are you so convinced something is wrong?” you laugh, but it comes out too manic. You cross your arms. He looks pointedly at the motion. 

“For starters, that. Often times crossing your arms is a subconscious way of comforting yourself when you feel defensive or threatened. And you could say it’s because you’re cold, but—” he pauses, reaching out to touch your cheek. “I can feel how hot your face is, and you shivered when we came outside even though it’s 71 degrees because your nervous system is overreacting to external stimuli. The leg-bouncing is also often indicative of an activated parasympathetic nervous system. Is me touching you okay?”

Again, you nod—unsure how to deflect when he calls you out so efficiently. 

Spencer’s hand slides down to just beneath your jaw, where he rests two fingers. Each second that passes has him looking progressively more worried. You wish you weren’t quite so catatonic—the fairy lights hanging from the pergola shine through his hair and make him glow so appealingly you want to kiss his cheek. 

“Your heart rate is really high, honey.”

That would be due to the sense of impending doom. Thanks for pointing it out.

But you’ve lost your words, and along with them has gone your sense of humor. All you can manage for a 30 second span is a meaningless shake of your head as you avert your eyes, staring at the sprawling carpet of blue-green grass soaked in night as each blade doubles with your tears. 

“I think I’m dying,” you finally croak.

“Technically, we all are. Very slowly.”

Ah. There’s that social tact he’s so well known for. 

“Spencer.”

“Right,” he kisses your cheek as you stare up at him, affronted, and pulls you into his chest. “Sorry. I was actually trying to be helpful. Changes in brain chemistry and hormonal activity associated with panic attacks change your perception of time and make things feel really fast which can contribute to feelings of anxiety. But in reality time is moving just the same as it always is. One second is always one second. Sometimes remembering that helps me to slow down. Not literally, of course. My gravitational pull isn’t great enough to have any discernible effect on the passage of time.”

You sniff, pressing your cheek to his tie. His words make your head spin, seeing as you hadn't been prepared for a lecture in psychophysics—but it spins in the opposite direction than it had been going previously. It's nice.

“Change your perception of time?”

“Weber’s law of perception. Stimulus sensitivity will increase proportionally with increased stimulus intensity. You’re only perceiving time to be going faster because your cortisol and adrenaline levels are making you hyper-vigilant and sensitive to all the markers of time passing.”

“Like what?”

Spencer hums, the bass of it a comforting resonance against your ear, and strokes your hair unhurriedly. 

“Like… your internal clock. Your body measures time with your heartbeat, so when your heart rate increases, time seems to go faster. Also environmental cues, which lead you to understand that the world is not stagnant and thus is not frozen in time. Like the sound of the wind chimes…” he pauses, long enough for you to realize that indeed, you can hear the gentle, sonorous ringing and tinkling of steel chimes bouncing against each other. “And the wind itself, which is coming all the way from the Gulf of Mexico. Some studies actually suggest that wind direction can affect your energy levels and mood.”

It’s a gentle breeze more than it is full-blown wind. It feels cool against your hot skin. 

Spencer’s hand on the back of your head, still rhythmically smoothing your hair, seems to slow down the passage of time as well. You focus on that, and the sound of the wind chimes and the breeze on your skin for a few minutes, until your breathing and your heart rate slow and soon you regain your footing in the temporal dimension, exactly sure of where you stand on Rossi’s patio and in your boyfriend’s arms. 

“You tricked me into doing a grounding exercise,” you mumble into Spencer’s jacket. 

“I did not trick you,” he defends, voice quiet to match yours. “I just wanted to make you feel better. Did it work?”

You pull away from him and he lets you, watching on as you sniffle and wipe your tears on your sleeves. 

“Yeah, it did. Thank you.”

For a moment, neither of you speak as you gather yourself. He leads you by the hand to a cushioned hanging bench at the end of the patio, taking a seat next to you and gently rocking the swing. 

“Do you know what triggered that?” Spencer asks, over the gentle creaking sound. You shrug, observing the dance of the fireflies in the grass. 

“Nothing. Sometimes I just feel like everything’s wrong and scary but I didn’t want to tell you and ruin your night.”

“Hey,” Spencer murmurs, pulling you into him with an arm around your shoulder. “You are not ruining my night. I don’t want you to worry about that.”

“But all your friends and coworkers are inside, and you’re out here with me.”

He angles his head down toward you and you look up to meet his eyes, even warmer than the sticky summer night. 

“I am. Do you know why?”

“Because I suck,” you sniffle, more hot tears rolling down your cheeks as you attempt to look away. But Spencer’s not having it. He encourages you to sit up again so you can look at him properly, before wiping tears away gently with his thumb. When he speaks, it’s in soft, soothing tones. 

“No. I’m out here because if all my friends were inside having fun, and you were outside having a panic attack, I would choose you every time.”

You manage a laugh through the crying. 

“I don’t know if that’s healthy.”

“Whether or not it’s healthy is an entirely different discussion,” Spencer smiles wryly, before it melts into something softer and more sincere. “All that matters is that it’s true.”

For a while after that, you simply lay your head on his shoulder. Spencer controls the speed of the swing with his much-longer legs, kissing your head and rubbing your arm as you admire the expanse of Rossi’s lush yard bathed in moonlight and the black silhouette of the forest beyond. 

Eventually, Spencer speaks again, likely to make sure you’re not spiraling alone in your head. 

“Can I tell you an extremely classified secret that I've been trying really hard to keep to myself for three days?” he asks, and the mischievous edge to his voice catches your attention. You hum in assent, already wondering what kind of information Spencer would have a hard time keeping to himself. It could be anything. 

“Anderson is sleeping with Childers from Operational Tech.”

“What?”

Despite not working for the FBI yourself, Spencer and Penelope have you so filled in on the drama that you know exactly why that’s shocking. 

You pick your head up to look at him like do not fuck with me right now. 

His eyes sparkle as he nods.

“Yep.”

“Didn’t you tell me Childers was dating that girl in sex crimes?”

Spencer raises his eyebrows. The corner of his mouth twitches. You gasp. 

“No! What? Does Anderson know?”

“I don’t know. I certainly didn’t want to be the one to tell him.”

“Wait—Anderson told you this?”

“Yeah!” He laughs incredulously at your complete disbelief. “People tell me things! I’m an excellent confidant!”

“If you’re relaying all of this information to me then you’re a terrible confidant,” you chuckle, still watery—but feeling light years better. 

Spencer brushes your hair away from your face fondly, leaning a fraction of an inch closer. 

“You don’t count. Telling you secrets is basically the same as keeping them to myself.”

“Basically,” you tease, angling your head up by a few degrees in invitation. Spencer says nothing, does nothing for a long moment—just studies you with soft eyes, continues stroking your cheek. When he takes too long to kiss you, you get impatient. “I’m still kinda anxious, you know.”

He smiles knowingly.  

“Yeah?”

“Mhm,” you nod, looking pointedly at his lips. “You should kiss me better.”

“I think that would take more than just one kiss,” he murmurs through a smile, leaning ever closer until your noses are bumping. “I think I would have to devote several hours to that. Maybe even a whole day.”

“How does tomorrow look for you?” 

He’s laughing as he finally presses his lips to yours. The kiss is sweet and lingering. 

“For you? It’s wide open.”

[imjustaf444keriguess]

everyone deserves to be safe. endos is part of everyone. endogenic systems deserve to be safe <3

also if you purposefully trigger people and cause them paranoia or harm them, then that's an asshole move, and i hope you're aware of that.

everyone deserves to be safe!

hi systems [mainly] this is important please listen up

[plain text start — hi systems [mainly] this is important please listen up — plain text end.]

POSTING YOUR TRIGGERS ONLINE FOR THE PUBLIC TO SEE OR FOR FRIENDS YOU DONT KNOW THAT WELL IS DANGEROUS. IT DOESNT MATTER WHAT SORTA TRIGGER IT IS, ITS PUTTING YOURSELF IN DANGER. NO ONE NEEDS TO KNOW YOUR TRIGGERS EVEN IF THEYRE POSITIVE.

mainly directed at minors. adults can do wtv i don't care it's your choice you should understand the consequences. CHILDREN do not. doesnr matter how "mature" you are.

also applies to stating hypersexuality, but that's a whole other convo.

endos this applies to you too. I care abt your safety too. you deserve to be safe too. stay safe

[plain text start — endos this applies to you too. I care abt your safety too. you deserve to be safe too. stay safe — plain text end]

[rowanhoney]

anyone have tips on how to spring clean ur brain and heart

[anundyingfidelity]

BLOOD, SWEAT & TEARS — Billy Butcher, Soldier Boy

Summary: A normal night where Butcher and his new pal, Soldier Boy, fuck just their stress out with a new toy, you.

Pairing: Billy Butcher x female reader x Soldier Boy

Word count: 1.5k.

Warnings: porn without plot, dom!butcher, dom!ben, one thought of dub-con but not really, double penetration, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, rough sex, vaginal sex, anal sex, unsafe sex (creampie and switching holes basically don't do it, this is just porn), squirting, dirty talk, blowjobs, facial, degradation (usage of whore, slut, etc.), cumplay, some dacryphilia, choking, hair pulling, blood, mentions of violence, Ben and Butcher being kinda jerks, normal misogyny coming from SB, some ego competition, hints to aftercare.

Notes: You already know english is not my main language, not betad and barely revised, lol sorry for the mistakes in here. The amount of horniness I have for these two I swear is not fucking normal. Normally I'd apologize for writing this, but I'm ovulating.

the boys/jackles tags: @k-slla

☕ if you like my writing, support me with a ko-fi !

GEN MASTERLIST!

A pair of rough hands held your legs open. Your empty pussy was throbing as Butcher knelt between your thighs rubbing the tip of his cock against your cunt.

You gasped, the man behind you spreading you further for his new team mate to get better access while he fucked your ass senseless. His cock reaching all the right spots. You moaned loudly, almost screaming when Butcher finally pushed inside you. Soldier Boy never seemed to cease his insane thrusts from behind.

"Luv, you're so fucking tight," Butcher grinned, your walls engulfing him perfectly.

They both soon set up a rhythm, one pushing in while the other almost slide out of your hole. Each stroke of their massive cocks inside you exploded something you never felt before. It was a new kind of spark eliciting from the deepest places, and you wanted to come undone there, over and over, forever, between their strong bodies.

"Oh, fuck! Yes right there, god!" you growled, screamed, and cried out incoherences as the two men continued fucking you to bliss.

A layer of sweat covered your skin and you rolled your eyes back, the familiar knot on your belly building up yet again. You didn't have an idea of how much time had passed since you arrived back to the dirty motel. All three of you arrived covered in blood, dirt and the weight of murder, and you still let them take you and you welcomed them the same way. You let them have fun with you however they pleased.

The last thing you remembered from that night was coming back from a mission. Your aching body begging for a shower and good sleep, but Butcher and the new supe found other ways to take their own stress out. You doubted at first. Of course you didn't know it could feel this good. They left bite marks all over your neck, nipped your tits, spanked your thighs open for their mouths to devour you while the other fucked your throat until tears streamed down your cheeks.

They continued bruising and marking your skin. Like a canvas, they left their prints, covering your flesh with different colors all over and used your mouth and pussy as they fucking wanted, granting access to the other, spreading your legs, manhandling you all over the disgusting, shitty room. Then Soldier Boy had the idea of using your ass, just for him, and at first, you were fucking scared. It was all too much. But once he had you ready and stretched enough with his fingers, you quickly fell for his rough touch and his dick, which was as huge as his ego. He was fucking addictive. Both were, in fact, fucking you amazingly hard.

One of Ben's hand wrapped around your neck, climax reaching its peak as Butcher rubbed your clit with his thumb. Your walls clenched around both of them and the vulgar sound of your pussy filled the place along with their skin hitting yours.

"Little slut, gonna cum for us?" Ben said, voice full of lust, pressing your back against his bare chest. You clenched again, his dark chuckle enhanced heaven down your cunt.

Wetness increased between your legs, and you moaned. Louder than ever. The whole place might already know what was happening in the room, but neither Ben or Billy made you shut up. In fact, they wanted you to scream your lungs out.

"Oh, she's definitely gonna cum," Butcher followed, a smirk on his lips. "C'mon sweetheart, don't be shy. Give us one more."

"I-I feel like- fuck!" with a loud cry you squirted all over them, their dicks sliding out of your holes. Shit, that was the harderst you came for the night.

Immediately you tried to close your shaky legs, but Butcher's hands held you in place, pussy clenching around nothing as your fluids coated their hard lenghts and thighs.

"Fucking hell. I'm gonna break you, sugar," Ben hissed, taking your legs and fixing your position on top of him, sliding you down his dick, but this time he claimed your pussy, pistoning in and out of you without any mercy. Even if your body still trembled and you were so fucking overstimulated. You moaned.

Butcher tskd as he watched you, tears streaming down your face and lost in pleassure. "That was mine, pal."

"Yeah, I don't give a fuck- Jesus, she's fucking tight!" Ben hoarsed.

He didn't care about Butcher, he just wanted to fuck you until you passed out and his name was the only thing on your mind.

You whimpered softly. "Please, please," you were getting there again, under the brunette man's dark eyes as the soldier fucked you insane.

But before you reached that sweet peak again, Ben pulled out of you. His strenght forced you to bend over the matress on your hands and knees, Butcher positioned himself right in front of your face. It was so fast and they moved quickly, like a dance already choreographed between them to take advantage of all you got to give.

"Open wide, baby" Butcher ordered. You complied happily, letting his cock touch the back of your throat smoothly.

Ben's rough hands gripped your hips, down your ass, giving a spank on one of your cheeks, making you jump slightly. He grabbed your ass cheeks spreading them to expose your hole, the tip of his cock teased your ass until he slid in a swift motion. You whimpered with your mouth stuffed. He filled you up perfectly and you fucking loved it.

"Such a good cumslut, taking my cock so fucking well," Ben praised, voice husky. He roughly gripped your hair, forcing yourself down more around Butcher's shaft. You gagged, he smirked. "Might just keep you around as my little, personal fuckdoll."

"Fuck- easy there, mate," Butcher warned, as you worked your tongue and lips on his cock as much as you could. "We have another deal, remember?"

Ben smirked cockily at him as you clenched around his cock. You let out a moan muffled by Butcher fucking your mouth. Both their thrusts harder than ever. "Still, I don't give a shit."

Ben's gaze admired you, hands on your hips, as he watched himself shoving into your hole. "You're gonna fucking cum again, you dirty little bitch," he ordered.

"Mmm..." You nodded as best as you could with the twitching cock on your mouth.

Butcher suddenly pulled out of your mouth, a string of saliva leaked down your lips to the tip of his cock. He kept your head in place as much as he could and jerked himself off with his other hand. He came with a hard groan all over your pretty face. His white seed painted your cheeks, lips and your tongue sticking out as you shut your eyes.

"Bloody hell, don't you look ravishing," Butcher whispered darkly. His thumb collected his cum, now mixed with your tears and a small stain of dry blood on your face. He dragged it to your lips so you could taste it. Your plump lips closed around his finger with a moan.

"Insatiable slut, just how I like them," Ben hissed, pulling out of your asshole, making you whimper. "Now, I'm gonna cum inside this pretty little pussy."

He rubbed the tip of his dick on your slit and entered slowly. You felt every inch stretching you out and he slammed into you brutally, he was so fucking close. You could feel it. It surprised you how much they actually endured, their stamina was endless and you lost count of how many times they made you cum already. And yet, you felt that precious sensation anew, soft walls clenching repeatedly around him.

"C'mon whore," Ben gripped on your hair, pulling your back against his muscular chest, taking both your wrists with his other hand. "Cum around my cock."

Your cunt pulsed, he grunted. And you came, again, with shaky legs, shaky breath and the sight of a naked Butcher, who already had taken a seat on the couch in front of the bed. Your orgasm triggered Ben's, and he filled you up completely. You cried out when his fingers found your clit, the grip on your hair long gone now. He continued fucking his cum inside you, balls deep, until he started to soften inside you. His thrusts slowed down little by little.

Ben finally pulled out, letting go of your wrists and you collapsed on your hands and knees on the mattress. He spread out your pussy with his fingers and admired his white cum dripping out of you.

"Well, that was a fucking ride," he smiled. His middle finger wiped his seed and forced it back inside your pulsing cunt. "Fuck, where do you find these kind of women?"

Butcher shrugged. "I have my contacts."

"I'm still here, y'know," you breathed out, rolling on your back.

Ben hovered over your tired figure. Messy hair, cheeks stained with Butcher's cum, teary eyes, and some dry blood spots decorated your face. They did break you and put you back into pieces. He was damn proud of that. He leaned down and sucked into the skin of your neck. You moaned, your fingers tangled on his scalp as his lips carressed your neck, his beard burning on your soft skin.

"Ben, I'm tired," you said, and he stopped his kisses. He shared a suspicious look with Butcher and then locked his lustful green eyes with yours.

The supe winked at you. "Later, doll."

You rolled your eyes and heard Butcher standing up.

"Gonna prepare you a bath, luv," he said as he disappeared inside the bathroom. "Have to take good care of ya."

[thisapplepielife]

Written for @steddiesongfics.

Vigilante Shit

October Prompt: Vigilante Shit by Taylor Swift | Word Count: 7777 | Rating: E | CW: Unsafe Sex, Mildly Dubious Consent | Tags: Modern AU, Past Break-Up, Divorced, Angst, Exes-to-Lovers, Hopeful Ending, Famous Eddie, Corroded Coffin, Platonic Stobin: Ride or Die (Eddie Might Die If Robin Has Her Way, lol), Unsafe Sex, Barebacking, Hurt/Comfort, Love/Hate, Except It's All Love Underneath, Mr. Americana and the Heartbreak Prince

Also available right here on ao3.

they say looks can kill and I might try Taylor Swift, Vigilante Shit

Steve steps out of the taxi, and looks down, smoothing the lines of his shirt. Hoping it's not too wrinkled. He's left it unbuttoned one more button than would be considered decent, but nothing about today is going to end up decent, he's sure of it. The fabric is tight, midnight blue and clinging to his sides, his biceps, tailored to perfection. He made sure of it. When he looks good, he feels good. And today? He needs to at least feel good about how he looks. 

He stands on the sidewalk, shrugging on the leather jacket that doesn't actually belong to him. The one with the chained up broken zipper on the sleeve. The one from before. A relic of years gone by, of kids that have been dead and buried by adulthood.

He doesn't actually need it, weather-wise. But if he's digging up bones, he might as well dig deep.

And he looks good in it, without fucking question.

Tonight he isn't dressing for women, or men. He's dressing for revenge.

The event space is old, he can tell. One of those remodeled places, salvaged from the hands of time. He's never been here before, and wishes he didn't have to be at today, either. He wishes he was seven hundred miles away, at home. When the plane touched down here this morning, he felt like he was being suffocated. Like the air was thicker, like he was being stifled, just because he lives here.

Steve avoids the city like the plague. Henderson moved here a few years ago, though, and Steve would be lying if he hadn't felt betrayed. He felt like a side had been chosen, and that it wasn't his. 

Steve knows that's irrational. But he still feels that way, especially when he's alone with his thoughts. Robin has gotten sick of hearing about it. She's the only person on earth he feels comfortable letting see how much he still hurts.

How much he'll always be hurt, maybe.

Coming here today feels a little bit like torture, and opting out was definitely his first instinct. 

But here Steve is. He couldn't do that to Henderson.

Even if he lives in town. It's not like Henderson ever mentions him anymore. Dustin quickly learned that was a bridge not to cross with Steve if he wished to continue living.

So, Steve cut off his nose to spite his own face, like a fucking idiot. Now he gets no information on Eddie, no secondhand gossip from friends, no nothing that doesn't come from the gossip rags. 

Steve double-checks his reflection in the door of the brick building, fingers combing through his hair. Looks good. Like the rest of him. That much he is confident about. Everything else is the problem.

It's an old building, and when the old elevator opens, Steve looks around the big, airy ballroom. There's an open window seat, and he walks over and perches in it, waiting. The setting sun is warm on his back, and while he hasn't heard for sure, he knows in his gut that Eddie will be here. There's no way Eddie's missing Henderson's engagement party. 

Even if that means seeing Steve.

Steve had checked the tour schedule, hoping, praying he'd be halfway across the world tonight. But there was a suspicious looking break in their dates. As if this had been planned around it. 

It probably was.

But Steve can't worry about Eddie. He will, of fucking course, but it would be so much better for his own well-being if he didn't.

Eddie cut the first tie between them, but Steve is the one that burned the bridges behind him, making it permanent. If Eddie wanted to run from him, well, then he was gonna stay fucking gone. Steve wasn't interested in providing any sort of lifeline for Eddie to ever use to climb out of the hole he insisted on digging for himself.

Robin and Henderson have both said in soft, roundabout ways that Steve was kind of being a dick. Being petty, bitchy, mean. But Steve doesn't care. He got his heart broken. He lost his husband. He can be all of those things, and more. 

Steve spins the ring on his finger, the one he hasn't worn in years. The old gold band that he dug out of the back of his closet, and spent all morning polishing into a gut punch.

His motto for tonight: Don't get sad, get even.

He wishes Robin were already here, but she's never been on time a day in her life. Every flight she's ever booked has been delayed, if not outright canceled, and today was no different. Unfortunately, that means he's sitting off to the edge of the ballroom by himself, waiting for something to happen.

Nothing does.

Friends who have become closer to strangers mingle, and laugh, leaving him on fringes, alone. And Steve knows that's his fault. He cut a large swath out of his life, isolating himself. Licking his wounds in solitary confinement. Robin is his only companion, besides his misery and grief.

He needs to suck it up, go mingle, force himself to dole out apologies and be a little more active in the festivities, certain that he's been foolish. Eddie isn't coming after all.

Steve makes his way over to Dustin.

"Congrats, kiddo," Steve says, wrapping his arm around Dustin's shoulders, squeezing.

"About damn time, I thought you were gonna sulk in the corner all night," Dustin snaps, and Steve laughs. No, he's not gonna do that. He just needed a minute. And he gets that Henderson understood that. He's a good kid, a good man, now.

He keeps talking, "I thought you were gonna go on some sort of anti-marriage tirade."

No, no, Steve was wrong. He is still a little shit.

"I'm not anti-marriage," Steve says, and he isn't. Sure, his didn't work out, but he's not going around assuming that everybody else's will end up the same way.

Unless they plan on marrying Eddie. Then, that's on them. Play dumb games, win stupid prizes.

"He was supposed to come tonight," Dustin admits.

Yeah, Steve figured as much, "Sorry he let you down, kid."

Dustin looks up at him, "Sorry he let you down, too."

Yeah, well. Shit happens.

The room is sparkling with twinkling lights that look even better as the sun melts into the horizon. Tray after tray of drinks and passed hors d'oeuvres make the rounds, and everyone seems happy to see him, maybe forgiving him a little too easily for his disappearing act. 

They come see him in his window, like it's his new office. Handing him drinks, food. Doling out hugs and kisses. Stories. Sharing their lives with him.

Robin comes in earlier than he expected her, and she throws her hands in the air, announcing her arrival.

Dustin hugs her, and then she marches over to the window seat he's been holding court from.

He stands, and she steps into his arms, squeezing him tight, "Hi, dingus. Sorry I'm late."

"You're early," he says, and she's not. She's nearly an hour late. But for him, she's right on time.

Eddie didn't come. He doesn't have to say it, she knows. He feels foolish. He's wearing Eddie's leather jacket and his old wedding band, and dwelling on a past Eddie clearly doesn't give a flying fuck about.

Steve squeezes Robin back. It's been too long. Living in separate cities is for the goddamn birds. Maybe he should move closer to her. Pack up his life and just hit the road and be wherever she wants to be, always.

That sounds like the best plan for a lifetime of happiness that he's had in a goddamn long time.

"We could call the FBI. Tell them he's a drug mule. Tell them he's evading taxes."

Steve doesn't think either of those things are true.

He's about to say so when he feels the air in the room change. 

Fuck.

He drops back to the bricks, not really able to stand under these conditions.

Eddie's here, Steve can't see him yet, refuses to scour the room, looking, searching, but he knows. He always knew when Eddie manifested himself into Steve's presence. Like a magic trick Steve doesn't know the secret behind, and probably never will. 

Steve leans back, and sprawls out on the brick window sill he's been sitting in, and Robin is looking down at him wide-eyed. Because she's well aware of the only thing here that could knock his feet out from him.

She steps to the side and turns to look.

And he's determined to keep his head up. He's gonna meet this head-on, no-holds-barred. If Eddie wants to look away, wants to run like he always does, then he can be the one to do that. Again. Because Steve's got nothing to be ashamed about.

He didn't fuck up their lives. Eddie did.

Two black suits, his private security Steve's sure, flank Eddie. Like there's a threat at his friend's engagement party. Fucking ridiculous. 

Well.

Maybe there is a threat: Steve. 

At least a threat to his peace, and as if on cue Eddie stops in the middle of the room and stares. Steve stares back. Wrist resting over his own bent knee. They say looks can kill, and tonight Steve damn well might try.

Steve won't blink first, won't back down.

And eventually Eddie gives, loses, and looks away.

Steve smiles to himself, taking a sip of his drink, swirling the ice in the lowball glass, as Robin's eyebrows have permanently lodged themselves into her hairline. He makes small talk with her, when he knows she wants to say so fucking much about what just happened. There will be time for that later, time to dissect and replay, but only then does he unfold himself from the window seat, sauntering across the room, stopping to talk to his friends. His. 

Steve doesn't look his way again, but he can definitely feel the eyes boring into him as he moves around the room. Good. Let him stare. 

On the way back from the bathroom, Steve passes a little too close to the sun.

And Eddie reaches out, snagging Steve's hand in his, squeezing it hard enough that it pinches his skin between the ring he has no business wearing, but Steve doesn't react. Doesn't give him the satisfaction of knowing he can get to him in any way.

Not anymore.

He just looks at Eddie, and Eddie stares back. 

Eddie doesn't let go. Instead he shifts his hand, sliding it upwards, until he's hooked his finger through the chain on the jacket sleeve, and starts to pull Steve by it, like he's on a lead. His feet betray him, and he follows. 

So do the bodyguards.

"No, stay," Eddie says, like they're guard dogs. Maybe they are. They definitely heel to his command.

And he leads Steve out of the ballroom, down a long hallway, trying to push open door after locked door, until he finds one that gives, swinging open. It's empty, and probably used for staging or a dressing room during other events. There's a fancy couch, and the whole place is lit by the moonlight coming through the deep-set windows.

Only then does he let go. Steve feels burned.

But he doesn't react to that, instead Steve stands there, hands on his hips as Eddie lingers, several paces away, staring back. 

He didn't ask for this, for any of this.

"What the fuck do you want?" Steve snaps, and Eddie's teeth are showing as he stalks forward. Steve refuses to take a step back, refuses to flinch or lose an inch of ground to him. Eddie's not gonna steamroll him, not ever again.

"What the fuck is this?" Eddie asks, reaching out and squeezing Steve's wrist. The jacket. Then flicking Steve's finger, the ring, as it rests on his hip.

"It's a wedding ring. I know that's probably confusing for you, since you never wore one of them. It ruined your aesthetic, or whatever this is," Steve mocks, waving his hand around Eddie's whole being. All the black leather and silver jewelry that doesn't mean shit.

Eddie ignores all that, and his eyes narrow down on Steve's hand, demanding, "You marry somebody else wearing my ring?"

"Maybe I did," Steve snaps. "What's it to you?"

And Eddie loses the standoff. His hands find his hair as he roughly pulls at it, spinning in a circle.

Steve smirks. 

"You want it back? Here. Take it," Steve spits out, angry, so fucking pissed off for the past decade or more, pulling the ring off his finger and throwing it. Listening as it hits the wall across the room, and then clatters across the hardwood flooring. 

He shrugs out of the jacket and throws it next. Hitting Eddie square in the chest.

The sound Eddie makes is distraught, feral, and if Steve didn't know he's only bullshit and bluster, he'd probably be scared.

But he's not scared of Eddie Munson. At least not in the way the rest of the world is, hoodwinked by the reputation he built with his carefully cultured public image that is just lie after lie.

Steve wasn't sure what would happen next, but Eddie on his hands and knees, patting around in the dark, his phone flashlight darting around trying to catch the glimmer of metal, wasn't what Steve expected.

"Why fucking bother?" Steve asks as he crosses his arms over his chest. Because honestly? He doesn't need it. He made his point. He cut him. He won this round. He needs to leave before he gets left. Again.

And Eddie didn't want him to have it back then, so why waste time digging up old bones? Let sleeping dogs lie. 

"Because," Eddie grits out.

"Just let it go, Eddie. Just like you let me go," Steve snaps, and Eddie's head whips up, the flashlight suddenly blinding Steve.

Steve shields his eyes, "Put that down, asshole."

"Then don't fucking say that," Eddie snaps.

"Like it's not true?"

It is true, and Eddie can't even begin to deny it. He fucking ran, two years into their marriage. Two years that they spent more nights apart than they did together. Two years where they were too young. Too different. At least that's what everyone else said when the dust settled. Like, it was just a mistake anyone could have seen coming.

Like, two years had been a good run, but that this had always been the expected end result.

Steve hadn't expected it. 

That didn't matter, though. They divorced, long-distance, papers delivered and signed through lawyers. All contact completely severed. And then they both spent more than a decade being extra careful to not wind up in the same region, let alone the same building, or room.

Now, here they are. Eddie on his hands and knees rooting around for ancient history, and Steve wishing he could be swallowed up by the floor under his feet just to be out of here. Away. Anywhere else.

It's bullshit. All of it.

Eddie finds it with a huffed laugh, and Steve isn't sure what happens next. Does Eddie pocket it? Keep it? 

No, he stands, and stalks over to Steve, "You wanna wear it? You're gonna wear it."

And he forces it back onto Steve's hand, a perversion of the first time he did it. It catches on his knuckle, and hurts as Eddie forces it on, but Steve watches it happen, can't look away. 

Then, Eddie's even further in his personal space, mouth closing over Steve's, hand sliding into Steve's hair, pulling. Steve kisses him back, hands digging into his back, holding on tight to everything he's already lost.

Steve's whole fucking body betrays him. He moans in Eddie's mouth, dick rushing towards hard, as Eddie leans further into him.

Learning all Steve's secrets from his time away.

Steve doesn't want Eddie to know anything about him.

He also wants him to know everything.

It's infuriating.

Even more so when Eddie spins him around, shoving him forwards, making Steve catch himself on the back of the couch.

Eddie puts his hand in the middle of Steve's back, and presses downwards, hard. Bending him over the back side of the vintage couch. Steve goes, willingly. The ornate wood trim digging into his belly. Eddie's hand rubs up and down his sides, hands feeling how his shirt is hugging his skin, and Steve knew it was a good choice. But he doesn't have time to gloat before Eddie's fingers slide around, brushing Steve's stomach, slowly unbuttoning every button of his shirt. Roughly pulling it from his arms, catching on his wrists before being tugged loose, then moving on to unhooking his belt, unbuttoning his jeans, before yanking them down his thighs.

Steve digs the toe of his boot into the hardwood floor, trying to get some leverage that he knows he'll need. It's gonna be rough, and fast, and hard. Desperate. 

Overdue.

Maybe a little bit mean. Steve's not sure what kind of headspace Eddie's in. Hadn't had the chance to really gauge him, before he was drug away into the darkness to fight and fuck about unfinished business.

All their business is unfinished.

Eddie's pressed flush to his back, his palm pressing into the center of Steve's chest, his fingers moving through his chest hair. His cock, hard through his jeans, pressing into Steve's ass. A promise, or a threat.

Either, both, maybe. And then Eddie makes good on it. Steve hears him tearing open foil. Then he feels the cool liquid running down his crack. He tries not to jump, startle. Of course Eddie's carrying travel packets of lube. He shouldn't have assumed anything else.

Then there are slick fingers, one, then two, pressing at him, in him. Sliding deep, working to push all his buttons, proving Eddie hasn't forgotten a goddamn thing. One hand working fingers inside him, the other palming his balls before reaching down to tug on his cock. Just like Steve always liked. But Steve won't make any noise. Won't give Eddie the satisfaction. But Steve's breathing deep and hard, panting as he pushes back against Eddie's hand. Demanding more.

Eddie listens for once, too fast, too soon, and Eddie's breaching him. Steve wanted to draw this out. But that cock that Steve has loved, missed, needed is working him open, fast and rough. It's not enough, it's too much. All at once.

Steve loses, can't bite it back any longer, and Steve huffs out a whine of a breath as Eddie slams into him. He hasn't felt this in years. It's exactly the same, but totally different, too. It's like being fucked by a complete stranger.

It's also like coming home.

He squeezes his eyes shut and tries to keep quiet. The last thing he wants is any of their friends to see him like this. To know that he allowed himself to be bent over this easily. That all he had to do was spend fifteen minutes alone with Eddie before he allowed his resolve to crumble to dust, desperate for it, the second Eddie laid hands on him.

Eddie's not wearing a condom, Steve can feel the difference, can feel the ease of the slide in a way that he hasn't since Eddie cut and ran. Steve knows he should be mad, furious that Eddie thinks he still has that right. That he thinks his blanket permission from a decade ago overrides a goddamn divorce. But Steve's not mad. And he hates that he's not mad. Resents that he gets off on the fact that it's still only Eddie that has been invited inside him, and has been allowed to leave his mark deep, in more ways than one.

"Fuck you, Harrington," Eddie says, and Steve claws at the fabric of the couch, blunt fingernails scraping against the rough texture of it. 

"You already are, asshole," Steve says back.

Eddie laughs. It sounds more delighted than deranged, and if Steve keeps his eyes shut, he can pretend this was another lifetime ago. 

It's easy to go along for the ride, just allowing himself to feel what he hasn't in so many years. It's not like he's been celibate, or alone, but he has been without this. Without Eddie, and having a taste of it again might just wreck him.

There are lips against his back, and a cock splitting him wide. In his mind he's twenty-two and in love. Really in love. 

When he opens them again, he's thirty-four, and bitter. Broken.

Angry. 

So goddamn angry that his life, their life, turned out to be bullshit.

And suddenly the tears burn his eyes. Fuck. He's gonna cry. He reaches up to pinch the bridge of his nose, as if he can stave it off with that alone. As if he can just will it away, by wanting it bad enough. But it's not working. He's gonna do the very last thing he ever wanted to have happen in Eddie's presence ever again. When he can't hold it back a second longer, he hitches in a ragged breath, and Eddie stutters, stilling all momentum, immediately.

It nearly gives Steve whiplash, going from a hundred to zero, just like that.

Which is fitting. That's how their whole relationship turned out. From hot and heavy, to distant strangers. Why would this be any goddamn different?

"Steve?" Eddie asks, a warm palm against his back. Rubbing soft, soothing circles, his guitar calluses scratching gently. "Sweetheart?"

That's the last straw, it's too familiar, too much, and he curls over the back of the couch as far as he can as Eddie pulls out, leaving him empty and more bereft than he already was. Steve tries to reach backwards, tries to lure him back. Back inside, back to Steve. Just back, in any way he can get him.

It doesn't happen, of course, and Eddie tries to manhandle Steve into turning around to face him. Steve would rather do anything else, so he won't allow himself to be turned because Steve's still bigger, always has been bigger and stronger, and Eddie's hands disappear before reappearing as he moves around the couch to kneel on the cushion next to where Steve is actively wishing to be swallowed whole.

"Steve," Eddie says, the voice reedy and scared, hands brushing down Steve's back, then moving through Steve's hanging hair, trying to find his face. "Did I hurt you? Did you…" Eddie trails off, thumb on Steve's cheek, "Did you not want that? Did I - did I read you wrong?"

Steve shakes his head. He's hurt, of course he is, just not in the way Eddie means. Of course he wanted this. He just can't. Not with Eddie. It's too hard.

Even if that's all he wants.

He looks down at the cushions below, he sees Eddie's bare thigh, tattoos unfamiliar, and his cock, very familiar, scared into softness. Nestled there in his open fly. Steve wonders if he smells the same. Wants to bury his face in Eddie's crotch and breathe deep.

What an unhinged thing to want, he thinks. But Steve just wants to go home, go back in time.

Eddie's still gorgeous. Always has been, though, and Steve snakes out a hand, curling it around Eddie's forearm.

Asking him not to go.

Asking him to stay this time.

"Sweetheart. Look at me, or I'm getting Robin," Eddie says, and Steve hiccups a laugh as Eddie plays with the hairs at the nape of his neck.

He's not his sweetheart, not any longer, he knows that all too well, but hearing that come out of his lips makes something bloom in his chest. An unfurling longing. Nostalgia for a time he'll never be able to return to, as long as he lives. 

It's already gone. They've already grown up, distant from each other.

And Steve raises his head enough to meet Eddie's eyes.

"She'd kill you," Steve says, trying to blink the wetness from his lashes.

"I'd let her," Eddie answers.

Steve misses him. He's right here, looking right at him, but Steve misses him something fierce.

"Are you okay? What's going on?" Eddie asks, scooting closer, his hand never leaving Steve's neck. Fingers brushing against his skin, keeping contact, soothing him in a way only he ever could.

Steve laughs, bordering on unhinged.

"Vigilante shit," Steve breathes out, and it's like he's ran a marathon, maybe an ultra.

And Eddie laughs, leaning forward and pressing his mouth to Steve's temple.

Steve leans into him. 

"Well, that's fair, sweetheart," Eddie says, "I'll give you that. I deserve it. But are you okay?"

"I'm okay," Steve reassures. As okay as he'll ever be, anyway, here surrounded by the smoldering embers of the life he watched burn to the ground.

Eddie rotates until he's laying down on the couch, and opens his arms for Steve. Steve takes the offer, sliding over the back of the couch, crawling on top of Eddie. Not very gracefully since his pants are still trapped around his thighs, boots on his feet. 

"Here, let me help," Eddie says, trying to maneuver him to sitting. Steve allows it.

And Eddie slides off the couch, kneeling at Steve's feet. Eddie looks at how Steve has them laced so they just slip on and off, and it's an old Eddie trick. Steve knows it, Eddie knows it.

"Well, this is sexy," Eddie says as he gently pulls the first one off his foot, then the second. And Steve laughs. Eddie then pulls his jeans down, tossing them aside, "Can you breathe now?"

Steve nods.

Undressed, and a little more unburdened, Steve watches as Eddie sheds his own pants, and then gets back on the couch, laying back against the cushions, an invitation.

Steve takes it.

He's pretty sure their naked asses aren't supposed to be on this antique piece of furniture, but he'd like to see anyone tell Eddie Munson no. It's impossible, and a waste of breath. Always has been.

So, they lay together, Eddie's hand stroking up and down his back, fingers against his spine. Whispering words that Steve's waited a decade to hear. And Steve listens, feeling the rumble of Eddie's chest, the timbre of his voice that is somehow even deeper than it was at twenty-three. They kiss and grind soft cocks together until they aren't soft anymore. They roll together until Steve slides back down on Eddie's cock, ready to finish what they started. 

It's gentler now, and Steve's pretty sure that might make this worse, after. Hate sex, angry fucking to get each other out of their systems, he thinks he could get over. That he could take at face value.

But this?

This is too soft. Too loving.

And that's gonna destroy him when it's over.

Eddie was, is, will always be, the greatest thing he's ever lost. Steve swears he only blinked, but in between that breath and the next, Eddie had slipped through his fingers.

But he wouldn't give this up. He never wanted to give Eddie up. Not then, not now, and that's really fucking hard to wrap his head around. That it ended against his will. That the thing he was sure was forever, crashed and burned so fucking quickly, completely out of his control. 

He couldn't save them from themselves. He couldn't save them from the self-destructive streak Eddie just couldn't shake.

He couldn't stop Eddie from running.

Distance, blossoming fame, and the road just being more of an obstacle than they would have ever imagined when they stood up and said I do, promising forever. 

Well, forever was pretty fucking short, Steve guesses.

He rocks on Eddie's cock, fucking himself as Eddie holds his hips in his hands. 

"That's it, sweetheart," Eddie encourages, and Steve's setting the rhythm now. The pace, the intensity, so he can't even blame Eddie for this slow down. For this softness.

This is all on him. 

But Eddie still fits in him like he was made to be there. Of course, Steve assumes Eddie's cock has been in lots of places since they buckled and folded. So, yeah, that probably means a doctor's visit, and a nerve wracking wait for test results will be in his future for being impulsive and foolish.

At the same time, he still trusts Eddie. Maybe he shouldn't. It makes no sense to, for fuck's sake. Eddie broke his heart, abandoned him like he meant nothing. But for some reason he trusts that Eddie would have never slid into him, warm and bare and familiar, if there was a cause for concern. 

He's always lost his fucking mind when he came to Eddie. That not changing today is no fucking surprise, not really.

Steve angles himself so Eddie's bumping his prostate, over and over, and it's just too much, too good, and Steve tenses, coming all over Eddie's belly. But he keeps grinding down on Eddie's cock, determined to get him over the edge, too.

Eddie groans, hand squeezing Steve's hip, "I'm gonna come."

"Do it," Steve breathes out, and Eddie does. Shoving up into him as far, and as hard as he can, and Steve tilts his head back, enjoying that this moment has happened for them, one more time.

He collapses onto Eddie's chest, laughing the way he always has after good sex, Eddie's softening cock still inside him, and Steve's not about to pull away yet.

The door opens, and Steve pops up to look to see who has found them.

Robin. 

"Goddamnit, dingus," she says from the doorway. He's aware from her angle she can see he's shirtless and debauched. She can't know that Eddie's still in him, soft, but unwilling to extract himself.

"I take it that asshole ex of yours is under you?"

"Hi, Robbie," Eddie says, still unseen by her, from his place on the couch under Steve.

She doesn't respond, ignoring Eddie. Which is to be expected, Steve supposes.

"Get cleaned up. Dustin's realized you're both missing."

Steve watches as Eddie stretches his arm backwards into her view, making the okay sign and she slams the door in response. 

They both laugh, and Steve lays back down on Eddie's bare chest, kissing him again. And again.

"She hates me now," Eddie says, when they break apart.

"With the fire of a thousand suns, yes," Steve answers, tucking his face into Eddie's neck. Robin and Eddie used to be friends, best friends, but when Eddie cut and ran, Robin wrote him off swiftly, with finality, and without remorse. Steve appreciated the loyalty. And he's gonna need it, tomorrow. Because he knows this was just one night, one mistake, but he's gonna milk it for all that it's worth since he's already in for a penny.

"We really have to make an appearance," Eddie says, and Steve whines at the idea. But he lifts up, Eddie's cock sliding out of him for the last time. At least he knows this time. At least he can brace for the impact.

But Eddie has other ideas.

"We'll be seen, we'll congratulate the kid, and then I'll take you back to bed, and show you how much I've missed you."

Steve nods. Yes. That. All of that, please. 

If he only gets one more night, he wants to draw out this long overdue goodbye as much as possible.

"We hadn't even had dinner," Dustin admonishes, shoving Steve's shoulder. Eddie puts a hand between them, like this might escalate.

"That's my bad, kid," Eddie says, shit-eating grin on his face.

Henderson is more forgiving. He loves them both. But Robin's glaring daggers through Eddie's back. There's no way he doesn't feel it. Steve can feel it, and it isn't even directed at him.

The party is winding down, and at the first opportunity, Eddie holds out the old leather jacket, helping it up and over Steve's shoulders.

"Steve," Robin says, a warning, and he steps away from Eddie, leaning down, hugging her.

"Let me say goodbye right this time," he pleads and she nods against his cheek.

She hates this, Steve knows she does, but she lets him go. She'll let him make this mistake. Will let him poke at this old, never-healed, wound.

Eddie leads him out the front of the venue. A crowd has gathered. Word must have spread that Eddie Munson was in the building, and now flashbulbs are blinding Steve, and Steve's instinct is to let go. Drop Eddie's hand and run. Hide, get out of sight. But Eddie doesn't let go of his hand. Even as he's guiding them towards the waiting black SUV. 

One of the security guys reaches for the door handle, and Steve sees Eddie rest his hand on his shoulder. The guy immediately backs off, and Eddie opens it for Steve himself. Standing there, looking grown up, and then suddenly his arm pops out, and he dips into a half-bow.

Steve laughs, loud and happy. He's still Eddie. 

He wishes he had a picture. Wants to replay that memory in his mind forever, and he realizes suddenly that he probably can. That in the next ten minutes the entire walk from the building to the car will be uploaded from at least a dozen angles.

There's gonna be story after story of Eddie Munson entering the building alone and re-emerging four hours later with his ex-husband on his arm.

The divider in the car goes up, and they can't keep their hands off of each other.

Steve shifts on the leather. 

"What's wrong?" Eddie asks, pulling back to look in his eyes.

It's only Eddie, so he tells the truth, "I'm leaking."

And Eddie grins, wolfish and wild, "Well. I could take care of that."

The pulse of want goes through Steve. It's filthy and is he really gonna let Eddie eat his ass in a moving car, a driver just on the other side of the barrier?

Yeah, yeah he is.

He moves to his belt, but Eddie's fingers replace his own, "Let me, sweetheart."

And at this point, Steve thinks he'll let Eddie do anything he wants.

The pictures from outside Eddie's building are sure to be obscene. Eddie, mouth red and lips shiny, Steve's hair in utter disarray. The crowd is rowdy, extra loud and demanding, and Eddie seems to be in no hurry. He's smiling, and looking around, as if this is completely normal. 

As if he always hooks up with his ex-husband, rims him in the car, and the waves to the fans, after. He looks happy, thrilled even, instead of annoyed to be caught in the public eye.

Maybe it is normal for him, but it's definitely not for Steve. This was never his life, not even when they were married and Eddie's star continued to rise. Maybe, especially not then. Eddie wanted his private life to be private and that meant Steve was left at home, out of sight. 

Not tonight.

Tonight it's obvious what they've been doing during the car ride. The press will have a field day building a timeline with the pictures and videos.

Eddie holds Steve's hand, tight and protective, leading the charge, but he uses the other to wave. To stop and sign an album. A poster. All while his security tries to wrangle him inside.

"This is Steve," he tells a fan, a camera shoved in his face.

Steve tries to put on a pageant smile, and is certain he's failed. This is fucking bizarre. Has Eddie really changed this much? Then they're moving again, finally making their way towards the door.

"Thank you," Eddie says, looking right at the man holding open the door.

"Mr. Munson," the doorman says, and Eddie shakes his hand, and Steve really thinks the guy wouldn't have if he knew where Eddie's hands have been recently. 

They're taken to a private elevator, and when it opens, it's in the middle of a huge penthouse apartment. 

Which is pretty amazing. The only thing fucking up the view is Gareth on the couch, in his underwear. He's holding a bowl of cereal under his chin, and he accidentally tips it on himself.

"Sorry," Eddie says, "I wasn't expecting to bring home company."

"Oh, that's okay," Gareth answers with a smirk.

"I wasn't talking to you," Eddie laughs, and Gareth grins. "If you got cereal on that couch, clean it up. I'm not smelling sour milk for the next decade every time I sit down."

"Yeah, yeah," Gareth says. 

Then he looks right at Steve.

"Steven," Gareth greets, and Steve gives him a little wave. He's really grown up since Steve saw him last.

Eddie puts his hand on the small of Steve's back, "My bedroom is back here."

It looks like his closet exploded, a familiar mess. Eddie starts picking up clothes off the bed.

"Sorry, I had trouble deciding what to wear tonight," Eddie says, several pairs of black jeans that look identical to Steve slung over his arm. 

His room has a hell of a view. There are floor to ceiling windows, and Steve stands there and looks over the city. Eddie's done well for himself. But Steve knew that, never doubted that he would, but it's just something else to see the reality of that with his own eyes.

Eddie wraps his arms around Steve's middle, hugging him from behind, his chin hooked over Steve's shoulder.

Steve closes his eyes and just leans into his touch.

Eddie's hands are all over him. Rough calluses touching, stroking, remapping his skin. Seemingly marking the changes. Steve's face down on the softest, worn-in sheets he's ever felt. They smell like Eddie. They feel like home. 

They aren't fancy, no satin or showy black here, just comfortable gray cotton. The real Eddie, not the persona.

The lights of the city are casting the room in shadow, but Steve doesn't need to see Eddie. He can feel him. 

Eddie is rocking into him, slow and steady. There's no hurry, no racing towards the finish line.

Because this is goodbye, and neither of them are quite ready to let go. Not yet.

When Steve wakes up, it's dark in the room, and Eddie is dead to the world, his hair is fanned out across the pillow. As much as Steve wants to roll over, curl into Eddie's body and go back to sleep, he's aware it's time to go. He doesn't want to do it in the morning when it's awkward and sad. The harsh light of day ruining this. Eddie had shown him how much he'd missed him, as promised, and Steve's gonna carry that with him, feel it for days. 

This is a better ending than they got last time.

He dresses quietly, and Steve's carrying his boots out of Eddie's bedroom, when another door in the hallway cracks open.

"Oh, hell no," is the pronouncement, and Steve turns and looks. Gareth.

"Yeah, well, I love you, too, Gareth," Steve says, as he keeps walking. He doesn't need any lip from this kid. Never has, never will.

But then he's jostled as Gareth forces his way in front of Steve, blocking his path out of the hallway. Standing in front of him, not allowing him to just sneak away in peace. Does there really need to be salt rubbed into the gaping wound? He's going. Maybe he fucked up. Maybe they both did. But it was one night. Closure. Ripping open old wounds. Whatever you want to call it.

"Just where do you think you're going?" Gareth hisses, and Steve just glares at him. 

"Back to my own hotel, back to my own life. What the fuck is it to you?"

And Gareth grabs Steve's boots, yanking them from his hand, one landing with a thunk against the plush carpet. Then he kicks his foot out, banging it against the door they're stopped in front of, like a crazy person.

"What the fuck is your problem, dude?" Steve snaps, and the second door opens. Goodie, then Jeff, standing in the doorway. Why are they all fucking here? Don't they see enough of each other on the goddamn road? Steve tilts his head back, annoyed, "Great. Just great."

"Steve?" Jeff asks. Like he might be someone else.

"Don't you run away from him again!" Gareth hisses, and Steve feels insane. In what universe did Steve ever run from Eddie? 

"What the fuck? Run? Me? I'm the one that ran? I think you've rewritten history there, kid," Steve says, squatting down to pick up his fallen boot.

And Gareth shoves his shoulders, knocking him off-balance and onto his ass. 

Oh, Steve's gonna kill him.

But Eddie gets there first.

"What in the actual fuck?!" Eddie screams, getting in between Gareth and Steve as Steve puts on the one boot he has control over.

Eddie attempts to wrestle the other away from Gareth, bullying him around the hall.

"I was helping you!" Gareth yells, ducking under Eddie's arm, darting to the side, but that allows Goodie to easily snag the boot being held hostage during the evasive maneuver. He turns it over to Jeff, who hands it down to Steve, waiting for him to get it pulled on, and then helps him to his feet.

Ushering him past Eddie roughhousing Gareth against the wall, making him squawk and squall. Not a thing has changed. It'd be funny if it wasn't so ridiculous.

Jeff holds his arm out behind Steve, a protective gesture, and presses the down button for him.

Steve steps in when the door opens, sees Jeff pressing the intercom on the wall, and then the doors close. The last thing he hears before he descends is a hand slapping against the doors, and Eddie's muffled, "No!"

When Steve steps out of the private elevator, the same doorman from earlier is waiting and steps forward.

"Mr. Harrington, this way," he states, and hovers a hand behind his back, just like Jeff had, like Jeff must be so used to this, that now he was doing it himself. He hears the doorman radio for a car to be sent to the escape hatch and Steve thinks that sounds a bit dramatic, but smiles to himself.

So, there's a back entrance they use, but Eddie decided to have them dropped off out front. He wanted them to be seen, and Steve doesn't try to read into that. Tries not to interpret it as a hard launch, as he's led down a long hallway, far away from the front of the building. 

The doorman holds open a door that leads to a flight of stairs that go down, down, down. Steve smiles at him, even if he's a little embarrassed to be slinking off underground in the middle of the night. Maybe the doorman is used to it. Maybe this is part of his regular job, ushering out Eddie's conquests. 

"Steve, wait!" he hears, as Eddie is rushing down the hallway toward them.

"Mr. Harrington," the doorman says, giving him a choice. He surely works for Eddie, especially if he knows who Steve is without having ever met him before, but he's clearly giving Steve an out. 

"It's okay," Steve says, and the doorman takes a step back, as they both watch Eddie run down towards them only in his jeans, barefoot.

The doorman lets Eddie and Steve step into the stairwell, and then closes the door to the hallway, giving them some privacy. Eddie nods towards another door, and then taps his watch against the plate on the wall, lighting it up green, unlocking it. Once he opens it, it's a small balcony. With some sort of dark screen that Steve assumes only works one way. They can see out, but the world can't see in. Eddie's sure living a fancy life.

The fresh, fall air feels nice against his face, and Steve closes his eyes. Eddie pats his pockets, finds what he's looking for, and then lights a cigarette. When it's offered up, Steve takes it. At least on this side of the building, the street is blissfully empty. The crowd from earlier, totally gone. 

It feels normal, and the sounds of the city hum with life down below.

"Don't go, or at least let me walk you out," Eddie says, hand on Steve's forearm, and he keeps talking, "Are you okay?"

Steve laughs, "Just plotting Gareth's demise."

"I'll help," Eddie says, a small grin on his face. Then he looks serious, "He shouldn't have shoved you."

"I just didn't have my center of balance, and he took advantage like a little shithead."

"Still," Eddie says.

Steve's not mad. Trying to be forced to stay is way better than being encouraged to leave.

"It's fine. He just didn't want me to run again," Steve says, raising an eyebrow, and he smiles when Eddie cackles. "You been telling stories?"

"No. Well, of course, but not about that. He knows what really happened. He's just-"

"Your Robin," Steve fills in.

"Yeah. How is Robbie? We didn't really get a chance to catch up."

Steve laughs, Robin would have eviscerated him had he tried.

"Good, great. Happy. Well, probably not tonight. She doesn't want to clean up any more messes you and I make with each other. But good, otherwise."

Eddie just stares at Steve, eyes unwavering.

"What?" Steve finally asks.

"What if we don't make any more messes?" Eddie asks, big, brown eyes looking into Steve as if he can see his soul if he stares hard enough.

"Eddie," Steve says.

"Seriously. What if we do it right this time?"

"Are you not still on the road?" Steve asks, because he knows the answer to that, and Eddie's a lot more famous than he was the last time he thought he needed to leave Steve in the dust.

"Yeah, but not in the same way. I'm older. Wiser."

"You sure about that?" Steve teases.

"Let a guy dream," Eddie banters back, then adds, "Let a guy make up for his sins."

"Well, you do have plenty of those," Steve teases.

"I do," Eddie admits, then reaches out to squeeze Steve's arms, "But I'm ready. For you. For this," he says, hand sliding down to brush against Steve's wedding band. "How 'bout it?"

Like it's that easy. Like there won't be conversations to have, and the same old problems to tackle. Like there isn't deep-seated hurt to smooth over, overcome.

But none of that matters. Not really. 

Because, yeah. Steve's ready for it, too. 

If you want to write your own, or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @steddiesongfics and follow along with the fun! 🎶

Notes: If you're familiar with the song by Taylor Swift, you'll have recognized where several of the lyrics popped in. (And other songs from Taylor's discography as well.) I love these song challenges, since music inspires me to write things SO often.

This got way longer than I intended. I was gonna write it jointly for this and "wrath" over at @corrodedcoffinfest, but 1313 words went by way too fast, haha. 🤣

[so-long-soldier-writes]

Gemini Coven Better Watch Out

kai parker x reader | requested

summary: kai comes back from his sister's with new magic and a new mission

tags: rough kissing, neck kissing, dirty talk, breeding kink, unsafe sex, biting

word count: 2.1k

a/n: biggest apologies for the time it took to fill this!! also, i realize now, i could've done this in headcanon format and probably had it out sooner, but ngl i've kinda wanted to use the scene post-kai taking jo's magic in a work anyway, so it works out lol

Kai comes back from his sister’s with a newfound energy. The recently-merged siphon witch had been feeling ill the last twelve hours, and after wondering what it could be to make him so sick, he decided to seek her advice. Despite hating him for all he’s done, Jo’s still a doctor, and she’s probably the only one that could have any clue how to help him. So Kai went alone, not wanting to freak out Ric with the both of you there, and hoped his sister would take pity on his weakened state.

He barely gets through the doorway before grabbing your shoulders and kissing you passionately. He backs you up to the nearest wall. You can feel his dimples against your skin as he smiles. 

Kai feels healthy again. His strength has obviously returned, and he’s no longer sweating nor coughing up blood. Three different energies seem to swirl about in his blood. You can sense them, a witch yourself, and if he were to siphon you, you bet you’d get dizzy fast. 

His hands explore your body. Fingertips trail down your figure, until determined palms grip your waist. He kisses down your neck, kisses getting sloppier as his lips travel south. For a moment, he pauses, panting against your skin. You giggle, threading your hands through his hair, and take your opportunity to talk. 

“What’s all this for? Feeling better?”

He presses another kiss to your collarbone. “Much.”

“Good. What worked?”

“I needed Jo’s magic for the merge to work properly. Luke as a substitute made me the leader, but it didn’t give me the strength I needed because he wasn’t my twin.”

“She gave it to you?”

“With some convincing. But if she didn’t, I would’ve died, causing the death of the rest of our dumb coven, and all the prison worlds would have collapsed, leading to who knows what kind of destruction. That seemed to convince her.”

“Well, good. Because I can’t have you dying on me. I love you too much for you to leave me.”

He smiles, then kisses again. His teeth lightly graze your neck, and you drop your hands from his hair to his own neck in surprise. 

Kai’s always spurred on by those words, but today, they seem to set a fire in him more than ever. He teases the skin beneath your shirt as he pulls at the fabric. His lips reattach to your neck, kissing and nipping along it as if it’s the last thing he’ll ever do. When you put a hand to his chest, his heart is racing. 

You’re not sure what’s gotten him in such a mood at three in the afternoon, but the more heated he gets, the more you start to burn between your legs. You start to clench them together, fighting the feeling, but he notices quickly with a tsk of the tongue. 

“Ah, ah, ah,” he clicks, then picks you up and tosses you gently onto the couch. 

Kai climbs on top of you as you start to laugh and writhe on the soft material. He’s like an animal that’s captured its prey, but wants to tease it first. A dark look takes over his eyes, contradicting the smile that still rests on his face. His clothed hard makes contact with your bare leg, making you gulp. One look down reveals the wet spot forming under your skirt. He pets it gently, eliciting a moan from you.

He kisses your knee before moving his lips down your inner thigh. Excitement grows, however, so does curiosity. You want him, but you want answers first. Specifically, what happened at his sister’s that’s gotten him so turned on? Is it the volume of magic in his blood? The overwhelming power? Or is it a degradation from her mouth? His need to prove himself in spite of her words?

You open your mouth to ask, but his eyes meet yours as soon as you do. His dark look waivers your confidence. His fingers dig underneath your panties, stimulating your clit with ease. Your breath catches, causing you to squeal. A shiver runs through your body. He positions himself to kiss your lips at the same time he’s touching you. 

Question temporarily forgotten, you capture his face in his hands to kiss him back. He’s rough, still, pulling your bottom lip with his teeth and clutching your side between his nails, but remains gentle on your most sensitive tissue. Kai pries your legs open wider with his own. His hard is desperate against the rough material of his jeans. He rubs it along your leg every time he drops his lips back down to your neck, then up to your face again. The friction gets him panting and you hungry. You ache with a need for him to fill you. His teasing is too much, heating up your body, but neglecting where you need him most. 

“Kai,” you whimper, giving into the need. You can get him to do almost anything you want when you say his name with that tone. The touch-starved man turns to butter for you.

“What’s it, baby? Whatcha need?”

“Need you. Need your-” you reach for him, but your finger tips only graze his stomach. The space between your bodies is closing in as he starts to grind more on your leg. 

“Need me, hm?” He whispers it into your neck, causing another shiver. “Where do you need me?” The two fingers on your clit slip between your folds. You bite your lip and grab at his waist for support. “Need me here?”

As good as it feels, it’s not enough. You whine, squeezing your walls together against his fingers. He gets the hint, but teases you further anyway. 

“No? What about here?” He pushes a little deeper. A bit of smirk graces his face and you resist the urge to brazenly spit up at him. “Not there either?” He clicks his tongue once, as if stumped on where you need him. 

“Kai,” you try again. Your body sweats as you near your high. His name comes out mangled and weak. 

“Ah, I know now. You need my cock, is that right?” Your heart skips a beat at the vulgar term falling from his lips. “That’s it. You want me to fill you up completely. You need me pressed up close as I thrust into you, hm?” You whine more. He removes his fingers from your heat to rub on your clit again. “You want me to make you come, so that I glide so easily in and out of you? So that I can fit you so tightly, you can’t even remember your name?” He licks a stripe up your neck, then nips at your earlobe. “I’ve got you, baby. I’ve got you.” Kai pauses, pulling your skirt and panties down to your ankles, then immediately removing his own clothes, too. He holds himself in one hand while using the other to bring you back to the edge. You squeeze your eyes shut, pleasure overwhelming your body. “That’s it, c’mon. You’re doing so well. So close.”

“Kai,” you mutter, feeling him on your leg again. You clench around his fingers, but he lets you this time. Curse words spill from your lips as you reach your high. His name slips in between the strings of profanities, making his heart race a little more each time. He can’t wait to be inside you and fill you up the minute you’re ready. 

“You okay?”

“Mhm.”

“Need a moment?”

“No. I need you.”

He smirks, then positions himself in front of you, teasing your folds with his tip. “That’s my girl.” Kai leans forward to distract you with a kiss as he pushes into you. You moan into his mouth at the feeling, but there’s no pain. He made sure you’d be wet enough, and now, he can be sure you’re comfortable as he has his way with you. “Good?”

 “Yeah.” After a couple starter thrusts, you hook your legs around his waist. “Harder.”

He adjusts just slightly for a deeper angle. “I’ve got you, baby. I’ll fuck you so well your legs will be shaking, how’s that sound?” You giggle with excitement. “Mhm. I’m gonna fill you up, and you’re gonna feel so good. You’ll be dripping by the time I’m done with you. You’d look so beautiful all full and round, and everyone will know what happened and who got you knocked up. You’d be such a good mommy.” Kai pauses, sweat beading on his forehead. You’re not sure what is causing the sudden baby-talk, but you can’t describe the mixed emotions it makes you feel. His tone is full of excitement. His praise makes you feel rich. 

“Kai,” you whine, unsure what to say. 

His focus, though, is clearly elsewhere. “I’m gonna give you a baby, hm? I’m gonna fuck you so well. Fill you up, and stay inside until you’re good and bred, and not gonna pull out til I’m sure it took. How’s that sound?”

You open your mouth to respond, but a deep thrust makes you moan instead. He smiles, entering a pace that suits you both. 

“That’s it, baby. Let go.” His hands hold you still as he buries himself inside your heat. Praises and profanities leave his lips, but your mind is too fuzzy for you to pick them up. You’re close to your high and he knows it, watching the way your breathing gets heavy and your body clenches harder. “C’mon,” he urges, nipping your shoulder again. 

Kai’s vocal and rough most of the time, but never in this way. But ironically, you were just thinking about it’d be like to have a baby with him. You think he’d be a good dad, despite his past; he’d make sure his kid never suffered the way he did. 

“I’m close,” you mutter, spurring him on.

“I know, c’mon. I’m almost there, too.”

A sudden feeling of warmth shoots through your body. A fullness you’ve never felt before. Kai pants against your skin after his own release, but doesn’t slow down until you reach yours. You do, a second later, from the heavenly feeling of his seed inside you. He doesn’t pull out, plugging you up as promised, and revels in the sensation.

For a moment, you stay like that, with his body atop yours and his face buried in your neck. But then you dig your hands in his hair and pull him up to face you. His cheeks are dark red, and a smile brings out his dimples. You bring him in for a kiss, to which he complies, kissing you much more softly than earlier. When you break it off, he rises, sitting up on his knees.

You follow the action, resting your weight on your elbows. You’re still connected, but a little has leaked out from the movement. You watch it, then cock your head at him.

“So what brought this on, huh?”

“Was it too much?” A look of worry overtakes his face, but you reassure him with a shake of your head.

“No, just unexpected. I didn’t know you had that in you. What caused it?”

He hesitates, but then admits what truth he had learned only an hour prior. “Jo’s pregnant.”

You blink in surprise. “What?”

“When she gave me her magic, I could feel it.”

“And that has to do with this… how?”

Upon sensing the new life in his sister’s womb, something spurred within him. Whether it was a need to compete with her - to be the one to produce the coven’s next set of twins - or to prove that he is just as capable of creating and raising a baby, he has no idea. But that moment of realization brought an urge to him immediately. The need to breed you, to make you full, but also, to bring something as definite and permanent into your lives as a baby, to show everyone how much he loves you, that he is capable of love and willing to change. 

A thousand reasons flood his mind, but he isn’t sure how to word any of them. Emotions are still so new to him, it’s a mystery thinking about which ones are appropriate for which situations. 

“I don’t know,” he finally says. 

You understand. Even if he has some idea, he’s clearly not ready to try and explain it. Sometimes, it takes time, but he always reopens the conversation later, when he’s more apt to talk about it. He’s getting much better, the closer you grow. 

“Huh,” you shrug.

He smiles, full of relief. “Huh.”

[uceyliyahh]

UNDER YOUR TOUCH

Summary: After her difficult breakup, Tiana wanted to start anew with her life. That's when she realized her life would be better when she met him.

This fanfic is 18+! NO MINORS ALLOWED

word count: 2692

smut warning; it’ll come in the story randomly so PLEASE PLEASE look out for it I’m not really good at writing ✍🏽 smuts but I’m improving at the moment.

Jey Uso x Tiana

AWFUL GRAMMAR IM GETTING BETTER I SWEAR LOL.

comments, likes, repost are appreciated I would love the constructive feedback in what area I need to approve in. 🤍

ALSO! I don’t not want nobody stealing my fanfics or take it as theirs that will be an issue fasho so keep it cute respectfully.

I only own my OC along with the make up scenarios

But I’ll be writing along the way since this story is in my drafts on Wattpad right now so yuh. 💁🏽‍♀️

TAGS ⬇️ lmk if you wanna be tag 🏷️

@paigereeder @empressdede @pinkwithhearts @420days @angiedawn02 @jstarr86 @biancasreign @yana3sworld @hunnidmilly @bebesobrielo @skyesthebomb @zillasvilla @xbriexx @magnificentbouqetmusic @fearlesschimera

12.

OMNISCIENT Tiana and Jey went to the gym together because she felt unsafe going alone due to what happened the last time she went.

He was watching her do her reps, making sure that she didn't hurt herself in the process. He loved how he was admiring her doing her workouts.

She was struggling a bit with pushing the barbell back up when Jey took notice. "C'mon, mama, you got it." His encouragement just made her heart flutter as she managed to push it all the way back up, feeling the burning sensation in her biceps.

Jey put the barbell back in place while helping Tiana up, massaging her biceps as they felt very sore.

"That was good, mama," Jey said as he slapped her ass.

She winched in pain while punching him In his arm. "That hurt Jey, but thank you. Whew, I am tired, though, not going to lie." He nodded as he sanitized the bench that Tiana was sitting on and started to do his dumbbell bench press workout.

Tiana grabbed her water bottle, which was next to his while watching him do his workout. He looked so good doing his exercises, which made her want to pounce on this man like a lion.

It felt nice to her that they got to do this together since they were both busy most of the time. Tiana felt her bladder running thin, so she let Jey know she was going to the bathroom real quick.

She didn't want anything to happen while they were at the gym. After using the bathroom, she went to the sink to wash her hands while looking at herself in the mirror.

It's no wonder why Jey couldn't keep his hands off of her; she looked too damn good for her liking. When she came out of the bathroom, she saw Jey finishing his workout as he put the dumbbells down on the ground.

He gazed up at her as she smiled back at him with her hands on her hips.

"Are you ready to go? So I can make us something to munch on." Tiana asked.

"Yeah, mama, I'm ready. Let's head out because I am a starving girl, " he said.

Tiana grabbed her duffle bag and her water bottle as she and Jey headed out of the gym. As they were doing that, Jey opened the door for her as she got inside his car, while he shut his door and did the same.

He was turning on the ignition before heading back to his crib to eat afterward.

✧.* TIANA We finally made it back to my crib. Jey parked his car in the driveway, and we got out of the car together. I walked up to the door while he was behind me, playing around like a little ass kid rolling my eyes in the process as I saw that Bianca and Montez weren't home.

Holding on to the wall, I took off my shoes and placed them on the shoe rack as I walked upstairs towards my bedroom while Jey followed me.

I opened my door and walked towards my dresser, picking out some comfortable clothes to wear around the house. I saw Jey standing there admiring me.

Taking off my sweaty workout clothes, I felt him from behind me pulling me closer. He was definitely hard right now. I mean, I wasn't doing it on purpose.

Wrapping his hands over my breast, playing around yet again while dry-humping me in the process.

"Joshhhhh I am hot and hungry, stop playin'" I whined as he let go of my breast.

He threw his hands up in defense, and he had a smug expression on his face before taking off his clothes and hopping in the shower with me.

As we were in the shower together, I was washing up my body, turning around to let the warm water hit my back. I saw Jey gazing down at me, and man, he looked so sexy. He always makes me look down at my feet, making me feel nervous.

I felt him grab my chin, making me gaze up at him innocently as he licked his lips. He placed his lips onto mine, slipping his tongue inside of my mouth.

I instantly wrapped my arms around his neck as his hands snaked down my hips, squeezing them a bit.

I knew that he was hard right now, rubbing all over his chest towards his hardened member, stroking it. Causing a groan to escape his lips as he grabbed onto my throat, removing his lips from mine.

"I'm finna fuck the shit out of you Tink, if yo' ass keep playin'" he rasped.

I raised my eyebrow at him, "You started it first, papa, so why don't you come finish it?" He liked how bold I was even though sometimes I would truly regret it due to how he is during sex.

Without hesitation, he scooped me up by my thighs and got to work.

✧.*

After getting demolished by this man, I was downstairs cooking us something to eat. I decided to make some honey BBQ wings with some fries for us. I began putting the flats into the air fryer while making the sauce in the skillet.

While I was doing that, I heard footsteps coming down. I knew that it was Jey coming from upstairs as I heard him come inside the kitchen, getting something to drink from the fridge.

Feeling his hands snake around my hips as he placed a soft kiss on my shoulder, watching me cook.

"What's on the menu mama?" Jey asked.

"I am making honey BBQ wings with waffle fries," I replied while stirring the sauce in a skillet pan.

"Ohhh, girl, you know just how to throw it down in here, don't you." I chuckled at his comment I mean my mother always told me food is the way to get into a man's heart.

He stayed behind me, wrapping his strong, muscular arms around my waist as I turned around and looked into his features.

"You know you make a good wife tink." He said.

"Oh? really? What's stopping you from getting down on one knee hm?" Teasing him a bit he hates when I do this to him.

"T, don't start with the teasing, and you know imma wife you up ion' rush into it." Nodding in agreement I could understand where he was coming from. I didn't want to rush into marriage; I wanted us to take it slow.

He slapped my ass before heading back upstairs, probably watching TV as I continue to cook us something to eat.

✧.* JEY I was upstairs in Tiana's bedroom, watching some YouTube videos while waiting for her to finish cooking. I thought about what I said earlier about making her my wife. I was serious about making that happen, but I didn't want to rush into marriage yet because I didn't want it to be a disaster.

Tiana meant the world to me. I would do anything to protect her, especially from Kai, whom we haven't heard from or seen since that incident happened at her nail shop.

I wasn't finna let nobody touch her. I mean, she can hold her ground by herself when it comes to Kehlani, but with Kai, that's a whole difference.

I hope his people ain't up to nothing dealing with his ass. I heard Tiana yell my name, assuming that the food was done, as I went downstairs and saw her setting up the table.

"Baby, you could've just asked me to help you set up." I said.

she shook her head. "It's okay, Bubba. I got it now, c'mon, so we can eat after that long workout we did today." She gave me my plate as she sat down, beginning to eat her food.

As we were eating our food together, I saw that her phone was buzzing. When she looked at it, her face scrunched up.

"What's wrong ma?" I asked.

"His momma sent me a message saying she wants her son released from the restraining order, " she said as she handed me her phone to read the text.

Ms Jackson: Hello, Hon. I wanted to text you and ask you to please remove our son from the restraining order. I promise he didn't do anything wrong; he just misses you, that's all, dear. It's so sad that you had to find someone else instead of being with our son.

My facial expression turned up a bit as I read through the message clearly. What the fuck is his mother actually serious right now?

I gave Tiana back her phone, looking up at her. "Are you going to respond or what, T?" She shook her head.

"I don't have nothing to say to her, if she believes her son didn't do anything wrong when he really did, he did a lot to me." I could see it in her eyes that she's been through this before with his mother and father I pulled my hand out as she held it with hers.

"Look, everything is goin' to be okay ma." I reassured her while she nodded her head I kissed her hand.

"Thank you for being here with me Josh it really means a lot." I gave her a smile as we continued to eat our food.

✧.* After we got done eating together me and Tiana decided to watch a movie together it was like a two hour long movie. We were cuddled up against each other on her bed as her head was on my chest while my arm was wrapped around her as my neck nuzzled against her shoulder.

As we were watching the movie, we heard a knock on Tiana's door. I sat up and went to see who it was, and it was Bianca standing there.

"What's up, B?" I asked her.

"I think Malakai's mom is in our driveway. I recognize the car from anywhere, " she said as Tiana turned her head and looked at us.

"What?"

"Yeah, she's been knocking on our door, but I didn't want to answer it."

Tiana sat up from her bed, sighing deeply. She didn't have time for this; all she wanted to do was be cuddled up with her man while watching a scary movie.

She walked downstairs and opened the door, seeing his mother standing there with her arms folded.

"Hello there, Hon. I see you didn't get my messages," Ms Jackson said as Tiana rolled her eyes at her.

"Ms Jackson, ion' have time to deal with you nor your son's bullshit for today." She said as she has seen me come behind her.

His momma looked up at me as she just smirked as she seen my hands on Tiana's waist.

"Oh? Is this your new boyfriend? He doesn't look better than my son, but that's not what I'm here for." I've seen Tiana fold her arms over her chest as her energy shifted.

"I am here because I want you to get back together with my son." Tiana's face scrunched up as she looked at me then back at his momma.

"No, thank you. I am not going through what I went through with him; I am in a better place, so you can leave now, Ms. Jackson."

Tiana was not having it with his momma. Getting back together with her son? That was insane, and he must have put his momma into this as well because she's totally delusional about everything.

"He was mentally ill—-" and that's what set her off as she pushed the door open, getting in his momma's face.

"I DON'T GIVE A FUCK IF HE WAS OR WASNT THAT MAN MENTALLY ABUSE ME AND PUT HIS FUCKING HANDS ON ME YOURE SO DELUSIONAL!" Tiana yelled as she pointed her finger in her face.

I held Tiana by her waist, trying to calm her down, but she kept going. "I AM IN A BETTER PLACE RIGHT NOW AND YO' ASS WANT ME TO GET BACK TOGETHER WITH YOUR SON?! TUH PLEASE." His momma stood there In silence, rolling her eyes at Tiana's outburst.

"Little girl, my son is innocent and wouldn't do anything like that. You're just a broken girl." The way Tiana got out of my grip so quickly as she snatched up his momma, beating her head in.

Bianca and Montez came out to see what was happening as she had seen her best friend beating up her ex-boyfriend's mom. I scooped up Tiana by her waist, and his momma was lying there looking a mess.

"Baby! Baby, look at me, focus on me. She's not worth it, mama, okay? She's not." I reassured her, and her eyes focused on me as I told her to breathe in and out.

She calmed down for a bit as she darted towards his momma. It looked like she wanted to kill his momma.

"Ms Jackson, I think you should go, and please don't show up here ever again." Bianca said.

We saw her getting up from her feet as she stomped toward her car before pulling out of the driveway.

Tiana was sitting on the couch, her head hanging low. Seeing that broke my heart, so I kneeled down to her height, grabbing her chin to look at her.

She had tears streaming down her face. I wiped her tears away, embracing her. It just pained me to see her go through this.

Stroking her hair as she cried softly on my chest as I kissed her on top of her head, trying to calm her down.

"Mama, it's okay. Nobody isn't going to hurt you. Ever again, and I mean EVER again, I am here for you through all of this love."

✧.* I put Tiana to bed in her room as I saw Bianca coming up towards me.

"What's up, B?" I asked, folding my arms over my chest.

"I just wanted to say thank you for being there for Tiana throughout all of this. If I hadn't mentioned your tattoo shop to her, we wouldn't be here right now, " she said.

"I understand B I got her, and she knows I'll be there for her no matter what." I meant that shit I don't want anything happening to her she was the love of my life.

I had already started to think about marrying this girl and having her have my kids, so I could understand where Bianca was coming from. She gave me a friendly hug as I gave her one back.

"Like seriously, I appreciate you, Josh. Tiana needed someone who could love her and be there for her, and you were the right person to do so, so Kai couldn't provide that for her, " she said.

"I am glad that I'm here now."

She nodded her head as she went back to her and Montez's bedroom, and I did the same. I saw Tiana sleeping soundly as I quietly removed my clothing while climbing into the bed with her.

I saw her shifting around in the bed as I pulled her closer to my warm body, and her head was on my chest. I admired her beauty; she was so cute whenever she fell asleep on me.

"Josh....?" I heard her mumbling in her sleep.

"Go back to sleep, baby. It's okay; I'm here." I kissed her thick lips, seeing her drift back to sleep as I did the same thing.

Under Your Touch.

uceyjucey, jonathanfatu, biancabelairwwe and others like your post.

tianasworld: my gym buddy. 🫶🏼🤍 uceyjucey: 🤍 tianasworld: @ uceyjucey 🥰 biancabelairwwe: periodddd i love this for you bestie 🥹🥹 tianasworld: @ biancabelairwwe ikrrr 🥹 shehateskai: so im hearing that you hit my mama tink? tianasworld: @ shehateskai I fucking did actually, you and your mother are absolutely delusional now you'll get blocked again ofc 💁🏽‍♀️ jonathanfatu: ooop

Read all comments.

tianasworld replied to your story: come wife me up then and stop playin' theyhatelani replied to your story: whatever she isn't better Jey stop playin' and come home. jonathanfatu replied to your story: dawg go ahead an marry her please teasing uce. 😭😭 biancabelairwwe replied to your story: STOP PLAYIN WITH MY FEELINGS JEY I NEED YALL TWO TO GET MARRIED AND HAVE BABIES!😭🥲 trinity_fatu replied to your story: period brotherrr

A/N: sigh not Kai's mama playing a role in this she's so delusional did her husband hit her upside the head or sum?

But I hope yall enjoy this chapter. Lmk in the comments below.

Stay Ucey.

[notiddygothgf]

𝙄'𝙈 𝘽𝙀𝘾𝙊𝙈𝙄𝙉𝙂 𝙍𝙄𝘿𝙄𝘾𝙐𝙇𝙊𝙐𝙎. 𝘐'𝘔 𝘓𝘖𝘚𝘐𝘕𝘎 𝘏𝘖𝘗𝘌. 𝘏𝘖𝘗𝘌 𝘖𝘍 𝘞𝘏𝘈𝘛? 𝘊𝘖𝘕𝘝𝘐𝘕𝘊𝘐𝘕𝘎 𝘈 𝘔𝘈𝘙𝘙𝘐𝘌𝘋 𝘞𝘖𝘔𝘈𝘕 𝘛𝘖 𝘽𝙍𝙀𝘼𝙆 𝙃𝙀𝙍 𝙑𝙊𝙒𝙎?

Marriage had its highs and lows, and you told yourself you were content - But a trip back to Public Safety's Tokyo sector opens up new feelings and introduces a tempting dilemma: a charming Lieutenant Captain who'e determined to have you at all costs.

❝ Say it louder, say it louder. Who's gonna love you like me? Say it louder, say it louder, who's gonna touch you like me? Ooh, said you wanna be good but you couldn't keep your composure. Ooh, come over, ooh, Sayin' Who's gonna fuck you like me? I don't wanna hurt you, but you live for the pain. I'm not try'na say it but it's what you became. You want me to fix you, but it's never enough. That's why you always call me, 'cuz you're scared to be loved. But I'll always be there for you, I'll always be there for you, I'll always be there for you, girl, I have no shame. (Shame!) ❞ —The Weeknd, Shameless

╔═.✾. ═════════════════╗

▷ arrival in tokyo. ▷ early breakfast

▷ dance with me. ▷ conflict of interest

▷ obsessed. ▷ ankle biter

▷ taste like nicotine ▷ an affair

▷ murderer

▷ troublemaker

▷ behave

▷ addictive

▷ bathroom

╚═════════════════.✾. ═╝

ᴺᴼᵂ ᴾᴸᴬᵞᴵᴺᴳ : Nov 20, 2024

cw/tags: hakakawa aki/reader , hayakawa aki x reader, himeno, denji, makima, power, kishibe, others idk, forbidden love, coworkers to lovers, but she's married, based loosely off of; ANNA KARENINA , but without the cautionary tales and just the sexiness, eventual smut, resolved sexual tension, sexual content, explicit sexual content, unsafe sex lol, implied/referenced cheating, excessive drinking, which leads to bad decisions, like aki might be an addict, he's also, addicted to youuu, feral!aki, obsessive behavior, he wants her so bad, she also wants him though so its ok, we all want him though, extramarital affairs, which i do not condone btw, except just this once, bc aki is not the one being cheated on, implied/referenced abuse, au - nothing bad happens and everyone is happy , coping, tags are hard, just read it it'll be sexy i promise, slow burn, oral sex, cigarette confessions, anna karenina ff.