#my friend gonna gonna call me out for this one :')

[100vern]

begging for the next | hjs

we could be lovers in the night // we could be strangers in the light.

✦ pairing: joshua x f. reader ✦ genre: strangers to fwb, secret lovers au; smut, fluff ✦ summary: no one needs to know what you and joshua get up to except the two of you. ✦ rating: explicit. minors do not interact with this or any of my work. ✦ warnings: joshua is some degree of famous but not explicitly stated to be an idol (choose your own adventure), he is also down very very horrendous, use of pet names for reader (beautiful, baby, angel, etc.), reader wears a dress, one brief mention of hair, swearing, other things i have probably forgotten. i am incapable of writing pure pwp so this got a lot softer than i intended but they're in love so fuck it we ball. ✦ smut warnings: gendered terms for genitalia, a lot of kissing, a handjob, fingers in mouths bc it's me and somehow they always end up there, car sex, unprotected vaginal sex, a lot of cum play idk how that happened sorry, hair pulling, fingering, grinding, mentions of facesitting, oral sex in general, joshua spits in reader's mouth, begging and dirty talk, public sex (in a car), exhibitionism, masturbation, very slight edging, shua gets called a good boy one time, reader on top, joshua carries her and fucks her against a wall, they both get a lil possessive in the heat of the moment but nothing toxic. ✦ wordcount: 5.8k ✦ author's note: idk where this came from. i was listening to "english love affair" by 5sos months ago and was like hm yeah joshua. title is from that song; other lyrics are from "lovers in the night" by seori. thank you to bee (@imnotshua) and jess (@starlightkyeom) for looking this over for me along the way. thank u, love u both. i am far too embarrassed to read my own smut so this is unedited and any mistakes are my own.

Joshua is used to having eyes on him.

Fans, paparazzi, strangers—after a while, it all starts to blend together. Always starts feeling hazy around the edges, like there’s something there, just beyond the fog, just out of his reach.

He doesn’t remember whose idea it was to come to this club. Probably just one of those things: owned by a friend of a friend, discretion implied and assured, top-shelf shit handed out without needing to ask. He’s sequestered behind a velvet rope, feels like a king lording over his subjects, has a hawk-eye view of everything.

Everyone.

Joshua is used to having eyes on him, and he felt yours as soon as he walked in.

Cute, he thinks. He hadn’t been looking to pull, hadn’t wanted to deal with all the conversations and all the aftermath, but sometimes he’s easily persuaded. Intrigued, more like. Most people watch him like they’ve got their eyes closed—shy, hiding away, unsure of what they could possibly offer him that he can’t find in anyone else. But you watch him with eyes wide open. Confident, self-assured, know exactly what you’ve got to offer. All but daring him to find something better.

It’s raining when you drag him outside. When you smirk crooked out of the corner of your mouth, plant your hands in the center of his chest and press him to the building’s exterior, drag a groan out of him when the brick bites into his skin. Joshua kisses you like he’s a little desperate for it. Licks into your mouth and swallows all the sounds you make. Hikes your leg around his waist, digs his thumbs into your hips, presses in close enough to have you rolling your hips against his cock.

Imagines the scandal if he got caught fucking you in public—

He asks, between nips at your neck: “Where do you live, beautiful?”

You answer, with your hand halfway down the front of his jeans: “Not far.”

—and lets the thought of it wash over him, make him a little frenzied and wanting. He moans as he grows harder. Thinks about what you’re gonna feel like around his cock, all hot and tight, dripping wet. Thinks about how breathless and fucked-out you’ll sound when you pant his name into the space between your mouth and his own. Thinks about how hot you’re gonna look when you’re falling apart on his cock, when he’s pumping you full of cum.

“Shit,” he whines, “let’s go, then.”

Halfway to your car he decides he can’t wait. Doesn’t want to. Could barely stumble the couple hundred feet to the parking lot with how hard he is, how overwhelming he finds you. Finds himself making any excuse he can to press in close and inhale your perfume. Finds himself thinking that doing anything that isn’t burying himself inside of you seems absolutely pointless.

And you aren’t helping. Can’t seem to keep your hands off of him—lips on his throat, words in his ear, nails digging into his back, pulling at his belt, untucking his shirt, yanking on his hair. You smile when he hisses at the sting and the only thought that registers is he’s never wanted to ruin anyone so badly.

So he says, “Get in the backseat. I’m fucking you right here, baby,” and follows right behind you, desire licking at his heels.

He laughs low and heated as you push him into the seat, your legs spread wide as you straddle him. He pulls his jeans down just enough for you to fish out his cock and spit on it, hips thrusting when you pump him once, twice, pulling small, breathy whines from him each time you twist your wrist, thumb over the head. Embarrassing, he thinks, how close he is to cumming in his pants like a fucking teenager, so he grabs at one of your hands, stills your motions. Moves it to your mouth, tells you to taste the pre-cum coating your fingers just to buy himself a minute, he just needs a minute, and he decides time is meaningless when he sees your tongue move between your pointer and middle, when you moan at the taste of him.

Nearly loses it entirely when you press those same fingers to his own lips, press them against his own tongue.

“Tastes so good, doesn’t it?” you murmur, and he’s struck, not for the first time tonight, by how beautiful you are. Mesmerized by the rain that still clings to your eyelashes, the droplets that run down your temple. Feels dizzy when his brain finally comes back online and he reaches for the hem of your dress, pushes it up and over your hips.

His hand moves to the space between your thighs, rubs over the thin fabric of your panties. He grins wide and sleazy at the wetness he finds there; pushes his tongue into the fat of his cheek as he slides them to the side and touches you properly. Thumbs small circles over your clit just to hear the way your breath hitches, feel the way your hips cant towards his fingers. Any other time he’d take it slow, drag it out, tell you to beg in his soft, pretty voice,, but he doesn’t have the benefit of time when he’s crammed into the backseat of your car.

Doesn’t have the benefit of much of anything when you lower your bare pussy to his cock. Already overwhelmed by your heat, he doesn’t think he can be held responsible for the guttural, instinctual sound that escapes him, the way his hands move to your hips to keep you in place. The that’s it, that’s it, baby, just like that, could fucking come from this that tumble from his lips as you start moving along his length.

Your scoff is aborted halfway as Joshua lifts his hips to meet yours. “Abso—fuck—absolutely not,” you breathe, kissing along his jawline. “Need you to fuck me.”

He groans at the thought of it. Curses the seat belt digging into his back as he readjusts to move you where he wants you, where he can bury two fingers deep in your cunt and watch, entranced, as your eyes roll back. “Mm, wa-want you to come like this first.”

“Later,” you bargain. “Gotta be quick, don’t want you to get caught.”

Joshua knows you’re right. Knows he’d thought about it earlier, let the fantasy of it dance at the edges of his vision, knows in the realm of fantasy is where that particular thought needs to stay, but he can’t say he isn’t tempted to put on a show for the entire world. Wants everyone to see both of you sweat-slick, panting hard into the thick air of your car, windows fogged. Wants everyone to hear the sounds he’s pulling from you: the breathy whimpers, your pussy squelching around his fingers, skin on skin as he can’t keep his hips against the seat.

He can tell you’re close. Knows if he angled his fingers just a little more you’d be clenching around them, and he wants to see it—god he wants to see it so bad—but he knows you’re right, knows there’ll be plenty of time to have you come undone in every way possible later, later, later, so he reluctantly removes his fingers. Doesn’t have time to consider what to do with them before you’re sucking them into your mouth and all he can do is watch, slack-jawed. Doesn’t have time to think about how it’d feel if it was his cock instead before you’re grabbing it, lining him up, almost crazed at the way your fingers don’t meet around his girth—and then you’re sinking down on him.

Good thing the two of you don’t have time to drag this out, because he’s on the precipice of a truly pathetic performance.

“God, you’re fucking tight, baby, can barely move—”

Your smile is predatory when you throw your head back. “Don’t need you to,” you say, moving your hands to his knees. “I can get myself off just fine.”

You can—that much is obvious. The way you’re rolling your hips is sinful at best and the absolute end of Joshua at worst, but he’ll accept his fate if this is how he’s destined to go out. Would consider it an honor to die like this between your legs, chasing oblivion. Can’t imagine a life where he isn’t buried to the hilt inside your tight heat every single day for the rest of his life. Feels delirious with the need for it, has to reign himself in when he either starts crying or asks for your hand in marriage, and you must see it, must be able to tell how fucked up you’ve got him, because you seem to delight in it, start moving at a pace that has him gripping white-knuckled at the seat, at the fabric of your dress, at your hips, your chest.

“You gonna cum like this?” you say, breath fanning against his skin. He nods, hiding his face in the crook of your neck. Embarrassment has his cheeks burning, skin hot to the touch, but shit, it feels good, the way you’re digging at him. Pulling him up on how far gone he is for you.

He needs you to meet him at the edge. Needs more, needs it messier, faster, harder than what you’re able to do in the confines of the car, so he plants his feet, grabs so roughly at your ass he’s sure it’ll bruise. Tries desperately to thrust through the mess between your legs, but you’re so wet he nearly slips out each time, and it drives him insane. Has him nearly feral, mindlessly chasing both his orgasm and your own, and he knows it’s close, feels the lightning beneath his skin.

You’re falling apart on his cock as soon as he circles your clit. Shaking, clenching so hard your pussy feels like a vice, grabbing blindly for anything you can to anchor yourself. You find his hands and twine your fingers together—and he’ll never be able to explain it, that that’s what has him gasping, stilling as he spills inside you, but even as he cums so hard it nearly whites out his vision, he can still feel you there.

Anchoring him.

Something stupid is about to tumble out of his mouth, so he quickly presses it to yours to try and stem the bleeding.

Joshua is used to people wanting things from him.

Autographs. Selfies. His undivided attention, his time, a pull quote for an article. Someone always wants something, and it’s exhausting, you know, having to anticipate that kind of thing—having to determine what someone wants before they pluck up the courage to ask for it, having to decide if he’s in a position to give it to them, having to decide, decide, decide, always a fucking decision to be made.

So it’s no surprise he’s here, barely back in the country an hour before he’s stumbling across the threshold of your front door, hat pulled low, not for anyone else to see. Because here, he’s safe; here, all those pretenses come crashing down around him. Here, he knows what’s expected of him, doesn’t have to guess—only has to take the hand you offer him and follow you up the stairs.

But it’s just… a lot, finally being here. All he could think about while he was gone was you. Kept replaying each memory over and over: the first time he’d come here, after the scene in your car—the way you’d smiled at him, hung up his jacket by the door, asked if he wanted anything to eat or drink, maybe a hot shower. And it had felt so sleazy, the way he’d smiled and said, ‘what, all by myself?’ but it’d worked, and then that was something else to replay. That was something else to remember: the smell of you all over him. Your soap on his skin; your shampoo in his hair.

Thinks he’s replayed that—the softness of it, the care, how nice it’d felt to just exist alongside somebody—more than the rest.

Not that the rest wasn’t worth thinking about. He’d nearly cum in his pants remembering the way you’d pinned his arms above his head and sat on his face—the visual of you from below, hips rolling; the taste of you on his tongue; the way you said his name when you came, breathless and fractured. The way he’d slid into you from behind, nearly mindless from the way your pussy gripped him. The way he’d pressed you flat to the mattress and kissed all the knots in your spine. The way your skin looked after he’d pulled out and came all over the small of your back.

He’s got a similar view now. It hadn’t really been planned, his coming here—he’d been worked up on the flight, sent a Hail Mary text asking if he could come by instead of going home, and it had taken you a bit to respond, to say sure, missed you, so it was understandable that you’d greeted him at the door in a pair of flimsy sleep shorts and a cropped tank. He expected it, but it undoes him nonetheless.

You’re better than this, he chides himself. Has a tremendous amount of guilt sitting in the pit of his stomach because he can’t stop staring, takes that gentlemanly reputation he’s got and sets it ablaze, but he thinks anyone who’d dare to criticize him for it would understand.

On autopilot, he follows you up the stairs to your bedroom. Tries to look at anything other than your ass and fails in milliseconds. Swallows down another serving of guilt and cannot, for the life of him, recall another time he ever felt like this—the foothold you’ve got on him, the way you have him believing he’s capable of being a real person, but so untethered at the same time, like any second now he’ll drift away. Tempted. Desperate. Joshua cannot make a life for himself here, both in your home and within your body, but—

“Sometimes I look at you and I understand why Eve ate that apple.”

You pause, three steps from the landing, and your eyes are soft when you turn to look at him. You’ve never looked at him any other way, with any less tenderness and care. “And how am I meant to take that?” Joshua flusters, misses the next step, and when you reach out a hand to steady him, Joshua laces your fingers together. “Smooth.”

“You know me,” he says, laughing like it’s a joke, when what he really means is, not around you, not within these four walls. “I just meant—”

You grip his hand tighter, pull him closer, dizzy him when you lean in close and murmur, “I know. You don’t have to explain anything to me.”

This time is different.

All that typical raw, frenzied need gives way to tenderness. Right there on the landing of your staircase, unable to go another step without you, Joshua lays you down, cradles your head in his hands, and drapes his body over yours. Cages you in like he’s trying to keep you forever, like he has any right to, and he kisses you much the same. Wants your breath to be his. Wants to find any opening you’re willing to give him and crawl inside of it. Wants to make a home out of your body more than he already has.

Presses his lips to your neck. Drags his teeth along the curve of your jaw, rolls his hips against you when your head tilts back and you sigh soft and stuttered. Nips at your skin all the way to the lobe of your ear, where he presses in close, thumbs at the exposed skin covering your hip bones. Whispers, “Is it okay right here, like this?” Skims his hands down, down, down—pulls your skimpy little shorts to the side and finds you bare and waiting. “Oh, you wanted this, didn’t you?”

You squirm. Try to get his fingers where you want them. Huff when he teases and refuses even though the need is just as apparent in him. “Shua,” you whimper.

He clicks his tongue. Feigns disappointment. “Angel.” Speaks every word into your heated skin. “You know you only have to tell me what you need and I’ll give it to you.”

You pout. “You’re being so mean to me,” you try. Joshua chuckles, pulls back so he can cock an eyebrow and say oh, really? I’m being mean to you? You nod, sink your bottom teeth into your bottom lip. Dip your hands beneath the fabric of Joshua’s t-shirt and drag your nails down his chest until he whimpers. “You were gone so long. Didn’t you miss me?”

“You know I—you know I did.”

“You did?” Your brows furrow in faux-disbelief, your pout deepens; your hands follow the same path Joshua’s had only moments earlier. You toy with the waistband of his pants and tease your fingertips underneath. “You missed me so much but you won’t even touch me?”

With his free hand, he grabs your chin, forces the pout off your face. Doesn’t miss the way your pupils blow wide before he’s kissing you hard and messy, so intense it feels like the air has been stolen from his lungs. “No,” he says, finally giving you what you want. Circles his thumb over your clit and wants to drown in all the sounds you make—the way you mewl, how you say his name on an exhale, all the words given up on halfway. “I miss you so much I thought about you every second I was gone. Thought I was going crazy with it.” Sinks two fingers into your slick heat. “Thought about the way you felt around me.” You gasp at his words and your pussy clenches, and Joshua hums. Says, “Exactly, baby, just like that.”

He can feel that you’re already close. Has a split-second to decide if he wants to let you come like this before you take the decision away from him. Your deft fingers play at the button of his pants, drag the zipper over the bulge there as he hisses, and then you tilt your head back. Something wicked gleams in your eye. “Spit in my mouth.”

Joshua falters, fucks up his rhythm, but he can’t deny you of anything, so he slips his thumb in your mouth and forces it open. Collects whatever spit he has and watches, enraptured and so close to being out of his mind, as he lets it go, as it pools on your tongue. “Fuck—”

Your smile is dazed, both of you on the verge of delirious, and then it’s gone, replaced by the visual of you licking the length of your palm. Making a show of it. You press two fingers against your tongue and Joshua watches as your eyes glass over. “Tell me what else you thought about,” are the last words you say before you wrap your slick hand around his cock.

“Shit—god, baby, you always make me feel so fucking good.” And you do—you work him over slow just to watch the way his eyes roll back, how his entire body shudders; thumb at his cockhead when he gets carried away and starts thrusting into your tight fist, brainless in the face of what you’re providing and unable to do anything except chase more of it. His hips roll again—one, two more times—and then he’s babbling, nonsense spilling out of his mouth.

Tells you that he thought about your touch and the way you taste. Tells you how he let it consume him and all the nights he spent touching himself to the thought of you. How he’d bring himself to the edge and force himself to stop just before he came and how he’d do it all over again, over and over, until he was breathless and sweat-slick—that when he was in the midst of it, so incoherent and numb from pleasure… that sometimes he’d open his eyes and swear it was you. Swear he could feel your lips ghosting across his skin, your sweet words in his ear, praising him as he came all over his own stomach and trembled with the aftershocks.

With each confession he gets more carried away. Circles his thumb faster on your clit. Slips another finger into you and presses insistently against your g-spot until you’re writhing and frenetic with need, his name sounding like a prayer as it spills from your lips repeatedly, each one blending into the next, a continuous mantra designed to drag him down with you. Joshua has never felt you this wet, soaking his hand, and he knows he isn’t faring any better. Feels how each slide of your fist along his length is easier than the last.

“Fuck, Shua, I’m gonna—”

He presses his lips to your forehead. “Yeah, beautiful, give it to me. Wanna see my angel cum all over me. Fuck, just like that—so fucking beautiful, I missed you so goddamn much. Mm, shit, you’re gonna make me cum too. God, I—”

“On me,” you beg. “Please, wan’ it on me. Please, please, want it so bad—”

He swears as his hips stutter. Feels like his fucking balls are in his stomach as he takes over, uses everything he’d earned from you to jerk himself. Stops you when you move to pull your tank over your tits. “No,” he slurs. He’s so fucking close. “Wanna cum all over your clothes and fucking ruin ‘em. Wanna see you covered in it, in me.”

He sits back on his haunches. Uses his free hand to grab at the meat of your thigh as the force of his orgasm hits and he gives you exactly what you’d asked for. Forces himself to keep his eyes open and watch as his release spills across your pussy, your stomach; as it seeps through the thin fabric of your top. But it’s not—Joshua has never considered himself a greedy man, but it’s not enough, so he keeps fisting his cock. Keeps going until he’s oversensitive and spent and he’s milked himself dry. Until your top is wet and sticky with his release, your nipples just barely visible through the translucent fabric.

He’s breathing hard. Stares down at the mess he’s made of you and tells you you’re a work of art. Drags his fingers through it and can’t decide if he wants to massage it into your skin or press it into your mouth, so he does both. Groans softly when you wrap your swollen lips around his fingers and swallow down the taste of him.

Moves them back to your clit and smirks at the breath you suck in through your teeth—that you’re still so sensitive but don’t dare tell him to stop. “I’m not done with you yet,” he confesses, kissing down the length of your body until he’s eye-level with your cunt. “Is that okay?”

You nod.

His phone sits abandoned on the nightstand.

The text thread is still open and awaiting his reply, but Joshua has long since abandoned it to focus his attention on you. From where he’s parallel on the bed, he can see you in the bathroom: watches as you step out of the shower, no towel, droplets of water running down the length of your body; watches as you only grab one to wrap it around your hair, as you stand naked in front of the mirror and do your skincare. Watches as you slip all of your jewelry back on and the gold glints against your skin.

Watches as your reflection meets his eye.

He feels it immediately, the goosebumps, the way his hair stands on end. Predator watching prey, caught in your web ever since that night at the club, so he sits up straighter, anticipates your next move with bated breath—knows what it does to you to be watched. How powerful you become when you’re no longer weighed down by your inhibitions. How you smirk dirty out of the corner of your mouth and thread your fingers through his hair, pull hard enough to capture his attention. Eyes on me, you purr, but he can never look anywhere else. Wouldn’t want to even if he could. Wants you to always be the last thing he sees.

There’s that same smirk on your face now: provocative and a little roguish, like you know something he doesn’t. All he can do is hold your gaze and wait to be devoured.

“They’re starting to talk, aren’t they?”

Joshua looks for a tell, something that belies your anxiety at finally getting caught out, but if it exists you’ve got it behind lock and key. Instead, you roll your head to the side, run your fingers over the marks he’d left on your neck just this morning, the sun barely above the horizon. He feels his skin grow warm, almost embarrassed as the bright lights of the bathroom highlight all the places he’d sunk his teeth into you, but something furls in his belly that you’d let him do it. That you’d let him possess you.

Feels like his heart is going to beat out of his chest as he watches you bend at the waist, as it affords him a glimpse of your pussy; as you lean down and trail your fingers from ankle to thigh, as the expanse of soft, smooth skin pebbles beneath your touch. Watches as you straighten and meet his eye in the mirror again before you raise one leg onto the counter; as you lean forward to grab your lotion and the glimpse of you he’d gotten before returns tenfold. Even from here, he can tell you’re dripping wet; can tell the insides of your thighs are glistening with it.

“That’s who you were texting, right? Your manager?”

He sucks in a harsh breath through clenched teeth. Enraptured once again, unable to look away. Watches as you massage the lotion into your skin—the one he likes the most, the one that always stains his bedsheets the longest. Musk and vanilla. Feels himself growing hard and palms at his cock, unabashed, wanting you to see what you do to him.

Swallows all the whiny little sounds he wants to make and manages to ask, “Does it bother you if they are?”

Whether it’s his question or his tone that piques your attention, you pause, turning to look at him over your shoulder, eyes darkening as you take in the sight of him touching himself. He knows how he looks. Head thrown back, eyes half-lidded, bare chest heaving. How his thick cock looks as it strains against the expensive silk of his shorts. Thinks about all the praise you’ve lavished upon him and knows he’s earned every word of it.

So he gives in. Lets the pleasure wash over him and make him bold as he touches himself with more intention, as he runs two fingers over the seam of his balls, as he tightens his grip and moans, uncaring of who might hear. He registers the dip in the mattress at the same time that familiar lightning starts making its way up his spine. He’s senseless as he chases after it, always a step behind despite wanting more, more, always more; loses himself in the gluttony of his intemperance.

It’s only when he’s on the verge of something truly mind-numbing do you lose your patience—when you straddle his waist and pin his hands at his side. A sob escapes him as his hips thrust uselessly, searching hysterically for friction. Tears prick pathetically at the corner of his eyes, and he knows he needs to look at you, knows you’re expecting it, but every inch of his skin burns with the force and the violence of the orgasm you’d denied him.

You tsk. All condescension as you say, “My poor baby.” All sharp edges when you ask, “Will you be a good boy and keep your hands where they are?”

Despite both of you knowing he’d promise you anything right now, Joshua nods, nearly feverish and rabid with the need to cum. Wants to fill you up until it’s leaking down his shaft. Wants to fuck it back into you with his fingers. Wants you on all fours, back arched so only your hips and ass are in the air, while he eats his load out of you from behind.

Of course, you have ideas of your own.

You trace over the wet spot of his shorts just to watch his cheeks ruddy. Leave bruises on his hips before your fingers move to the waistband, toying with him as you snap the elastic against his skin and relish in the way he whines, how he grasps at the sheets to keep his hands still. Pleas fill his mouth and never make it past his lips, and he’ll beg if he has to, if you make him, but you don’t. Slowly and deliberately, you work his shorts down and off; don’t waste a second before you’re sinking down onto his cock.

Every inch is agonizing, blinding heat. Joshua cries out, both unable and unwilling to censor himself. Doesn’t see the need for it when it feels like every atom in his body is being rearranged, like you’re collecting pieces of him to replace with you, embedding yourself beneath his skin. And he’ll let you—fuck, will he let you; wants to carve out a home for you within his body, wants you ingrained in him forever. Doesn’t ever want to be buried this deeply inside anyone else.

When you kiss him it tastes like devotion. He seals his mouth over yours so it can’t escape, so it has nowhere to go but down into your chest to fill the spaces between each of your ribs. And to hell with listening, he thinks, because he can’t go another second without touching you. One hand curls around the back of your neck, pulling you closer, closer, impossibly closer, keeping you where you are, with your lips on his and your tongue in his mouth; the other digs into the meat of your ass, dimples the skin there, helps guide your cunt along the length of his cock, so soaked every thrust nearly has him slipping out.

He knows every time he hits the spot that makes your vision white out, feels how you clench around him despite the sopping mess between your legs. Slows his pace. Pulls back only far enough to say, “Back and forth, angel. That’s it. Grind that pretty pussy against me and get yourself off—fuck, you feel so good.”

He groans. Feels his grip on reality begin to falter with the noises falling from your lips; all your breathy, fractured whines. “That’s it, that’s it—god, you’re close, aren’t you? Yeah, shit, I can feel it. So fucking dirty, baby, love it when you fuck me like this—”

You come with a sob, body pulling taut, panting his name into what little space exists between you. Joshua swears, tries to fuck you through the aftershocks, but you’re wrapped around him like a vice, cunt so tight he can barely move.

He’s delirious. Always gets lightheaded watching you fall apart: the way your eyes squeeze shut, how dazed they look right after you open them again—how Joshua is always, always the first thing you make sense of when everything comes back into focus. And he’s going to say something stupid, something he can’t take back even if he means it, so he situates the two of you, uses all the strength he can muster to carry you across the room.

In the midst of his self-indulgence he forgot he’d left the door to the balcony open, wanted the sticky July breeze to blow in from the lake, and the wall next to that open door is where he places you. The backs of your knees in the crooks of his elbows; his lips on your neck, tongue tracing over the bruises he’d left. You’ve barely come down from your high before he’s fucking back into you, and he can tell it’s almost too much, that he’s towing a very fine line, so he eases his pace and rolls his hips slow.

Tells you, against the space just beneath your ear, how beautiful you look, how well you take him. “I should fuck you out on that balcony. They should see this,” he murmurs, voice deceivingly soft, all those possessive tendencies flaring in his gut. “All those people out there, they should see how well I fuck you, how you only come for me, only come around this cock.” His words are accentuated with a harsh snap of his hips that has you crying out—a rasping, guttural sound that douses the last threads of his discretion in kerosine and sets them on fire. “Let them hear you,” he urges, words slurring together, “let them know who I belong to.”

It’s faint, but he hears it anyway: “Me. Me, you belong to—shit, to me.”

“That’s fucking right.”

You clench around him again, eyes rolling back, and Joshua knows he’s approaching his own end as his thrusts grow uncoordinated and sloppy. He asks if you can come again and tells you to touch yourself when you nod. Wishes he could see it, but he feels each swipe of your fingers against your clit as your walls flutter around him, and it’s enough to drag you both over the edge.

Once he catches his breath, he drops to his knees in front of you. Places one of your legs over his shoulder and kisses every inch of skin he can reach until he’s once again eye-level with your pussy, each one of his senses overwhelmed—the way your skin feels, the way you smell, the sound of your breath hitching when he flattens his tongue against your cunt and tastes himself, the disbelief and adoration in your eyes as you gaze down at him.

You finally answer the question he forgot he’d asked: “No,” you say, the word coming at the trail end of a blissful sigh, “it doesn’t bother me. Let them—let them talk. I’m not going anywhere.”

Joshua smiles. Bites at the juncture of your thigh just to watch you squirm. “Good, because I wasn’t planning on letting you leave this room.”

If you've made it this far, thank you so much for reading! Sharing and reblogging my work is the best way to show you enjoyed it, but I also accept any and all feedback and screaming in my inbox. <3

[dix0nspretty]

Skittish

Summary: Since you came back from Woodbury, you've been skittish and avoiding men- especially Daryl- like the plague.

Daryl Dixon x F!Reader, 1.1k words

Era: Prison (post-Glenn and Maggie in Woodbury)

⚠️TW FOR SA. ⚠️TW FOR SA. ⚠️TW FOR SA. ⚠️

It's discussion of the aftermath and not active SA, but it is discussion of the reader being raped/SAed. Feelings of guilt and shame from the assault, mentions of isolation, fear of men, and suicidal ideation. This is not a light read. Author is.... working through some things, to say the least. I'm, against my best judgement, engaging in this bastardized version of Russian Roulette Febuwhump/Kinktober for March that I'm affectionately calling Trinket's Cause of Death. It's basically 50/50 whump/kink where I generate a number corresponding to a prompt.

Day 11: Sexual Assault with Daryl (whump)

When you, Maggie, and Glenn came back from Woodbury after Merle forced you there, something was different. Glenn was beat to hell, Maggie was angry, and you… you were skittish. Quiet.

Glenn has barely spoken to Daryl, Merle having driven a wedge between them right when it was starting to feel like Daryl was finally fitting in. You were a close friend. Rick trusted him with Little Asskicker and important situations around the prison. He was actually listened to and his opinion valued… until he brought Merle back with him.

Most if not all of the progress made between the youngest Dixon and everyone else was out the window, but nothing bothered him more than the way you suddenly avoided him like the plague. Skittering away any time he got even close or called your name. All of the men, actually.

If one of the men enters a room you’re in, you find the quickest reason to leave. You won’t eat meals with the whole group, either eating in your cell or secluding yourself away in a corner, back to a wall and eyes on an exit strategy.

Contrary to recently renewed belief, Daryl Dixon is anything but stupid. He recognizes these patterns and between you and Maggie… he doesn’t like the picture being painted.

So he takes the Daryl way of handling things and comes to your cell when the fewest people are in the prison, sleeping in their cells or on guard or doing god-knows-what elsewhere. He convinces himself that his heart doesn’t ache when he watches you startle, scared by the male silhouette in your doorway. You don’t relax when you meet his eyes and that is nearly as devastating as the change to your cell.

Gone are your belongings spread across the cell in a cheery attempt to make it look more as a bedroom. Your mattress has been dragged from your bed, shoved into the small nook between the wall and the head of the bunks. Your backpack, your boots, and your other belongings form a wall around the foot of the mattress, effectively blocking you in.

It’s not a bedroom anymore, it’s the equivalent of an animal trying to protect themselves in their den and he tries to ignore the faint crack of his heart breaking.

“What are y’doin’ in there?” His voice comes out gruff but attempting to be… what, conversational? He knows what he’s here to ask and it’s not about the weather outside. “Mattress goes on the bed.”

Normally that would’ve earned him a huff and a sarcastic comment dripping with easy wit, but all he gets is those scared eyes looking at him like he’s the big bad wolf. Like he’ll eat you whole.

“Just me,” Daryl softens his voice as much as he can and steps into the cell, slowly and making minimal noise. He ignores the way you flinch, stopping outside of arm’s reach,  a trick he learned as a kid, and eases to sit in a mimic of your own posture. “Ain’t gonna hurt ya.”

The way you look at him screams that no, you don’t know that, so Daryl does something very rare and completely disarms himself. Not a knife, not a bolt, nothing on him other than his clothes, and he passes the weapons over to you. “Body’s tellin’ you I’m a threat. I ain’t a threat to you an’ you know it.”

A small sniffle as you grab his weapons and pull them into your makeshift nest. “Feels like a threat,” You mumble softly and wipe at your eyes. “Everyone does.”

He takes a moment to think about that before shaking his head. “Nah. Not everyone.” You know what he’s getting at and he knows you know, but you seem determined to be stubborn. That’s okay- he’s even more stubborn and a bastard to boot. “Y’get raped?”

The freezing of each and every atom in your body and the shift in the air tells him all he needs to know. You make some strangled attempt to protest, to deny the claim out of shame or fear or guilt, but he simply nods and holds eye contact. “Was it Merle?” His brother is a misogynistic, racist, homophobic piece of shit, but he’s never gone so far as to sexually assault someone- not to Daryl’s knowledge, at least.

If he finds out Merle laid even a finger on you, he’ll skin him alive himself and let you feed the walkers with the pieces. He’ll kill him if he hurt you, if he violated you in the worst possible way someone could be hurt.

“No,” you whisper softly with a shake of your head. He can’t deny the relief he feels that his brother had nothing to do with it, but that doesn’t ease the anger and concern for you.

“Governor?” Daryl lists the second name and there you go, freezing again and avoiding eye contact. Nail on the head. “Look…”

Daryl scoots closer on the floor until his boots are close enough to brush the blanket in your lap if you shift. Close but not too close. He’s an observant person. Everybody in the prison knows how much you thrive on touch, on physical closeness. It’d practically your lifeblood and as far as he knows, you’ve gone over a week without it. He’s extending an olive branch.

“Ain’t gonna make you talk,” He promises once you relax some, body realizing that if he was going to hurt you, he would’ve done it already. “Ain’t gonna make you pretend t’be alright. That’s bullshit, you’re the furthest thing from alright.”

It’s over 10 minutes of silence before the words slowly start to spill from your lips, a slow trickle at first before pouring out in a waterfall. How Merle got the drop on you. Being dragged into a room by myself. Having to listen to Maggie and Glenn scream while not knowing what’s happening, if they’re okay.

How the Governor tried to play good cop before forcing you to undress, making you bend over the cold table.

You’re sobbing in Daryl’s lap, face buried into his neck by the time you admit aloud just what the Governor did to you. The extent he forced you to take, the pain and the shame and the need to get away from everybody your brain deems a threat, which is everyone.

He lets you sob and wail, lets you grieve and work through your emotions silently. He knows you need someone to listen to you, not to pacify you. You need the physical comfort you’ve been lacking and the sensation of being safe. Daryl would kill a hundred men to keep you safe. To take this experience away from you, to take it for you.

And god help the Governor if Daryl ever, ever sees him again.

[estrellami-1]

March Mating Madness

Day 4: Bitching/Studding

Pretty Damn Good

Ao3 Link

Nearly called this fic “The Bitchification of Steve Harrington” because I think I’m hilarious.

Eddie never thought his big mouth would get him into situations like this.

This being, of course, Steve Harrington asking Eddie to-

No. There’s no way.

“Please?”

Eddie’s ears ring. His vision goes wobbly. “Uh,” he says dumbly. “I, uh. Think you should come in?”

Steve does, and now Steve’s standing in Eddie’s trailer. What the fuck.

“Okay,” he says, trying to pretend like this isn’t blowing his brain. “Um. My room, come on, this way.” He waves Steve further in, then stops so suddenly Steve runs into him. “Shit, sorry, just- water? Can I get- do you-”

“I’m fine,” Steve says. His voice is small, unsure, and when Eddie looks at him, his shoulders are drawn up and tense. Eddie scents the air, but Steve must be wearing blockers because he only smells his own manic confusion and Wayne’s comforting lemon scent, lingering from a few hours ago when he left for work.

“Okay,” Eddie says uncertainly, and continues on into his room, where he flops on the bed and pats an open space next to him. “Now, I’m gonna need you to tell me everything again, because I’m pretty sure I just hallucinated my biggest fantasy.”

The corner of Steve’s lips quirks up in a smile. “Your biggest fantasy?”

“Have you seen you?” Eddie rebuts. “Yeah, man.”

Steve snickers. “Well you didn’t hallucinate. I want you to bitch me.”

“Can you tell me why?”

Steve doesn’t meet his eyes. Messes with a loose threat on the edge of Eddie’s sheet. “I originally presented as an omega,” he admits in a whisper. “I don’t remember much from my presentation heat. Just… pain. I was able to piece together the pieces later. My parents got home during my heat and… my dad is very, uh. Particular about his image. And as his son, I’m a part of that image.” He swallows, works his jaw. “They took me to a clinic. Stopped my heat, turned it into a rut somehow.” He swallows again. His eyes are distant. “It burned like fire in my veins. Just.. hurt.”

Eddie blows out a breath. “Okay, so your parents are pieces of shit, got it.”

Steve sighs. “Yeah. They finally fucked off for good a few months ago. I’ve done the research, I’ve gotten everything I need. I just need someone to do the actual… bitching part of it.”

“Why me?”

“Oh, I dunno, maybe because half your rants are about forced conformity? Maybe because who the fuck else am I supposed to ask in Hawkins?” He shrugs miserably. “I have… one Alpha friend. And… I could ask her, and she’d probably do it, just because… because we’re us, y’know? But that’s exactly why I can’t ask her.”

“Because she’d put your comfort above her own discomfort.”

“Exactly.” He winds the thread around his finger. Unwinds it, and winds it the other way. “You don’t have to.”

Eddie chuckles. “I know. You’ve done the research, you said?”

“Mhm. I have a muzzle. I want this, and hopefully my body does too, so I shouldn’t- but if you want, I’ll wear it. I’ve got a- there’s a cream, that’s supposed to make me… more sensitive? I don’t know, uh. How much you know about this.”

“Not much, to be honest. I mostly deal with the… medical side of things.” At Steve’s confused blink, he elaborates. “Suppressants, dude.”

“Oh. Right. Um, okay. So… right now, with an Alphan body, I have a dick. And no vagina.”

“Right. I did pass biology.”

Steve’s cheeks burn. “Right. The cream goes, uh… where my vagina would be. Will be, hopefully. And then, uh. You, if you’ll help me, basically have to, uh… come. On that spot.”

“Ah,” Eddie says, brain buzzing again. “Okay. Easy enough. Explain the muzzle to me?”

“I want to be an omega, but that means violating the Alpha part of me. I could… become reactive.”

“Ah.”

“There’s also, uh.” He squeezes his eyes shut. “A cock cage? For me?”

“You’re asking me or telling me?”

“No, ‘m- I’m telling. The studding, uh… made me bigger? And the bitching is gonna make me smaller. And, y’know, omegas don’t have knots, so… if I can’t pop one…”

“Right, makes sense.”

“And I can pay you, of course.”

Eddie chuckles. “Why don’t we burn that bridge when we get to it. ‘S not like I wouldn’t be jerking off anyway. At least now it’s going somewhere useful, y’know?”

“Um,” Steve says, “sure?”

“Anything else I’ll need to do?”

Steve bites his lip. “This is also where the muzzle could come in, I guess. Basically you just… need to treat me like an omega you’re fucking. Cuddle me, scent me, things like that.”

“Ah. And while you’re more Alphan, you may react.”

“Exactly.”

“And once you’re more omegan? Anything specific I need to do or have?”

His cheeks burn again. “Um. I’m going to want to do more… omegan things. Like nesting. It’s not vital but it can help it take better. And it can prevent a drop.”

“Okay, so we’re doing it.” At Steve’s unsure look, he says, “Look, man, drops… they fucking suck, okay? And if I can make this process suck a little less for you, then hell yeah, we’re doing it.”

Steve ducks his head with a shy smile. “Okay.”

“Okay. You got the things with you?”

Steve’s head shoots up. “You want to do it now?”

“Is there a reason why you can’t?”

“I… I guess not. Okay. I’ll just, um. Go get it, then?”

“Or we could go back to your place,” Eddie offers. “More comfortable for you. More scents you know.”

Steve shakes his head. “It’s also got my scent as an Alpha there, which can negatively affect it.”

Eddie shrugs. “Either way, man, just want you comfortable.” He walks him to the front door, waits while he grabs a bag from the passenger seat of his car.

They settle back in his room, Steve laying on the bed, lower half bared to the room. He tucks himself into the cock cage and rubs the cream over the area.

“Damn,” Eddie says, lower half also bared. He’s working his cock up to full hardness, adding a little lube to help with the friction. “‘S a good thing I don’t get stage fright.”

Steve giggles—fucking giggles—and Eddie already knows this is going to be hazardous for his health.

But god damn will it be worth it.

Eventually he comes, and he aims for the spot on Steve where the cream had been rubbed earlier. As soon as he pulls away, Steve’s got his hand down there, rubbing it in.

Eddie grins, only a little manic, as he lays down next to Steve. “You gonna snap at me if I cuddle you?”

“Um.” Steve blinks. “No?”

“Cool,” Eddie says, and proceeds to wrap himself around Steve like an octopus. He pulls the comforter up too, tucks his head into Steve’s neck, and rubs his nose along the edge of Steve’s mating gland. “Think it stuck?”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Steve whispers, but then he immediately starts laughing, and suddenly Eddie feels a whole lot better about this.

So it goes for a few weeks. Every other day, like clockwork, Steve’s at Eddie’s trailer.

One day Eddie opens the door for Steve and notices something. “You’re not wearing a scent patch!”

Steve beams. “My scent’s turning more omegan!”

“Dude!” Eddie says, and pulls him into a hug. “That’s great!” He ushers him in, locks the front door, herds him to his room. “Come on, come on, let’s go!”

“Jesus,” Steve laughs, “eager much?”

“Excited,” Eddie corrects him. “It’s working!”

Steve nods happily. “My balls are almost gone,” he tells Eddie, unbuttoning his pants and shucking them. “And my cunt’s getting more sensitive.”

Eddie shucks his own jeans. “Lemme see? I wanna see if we can try something different today.”

Steve lays back and opens his legs, and Eddie traces a gentle finger right where his vagina will be. It’s a little puffy, and he thinks he can see the start of some lips.

“Oh, shit,” Steve whispers, tensing his legs and biting his lower lip. “Uh, Eddie-”

“Oh, shit, sorry,” Eddie says. “Did that hurt?”

“Um. It actually felt good? Like… really good?” Steve doesn’t meet Eddie’s eyes. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be. It does make me think my idea will work, though.” He puts a gentle hand on Steve’s thigh. “How do you feel about me pretending to fuck you? Basically I’d rut against your cunt. I’d pull back when I’m about to come, so I’d get it where we need it. But if you need me to treat you like an omega…”

“Okay, yeah, yeah, let’s do it. Do you- um, do you want me to wear the muzzle?”

“Nope. I want your nose in my neck. Getting fucked and being surrounded by the scent of the Alpha fucking you? ‘S gotta kick it up a notch.”

“Worth a shot,” Steve agrees, fiddling with the cream. “Um. Would you want to do this?”

Eddie sends him a crooked grin, plucks the tube from his fingers. “Would I want to prep your pussy to take my cock? Yeah, I would.”

“Oh, shit,” Steve whispers.

Eddie freezes. “Too much?”

“No, uh. It actually. Turned me on?”

“Y’know, you say a lot of things as questions that shouldn’t be questions. Did I or did I not turn you on?”

“You did,” Steve admits, cheeks flaming.

Eddie starts rubbing, dipping in closer to nudge his nose against Steve’s scent gland. “Smell sweet,” he murmurs. “Like cherries.” Steve’s breath hitches, and he nudges his hips up into Eddie’s hand.

“Want you to fuck me,” he murmurs back, notching his nose in Eddie’s neck, breathing in his woodsmoke scent. His hips buck up again, and a whine rips its way from his throat, thin but present.

Eddie rumbles back, a calming Alpha sound, and slows his fingers. “Can’t yet,” he whispers into Steve’s neck. The brush of his lips over Steve’s gland makes him shiver. “Y’want it, though? When I can?”

“Please,” Steve whispers, fingers digging into Eddie’s hips.

“I’ve gotcha.” He pulls away for barely a second to reach the lube, slicking himself up before beginning to rut against Steve. “Think you can come this way?”

“Oh, fuck- I- I dunno. Feels- mm, like heat more than rut.”

“Yeah? You tryin’a squirt on me?”

“Oh, fuck-” Steve goes tense all over, eyes squeezed shut as he pants open-mouthed.

Eddie stops but doesn’t pull away, rubbing Steve’s hip with his hand. “Hey,” he murmurs when Steve’s eyes open. “That looked good.”

Steve hums. “‘T was.” His fingers flex on Eddie’s hips as his eyes slip shut again. “C’mon, keep going.”

Eddie tests a thrust. “You’re not too sensitive?”

“‘M sensitive, but ‘s good.”

“Think you can do that again?”

“Hm, maybe.”

“Was it- did you come?”

“Felt like it, but…” he flops a hand down in between them, feeling the cock cage. “‘S dry.” Suddenly he sniffles, and Eddie’s horrified to see tears in his eyes when he blinks them open. Eddie immediately stops, causing Steve to whine.

“Hey, hey, shh, it’s okay, I’m right here. Don’t wanna hurt you. You’re crying.”

“‘M happy,” Steve whispers.

Eddie cups his face, wipes a tear from the corner of Steve’s eye. “Yeah? Feel more like you?”

Steve sniffles, nods. “Keep going,” he whispers, eyes fluttering shut as Eddie rocks his hips once more. “Feels so good, Alpha, wanna come again.”

Eddie groans. “I’ve gotcha, ‘mega. Gonna make you feel so good.” He starts mouthing at Steve’s scent gland, and Steve whines again, little high-pitched hums that show how good it feels.

“Gonna come,” Steve whimpers, and does a second later, wrapping his legs around Eddie’s hips and pulling him in, squeezing as the pleasure runs its course.

“Shit,” Eddie groans. His cock is practically pulsing with the need to come. As soon as Steve releases him, he pulls back and strips it furiously, aiming for the spot he’d just been rutting up against.

He finally comes and gently rubs it in, watching Steve’s face for any sign of discomfort. Thankfully he doesn’t find any, so he grabs for a tissue to clean his dick with then pulls the comforter up as he wraps Steve in his arms.

They’re both silent for a few minutes, and it’s only when Eddie comes down from his high that he realizes Steve’s purring into his neck. He pulls back to look at Steve, maybe say something, when he realizes Steve’s asleep.

He sighs, smiles, and pulls Steve back in, letting his own, deeper purr rumble through him as he lets himself drop off to sleep.

He’s awakened later by his bedroom door opening. He’s warm and comfortable, and there’s a warm, comforting weight in his arms, and he doesn’t want to open his eyes. He compromises and opens one bleary eye to see Wayne looking first at him, then Steve, then back to him. He purses his lips, nods, and steps out, closing the door with a click.

Eddie lets his eye fall shut again, but he’s awake now, so he drifts for a few minutes before his bladder makes itself known. He carefully extricates himself out of Steve’s own hold, pulling the comforter up more securely around him, and silently pads out of the room, shutting the door before going to relieve himself.

He walks out to the kitchen to find Wayne cooking. There’s a pot of coffee on, and Eddie sends out a thankful scent as he grabs a mug.

“So,” Wayne says.

“Yup.”

“You bein’ careful?”

Eddie tilts his head. “As much as I can be,” he finally says.

Wayne hums. “What’s his name?”

“Steve. Harrington.” At Wayne’s raised brow, Eddie chuckles. “I know, I know. Turns out he’s maybe not such a bad dude.”

“You just hookin’ up? Or you two boyfriends?”

“No, it’s… a little more complicated than that. Not really my story to tell.”

Wayne hums. “Always thought it was weird, y’know. That big house. I’d drive by and only ever see one car in the driveway.”

“Yeah,” Eddie agrees, nudging Wayne out of the way to reach the bread, “that’s part of it.”

Just then his bedroom door opens, and Steve stumbles out, rubbing his eye and yawning. Thankfully, he’s put his boxers back on.

Eddie smiles and gestures for Steve to join them. “Hey, Steve. Come meet my Uncle Wayne.”

“Oh,” Steve says, looking nervous. “Hello, sir.”

“Wayne,” Wayne corrects. “Steve, is it?”

“Yes, sir. Um. Wayne.”

Wayne chuckles. “Y’like eggs, Steve?”

“Oh, no, you don’t have to make me anything-”

Eddie snickers and snakes an arm around Steve’s waist. “It’s no use arguing. He’s gonna end up feeding you anyhow.”

Steve’s face flames. “I like eggs. Thank you.”

Wayne nods. “There’s coffee, for if you’re human and drink the stuff.”

Steve laughs and relaxes a little, accepts the mug Eddie hands him. “Thank you.”

“Steve,” Wayne begins.

“Yes?”

“By all accounts, you two are grown and able to make your own decisions. But I’d like to know what you’re doing so I can help, if I can.”

“Oh,” Steve says, and looks uncertainly at Eddie.

Eddie shrugs. “It’s your choice. I’m fine with it, and he’s chill.”

“He won’t, um…” Steve shifts uncomfortably. “I know some people can be weird about it.”

“He’ll be fine if you want to tell him.”

“I’m a busybody,” Wayne says. “Y’don’t owe me a damn thing, alright, kid?”

Steve chuckles and nods. “Okay. Um. I presented omega. My parents got home halfway through my presentation heat, took me to a clinic, and changed it to a presentation rut.”

Wayne’s eyes narrow. “How old were you, kid?”

“Um. Fourteen?”

“Hm. Underage.”

“My parents have… a lot of money. And status.”

“So I gathered. Go on.”

“I never wanted to be an Alpha. I heard Eddie’s rants, during school, and figured if anyone would help me… it would be him. I asked, and he said yes.” He fidgets. “I, um. I did all the research, and bought everything I needed, but I couldn’t- um, outside of a clinic, I need an Alpha to help me.”

Wayne waves him off. “Y’don’t gotta explain yourself. Eddie’s a grown man who can make his own decisions. Let’s back up for a second, though. Y’know you can sue your parents and the clinic that performed that procedure on you?”

Steve blinks. “I can?”

“You were underage, son. That’s not legal. The case tells itself. ‘Specially if you’ve got documentation.”

“I might,” Steve muses. “Or, I guess my dad might, actually. I know where it would be.”

“You have to understand you might not have parents if you decide to sue them. ‘Specially if they’re cut from the cloth I think they are.”

“I’m pretty sure I don’t have parents already,” Steve says softly. “But if I could get money, get out of that house, maybe a place of my own… that would be really nice.”

Wayne nods. “I’ll talk to some guys I know. See what we can’t do.”

“Thank you,” Steve whispers, and Wayne pulls him into a hug.

Two days later he’s back in the trailer, scenting Eddie even before he steps fully inside. He seems to realize what he’s doing as soon as Eddie stiffens. Eddie does his best to relax, send a warm smile Steve’s way.

“Sorry,” Steve mutters, ducking his head. “I dunno what that was.”

“I think that was just your omega instincts kicking in.” He shuts the door. “Maybe today you try making a nest? Try and, like… activate those instincts?”

“Sure,” Steve nods, then hesitates. “Um. I have- this is part of what I have ready, actually, but… I’ve got some scents from my pack in my car?”

Eddie gestures. “Yeah, bring them in! This is for you. If there’s anything I can do to make you feel more comfortable, I wanna do it.”

Steve blushes, ducks his head. “Thanks. I’ll just, um, go grab it then?”

He hurries out, and Eddie hurries to his room, does his best to make his bed. Straightens the sheets, fluffs the pillow. The sheets had all been bunched at the bottom of the bed, and maybe that’s better for Steve, Eddie doesn’t know, but he figures a blank slate might be best.

And anyways, he likes the idea of Steve including his scent in the nest. Sue him.

Steve returns quickly, walking in just as Eddie’s finishing with the bed. “Okay. You’re sure you do don’t mind me bringing my pack’s scents in here? There are some Alphas in my pack.”

Eddie smiles warmly. “I’m nowhere near my rut, Steve. I don’t mind you bringing other Alphas’ scents into my room. It’s fine.”

“Okay,” Steve nods, and starts on the nest.

Eddie doesn’t know what a nest is supposed to look like, so he’s fascinated. There are thicker sweaters and jackets, and in one case even a pair of jeans. These all get bunched up along the outer wall, with t-shirts and bandanas making up the base. The base is rather patchy, letting Eddie’s comforter peek through, and Eddie’s happy about it, but does his best not to let the happiness show. He’s just here to help bitch Steve, after all. They don’t mean anything to each other, though of course he wants to. God does he want to. He wants to court Steve in a way he’s never wanted to before. He wants to bring him flowers and make food for him, scour secondhand shops for the perfect jewelry for his neck and finger. He wants to show Steve he can provide for him. He knows he may not be able to provide Steve with quite the standard of living he’s used to, but he can love Steve for who he is, which is clearly more than can be said for his parents.

He’s jolted out of his reverie by a sound. He narrows in on Steve and realizes he’s purring, and a smile breaks out across his face when he sees the omega curled up in his nest, happy as a clam.

“I didn’t know it could feel like this,” Steve whispers, broken up by purrs. He looks down at his nest, plucks at an orange t-shirt. “Will you- um. Will you join me?”

Eddie stills. “You want me to enter your nest?”

Steve looks up at him from under his eyelashes and nods. “Yes, please.”

The thing is, Eddie thinks, he doesn’t think Steve knows how dangerous those eyes of his are. Eddie’s pretty sure wars have been fought over less. Surely Helen of Troy, beautiful as she was, couldn’t hold a candle to Steve’s eyes. “I’d be honored,” he whispers back, moving forward and carefully climbing in, slotting himself behind Steve.

“I think,” Steve murmurs, “I’m almost done. I think it’s just… the really physical part left, y’know?”

Eddie hums, scents the air. He smells Steve’s pack, but above all he smells Steve, tangy cherries and something sweet like whipped cream. “You smell like an ice cream sundae.”

“Ugh,” Steve says, “the less I hear about ice cream sundaes, the better.”

Eddie blinks. “Why?”

“Did you never visit Starcourt?”

“I did, like, once. I don’t go to malls very often.”

“Yeah, I should’ve seen that coming.” Steve sighs. “I worked at the Scoops Ahoy there. The amount of cold, sticky messes I had to clean up… if I never have to do that again, it’ll be too soon.”

“Ah,” Eddie nods. “The perils of a corporate job.”

Steve snorts. “As opposed to you? Risking getting shanked for shit weed?”

“I’ll have you know I sell only the finest marijuana grown in Reefer Rick’s attic,” he tells Steve, feigning protest and pulling him closer to squeeze just a little, grinning when Steve laughs and squirms. He relaxes his hold but doesn’t let go, and Steve sighs happily, losing any remaining tension in his body. “This is nice.”

“You don’t puppy pile with your pack?”

Steve works his lip. “Not… while I’m, uh, in-between.”

Eddie’s eyes narrow. “Are they not okay with it?”

“No, they’re fine for the most part. There’s one pup who kind of hates me because I dated his sister for a while, and he’s also just kind of an asshole, but for the most part they’re fine.”

“So why not puppy pile?”

“I guess because… like, I know it’s okay. But it… it’s happening to me, and even though I know it’s okay, it’s still… weird, kinda. And I don’t want anyone else to feel uncomfortable.” He sighs. “I don’t know. I don’t think I explained it right.”

“I think I get it. Your brain knows it’s okay, but your heart is gonna take a little more convincing, even though your pups are fine with it.”

“Y-yeah, exactly.” He takes a stuttering breath, and Eddie sits up to lean over him.

“What’s wrong?”

Steve blushes firetruck red. “Uh. You called them my pups. And I… I love the idea of having pups of my own one day.”

“Yeah? How many little Harringtons you want runnin’ around?”

“God, like six,” Steve breathes. “A vanful. Get a Winnebago and pack everyone up and just… drive. See the Grand Canyon and the redwoods and the beaches in California and Florida and New York City. Just get the fuck out of Hawkins.”

Eddie chuckles. “Sounds pretty damn good.”

“What do you want to do?”

Eddie swallows down what he wants to say. “I dunno. I always thought I’d make it big, maybe in Indy, or somewhere in California. Me and my band against the world, y’know? But I know now that we’re pretty shit. We’ve got a good group at the Hideout, if you count five or so drunks that only occasionally heckle us.” Steve snickers. Eddie buries his smile in the back of Steve’s neck. “But… I dunno. It’d be nice to settle down. Somewhere out of Hawkins, obviously.”

“Oh, obviously.”

“And just… be. Somewhere people hear the name Munson and don’t immediately think Al.”

“‘S that your dad?”

“Mhm. In name only, Wayne’s more my dad than he is. He’s currently in jail. Hopefully.”

Steve hums. Doesn’t offer meaningless platitudes, which Eddie likes, just burrows back into Eddie more. Freezes and flips over to face Eddie, who winces and shuts his eyes. “Eddie.”

“Hm?”

“Eddie.” Eddie opens his eyes to see Steve’s teasing smile. “What about this is doing it for you?”

Eddie groans. “You’re an omega who invited me into your nest, okay? And anyways we’ve been doing this for a while and this is the first time we haven’t… y’know. It’s Pavlovian at this point!”

Steve smiles, slips a thumb under Eddie’s shorts. “I think we should take care of it.”

Eddie stills his hand with a small smile. “Only if you want to,” he says softly. “I’m okay.”

“I want to,” Steve promises, just as quietly. “And even if I didn’t really we should anyways. Because I do want this. I want to be an omega. A real one.”

“You are a real one,” Eddie argues, “but I get it. We can. You still sensitive?”

Steve hums. “It feels different, but yeah.”

“Well lemme see what we’re working with. You might be opening up.”

“God, I hope so.” He shucks his shorts off and Eddie crawls down to the foot of the bed, gently moving Steve’s legs up and out of the way. Before he looks, he finds Steve’s eyes. “Do you want me to grab a towel first? So we don’t get your nest dirty?”

Steve chirps, an inadvertent sound that has a blush rising to his cheeks. “Yes, please.”

Eddie smiles, brushes a kiss to Steve’s knee on his way out of bed. He finds a towel and spreads it out under Steve. “Okay,” he murmurs. “You ready?”

“Mhm. Please.”

Another kiss, this time to the opposite knee, and he lays down, gently moving Steve’s cock out of the way. It’s noticeably smaller, and his balls are gone. He brushes a finger lightly over where Steve’s vagina will be. Steve hisses and bucks his hips, and Eddie instinctually responds with a low croon, soothing him. “Almost there,” he tells Steve. “It’s a little damp, and very thin-feeling. I think after today we might be done.”

“Oh,” Steve murmurs, cherry mixing with something sharper, like pineapple.

Eddie pops his head back up, frowning at Steve. “What? What’s wrong?”

Steve opens his mouth like he’s going to say it, then seems to change his mind with a shake of his head. “No, nothing.”

“Hey, if I’m doing something you don’t like-”

“No, it’s- it’s not you.” Steve sighs, rubs a hand over his face. “It’s me. Sorry. It’s fine.”

“Nope.” Eddie army-crawls back up to Steve’s side, huffing and puffing to get a laugh out of Steve. “You’re upset. I wanna help. I can listen if you need to vent. I can hold you if you need to cry. But we’re not moving on until you tell me whats going on.” He nudges his forehead against Steve’s. “‘S not healthy to keep it all bottled up all the time.”

Steve gusts out a breath. “Fine, it is you, okay? But it’s not, because you’re just being nice and doing me a favor and I know that, I swear I do, but my stupid heart doesn’t and it wants you, okay? I want to be your omega, I want you to be my Alpha, I want you to court me and meet my pack but you’re just helping me out. And again I know that! I know you’re just helping me out!”

“Hey, hey, hey,” Eddie soothes. “It’s okay. You’re hyperventilating, Steve, take a few deep breaths. With me, okay? Come on, you can do it, in and out with me.” He breathes for a few seconds, nodding encouragingly when Steve’s stuttering breaths start matching up with his. “There you go, good job. Steve,” he starts with a chuckle, “I think we should’ve talked about this a while ago.”

“I knew it,” Steve mutters, shuffling down the bed to reach his shorts. “‘M sorry, I can leave. I didn’t mean to- to lead you on. I’m sorry.”

“Whoa, hey, wait.” He cups Steve’s cheek with his hand, then shifts down to rub his wrist on Steve’s scent gland. “That’s not what I’m saying at all. I’m saying I want the exact same thing you do.”

Steve’s eyes flutter. “You do?”

“Mhm. I wanna be your Alpha, baby. Wanna take care of you. Buy you all the pretty things and let everyone know that you’re mine. Wanna court you properly, meet your pack, speak with your pack Alpha about asking for your hand. I want to give you every good thing you deserve.” He nudges Steve’s cheek with his nose. “How’s that sound?”

“Sounds pretty damn good,” Steve manages, wrapping his arms around Eddie’s neck.

“Steve.”

“Hm?” He doesn’t move, just tightens his arms a little.

“Can I kiss you?”

“Yeah,” Steve breathes. “Please.”

He rolls them over, bracketing Steve in a move that makes the omega whine a little. He leans in and slowly, gently brushes their lips together.

His eyes fall shut just after Steve’s, and he exhales, brushing their lips together twice more before they’ve both had enough.

Steve leans up just as he presses hard into Steve’s lips. Their noses smash together and they pull apart, giggling and blinking, before Eddie carefully, gently pushes him back down. He takes advantage of Steve’s parted lips and dips his tongue in, licking across his teeth before sealing their mouths together.

Steve exhales shakily into his mouth, fingers tightening at the nape of his neck, and one of his hands finds its way to Steve’s hip, grips hard, hopefully leaving bruises.

Steve pulls away to pant, pushing his head back into the pillow. “Eddie, please.”

“I’ve gotcha, baby,” Eddie murmurs, dipping down to nip at Steve’s throat. “Tell me what you want.”

He thrusts his hips up. “Want you to fuck me,” he murmurs, gasping when Eddie nips particularly hard. “Fuck, Alpha, please.”

“Yeah baby, yeah, I’ve gotcha. I gotcha, omega, gonna fuck you. Fuck, you’re a dream. Can’t wait ‘till I can fit inside of you.”

Steve whines. “Can’t for a week,” he tells Eddie through gasping breaths. “After I open. Gotta- gotta let it, um. Shit,” he breathes. “Gotta let it heal. Want to, though, want it, please-”

“Yeah, baby, I gotcha. Y’want me to rut against you again?” He rubs the cream in, focuses on where he can feel Steve’s clit coming in. Steve kicks a leg out, whines high in his throat.

“Yes,” he gasps. “Please, Eddie- Alpha, wan’it-”

Eddie shushes him. “I know, baby, I know. I’m right there with you. Fuck, can’t wait ‘till I can go down on you. Gonna eat you out, bet you taste so sweet.”

“Fuck,” Steve moans. “Yeah?”

“Yeah, baby. Gonna get my tongue in you, deep as it’ll go, ‘till it hurts but I won’t care ‘cause it’s you, fuckin’ perfect for me. Gonna make you come just from my mouth on you, maybe even twice, then I’ll slide in easy as anything. You’ll be so loose for me, so perfect around my dick, around my knot. Gonna pump you full, get started on those six pups you want.”

Steve’s whining nonstop now, humping up into Eddie, meeting every one of his thrusts downward. “Eddie, Alpha, please-”

“C’mon, baby,” he murmurs. “Come on my cock. Can’t you feel it in you? I can feel you, squeezing me. You want this, don’t you? Want me to paint your insides with my come.”

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Steve chants, squeezing Eddie’s hips with his thighs. “Gonna- gonna come, gonna-” he cuts off with a high whine, going still as he throws his head back, panting.

Eddie worms his hand in between, squeezes the base of his dick hard, gritting his teeth and panting as Steve slowly relaxes.

He sits up and wiggles back a little so he can finish, aiming for the spot that, at this point, has featured in his dreams. Rubs it in when he’s finished, then collapses half on top of and half next to Steve, tucking his nose into Steve’s neck and letting Steve do the same. “So good, baby,” he mumbles, yawning.

“So good,” Steve agrees, breathing it into the space between them. “Can’t believe you want me back.”

Eddie pulls back, swipes a gentle thumb over Steve’s forehead, moving his hair out of his face. “Baby,” he whispers, “I’ve wanted you since I saw you. Pre-presentation, even. You walked into school one day, laughing with Tommy about God-knows-what, and the light was coming in behind you like you were a fuckin’ angel, and I couldn’t breathe I thought you were so pretty.”

Steve huffs something like a laugh. “And then I ruin it by being a douchebag.”

“Nah,” Eddie tells him. “Cause I saw you. That wasn’t ever you, baby. That was your fuckin’ clown of a friend trying to get his king’s approval. It was Tommy knocking books out of hands and shoving heads in toilets. And you just looked on, and I saw you, baby. Your face said try harder but your eyes said how do I stop this?”

“I tried,” Steve whispers. “I tried to stop it, didn’t know how. Couldn’t find the words that worked.”

Eddie presses a quick, sweet kiss to his lips. “I know.” His lips quirk up. “Y’know I overcharged him for weed?”

Steve starts laughing. “That was my money, you dickhead!”

Eddie shoots up as his jaw drops. “It was?” Steve turns into Eddie’s shoulder, giggling almost hysterically, and nods. “Shit,” Eddie whispers. “Uh. I mean, I can pay you back? But it’s gonna take a while, I didn’t overcharge him much but you bought a lot, so…”

Steve shakes his head, finally calming down. “I don’t care. That’s just- shit, Rob’s gonna have a field day. I can’t wait.”

“You… want to tell him?”

“Her. Robin. Buckley? From band?”

“Oh, yeah, I know her. How do you know her?”

“We worked at Scoops together. I think we’re both traumatized from that job, honestly.”

“I’d expect nothing less from a corporate job.”

“Anyways. She’s the Alpha I was talking about? The one who would help me, but I couldn’t ask her?”

“Okay, yeah. She’s not gonna, like, come after me, is she?”

Steve waves him off. “Nah, you’re fine. She’s just gonna tease me about it.”

“M’kay.” He lays back down, kisses Steve’s shoulder. “Can I meet her?”

“You want to?”

“I mean, not to overstep, but… that’s kinda the next step, right?”

Steve giggles happily, pumps out sweet cherries and cream. “Mhm. Come see me at work tomorrow? Family Video. Robin works there too, her shift starts at one.”

“When does yours start?”

“Nine. I get off at three, with a half-hour break for lunch.”

“What if I bring you lunch at one?”

Steve smiles broadly. “That sounds perfect.”

“M’kay. What do you want?”

“Oh, I don’t care. Whatever you wanna get is fine, I’m really not picky.”

“Baby.” Eddie looks into his eyes, serious. “I’d drive to Indy if there’s something there you want. I promise you, whatever you want, you can have.”

“Even if it’s really out of the way?”

“It could be past Indy and I’d get it.”

“Benny’s?”

Eddie chuckles. “Baby, Benny’s is nothing. Course I can pick that up.”

“M’kay. Thank you.”

He picks up Benny’s the next day, also buying a brownie for Robin. He doesn’t know what she likes, but it’s hard to go wrong with brownies. Especially from Benny’s.

He walks in and grins at Steve, who’s manning the counter. “Hey, Stevie.”

“Eddie!” Steve perks up, runs around the counter, and jumps into his arms. Eddie laughs and catches him, turning in a circle and burying his nose in Steve’s neck.

“Well you’re certainly happy.”

“Mhm, I am.” He releases Eddie, bounces on the balls of his feet. “Guess what.”

Eddie hums, wrapping an arm around his waist and guiding him back over to the counter so he can put the food down. “Uh… you get off early today and can come see me even earlier.”

Steve pouts. “No, but I wish.”

“I can just stay, baby, I don’t have anything to do.”

“But it’s boring here!”

Eddie gasps. “Are you saying I’m boring? Are you saying it’s even possible to be bored when I’m here?”

Steve giggles. “I guess not.”

“‘Sides, I can never be bored when I’m with you.”

“Flirt,” Steve mutters, but his cheeks pinken anyways.

Before Eddie can guess again, Robin walks in. “Hey, Steve. Munson.”

“Buckley,” Eddie nods. “Got you a brownie if you want it.”

Robin blinks at him for a minute. “Steve?”

“Hm?”

“Keep him.”

Steve laughs. “That’s the plan. Oh, you’re both here! Great! Okay, guess what!”

Robin and Eddie exchange a look. “What?” Robin asks.

Steve leans closer to them. “It opened.”

It takes a second, but Eddie gets it just a split second before Robin does, yelling in excitement and gathering Steve up in another hug to swing him in another circle. “Baby! That’s so great! I’m so happy it worked!”

“Thanks to you,” Steve murmurs.

“Nah, I had the easy bit,” Eddie winks. “You did the hard part. And all the research, Christ, I woulda failed that immediately.”

Robin bats at Eddie’s arm, hard enough he finally lets go of Steve to swat at her. She zips in while she has the chance and tackles Steve in her own hug. “How do you feel?”

Steve chuckles. “Honestly? Not that different. I’ve already been acting more omegan with the two of you, and you treat me more like an omega too, so it’s really just the final physical part slotting into place.”

“Still,” she mumbles, tightening her hold on him. “That’s really great. I’m really happy for you.”

“I am too,” he says honestly.

“Stevie,” Eddie starts. “How would you feel if I left a little early? You’ve got your nest stuff in my room, but now that you’re, like, officially an omega, and not making Alpha hormones, and not influenced by the scent… what if we air out your room and move your nest there? Would you want that?”

Steve pulls away from Robin. “Oh, right, of course you don’t want it in your room. That’s fine, we can move it.”

Eddie furrows his brows. “Hang on, sweetness, that’s not what I said. I love having your nest in my room. I just want it where you want it. I’d be overjoyed to keep it in my room. I’d also be more than happy to help you transfer it.”

Steve looks up at him with fucking dangerous eyes. “It can stay?”

Eddie pulls him into a hug. “Of course it can, baby. I’m so sorry I made you think it couldn’t.” He runs a hand over Steve’s hair, smiles at him. “Hey.”

Steve immediately turns pink. “Hi.”

“Can I kiss you?”

“Yes, please.”

He does, thoroughly, only pulling away when Robin clears her throat. “Steve, if you’re gonna bone, at least clock out for it. And please go into the break room. At the very least.”

Steve turns firetruck red. “Uh. No. Sorry.”

“Can’t anyways,” Eddie adds. “Not for a week now, right?”

Steve pouts. “Dammit.”

Eddie snickers. “What, cuddling with me isn’t enough?”

Steve just rolls his eyes.

Eddie starts courting Steve that day. By the time he’s given Steve his last present, it’s in the trailer, which they both call home now. That night, Wayne gets home and tells Steve his contacts came through, and Steve will be getting compensation for being forced into an underage studding.

It’s more than enough, especially with the sale of the house in Loch Nora, to pay for a modest house on the edge of town.

Steve goes through a few heats while his body remembers how to be an omega, but after his third heat, he and Eddie stand in the bathroom, looking down at the stick in a little purple cup.

Two blue lines stare back up at them.

[cat-mermaid]

HAHAHA SUCKERS I LIED THEY ALL TRUE

you heard of the year without a santa claus? well i had a year of living in a small rednecky town in pennsylvania!

with a guy 10 years younger than me who was living outta his backpack like that guy from hotel Transylvania!

we met at a convention (illuxcon) and were moaning about how broke we were (i had to quit my last job cus they couldn't give me enough hours and i couldn't find anything else and was running outta funds and facing the fact that i could no longer afford to live in New York city or near it) and he was talking about how (insert tragic family history here) and so he's basically homeless and the irony is that his giant 3 story (4 if u count the attic?) family house that generations of his fam lived in, has been up for sale for years, but cus of HOUSING CRISIS 2008 no one is moving into his hometown and they can't even give that house away at this point!

so after the con, instead of getting back on the bus back to NY, i end up going with him back to his hometown, on a lark. and man were things grim there (no jobs, people moving away, tons of substance abuse) and we check out his old house. It was waaaaay far from the town and tucked away, no neighbors around and surrounded by woods and we just end up spending the night there and woah hey holy shit they have an old fashioned water pump thing out back:

then i find out theres this... thing? out in the woods away thats like some kinda ancient big shed/small building (technically it was on county land or something? it had one of those maintenance sheets in it that hadn't been signed in 10 years) that has a bunch of pipes and equipment in it? and oh my god right down near the bottom is a single small outlet that fucking has power! and i get this crazy idea

hey man wat if we just, live here? like for a bit while we get our shit together? I can get one of those mobile hotspot things and a mini generator/mini fridge. We just gotta get a buncha long power cables, daisy chain them from there to the house and we're good?

and we did it! and it was great! and the WHOLE FUCKING TOWN KNEW AND HATED US SO MUCH

cus when you live in a place like that there NO secrets, everyone is up in each other's grill 24/7

the cowboy town thing was basically: one day we snuck in, had fun, tried to leave by walking across the field behind the place so we could circle around back to the parking lot, got spotted by a bunch of white trash kids on dirt bikes who damn well knew who we were, then got forced to go back to cowboy town because those fuckers absolutely were gonna reenact that one scene from Rango if we tried to go past them:

but some of those assholes worked at the cowboy town too, and we could hear them radioing their fellow employees back in town, telling them to fucking get us

so yeah cut to the two of us fucking metal gear style sneaking around the outskirts of a shitty tourist cowboy town so we could get to the parking lot unmolested....

...where i found that someone had hucked a rock at my truck's windshield

COOL

and if you're wondering why, if everyone knew we were in that house, why no one called the cops? Small towns in that part of america have a weird mentality? We're going to openly ignore things/situations/people we find distasteful in order to keep up the appearance of a nice friendly community to the outside world, but quietly try to drive you out by making you feel unwelcome as hell?

i could go on but i think i've painted a pretty good picture of that time

eventually a friend on the west coast offered me decent-ish job and free stay in her in-law unit out back if i did housework/yard work and i said fuuuuck yes also can my friend i'm squatting with come? no its cool he's making so much money from online poker now? Like stupid good money??? we've just be sitting around this house for a year ignoring a whole ass town lazer focusing their hate at us while we play video games/online gambling

good times but those days are over!

fuck it. tag game

make a poll where the options are two truths and one lie and have your followers guess the lie

I’ll go first

npt: @starkissed-mars @l1ve-l4ugh-lov3craft @garden-of-runar @loozerboykisser @aesthetic-writer18 + anyone else who wants to <3

[neigepomme]

˙ ✩°˖ ✈️☃️ triple silly / caleb x reader x zayne

synopsis; three high school friends eating apple flavored popsicles on the way home. surely, nothing too funny about that.. unless?

🍎 pomme's notes - an elaboration on this post from earlier! wrote this as a platonic fic, but interpret however you'd like!

⋆ 900 words / fluff / fem reader / 2nd person

it was stupidly hot today.

walking back home from school with zayne and caleb, you could feel yourself slowly melt under the warm weather — and judging from the sweat on zayne's forehead and caleb's flushed cheeks, you weren't the only one who thought so. panting, you stop in your tracks and call out to the two boys.

"i can't do this anymore. let's get popsicles from the convenience store."

the store was on your way home, and you could all get some (much needed) refreshments while replenishing your strength under the A/C. so with a nod, the three of you went to grab popsicles.

"pips come on, you know the apple one is my favorite — that was the last one! are you gonna let me suffer in this weather with no apple flavored ice cream?"

"that's too bad caleb, because last i checked, you also ate strawberry flavored stuff! my strawberry ice cream sandwich was gone when i got home yesterday and it sure as hell wasn't grandma!"

zayne smiled in amusement, wiping his face with a cloth as the two of you bickered. being a few grades ahead, he'd always have some trouble fitting in with his peers, and he didn't have many friends in his class. it was a stroke of luck when caleb saw him reading an anatomy book and asked about it — instead of the usual nerd comments zayne heard often, he was met with a curious purple gaze full of interest.

he found out that caleb was aiming to be a pilot and the two of them ended up hanging out often, studying and catching up together. eventually, he got to know who you were too ("you have to meet pipsqueak. she's really nice and kind but don't tell her i said that! that's totally against bro code and she'll annoy me forever."), and fast enough, the three of you were inseparable.

"zayne, tell him off! he's being insufferable!!"

your voice dragged him away from his thoughts, and he shook his head with a smile on his face, all while talking to the cashier.

"three apple flavored ice pops, please."

when the clerk handed him his change and the ice creams, zayne headed towards you and caleb. somehow, still bickering — but this time, the topic shifted from stolen ice cream sandwiches to stolen chips bag. it was the usual, and zayne wouldn't trade away the comfort he found in how casually you two treated him for anything in the world.

"zayne, she stole my chips last week! isn't it just cosmic justice if i steal her ice cream sandwich back?? come on, back me up here — wait, three apple popsicles? my man."

wrapping an arm around zayne's shoulders, caleb beamed. he opened his mouth expectantly when zayne handed him a frozen treat, and with a chuckle, zayne placed it up to the brunette's lips. you stomped your foot jokingly, a pout on your lips before you spoke.

"how come zayne feeds you but never me? life is so unfair."

"heh, that's bro code, pips. that and zayne can't even see you from all the way down there.. maybe if you grow a bit more, he'll consider it."

watching you glare at caleb with a soft chuckle, zayne hands you a popsicle and nods towards the door, encouraging you all to finally get back on the way home.

and it was just another summer afternoon, zayne observing silently as caleb picked at your height, and you tried to kick him in the shin. well, that was until you succeeded in your attempt, and caleb tripped forward, making his popsicle float with his evol, while he fell in a ridiculous pushup position. snickering at him, you don't notice zayne placing a hand over his mouth and trying his best to hold back laughter, not until you turn towards the older male.

"he's so lame — zayne? wait. are you laughing??"

somehow, your question was the thing that pushed zayne to the edge as he erupted in boyish laughter — a sound neither you nor caleb had heard before, a sound neither of you managed to pull out of him. caleb's ears reddened, though not without a smile growing on his face and a fake exasperated voice.

"come on, it was not that funny."

you quickly pushed caleb back down, trying to make zayne laugh more. yelping as he falls down again, the sound makes you laugh, thus making zayne laugh even harder — clutching his stomach at how silly the situation unfolding was.

caleb, embarrassed but in awe at how his usually serious friend was laughing, also started laughing, and you all made quick eye contact between yourselves. that didn't do much to re-establish a serious atmosphere, only encouraging the laughter to grow louder — until all that was heard was "it hurts, my stomach hurts, i can't breathe" from all three of you.

wiping a stray tear from your eye, you think to yourself that maybe you ought to trip caleb more often if that was the outcome.

🍎 pomme's final notes - please infold give us zaynecaleb as besties im begging i want to see them being bros together i want my bromance NOWWW

[harunayuuka2060]

MC: ...

Ace, Deuce, Epel, Jack, and Grim: ...

Grim: Hoho, Sebek! Are you here to join us at our table?

Sebek: Hmph! No! I'm... waiting for Waka-sama and Lilia-sama to arrive.

MC: Eh? Really? *pulls out their phone*

MC: Hornton said that he and Lilia were going somewhere to sightsee, and they took Silver with them.

Sebek: Hornton... Human! Why are you still calling my liege by that nickname?!

MC: Because we're pals??

Grim: Yeah! What's wrong with calling him 'Hornton'? Myahaha! He's no longer scary now!

Sebek: What do you mean by that, Grim?! My liege is still as powerful and elegant as ever! That hasn’t changed, even with one of his horns damaged!

Ace: Geez, calm down, dude.

Deuce: And you should sit your ass down. Everyone's looking at us.

Sebek: ...

Sebek: Hmph. *takes a seat next to MC and Grim*

Epel: By the way, MC? Have you started writing your speech yet?

MC: ...

MC: What speech?

Epel: Eh?

Jack: You're going to give a speech about your adventures in the dream world. Didn't the headmage inform you?

MC: ...

MC: The written report wasn't enough?!

Crowley: Royal Sword Academy and Noble Bell College are eager to hear about it from you in person. Doesn't that make you happy?

MC: No, not really. Besides, I have more important thing to do.

Crowley: Is it about 'Mickey'?

MC: Yes.

Crowley: Hmm... How about this? If you complete this task, I will personally ask Principal Ambrose to help you research a way back.

MC: Do you actually expect me to believe that?

Crowley: Why not?

MC: You neglected your promise for more than six months, didn’t try to save me when the vines dragged me, and you forced us to take the exams without showing any form of consideration.

Crowley: ...

Crowley: I am a busy person—

MC: During the winter holidays, you went on vacation while Grim and I were held hostage in Scarabia.

Crowley: ...

MC: Want me to keep going?

Crowley: ...No.

Malleus: You're back. *was playing with Grim*

Grim: Hench-human! Take the brush away from him! He's gonna make me bald!

Malleus: Doesn't it feel soothing to you?

Grim: No!

MC: What brings you here, Mal?

Malleus: I came here to assist you.

MC: Assist me...?

Malleus: Yes. Don't you remember? Before the incident, you told me that you had found a lead.

MC: Oh... Yes! *smiles*

Malleus: *smiles back* Grandmother sent some ancient texts and scrolls that might help speed up your research.

MC: Wow, she doesn't mind?

Malleus: Of course not. You've only met once, and she already considers you her friend.

Malleus: She's aware of your situation and sincerely wants to help.

MC: I see. Your grandmother is so kind.

MC: Thank heavens she isn't as grumpy as you.

Malleus: What's that? *while Grim is pushing his hand away*

MC: Nothing! You're going to translate those ancient texts, right?

Malleus: *chuckles* I don't know. Maybe you should beg?

MC: What— That's unfair!

[twistedsocials]

I’m gonna do more stuff with the whole idol thingy going on but also I am on the verge of conking out for a nap

First tweet had me and some people discussing what the TWST version of Reddit is called, the idol ones are abt the new event on JP, the eighth one is from me and my friend joking around and the ninth one is from a hc I have that yuu pranks malleus sometimes when he sleeps over at Ramshackle

guess who Pomefiore student A is talking about

also the 💝 emoji is meant to signify Yuuna ^_^

[Daily Click Reminder!]

[Lmk if anything is ooc!]

[waynes-multiverse]

Oh Alex, I loved this so much!! It gave me so many feels, especially that ending 😭😭🩵

“Dave and Manny. They sound familiar,” you said, tapping your chin with a pen out of habit, even though you weren’t writing anything down. You brightened with recognition. “Oh! Didn’t they serve with you?”

N'awww, same Manny? What a fun crossover 😂🫶

“Look, I like Russell. What can I say, after what he did for you? For me,” Charlie said. “But…I don’t have to like what he does, or what it’s doing to you.”

So true, honestly. I can totally see his big brother point here. As much as we love Russell, he's not exactly boyfriend material (we still may try, tho 🫠)

“Paul, I would appreciate it if you would just…call me by my name. In a more professional capacity, just like I do for you,” you said. “Sweetheart, honey, that kind of thing just doesn’t make me feel very respected in the workplace.”

Yes!!!! Tell him off, girl!!!

Your non-smile dropped further. You really didn’t know where to start on this one.

SAME. Take a hint, dude 😝

Chris gave you a wry look. “Sure. You really have a boyfriend, or are you just trying to let me down easy?”

Oh God, I hate men like this! I once turned down a dude in the subway by saying that, and he asked, "How serious is it?" I mean... speechless 🙈😭🤣

“Hey, sweetheart.” This time, you paused…and you smiled too. There he was in all his rugged glory. Russell Shaw. 

“I know damn well, but I’m also selfish,” you said.

Loved her honesty here 😂 But c'mon, Russell, think next time!

“Oh shit. Prof’s got game,” one of her friends whispered.  “Yeah, a lumberjack,” she replied.  “Hell, I’d climb him.” The girls giggled quietly as they continued to make their way down the hall.  Your hand rose to cover your mouth while your face burned hot in embarrassment. Russell, damn him, was smirking like the Cheshire cat. You shot him a little glare. 

“Yeah? You gonna be waiting pretty for me?” you teased.  “You bet,” he agreed. He leaned in close to say lowly in your ear, “But not as pretty as you’re gonna be when I get you all laid out for me. Get myself reacquainted with every sweet part of you.”

Killing me here... 🫠

Russell at home, wating for her:

Oh dear Lord! That whole office scene was so incredibly hot! I'm requesting a sequel on her desk 🔥🤪

“I still can’t believe you’ve never seen that movie,” you said. “Practically any movie, for that matter.” “Hey, I’ve seen stuff…it’s just, you know, we didn’t really have much access to pop culture growing up,” Russell said. 

Awww, I love that you picked this up! The books really got into that more than the show, too. I had fun with his lack of pop culture knowledge in TCF as well. It's kinda like SB all over again in a way 😂💚

He understood Tracy, Doug’s wife, even better now. He had been better able to sympathize with Doug too, because for the first time in his life, he had someone to come home to. Someone who was actually waiting on him to come home. It was a bigger responsibility than he thought it would be. 

No, stop it with the feels 😭😭

And then their love confession! So beautiful!! And then you put the nail in my coffin with this line:

even though it hadn’t been all that long…he thought you might be the one that finally stuck.

My heart is so full for them! I do hope he can get out of it then, and they can be together all the time 🥹❤️

Lost Time

Pairing: Russell Shaw x F. Reader

Summary: When Russell takes longer than usual on a job out of town, you realize how hard it is to live half a life with him.  

AN: I’ve been wanting to get to this for a while now! Here’s a sequel story in the Every Second Counts world. Also, this is one of my entries for @jacklesversebingo!

Prompt: “Are you trying to get us in trouble?”

Word Count: 4.9K

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only. Angst, fluff upon fluff, implied smut, mild spice.~ **DOES NOT contain spoilers for 2x02. This was written long before the new episode came out. But look out for the little announcement at the end. Some (smutty) bonus content on the way!

💜 Series Masterlist || Jacklesverse Bingo Masterlist

Wolfing down lunch alone in your office usually meant you wouldn’t be disturbed. That distraction tended to come in the form of either Dr. Goldstein, History Department Chair (AKA: your boss), or Chris Belmont.

The latter was a language arts professor who liked to pop in on you when you were alone in the teacher’s lounge, often trying to revive yourself with a cup of Keurig coffee. Or he’d sit down next to you (uninvited) and talk your ear off.

Today, however, you made time for your brother between bites of your admittedly sad ham sandwich. You held the phone to your ear while you ate and tried to resist the urge to answer emails. This was the first month that he’d gotten phone privileges. You wanted to give him your undivided attention.

Not to mention, you genuinely wanted to know how Charlie was doing in rehab. He told you that his leg was healing up well after the surgery to repair the damage from Eddie Mendez’s bullet. Charlie was also getting put through his paces in the substance rehabilitation program, but he sounded truly sober. He sounded like himself.

“I finally get visitors this weekend,” he said. “Dave and Manny are coming by.”

“Dave and Manny. They sound familiar,” you said, tapping your chin with a pen out of habit, even though you weren’t writing anything down. You brightened with recognition. “Oh! Didn’t they serve with you?”

“Yeah, they were in my unit on the first go-round,” Charlie said, with a tone of fondness that you recognized. You remembered now. Those guys were like his brothers during his first tour of Iraq. He’d come home for a few months afterward, changed. You saw it behind his eyes.

And then the second tour. That was what almost killed his spirit.

“It’s good that you guys reconnected,” you said. A smile graced your lips. Charlie needed all the support and familiarity he could get, and coming from his brothers in the Air Force, it was all you could ask for really. “You got time to see your little sister?”

“Ha. Younger maybe. Definitely not little.”

“Whatever, gimpy,” you teased. He’d told you that he hated his crutches, made him feel like an old, one-legged pirate.

“I think I can pencil you in,” he said. There was good humor in his voice. “How about the Mountain Man? How’s he doing?”

Your smile dimmed. You twiddled your pen between your fingers. “He’s…good. He’s on a job right now, so I don’t think he’ll make it back in time for this weekend. But I’m sure he’d wish you well. He asks about you every time he comes home.”

“Oh, yeah? How long’s he been gone for this time?”

Your lips pursed. “Couple weeks.”

Three, and counting.

“But he’s supposed to get back next week.”

“Have you heard from him?” Charlie asked.

“Here and there,” you replied, leaning to one side of your desk chair. “He’s not really supposed to contact anyone when he’s on a job.”

“Mhmm.”

“Charlie,” you warned. You knew what he was thinking, even by that placid tone of his voice. Your brother sighed on the line.

“Look, I like Russell. What can I say, after what he did for you? For me,” Charlie said. “But…I don’t have to like what he does, or what it’s doing to you.”

Your teeth clenched, but you tried not to bristle. You knew he was just looking out for you, for once like an older brother should.

“I know what you’re saying, but we’re good. I’m good,” you said. “I knew what I was getting into…”

You saw Dr. Goldstein peek into the narrow, rectangular window in the middle of your office door. He gave you a little wave through the glass.

“Hey, Charlie, I’m sorry but I need to let you go. My boss wants to talk to me,” you said.

Another heavy sigh. “All right, I get it. Evade an unsavory conversation by playing the ‘boss’ card.”

Despite yourself, you smiled. “It’s true! Look, I love you. I’ll see you this weekend.”

“Oh, fine. Evade away… Love you too,” he said begrudgingly, but in the kind of way that told you he was smiling too.

You hung up with him and beckoned Goldstein inside. He let himself in and closed the door behind him before he approached your desk. He didn’t have a stack of essays in his hand, so you counted that as a small blessing. After exchanging the usual pleasantries, however, he dropped a familiar bomb on you.

“I’m sorry to do this to you, sweetheart, but would you mind taking over my 5:00 p.m. class tomorrow? I have to step out early for an appointment,” he said.

You grated internally, for more than one reason. Primarily at the way he once again called you sweetheart. In your whole life, you’d only ever given one man permission to sweetheart you, and it certainly wasn’t Paul Goldstein.

“Well, my schedule is a bit tight tomorrow, but I think I can make that work—”

“Great! Thanks again, sweetheart,” he said, already getting up from the chair across from your desk to head out. Your voice stopped him at the door.

“Ah, you know…” You stood up from your desk. Part of you was hesitant, but the other part of you—the part that had survived nearly being shot and killed in the woods—stood firm. You rounded your desk but left a respectable distance between you and your boss.

“Paul, I would appreciate it if you would just…call me by my name. In a more professional capacity, just like I do for you,” you said. “Sweetheart, honey, that kind of thing just doesn’t make me feel very respected in the workplace.”

Goldstein blinked in surprise. He was taken aback, you could tell, as if what you’d said had never once occurred to him. Or maybe he just never thought you would call him out like that. You saw him mentally calculating though. After some recent sexual harassment allegations in the Sciences department, he likely didn’t want the headache and the red tape of an HR writeup.

“Of course. I’m sorry if I… Well, I hope you know I didn’t mean anything by it,” he said.

“I know, Paul,” you replied. But what you didn’t say was, It’s all right. 

The longer you remained quietly poised with your hands laced in front of you, the more Goldstein seemed to get the message. Eventually, he cast his gaze away and left your office with a parting nod. 

When the door shut behind him, your shoulders slumped as you let out a deep breath. You grabbed onto his vacated chair to steady yourself, smoothing your hand down the length of your pencil skirt. 

“Well, okay then.” You smiled to yourself and grabbed your phone and keys off your desk. That small win deserved an afternoon coffee break.

You ventured over to the faculty break room and started setting up an extra-large mug of coffee from the Keurig. Pumpkin spice, here I come. Finally PSL season. 

While you waited for it to percolate, you checked your phone and found no missed notifications, no calls or texts from your boyfriend. Biting the edge of your lip, you gave into the urge to check your text thread with him. 

Hey, just checking in. You okay? 

That was the last text you sent Russell, a few days ago. The fact that he hadn’t had time to read it worried you.

It had been three weeks since he left town on another job for the Horizon Group. He was able to reply here and there on some jobs, but often you had to deal with days of radio silence in between. This time, it had been a full two weeks since you last spoke to him–a five-minute call after he checked into his hotel, somewhere in Belize.

Despite your attempts otherwise, not a day had gone by where you hadn’t thought about him, worried about him, wondered where he was, and what he was doing. 

Even after four months, this arrangement hadn’t gotten easier. Sometimes, it felt like you were living half a life without him.

The coffeemaker chiming briefly broke you out of your melancholy, but you let the coffee sit there and cool while you deliberated with your phone in hand.

You tried to resist, since you didn’t want to bother him…but you ended up sending him another text. 

Hey. I don’t want to distract you. Just want you to know… 

I miss you.

“Oh, look who’s here.”

You looked up, already wanting to expel a breath of annoyance at the familiar voice. You plastered on a polite smile and turned to see exactly who you expected to see: your colleague Chris. There was really nothing wrong with the French and Spanish professor…except that he talked too much, and was often too eager to get into your business.

“How’s your day going?” he asked. After he grabbed a soda from the fridge, he parked himself in front of you and laid a hand on the counter. With one of the round dining tables so close, it ensured that you would have to squeeze by him in order to leave.

“Pretty good, just have one more class before I head out for the day,” you said. You intended to just make amiable conversation, but you didn’t realize you’d just given him an opening.

“You know, me too. Just my freshman Spanish 1 kids. Dumb as doornails really. They barely even look up when I talk,” he said. “Literally, I could be reciting Mein Kampf and they wouldn’t even know I was speaking German.” 

You couldn’t quite smile. You opened your mouth to reply, but he beat you to it.

“Hey, since we’re going to be clocking out soon, maybe you want to go for a drink with me. I know this bar. A little rough, but the price is right and the food’s not bad. This place called Howley’s,” he said.

Your non-smile dropped further. You really didn’t know where to start on this one.

“Ah, well—” you began, but again, he cut you off.

“To be honest, I’ve kind of been meaning to ask you for a while. I just uh, haven’t been able to find the right time. Since, you know, our class schedules don’t seem to match,” he added with a boyish smile.

He was cute, you could admit, with the dirty blonde hair down to his ears and the dark brown eyes. But it didn’t shake your resolve.

“Look, Chris. I’m sorry, but—”

“Is because we work together?” he said, once again interrupting you. “The whole workplace relationship thing?”

“No,” you said. It was sharper than you meant through your annoyance. “I actually have a boyfriend.”

Chris’s excited-nervous energy gradually deflated, his eyes dimming.

“Really? I’ve never seen you with anyone,” he said.

You quirked a brow at him. “Well, he doesn’t work here, so he wouldn’t really need to come to campus.”

You didn’t tell him that Russell was Dory’s older brother, and had in fact been on campus a couple of times. You shouldn’t have needed to explain it.

Chris gave you a wry look. “Sure. You really have a boyfriend, or are you just trying to let me down easy?”

You almost gaped at the man’s audacity. Instead, your lips pressed together, and your head tilted as you stared at him incredulously.

“Does it matter?” you asked.

He blinked. “Uh, what?” 

“Whatever I say next, are you going to believe it?” You finished dumping in a couple of tiny creamer cups into your likely lukewarm coffee, and you took the styrofoam cup to-go. “Good luck with the freshmen.” 

You slid past him and left the teacher’s lounge. Your path took you, brusquely and irritated, back to your office. You couldn’t help but replay every bit of your interactions with Goldstein, and then Chris, in your mind like a bad movie. 

Jesus Christ. If I have to deal with one more idiotic man today, I swear—

Speak of the devil, and he appears.

There was a man leaning against your office door, his hands in the pocks of his jeans. He looked up at your approach, and he smiled. 

“Hey, sweetheart.”

This time, you paused…and you smiled too. There he was in all his rugged glory. Russell Shaw. 

You dumped your coffee in a nearby trashcan and hastened over as quickly as you could in your skirt and heels. Russell bent down to sweep you up into his arms, and you leaned up on your toes so you could wrap yours around his shoulders. You buried your face into his neck, inhaling the familiar mix of his cologne and spicy soap. 

“Missed you too,” he said, a deep rumble. It washed over you pleasantly. 

“I thought you weren’t getting home until sometime next week,” you said, trying to work past the thick well of emotion in your throat. Maybe he heard it in your voice anyway, because Russell soothed a hand over your hair and pressed a kiss near your ear.

“Got finished up early,” he said, with that familiar grin of his. You could hear it in his voice.

You slipped your fingers through his long dark hair. Then you leaned back enough to see his face. 

“How’d you know I wasn’t in class?” you asked. 

He raised his hand off your back to point up at the sign on your door. It displayed your office hours and the times you were in class. He shot you a wink.

“I might’ve called Dory too,” he said. “She invited us over for dinner tonight. I said we’d be there around seven.”

You tsked and smack his chest, making him flinch. 

“Hey!” he protested with a laugh. 

“Don’t agree to stuff without me! Now we’re going to be out all night the day you get back,” you said in annoyance. 

Russell smoothed down your proverbial feathers, namely by slipping his hands down your back and comfortably settling on your waist. 

“Now, come on,” he cajoled. “Need I remind you that she’s my sister, and your best friend, by the way?”

You waved a playfully dismissive hand.

“I know damn well, but I’m also selfish,” you said. You gripped the edges of his familiar green jacket and tugged him closer again. “I want you all to myself tonight.” 

Russell’s grin kicked up into high gear. “Oh, yeah? What for?”

You smiled and leaned up on your toes again, your lips approaching his. 

“I’m gonna—”

“Hey, Professor!” 

Just then, one of your students walked by with a gaggle of her friends. She gave you a little wave, and then an amused look when she noted how you and Russell were intertwined. You quickly set your heels back on the ground and dropped your hands from him. 

“Oh shit. Prof’s got game,” one of her friends whispered. 

“Yeah, a lumberjack,” she replied. 

“Hell, I’d climb him.”

The girls giggled quietly as they continued to make their way down the hall. 

Your hand rose to cover your mouth while your face burned hot in embarrassment. Russell, damn him, was smirking like the Cheshire cat. You shot him a little glare. 

“Shut up,” you said. 

He chuckled, and he allowed you to take his hand and lead him into your office. He closed the door for you, but that was where the chivalry ended. 

He hooked his arm around your waist and brought you flush against him. A stunned yelp escaped you. You grabbed onto his arms on reflex, craning your face up to meet him. A smile played on your lips, before he captured them in a kiss filled with heat, and the torture of longing, only broken by your shared relief.  

You had the presence of mind to reach behind him and lock the door. Russell took that as an invitation to back you up against your desk, knocking down a carton of pens in his wake. You held his bearded face and gave him as much as he asked for. Until the pace of his kisses eventually slowed and warmed into something more tender, with the brush of his hand against your cheek. You smiled a little against his lips. 

He ended up being the first to pull away. His thumb brushed your chin next, and then your thoroughly kissed bottom lip. 

“God, I missed you,” he said. You saw the sincerity in his eyes, all the heat and play and teasing aside.

“Me too, baby,” you replied, and your voice was heavy with the truth of it. You slid your hands down his arms. Suddenly you remembered your internal checklist for whenever he came home. “You okay? No hospital stays or checkups needed?”

Your hands continued their perusal over his chest and down his sides. Russell took your hands and un-busied them. 

“Completely fine. Everything went off without a hitch,” he said. 

You eyed him more warily. After a moment to try and discern if he was downplaying for your sake, you were able to take him at his word. For now. It wouldn’t be the first time he tried to hide an injury from you. You intended to complete a further examination later tonight. You smirked a little at the thought.

“Okay, I’ve just got one more class in a few minutes. Then I can get out of here,” you said.

“All right,” he nodded. “I’ll meet you at home then.”

Your smile turned cheeky. You flattened your palms down his chest, plucking at the edges of his jacket.  

“Yeah? You gonna be waiting pretty for me?” you teased. 

“You bet,” he agreed. He leaned in close to say lowly in your ear, “But not as pretty as you’re gonna be when I get you all laid out for me. Get myself reacquainted with every sweet part of you.”

“Oh, really?” you said, trying to taper your blush. There was something entirely wrong and right about him talking dirty to you in your own office. You grinned as he began to press tantalizing kisses down your neck. “I guess I’m going to be the appetizer tonight.” 

His chuckle resounded in your ears. Russell squeezed your hips and brushed his lips against your skin. Damn him, he knew exactly what he was doing, making small volts of electricity zip down your spine. Warmth plumed between your legs as his beard gently rasped along your neck. 

“Sweetheart, you’re the whole damn meal,” he said, in that voice of his, smooth and baritone and perfect. 

Your blush intensified, even as your smile couldn’t help but brighten at his words. He nipped just under your ear, earning a stifled whimper from you.

“Are you trying to get us in trouble?” you whispered.

“Hey, I don’t work here,” he teased. His lips never left your skin. “I just reap the benefits.”

You fought against the urge to pinch his side. You grabbed your phone from your desk and checked the time. Shit. Almost 5:00 p.m.

All the while, Russell continued to torture you. His hands were no better than his mouth, caressing a path from your waist to your hips, then squeezing your ass as he pressed you more fully against him. He hummed against your neck.

“Oh, please don’t do this to me,” you whined, even as you clung to the front of his jacket and pressed your forehead into his shoulder. “I have to get to class in like, five minutes.” 

“I’ve accomplished quite a lot in five minutes,” Russell said. His nibbling along the shell of your ear was all too distracting as you laughed. 

“Oh, I know,” you dryly replied. “But if I let you get your hands on me now, I’m most certainly not going to be able to lecture on the ancient civilization of Mesopotamia.”

His smile grew. “I like it when you talk nerdy to me.”

Your laugh turned into a giggle. Still, your duty to your students won out. You had to press a gentle hand against his chest to push him back.

Russell let out a long-suffering groan, but he pulled away from you without losing his smile. He tucked an errant strand of hair behind your ear and caressed your cheek. 

“I’ll see you at home,” he said. 

You agreed, though when he aimed to leave, you couldn’t resist the urge to smack his ass on his way out of your office. 

He stopped short and twisted back, pointing a knowing finger at you. 

“You don’t play fair, missy,” he said. 

You smirked and tossed a kiss at him.

“See you later,” you said.

You loved Dory. You really did. But after a day like today, you were happy to finally be home after dinner at your best friend’s house. You were happy to be where you were in this moment, lying in bed with Russell, wearing nothing but one of his old shirts as Speed played on the TV against the wall. 

“You didn’t leave me…I can’t believe it. You didn’t leave me,” you quoted along with Annie, Sandra Bullock’s character. 

“Didn’t have anywhere to be just then,” Jack (the beautiful Keanu Reeves) said on the screen. The couple shared a kiss, and you let out a happy hum, making Russell look down on you in amusement. He had an arm wrapped around you as you laid tucked against his side.

“I have to warn you,” you said for Jack. “I’ve heard relationships based on intense experiences never work.” 

“Okay,” Annie (and you) replied. “We’ll have to base it on sex then.”

Jack smiled. “Whatever you say, ma’am.”

As the movie came to an end, you sighed and lowered the volume as the credits rolled. 

“How’d you like it?” you asked.

“Was good! Even though my movie buddy decided to quote half the cast,” Russell quipped. He prodded at your side like a pianist playing a Mozart cantata, making you flinch with a squawk of laughter. You grabbed his hand to try and stop him. 

When he finally let up, you sighed and caught your breath, leaning against him again.

“I still can’t believe you’ve never seen that movie,” you said. “Practically any movie, for that matter.”

“Hey, I’ve seen stuff…it’s just, you know, we didn’t really have much access to pop culture growing up,” Russell said. 

You sobered up; you were reminded that he didn’t have a normal childhood, even less so than yours. 

“That’s okay,” you said, resting a comforting hand on his chest. “I’m gonna keep helping you catch up, long as you want me to.”

Russell smiled and pressed a kiss to your forehead. “I appreciate that.”

You closed your eyes in content. 

“So,” Russell said, interrupting your peace. You heard the mischief in his voice before he even said anything else. “Am I gonna have to knock this Beaufort guy on his ass, or you got that one covered, slugger?”

You huffed in amusement. 

“Belmont,” you corrected, opening your eyes again to shoot him a wry glance. “And there won’t be any ass-kicking needed on that one. Just a typical hard-headed man with a slighted ego.”

“Oof, cut him some slack, baby. You’re a hard one to let go of,” Russell teased. You smiled.

“Hey. Don’t butter me up unless you intend to do something about it.”

“Oh, my apologies,” he said. He turned over and waylaid you with kisses along your jaw, then down the column of your throat, and further still, until he met the edge of your shirt. You felt his hands move under the hem of it, slowly bunching up the material as they slid up your body.  

Your first coming together when you two got home tonight was fraught, and a bit wild—the kind that nearly broke your headboard (again). 

Now, Russell seemed to want to take his time. He guided your shirt up, inch by inch as his lips explored whatever small expanse he bared, from the soft skin of your stomach, to the swell of your breasts. He stopped there, laying a sweet kiss in between them. You watched him with deeper breaths, but you softened when he turned his smile up at you. You saw nothing but affection in his eyes. 

“You know, the best part of my day is coming home to you,” he said.

You had to blink past the sting in your eyes, and swallow past another lump of emotion in your throat as you reached down to caress his cheek.

The hardest part of mine is watching you leave.

But you didn’t dare say that. You just guided him back up to your lips, and met him with a heated kiss.

You were nearly asleep when Russell finally came back to bed, after double-checking that the house was all locked up. He installed a more sophisticated security system a few months ago. It made him feel slightly better about leaving you alone. 

He padded back over to the bed and joined you on his side. You rested your head on his shoulder again, and he slid an arm around your waist. 

“Charlie’s doing well in his program, huh?” Russell asked. 

You’d been talking about your brother with him and Dory at dinner. 

You nodded. “Looks like it… God, I’m so proud of him. He’s really worked hard.”

Russell hummed deeply. “Glad to hear it.”

You glanced up at him, for a moment admiring his profile. He looked down and met your gaze.

“How long are you going to be home?” you asked, because you couldn’t stop yourself.

When you and Russell first started dating, he tried staying at a motel for a few weeks. You eventually invited him to just stay with you when he was in town. It made it easier to spend more time with him, since you worked a full-time schedule anyway. It was nice to come home to him, when he was here. After the surprise wore off, however, the fear always returned.

When is he leaving next?

“I don’t have another job lined up just yet,” Russell admitted. “Wanna take a couple weeks off, since this one lasted so long. I’m sorry about that.”

You were glad to hear it, so you nodded, but you had a feeling your true thoughts weren’t as well hidden as you intended. Russell searched your face.

“How’re you doing with all this?” he asked.

Your heart seized up, but you tried to play it off.

“What do you mean? We had some good food, good catching up on ‘90s movie magic, good making up for lost time,” you said playfully. You slid your leg across his lap. Russell welcomed you, drawing a hand up your thigh and under his shirt that once again hung loosely from your body. You had to reclaim it from somewhere between the sheets.

He still raised his brows at you. “You know what I mean.”

Slowly, your smile fell. Your gaze lowered. 

“Russ, I’m doing my best.”

“I know you are, sweetheart, and I appreciate that. You don’t know how much,” he said, stroking your back. “I just, uh…I know this is hard on you.”

He understood Tracy, Doug’s wife, even better now. He had been better able to sympathize with Doug too, because for the first time in his life, he had someone to come home to. Someone who was actually waiting on him to come home. It was a bigger responsibility than he thought it would be. 

You sighed. 

“Look, I’m not going to lie, this…it’s been hard as hell,” you began, closing your hand around his. “But I love you. I love you, and I still think we have a good thing here.”

That warmed him, reminded him why this was worth it. Russell nodded in agreement, and he crossed the few inches of distance that allowed him to kiss you, good and slow. 

“I love you too,” he admitted. He could count on half a hand the number of times that happened in his life, but even though it hadn’t been all that long…he thought you might be the one that finally stuck. 

Your pretty smile was just one piece of evidence. You gave that to him, and you reached up for a kiss. He obliged you in turn.  

“How about we put a timeframe on it then,” he said, after parting softly from you. 

You tilted your head in confusion, tinged with disbelief. “What?”

“How about you give me…’til the end of the year,” he said. “I know I’ve been taking a lot of jobs lately. It’s because I’m pretty close to my goal. I’ve almost got enough to find some good real estate and start working on that bar.”

Your drowsiness fell away completely as your excitement grew for him.

“Oh my God. Russ, that’s amazing!” 

Your support softened him that much more, deepening his smile. He framed your face with a hand and stroked your cheek with his thumb.

“Here’s a promise,” he said. “Six months, and no more missions. No more jobs. You’ll be stuck with me, so much that you’ll probably get sick of me.”

Your smile grew to radiant proportions.

“Hmm, maybe a little,” you teased, “but I’ll make that sacrifice.”

He grinned and drew you into another kiss. You paused, holding his bearded cheek. 

“Thank you,” you said. Russell shook his head.

“Aw, sweetheart,” he said. “You never gotta thank me for that.”

AN: Let me know if you enjoyed this little addition to ESC! 💜

Bonus Drabble:

After watching 2x02 yesterday, it gave me...feelings lol. So I ended up writing a new (very smutty) drabble to fill in a small gap in this one-shot! It's called More of This:

Summary: Welcoming Russell home, where he belongs. (18+) 

▶️ Keep Reading: More of This

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[millyphobic]

꩜ .ᐟ GREATEST GIRL IN HIS EYES ★ FT. OLDER! LEON KENNEDY

── .✦ Leon loves you. Even if you take forever doing your makeup and make him feel old

wc :: 1.9k

cw :: fem!reader, age gap (twenty-one/mid to late thirties), tooth rotting fluff, gets really suggestive at times but no actual smut, a little cringey oops, horribly explained makeup routine (cut me some slack I don't do makeup often 💔), mentions of the moves the substance and once upon a time in hollywood

note :: I NEED Leon to be my controversially old boyfriend you don't understand but anyways I wrote this in a blur so horribly proofread oops 🥀

"And she's such a fugly cunt, like who do you fucking think you are to call my friend fat? Like, have you seen your shitty boyfriend? Have you seen yourself?"

That actually got a laugh out of Leon. He watches in awe as you chatter away about college gossip, seated on the toilet lid with his head in his hands as you stand in front of the mirror. There's a ton of makeup all over the sink counter, from little bottles of foundations to eyeshadow palettes and brushes of all sizes. You're currently rubbing what you call a toner into your skin, prepping your face for a "full beat" as you like to call it.

Holy shit, you make him feel old.

A lot makes him feel old, actually, but you especially. Right off the bat from the first date you were still a fresh-faced young lady just starting to dip your toes into the adult world. Looks like you wanted him to be the one to guide you, the two of you inseparable from the start. Never mind you barely have anything in common, Leon is more than happy to just tag along for the ride.

From watching you run off the lectures to seeing you drink a disturbing concoction of Red bull and black coffee during finals. Buying your first beer and holding it up to your lips as you took a sip. Holding your hair out of your face as you puke it all up.

You buy overpriced coffee with a thousand things in it because it makes it "better". There's never a day where your lips aren't adored with shimmery gloss and leave kiss marks all over his face and cups. You chug green tea like it's water and make him do at-home Pilates with you. Force him to put on sunscreen, take vitamins and supplements, and go on late night trips for a sweet treat. Put his hair up as you wash his face and tie bows around his bicep and record your giggles as he makes the ribbons break as he flexes his arm.

You make him feel ancient. And a pervert. But you're the greatest girl in his eyes so it's a small price to pay when people think he's your dad in public. But he's just Your Boyfriend and you're just His Girlfriend getting all dolled up for a date. And he loves you all the same whether you're in casual jeans and his shirts or nothing at all. Even now he thinks you're the most precious darling to walk the earth with your tiny skirt that shows half your ass with frilly stockings and a skimpy top. It doesn't matter that you're wearing more clothes on your feet than your chest, he can fight for a reason.

"By the way," you add, pumping foundation on your face and stippling it in with a beauty blender. Not a weird ass egg thing, as you so graciously corrected him in the past. "My friends wanted to know if you wanted to come over for a night out next week. Everyone's gonna bring their boyfriend so you won't be the only guy there."

"Baby, I won't be the only guy there but I'll be the only grown ass man." Have dinner with your gaggle of friends? No thanks, he'd rather not watch a bunch of kids get shit-faced. He already has to deal with you. "I don't think so but tell them thanks for the invite."

And there you go, pouting as you paint concealer under your eyes. A little too bright to be your shade but he trusts you with makeup then he trusts himself with a car.

Scratch that. Can't drive for shit. Can't set the bar that low for you.

"Aww, why not?" Toward the end, you let out a cough, and a whole lot of powder made you wheeze as you baked your face. Leon almost laughs, but the last time he did, he ended up getting whacked over the head, so he bites his tongue.

"Leon, it'll be fun. We're actually going to dinner and not a bar. I think. Whatever, I want the others to actually see you in person. I'm convinced they think I'm lying about you and you're some random dilf I got off Pinterest."

"I can't tell if I should be flattered or not."

"Well, if I was going to lie about having a hot older boyfriend, I would have picked your photo off Pinterest. So, yes, be flattered and come to dinner."

Leon sighs as you blend out your concealer and spray something on your face. Hopefully, it's not water. Definitely not water; he should use his head more often. "Sweetheart, I'm just too old to be around you kiddos," he counters. He's observing as you draw something on your face, contour as you once told him. Gave him a whole makeup lesson but it didn't really stick with him since he was balls deep in your cunt and had you babbling with lipstick smeared all over your face and mascara down your cheeks. How the conversation even got there, he had no idea, but it still makes him laugh when you're not around.

"Bullshit," you huff, dusting on the nicest shade of pink blush perfect for your skin tone. Really does make you look like the cutest dolly in the world. "I don't give a fuck what others think and you shouldn't either."

Should've recorded you and put this on Facebook.

"While I appreciate the Ted Talk, things aren't as easy as you say. Besides, you deserve to have a little fun. Be single for the night and all that stuff."

And you're frowning again. You look like a grouper. A cute grouper, though.

"...Don't want to be single for a night, but whatever. Anyways-" Another spritz of that mysterious stuff on your face, are you trying to melt your makeup off? You fan your face with your hands, and all it does is get him to chuckle at how silly you look.

Before he knows it, he's grabbing your wrist and tugging you forward until your body's nicely tucked between his legs. "Need my help?" And it's moments like these that make his heart ache, your little nod and smile so infectious it's got him grinning like a fool too.

"Hold still, cutie." Leaning forward, Leon gently blows on your face to get you dry again. "What're you even spraying on your face?"

"Setting spray. Makes my makeup last longer. Duh."

"Alright, alright. Don't sass me; you know I'm old."

"No, you're not."

"...I could be your dad. Or your really young grandpa."

"No one's grandpa is in their forties. Or I hope not. Anyways, I'm serious. I love you and don't care that you think you're ancient. I wouldn't care even if you're ancient. As long as you can still get it up."

How heartfelt.

"Just go finish your makeup." Leon twirls your around from the waist and sends you back to finish your makeup with another firm pat to your ass. It's so cute to him, all for him to touch and squeeze and bite into. Which he can only do on special occasions since he always goes overboard with the biting. "You should do blue eyeshadow again. It was really pretty last time."

You scoff, but you're already reaching for your most beloved palette with all the blues in the world. Half of the little tins of pigment are near gone, but there’s still enough of that baby blue he loves, marveling as you take a smaller brush to dust the color on your lids.

“Why do you open your mouth to put that stuff on? Same thing with mascara; it’s got nothing to do with your eyes.”

“Dunno,” you mumble back, waving a thin tube of mascara in front of his face. “Want some?”

“No thanks. Takes forever to scrub off. I should know; I almost always do it for you after date nights.”

"Yeah, because you fuck my face like a maniac and leave me feeling like a pool noodle." You laugh, cheeky thing, and do it on yourself, once again opening your mouth as you coat your lashes. God, he needs to take a photo of you doing this one day. Post it on Facebook along with your motivational speeches.

"Where're we going tonight, anyways? Our usual restaurant or something else?" You're finishing up now, patting on shiny stuff on the tip of your nose and reaching for more types of powder. Shit, you look good. Real fucking good in a way that makes him grateful for all this fancy makeup. Really does make your beauty shine more than it already does.

"I actually got tickets to watch The Substance-"

"OH MY GOD, I LOVE THE SUBSTANCE!"

Leon can tell with the way you practically jump for joy and the lip liner in your hand goes flying in the air, coming back down and bouncing off his head. If he didn't know any better, he would have thought he was stuck in the domestic scene of a tacky yet classic rom-com.

"Got excited, my bad." He just shakes his head, more amused than anything else, as he hands you back the pencil.

"No worries. You look so cute," he hums out, standing up from his spot and making his way behind you. His hands find themselves home on your hips, giving them a little squeeze as he rests his chin on the top of your head. You look cute as you glide the lip liner with such serious focus, brows all furrowed. Once you're satisfied with your handiwork, you finally finish your makeup off with a coat of shiny lipgloss.

"Shit, you look gorgeous," he muses, staring at your reflection in the mirror. A kiss is pressed to the top of your head. One, two, trailing down your neck as your breath hitches and his hands wander. From your waist to your hip to the plushness of your thighs, slipping under your skirt and just barely running a finger over the band of your panties.

"Leon..."

His tugs at the elastic waistband, letting it snap against your skin. Mind's all fuzzy, loopy on a love only you could bring out in him.

"Leon. If we fuck now, we're never making it to the theaters. Off."

Now it's his turn to pout like a kicked puppy, retreating his hands out from under your skirt and back to your hips. And now it's your turn to laugh at him, giggles spilling from your lips as you lean back and nuzzle against his body. "Sorry not sorry for being a cockblock, I really do wanna see The Substance."

You and your love for over-the-top horror films.

"Fair enough, fair enough." Eventually he peels himself off of you with one final kiss to the cheek, feather-light so he doesn't ruin your makeup.

"I can't wait to see Demi Moore. Ooh, and Margaret Qualley! She is literally so pretty, you have no idea." You turn around to finally face him, biting your lips so over-the-top this has to be a joke. A joke about what, he doesn't know, but he makes him chuckle and shake his head all the same.

"Leon, Leon, Leon." You take a step forward, and another until you're stepping on his feet. Arms around his neck as you lean in close, your breath fanning at his face. "Want me to suck your cock while driving?"

...Well damn.

"You're being for real or just teasing me?"

"Now I know you've never watched Once Upon a Time in Hollywood. But I might be for real if you buy me the biggest popcorn tub at the theaters."

Say less.

He's scooping you up without another word, tossing you over his shoulder and crowding his way out of the bathroom faster than you run towards Ulta Beauty when at the mall. Your shrieks and laughs bounce off the walls as he carries you downstairs to the front door, determined to get on the road as soon as he can. 

[disgracedghostprincess]

“I promise the brainworms are gone! I am a normal person just like all of you!”

*trips and all these drawings fall out of my coat pocket*

“….. These aren’t mine—“

I’m not even sorry at this point the brainworms have overtaken my brain and basically made me a walking corpse. I loved everyone’s OC’s interacting with Skylar-Chilli’s (he deserves so much love) and the brainworms are like “he has a friend group now” AND HERE WE ARE

Do I know the name of the group??? NOPE BUT THEY’RE NOT GONNA LEAVE FOR A BIT SO I APOLOGIZE SO MUCH IN ADVANCE

The brainworms are not dying down so I’ll still draw some things with my Maria and Skylar-Chilli but I also wanna draw these guys some more cause why not

I apologize for not fully coloring the rest I got severely lazy

Lume and King (snake) belong to @sonic-syndrome

Maria (former Glup) belongs to @deszczowedni

Skylar-Chilli belongs to the one and only @cyucya

And Maria (gonna call her Mar for my sanity in these) is by me :D

Sonic masterpost

References I used:

[tavolgisvist]

‘I’ve had enough’

I’d been keeping largely quiet about John and The Beatles split-up in the press. I didn’t really have many accusations to fling, but being John, he was flinging quite a few in interviews [with Jann Wenner for Rolling Stone]. <…> John would say things like, ‘It was rubbish. The Beatles were crap.’ Also, ‘I don’t believe in The Beatles, I don’t believe in Jesus, I don’t believe in God’ [Plastic Ono Band album]. Those were quite hurtful barbs to be flinging around, and I was the person they were being flung at, and it hurt. So, I’m having to read all this stuff, and on the one hand I’m thinking, ‘Oh fuck off, you fucking idiot,’ but on the other hand I’m thinking, ‘Why would you say that? Are you annoyed at me or are you jealous or what?’ <…> I was sort of answering him here [Dear Friend], asking, ‘Does it need to be this hurtful?’ I think this is a good line: ‘Are you afraid, or is it true?’ meaning, ‘Why is this argument going on? Is it because you’re afraid of something? Are you afraid of the split-up? Are you afraid of my doing something without you? Are you afraid of the consequences of your actions?’ And the little rhyme, ‘Or is it true?’ Are all these hurtful allegations true? This song came out in that kind of mood. It could have been called ‘What the Fuck, Man?’ but I’m not sure we could have gotten away with that then.

(Paul McCartney, The Lyrics: 1956 to the Present)

“When I slagged off the Beatle thing in the papers, it was like divorce pangs, and me being me it was blast this and fuck that, and it was just like the old days in the Melody Maker, you know, ‘Lennon Blasts Hollies’ on the back page. You know, I’ve always had a bit of a mouth and I’ve got to live up to it. Daily Mirror: ‘Lennon beats up local DJ at Paul’s 21st birthday party’. <…> “So y’see, all that happened when I blew my mouth off was that it was an abscess bursting, except that mine as usual burst in public. <…> …the trouble is people just wanted bigmouth Lennon to shout about the lows. So I made a quick trip to uncover the hidden stones of my mind, and a lot of the bats flew and some of them are going to have to stay. I’ve got perspective now, that’s a fact.

(John Lennon, interview with Ray Coleman for Melody Maker: Lennon – a night in the life, September 14th, 1974)

John actually had Allen Klein and Yoko in the room, suggesting lyrics during writing sessions. In his song ‘How Do You Sleep?’ the line ‘The only thing you done was yesterday’ was apparently Allen Klein’s suggestion, and John said, ‘Hey, great. Put that in.’ I can see the laughs they had doing it, and I had to work very hard not to take it too seriously, but at the back of my mind I was thinking, ‘Wait a minute, All I ever did was “Yesterday”? I suppose that’s a funny pun, but all I ever did was “Yesterday”, “Let It Be”, “The Long and Winding Road”, “Eleanor Rigby”, “Lady Madonna”, . . . – fuck you, John.’

(Paul McCartney, The Lyrics: 1956 to the Present)

['How Do You Sleep']’s not serious. Like, if Paul was really, really hurt by it, I’ll soo– I’ll know by the vibes, come round. Even if he doesn’t call, well, I’ll explain it to him. I’ll even write to him, you know. If he really really thinks it’s – thinks it’s really really serious. 

(John Lennon,September 9th, 1971, interview with Howard Smith)

Then we had that fight Paul and me had through the Melody Maker, but it was a period I had to go through.

(John Lennon, interview with Ray Coleman for Melody Maker: Lennon – a night in the life, September 14th, 1974)

As it happened, I was in New York that day [30 January 1972], having met with John the day before. It was a meeting at which we more or less agreed to stop sniping at each other.

(Paul McCartney, The Lyrics: 1956 to the Present)

On January 19, 1975 John Lennon in a letter to Derek Taylor: BOWIES CUTTIN “UNIVERSE” (LET IT BEATLE). AM A GONNA BE THERE (BY REQUEST OF COURSET). THEN POSSIBLEY DOWN TO NEW ORLEONS TO SEE THE McCARTKNEES.

(Derek Taylor, Fifty Years Adrift (Genesis Publications, Guildford, 1984) in in The McCartney Legacy: Volume 2: 1974-1980 by Allan Kozinn and Adrian Sinclair, 2024)

Mardi Gras season was due to begin on Monday, February 10, with the main parade sweeping through town on “Fat Tuesday” itself—the date John and May had targeted for their visit to New Orleans. Sehorn and Toussaint warned Paul that the studio would be inaccessible during the peak of the festivities, and said they were considering closing Sea-Saint completely for the week starting February 10. Wings now had the perfect excuse to put the sessions on hold and throw themselves into the celebratory atmosphere. But Paul’s hope of sharing that celebration with John were dashed during the overdubbing sessions on February 6, when John phoned Sea Saint and the receptionist patched his call through to the control room. “The separation didn’t work out,” Lennon joked, telling Paul that he had moved back to the Dakota on February 3—just as Paul was recording ‘Call Me Back Again,’ the song he started just after reconnecting with John in Los Angeles [March-April 1974]—and that he and Yoko were hoping to work things out.

(The McCartney Legacy: Volume 2: 1974-1980 by Allan Kozinn and Adrian Sinclair, 2024)

‘I was going down to New Orleans to help out on Paul’s last album Venus and Mars, but I was too busy being happy at the time. If you’re reading this, Paul, I’m sorry I couldn’t make it…’

[…] And then, of course, there’s Yoko. ‘We are back together now. and happier than over before. It’s the old, old story—when you get someone back that you’ve lost it’s better than ever.’ It was the reconciliation which so involved John that he couldn’t tear himself away to work with McCartney in New Orleans.”

(John Lennon, 1975, interview with Penny Grant for Game: Enjoying the big apple)

Paul leaves to take a telephone call.

LINDA: I was just going to say that I think if John had lived, he might still be saying, “OH, I’m much happier now….” <…> PLAYBOY: But wasn’t it clear that John wanted only to work with Yoko? LINDA: No. I know that Paul was desperate to write with John again. And I know John was desperate to write . . . desperate. People thought, Well, he’s taking care of Sean, he’s a househusband and all that, but he wasn’t happy. He couldn’t write and it drove him crazy. And Paul could have helped him–easily.

(Paul and Linda McCartney, Dec.1984, interview with Joan Goodman for Playboy, 1984)

PLAYBOY: "Aside from the millions you've been offered for a reunion concert, how did you feel about producer Lorne Michaels' generous offer of $3200 for appearing together on 'Saturday Night Live'..?" LENNON: "Oh, yeah. Paul and I were together watching that show [April 26, 1976]. He was visiting us at our place in the Dakota. We were watching it and almost went down to the studio, just as a gag. We nearly got into a cab, but we were actually too tired." PLAYBOY: "How did you and Paul happen to be watching TV together?" LENNON: "That was a period when Paul just kept turning up at our door with a guitar. <…> …he and Linda walked in and he and I were just sitting there, watching the show, and we went, 'Ha-ha, wouldn't it be funny if we went down?' but we didn't."

(John Lennon, 1980, interview with David Sheff for Playboy)

Paul recounts the SNL story a few months after it happened

(audio)

Backstage after the first show [May 24, 1976] McCartney phoned his old songwriting partner at the Dakota. Paul had expected John not to attend, but hoped that he might. He would miss the second show [May 25] too, because he and Yoko were flying to Los Angeles that day. “They said they were glad the show went well. And we left it at that,” Paul reported. John did, however, request a pair of tickets to the second show for Sean’s babysitter.

(The McCartney Legacy: Volume 2: 1974-1980 by Allan Kozinn and Adrian Sinclair, 2024)

During their trip [27-30 April 1977] the McCartneys were also hoping for a springtime reunion with John and Yoko and paid a surprise visit to the Dakota. But their timing was terrible: John and Yoko were busily preparing for an upcoming trip to Japan while also dealing with Sean as he approached the Terrible Twos. The McCartneys did not make it past the front door of Apartment 72.

(The McCartney Legacy: Volume 2: 1974-1980 by Allan Kozinn and Adrian Sinclair, 2024)

It's ten years since I really communicated with him. I know as much about him as he does about me, which is zilch. About two years ago, he turned up at the door. I said, 'Look, do you mind ringin' first? I've just had a hard day with the baby. I'm worn out and you're walkin' in with a damn guitar!"

(John Lennon, The September 29th 1980 issue of Newsweek)

LENNON: "That was a period when Paul just kept turning up at our door with a guitar. I would let him in, but finally I said to him, 'Please call before you come over. It's not 1956 and turning up at the door isn't the same anymore. You know, just give me a ring.' He was upset by that, but I didn't mean it badly. I just meant that I was taking care of a baby all day and some guy turns up at the door… PLAYBOY: "Was that the last time you saw Paul?" LENNON: "Yes, but I didn't mean it like that."

(John Lennon, 1980, interview with David Sheff for Playboy)

PAUL: When Sean (John and Yoko's son) was first born, I visited him a few times at the Dakota (Lennon's apartment house in New York). And then it had gone snotty. I used to turn up without calling him. One time, he got annoyed with me. He said, 'Well, look, man… Why do you just keep turning up here and surprise us? Why don't you just call first?' And I took that the wrong way. After that, I don't think I did see him.

(Paul McCartney, spring of 1982, interview with Jim Miller for Newsweek)

That came about when I was just sitting around in the studio one day [May 5, 1977], doing rock ‘n’ roll kind of chords, just very simple bluesy kind of chords. And I just had the chorus. And the rest of it I used to just mumble. So we did it on the boat with me mumbling the vocal track and just shouting ‘I’ve had enough’ when it comes to the chorus. And I wrote some words to it and again we finished that off in London.

(Paul McCartney BBC Radio 1, 1978)

PLAYBOY: In most of his interviews, John said he never missed the Beatles. Did you believe him? PAUL: I don’t know. My theory is that he didn’t. Someone like John would want to end the Beatle period and start the Yoko period. And he wouldn’t like either to interfere with the other. As he was with Yoko, anything about the Beatles tended inevitably to be an intrusion. So I think he was interested enough in his new life to genuinely not miss us.

(Paul McCartney, Dec.1984, interview with Joan Goodman for Playboy, 1984)

Buchan [Alasdair Buchan of the Daily Mirror] pressed McCartney on John Lennon’s recent assertion that he had made his contribution to society and did not plan to work again. “He’s full of wind, isn’t he?” McCartney scoffed. “Maybe he isn’t going to work anymore, but it’s no skin off my nose. It’s really up to John. I’ve heard him talk like that before. . . . I think he must be very bored now.” [November 1977]

(Demos to roll off the Lennon production line during this period included ‘Real Love,’ ‘Now and Then,’ ‘Free as a Bird,’ ‘What Ever Happened To?’ and ‘She Is a Friend of Dorothy’s.’)

(The McCartney Legacy: Volume 2: 1974-1980 by Allan Kozinn and Adrian Sinclair, 2024)

PLAYBOY: "You say you haven't listened to Paul's work and haven't really talked to him since that night in your apartment…" LENNON: "Really talked to him, no, that's the operative word. I haven't really talked to him in ten years. Because I haven't spent time with him. I've been doing other things and so has he. You know, he's got 25 kids and about 20,000,000 records out. How can he spend time talking? He's always working."

(John Lennon, 1980, interview with David Sheff for Playboy)

…If I had known John was going to die I would not have been as stand-offish as I was. You know how people are in relationships. If someone tells you to piss off you say well piss off yourself then. You don’t realise that there may be pain and it’s very hard to say Jesus’s thing. You know – turning the other cheek. “OK, you can tell me to piss off but I still think you’re great”. If I knew John was going to die I would have made a lot more effort to try and get behind his mask and try and get a better relationship with him. As it was I think I did have a pretty good relationship with him but when he started slagging me off I was not prepared to say “well you’re quite right” because I’m human. <…> I just turned round and said piss off. Had I known it was going to be that final – that quick – I would not have said that. <…> That’s my regret really where I now see what I could have said, listen and put my arm round him…

(Paul McCartney, 1983, interview with Neil Tilly for fanzine BREAKOUT! (Issue 15) Aug/Sept 1983)

[084thoughts]

Ravi Centric Fic Recs!!

Separated into categories and listed by word count from least to greatest. AO3 ratings are highlighted -> Gen Teen Mature Explicit Not Rated (NR)

🔥 labeled fics are some of my personal favorites!!

Please read tags/descriptions before to avoid any triggering or explicit content. Many of these fics discuss childhood cancer, chronic and mental illness, explicit sexual activity, and/or traumatic injury.

Basically all of the romantic/sexual pairings w Ravi are rarepairs-Hanikkar, May/Ravi, Buck/Ravi- (because 9-1-1 can't seem to bother giving him character development) so if you don't vibe w a ship, just don't read it. I included some great non-slash fics, and a entire section for Buddie-centric fics.

Character Study (Ravi Lore) 📚

Tea by ThirteenRedVampireBites | NR | 1.2k | Tea and how it shaped Ravi's favorite memories, Comfort Food, Fluff, minor hanikkar Ravi Begins by Ginja828 | T | 4.5k | Post-Season 7, 911 Typical Emergency, Flashbacks, Suicide Attempt, Queer Ravi no one can be born too many times by Daisies_and_Briars | T | 10k | Ravi's brother visits the station and is a dick, discussion of cancer, autism, supportive 118 Ravi Begins by mothdean | G | 11k | Ravi joins A-shift, Minor Character Death (on a call), Cancer Treatment & Remission, Hurt/Comfort, Childhood Trauma 🔥darlin', i'm just tryin' to tell ya by archerincombat | T | 12k | The 118 adopts a stray dog that reminds Ravi of his childhood, Cancer, Fire Station Dog, Panikkar Family, 118 Found Family 🔥the ravi fic by archerincombat | T | 15k | Ravi/OMC, 118 Friendships, Panikkar Family, Ravi's OC Friends, Childhood Cancer, Pining, Canon 911 Events: Seasons 4-6 paralyzed (don't you know you've got me?) by doveious | T | 36k | Ravi is paralyzed after a car accident, Established May/Ravi (but not main focus), Hurt/Comfort, Physical Disability, Chronic Pain

118 Friendships 🚒

if i should fall by truth_seeker_1789 | G | <1k | 911 call, Landslide Rescue, Whump, Ravi & Buck Friendship burn the sage (clear the air ducts) by doveious | G | 1.4k | Ravi gets stuck in an air vent, Crack, 118 hijinks Who you gonna call? by scarmaddiewrites | G | 1.7k | Buck has Chronic Pain, Buck & Ravi Friendship, Eddie is in Texas an open wound by rarakiplin (gmontys) | T | 2k | Ravi sees Eddie in the parking lot of the bar, Season 5b, Angst, Mental Health Struggles nothing but the ocean and the sunrise by evenatraitormaymend | G | 2.3k | Buck tells Ravi about his leg scars at the beach, Established Buddie, Fluff, truck bombing Ravi Versus El Paso: A Hate Story by serenelystrange | G | 2.7k | Snippets of Ravi and 118 during Eddie's banishment in Texas, Good-Natured Bullying, 118 Friendships, Queer Ravi birds of a feather, we should stick together by regvlvs | G | 3k | Hen takes Ravi to an aquarium trip to help him study for his paramedic exam, Autistic Ravi, Fluff, Hen & Ravi Friendship things aren't always as they seem by swordgay1989 | G | 4k | 5 times Ravi felt unsure at the 118 + 1 time he felt at home with them, Hurt/Comfort, Autistic Ravi, Cancer, Panic Attacks, Angst it's not what it looks like by odysseus_calls | G | 4.1k | Ravi's romantic plans fall through, he ends up spending his day out with Buck instead, minor Hanikkar, cute date activities with your crush's brother-in-law 🔥all we see is sky for forever by strawberryspence | T | 9k | Buck and Ravi get injured on a call together, Hurt/Comfort, Cancer, Buck & Ravi Friendship 🔥flood of facts by cookiesandcream | T | 9.5k | Buck and Ravi bond at the zoo, background buddie and hanikkar, infodumping, fluff

Cancer 🏥

All About the Cancer by Acciopologies | G | 1k | Chronic Illness, Vomiting, Angst, Misunderstandings Treading on Eggshells by Acciopologies | G | 1k | Childhood Trauma, Mention of Overdose, Suicide Attempt, Whump, Mother-Son Relationship Instead of soccer games by Beeisforever | G | 1.2k | Ravi meets a kid on a call that reminds him of his past, Chemo, One-shot, 911 call ooh child (things are gonna get easier) by doveious | T | 1.8k | Snippet from Ravi's childhood during chemotherapy, Angst, Cancer Treatment, Vomiting trauma sends you letters, without warning, for the rest of your life by swordgay1989 | G | 2.7k | Flashback to Ravi's childhood, Cancer, Chronic Illness, Chemotherapy, Angst 🔥the rest is still unwritten by strawberryspence | T | 8.7k | Buck & Ravi Friendship, Cancer Remission, minor ravi/omc, Beach Day, Car Rides, Healing After Trauma, sequel to all we see is sky for forever

Hanikkar (Ravi/Albert) 🌸

No Aunts for Jee-Yun by delinquentprincess | G | <1k | The 118's POV of Ravi and Albert dating, Short & Sweet sweat baby sweat by chromatophorica | E | 1.3k | Drunk Sex, Accidental Hookup, Friends to Lovers(?) The Reveal by crowstakeflight (seresindiaz) | G | 1.7k | Ravi and Albert go to the Madney wedding as each other's dates, Secret Relationship, Fluff Running on Airplane Mode by whatisreggieshortfor | NR | 1.8k | Miscommunication, Getting Together, Light Angst, Friends to Lovers right from the start (i gave you my heart) by chimneysrebar | G | 2k | Madney wedding, Fluff, Relationship Reveal, Chim cameo a turtle's shell. by sillinesshq | G | 2k | Fluff, Autistic Ravi, Supportive Albert, short & sweet Corresponding Shapes (Like Puzzle Pieces) by thetalee | T | 2.2k | Valentine's Day, Hanikkar Date Night 🔥three first dates by snowflick | T | 2.7k | Developing Relationship, Fluff, Chronically Ill Ravi, Supportive Albert, First Dates, Vomiting depollute me, pretty baby by shortndiaz | E | 3k | Domestic Fluff, Chronic Pain, Drabbles, prompt #4 is smut/explicit sex we'd never say we're just friends by ScatteredPhotographs | G | 3.7k | 5 times Ravi and Albert tried to hide their relationship from the 118 + 1 time they didn’t need to, Secret Relationship, Silly Goofy, 118 Family Feels oh shit, are we in love? by supernovamyth | T | 5.3k | FWB to Lovers, Flirting, Love Confessions 🔥Keep it Down by rainbow_nerds | T | 6k | Ravi and Albert neighbor AU, Friends to Lovers, meet ugly The 118's Soap Opera Curse by Sonayesul | T | 7k | Secret Relationship, Superstitions, Crack Treated Seriously, Angst w Happy Ending 🔥Six Dates & A Funeral by RighteousPunk | M | 54k | Buck and Chimney compete to matchmake Ravi, FWB Hanikkar, Pre-Buddie, Multiple POVs, Fluff, Angst 🔥Ravi and Albert's Guide to Fake Not-Dating by to_be_a_dreamer | T | 49k | Ravi and Albert try to avoid the "118 curse" by hiding their relationship from their friends and family, Secret Relationship, Character Lore, Angst

Other Romantic Pairings 💕

🔥i'm used to loving slowly by waveridden | T | 32k | May/Ravi/Albert, Polyamory, Getting Together, Roommates to Friends to Lovers, POV May Grant, Partial Slowburn

May/Ravi

i'll finally see what it means to be complete by chromatophorica | G | 2k | May/Ravi, Secret Admirer, Gift Giving, Fluff and now this thought drives me mad by ferager | G | 3k | Ravi stresses over a date with May, May/Ravi, Fluff, Supportive Chimney my flower baby (flower baby) by doveious | T | 10k | Five times Ravi got May flowers and one time May got Ravi flowers, Established May/Ravi, Fluff, 5 + 1

Buck/Ravi

after hours by v_greyson (greyson) | E | 13k | Buck meets Ravi's queer friends and they hookup, Buck/Ravi, FWB, Queer Community, Genderplay, Drinking, Explicit Sex 🔥A Guide to Playing Matchmaker for Your Boyfriend by  sammyunhinged | M | 52k | Ravi dates Buck instead of Tommy, Ravi/Buck, Pre-Buddie, Casual Relationship, Sexual Content, Ravi bestie OC 🔥good pretender by likeshipsonthesea | E | 85k | Buck and Ravi FWB, Explicit Sex, Hurt/Comfort, Mentions of Cancer, Indian Culture, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms (Buck's relationship w sex), Buddie slowburn, Multiple POVs

Buddie Driven Plot 🏡

good luck, babe! by QuietLittleVoices | G | 1.5k | Ravi confused by Buddie, Gossiping, Season 7 Setting the implications of observation by intotheblue | G | 1.7k | Ravi being suspicious of Buddie, short and sweet, Relationship Reveal r/AskReddit: Are My Coworkers Dating? by shelfthe_reader | NR | 2.5k | Ravi vents about Buddie on Reddit, Crack, various buddie traumas referenced 🔥The Packer Incident by jade_reads29 | M | 3.5k | Secret Relationship, Trans!Buck, Smut, porn with plot, Buddie mildly traumatizes Ravi new debate topic: is evan buckley a good boyfriend? by writelove | NR | 3.6k | Ravi thinks Buddie are together, Crack Treated Seriously, 118 Game Night, Fluff Just a name by AngyBegins | G | 4.4k | Buck keeps calling Ravi "Eddie", Buck & Ravi Friendship, Eddie goes to Texas Take The Bitter With The Sweet by fruitsdoesnotknow | T | 5k | Ravi being terrorized by platonic Buddie, dumbass4dumbass, the 118 being a family so far away but still so near by 42hrb | T | 6.2k | Eddie becomes friends with Lucy and Ravi, Coming Out, Pining this is it (i can feel it) by withmeornotatall | T | 9k | Ravi's POV of Eddie returning to the 118, Ravi & Lucy Friendship 🔥some things are meant to be secret (and not to be heard) by archerincombat | T | 10k | Sequel to the ravi fic, Established Buddie, Secret Relationship and only Ravi knows, Ravi/OMC (Sebastian ily) Four Can Keep a Secret by Daisies_and_Briars | T | 20k | Ravi and Hen scheme to expose secret relationship Buddie, post-bridge collapse, Miscommunication, Scheming with Henren

@cal-daisies-and-briars @doveious @queerpanikkar @hoediaz @bipitybopitydoo @strawberryspence @thetalee @to-be-a-dreamer @rainbow-nerdss @exhuastedpigeon @fruitsdontknow

@waveridden @chromatophorica @vgreysoncellars @sammyunhinged @likeshipsonthesea @shelfthe-reader @harpermiller @thirteenredvampirebites

⭐️ i apologize if you are not tagged as one of the writers for these works - lmk if i missed your @ so i can credit you 😊

⭐️ if you would like to be tagged in part 2 of my ravi fics (or my upcoming albert and may fic compilation) tag or comment below!!

[rosemaryhoney27]

Between a Bat and a Hard Place

Jason Todd had seen a lot in his life. He had died, come back, and wreaked havoc across Gotham before begrudgingly rejoining the Bat-family. But nothing—nothing—had prepared him for this.

His best friend, Danny Fenton, had a thing for his sister.

And even worse? Cass definitely had a thing for Danny too.

Jason could understand Danny’s attraction—Cass was a total badass. She could take on any opponent with deadly precision, and if she wanted, she could absolutely fold Danny in half. That part was funny to Jason, at least. But that didn’t mean he was happy about his best friend making heart-eyes at his sister.

And it didn’t help that Cass was clearly just as into it.

Jason sat at the Batcave’s monitor station, arms crossed as he watched them spar. Danny—who, despite his ghost powers, was still a lanky dork—had no business looking that smug as he faced off against Cassandra Cain, one of the deadliest fighters in the world.

"You're holding back," Cass said, circling him like a predator.

Danny grinned, twirling one of the escrima sticks she’d let him borrow. "I mean, yeah. I like having all my limbs in the right place."

Cass lunged, fast as a shadow, and Danny barely twisted out of the way in time. Jason didn’t miss the way her expression softened—just a little—when she smirked at Danny’s maneuver.

Nope. Absolutely not.

Jason groaned, rubbing a hand down his face. "I swear to god, if you two start making goo-goo eyes at each other in front of me, I’m gonna start throwing Batarangs."

Cass tilted her head toward him. "Jealous?"

Jason scowled. "No! I just don’t wanna be stuck in the middle of this disaster waiting to happen."

Danny, the little menace, grinned. "C’mon, Jay. Think of the positives. If I start dating your sister, that makes us family!"

Jason stared at him in horror.

Cass, ever the opportunist, turned to Danny and signed, He’s just mad because he can’t beat either of us in a fight.

Danny laughed. Jason glared.

That was it. He was calling Tim. Someone else could deal with this nightmare.

[tikosblogg]

Hey slay

Best friend Noah x reader perchance??

Post show smut 👀👀

Feelings have been tense for a while between the two of them and after joining them on tour watching the set really made things heat up

The rest of the band and crew have been teasing Noah and reader for ages about how they act around each other

Warnings: Just smut!

A/N: THANK YOU FOR THE REQUESTS I HOPE YOU LIKE IT ❤️

Tonight felt tense… a whirlwind of emotions urging me towards something I wasn't sure I was ready for. Stage lights sliced through the venue, painting Noah in a godlike aura. He was a force of nature up there, all raw energy and primal screams, a world away from the Noah I knew.

We’d been friends for years, practically since diapers. I’d watched him chase his dreams with the kind of unwavering dedication that both inspired and intimidated me. And now, here he was, tearing up stages across the country. And here I was, trailing along as a glorified… friend.

Joining them on tour had seemed like a good idea at the time. A break from my monotonous routine, a chance to see a different side of the world. But watching Noah perform night after night had unleashed something in me I’d tried so hard to ignore. The casual teasing from the rest of the guys hadn't helped either. Every wink, every pointed look, every knowing smirk had hammered home the undeniable truth: I was completely, irrevocably, head over heels for Noah.

And apparently, everyone else knew it too.

The final chords of "Nowhere to Go" reverberated through the arena. The crowd roared, a tidal wave of sound that crashed over the stage. Noah threw his head back, sweat plastering his dark hair to his forehead, and for a split second, his eyes met mine. A jolt, like static electricity, shot through me. It was always those fleeting moments of connection that undid me.

Backstage was a bit chaotic. Everyone packing equipment, the guys unwinding, and the lingering scent of sweat and adrenaline. I navigated the throng, trying to look busy, trying to appear nonchalant, trying desperately to maintain a semblance of composure.

"Hey, love bird!" Nick's voice boomed over the din. I groaned inwardly.

"Don't you have a drum kit to dismantle?" I retorted, trying to keep the irritation from my voice.

Nick just grinned, his eyes twinkling mischievously. "Just admiring the view. You were practically drooling during 'Limits'."

My cheeks flushed, and I averted my gaze. "Shut up, Nick."

"Oh, come on," he chuckled, nudging my shoulder. "It's obvious. You're practically radiating hearts. And judging by the way Noah stares at you when he thinks you're not looking… well, let's just say the tension could cut glass."

He walked away, leaving me to stew in my embarrassment and the ever-present, frustrating truth of his words.

I caught sight of Noah near the catering table, accepting congratulations from a well-wisher. He looked exhausted but exhilarated, his smile radiating genuine joy. I wanted to be the reason for that smile. I wanted to be the one he looked for in the crowd. I wanted… more.

Taking a deep breath, I made my way over to him. "Great show," I said, trying to sound casual.

He turned, his eyes locking onto mine. The noise of the backstage faded into a dull hum. "Thanks," he said, his voice rough, still slightly panting. "You think so?"

"Think so? Noah, you were incredible. The energy was insane."

A slow smile spread across his face. "You always know what to say." He paused, his gaze intensifying. "Listen, can we talk? Somewhere else?"

My heart hammered against my ribs. Talk?? About what?? Oh my gosh. I’ve been way too obvious. He’s gonna call me out over my weird ogling.

He led me through the labyrinthine backstage corridors to the empty green room. The door clicked shut behind us, sealing us in a bubble of quietness. The room was kind of small, sparsely furnished, and smelled faintly of cologne and cigarettes.

Noah ran a hand through his hair, his nervousness mirroring my own. "Look," he began, his voice hesitant. "I know things have been… weird between us lately."

"Weird?" I echoed, raising an eyebrow. "That's one word for it."

He chuckled, the sound strained. "Okay, maybe 'weird' doesn't quite cover it. The truth is…" He trailed off, seemingly unable to find the right words.

I took a step closer, straightening my spine, not taking my eyes off his. "The truth is what?"

He looked at me, his eyes filled with a mixture of longing and apprehension. "I can't stop thinking about you. All the time. Especially when I'm on stage, and I see you in the crowd, and…" He paused, taking a deep breath. "God, this is harder than singing in front of thousands of people."

"Just say it, Noah," I whispered, my voice barely audible.

He reached out, gently cupping my face in his hands. His touch sent shivers down my spine. "I love you," he said, the words tumbling out in a rush. "I have for a long time. I just didn't know how to tell you."

The admission hung in the air between us, a fragile, precious thing. Tears welled up in my eyes. "I love you too," I confessed, my voice thick with emotion.

A sigh of relief shuddered through him. He lowered his head, his forehead resting against mine. "I was so scared," he murmured. "Scared of ruining our friendship, scared of losing you."

"You could never lose me," I whispered back.

He tilted my head up, his eyes searching mine. We didn't need to say anything. I simply leaned in and met his lips with my own.

The kiss was tentative at first, a gentle exploration. But as our emotions surged, it deepened, becoming more urgent, more demanding. Years of unspoken feelings, of pent-up desire, were poured into that kiss. It was a kiss that tasted of longing, of relief, of pure, unadulterated bliss.

His hands moved from my face to my waist, pulling me closer until there was no space between us. I wrapped my arms around his neck, burying my fingers in his hair.

We broke apart, gasping for breath, our eyes locked. The air thick with tension. He dove in again, pulling me towards him, as we both collapsed onto the couch. 

I straddled him, my thighs pressing against his as I settled onto his lap. He groaned softly, his hands roaming up and down my body. His fingers traced the curve of my waist, then moved up to cup my breasts, his thumbs brushing over my nipples through my shirt. “You’re so fucking beautiful,” he murmured against my neck, his lips trailing kisses along my skin.

I moaned, my hands tangling in the back of his hair as I began to move, grinding against him like I’d done this a thousand times before. His dick pressed against me, and I felt that heat coil low in my stomach. His hands were everywhere palming my ass, gripping my hips, pulling me closer as he thrusted his hips upward to meet mine.

His hands were everywhere palming my ass, gripping my hips, pulling me closer as he thrusted his hips upward to meet mine, The couch creaking beneath us. He gripped the bottom of my shirt, pulling it up and off. “Fuck, you’re perfect,” he groaned, his voice thick with desire. He shoved his face in my tits nipping at them. I whimpered at the delicious pain, as he pulled my bra off. He sucked a nipple into his mouth, while pinching and pulling the other one. “I need you to ride me, baby. Please.”

I nodded, going to stand up so I could take the rest of my clothes off, But his hands gripped my hips tighter stopping me. Before I could ask what he was doing, he shoved my skirt up around my waist. My breath hitched at the sheer desperation in his movements.

I gasped as he shoved his hands into my now soaked panties moaning at how wet I was. He slid his fingers through my slick folds, teasing me as i lightly bucked my hips against them. My hips bucked wilder, my breath coming in sharp gasps. His hand tightened on my hip, as his thumb softly brushed my clit. His whispered praise driving me towards the edge. “My gorgeous girl..you're so fucking perfect.”

His words fueled me, making me feel sexy, and wanted in a way I’d never experienced before. I finally managed to speak through my constant whimpers and moans. My hands gripping his shirt against his chest. "Noah please...I want you." He didn't think twice, before finally pushing his joggers down enough to release his aching dick. "Go ahead baby..." I nodded, my eyes finding his. I leaned back slightly, my hands braced on his thighs as I slowly sank down onto him. The feeling was intoxicating, and I could already feel the tight knot of pleasure that demanded release.

His eyes never left mine, his gaze intense and worshipful. “You’re so pretty baby,” he said, his voice hoarse. “Every fucking inch of you.”

I bit my lip, my cheeks flushing at his words. “Noah… I—”

“Shh,” he interrupted, his hand cupping my breast, squeezing and biting it again. “Just feel it. Feel how much I want you.” His lips brushed my heated skin as he spoke.

And I did. I felt it in the way his hands gripped me, in the way his body moved with mine, in the way his breath quickened while I rode him.

His fingers dug into my hip, guiding them as he thrust upward. His other hand wrapping around your throat, pulling you into another desperate messy kiss. “Fuck, you’re so wet for me,” he groaned, his voice a low rumble. “So tight. So perfect.”

His words sent a jolt of pleasure through me, and I felt myself teetering on the edge. “Noah… I’m close,” I panted, my voice shaky.

“Me too,” he growled, his hands moving to my thighs, spreading them wider as he angled his hips to hit deeper. “Come on pretty girl, cum for me.”

That was all it took. I cried out, my body trembling as my orgasm washed over me, waves of pleasure crashing through. His name escaped my lips on a breathless moan, and I felt him thrusting harder and quicker into me, his own release following close behind.

“Fuck, yes,” he groaned, his head falling back against the couch as he came, his hands still gripping me tightly. “You’re so fucking beautiful when you cum.”

I collapsed onto his chest, breathless and sated, my heart still racing. His arms wrapped around me, holding me close as he kissed the top of my head. “I love you,” he whispered, his voice soft but steady.

I smiled, my fingers tracing the tattoos on his chest. “I love you too,” I murmured.

[dckweed]

tiktok made me do it!gf vs tf 141 boys

You’ve seen the prank all over TikTok—sending song lyrics to your boyfriend over text and seeing how long it takes before he either catches on or panics.

But with your boyfriend? It goes exactly as expected.

(forgot to post this morning)

warnings: elisions to smut, ass smacking, borderline angry bfs.

Captain Price – "talk is cheap”

(Song: Take It On The Run – REO Speedwagon)

You: Heard it from a friend who heard it from another you been messin’ around.

John’s reply comes immediately.

John: …Pardon?

You bite your lip, trying not to laugh.

You: They say you got a boyfriendo, you’re up late every night.

John: Who the hell is “they” and why are they about to get a lesson in not spreading shite about me?

You: Talkin’ about you and it don’t seem right.

John: What the fuck?

You: But I know the neighborhood and talk is cheap.

You stare at your phone, waiting for a reply. Instead, you hear the distant sound of boots stomping down the hall, as if coming from his office not too far away.

You barely have a second to react before Price throws the door open, his expression deadly serious.

"What the fuck is this about?" he demands, holding up his phone.

You freeze. "Uhh…"

He squints at you, chest heaving. "Sweetheart. Tell me this is some kind of joke before I start making some phone calls."

You burst out laughing.

"*Oh my God, babe, it’s a song!"

His eyes narrow. "A song?"

You nod, still wheezing. "REO Speedwagon! Take It On The Run! It’s a prank!"

Silence.

Then—Price lets out the deepest sigh, dragging a hand down his face. "Jesus Christ, woman. I thought I was about to go interrogate the whole bloody street."

You snort. "I love that your first instinct was to fight everyone."

Price gives you a look. "You really wanna test my patience right now?"

You grin, wrapping your arms around his neck. "You’re so hot when you’re all protective."

He sighs again but kisses you anyway. "Damn woman’s gonna kill me someday."

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick – "are we fighting?”

(Song: One More Night – Maroon 5)

You were bored, okay? the man left you to go on a run, he’d been gone for nearly an hour by now and you missed him..so what better to do than your favorite pass time of getting on his nerves? There was something your followers had been asking for since the last video you posted with him, and to you, it looked like the perfect opportunity has arisen..

You: You and I go hard at each other like we’re going to war.

Gaz: …What?

You: You and I go rough, we keep throwing things and slamming the door.

Gaz: Babe???

You: You and I get so damn dysfunctional, we stopped keeping score.

Silence. Then—

Gaz is calling…

You ignore it. Stay strong.

Gaz: Answer the phone.

Gaz: Right now.

Gaz: BABY.

You: I know I said it a million times…

Gaz: Said WHAT a million times?!?

Then—suddenly, the door to your bedroom bursts open.

Gaz stands in the doorway, wide-eyed and panting. "Are you okay?!"

You stare. "Kyle."

"Baby, what the fuck is going on? Are we fighting? Did I do something? Why are we—*" He stops mid-rant as he sees your phone screen—still on the text chat.

His face drops. "Oh my fucking God."

You lose it, falling onto the bed in hysterics.

"You absolute menace," he groans, rubbing his temples. "I just ran through the entire fucking neighborhood like an idiot."

You wipe away tears of laughter. "I love you so much."

He groans again, flopping onto the bed beside you. "You’re lucky I love you, too."

Simon "Ghost" Riley – “cryptic bullshit”

(Song: Love You Like A Woman – Lana Del Rey)

Simon had been gone all day, off at the base doing routine trainings and whatever else it is that he did (he never really told you his exact job description), he hadn’t texted you since breakfast and you assumed he was busy, but, you couldn’t resist screwing with him a little bit, you knew it wasn’t nice of you, but you truly enjoyed keeping him on his toes..

You: Talk to me in poems and songs.

Ghost: …What?

You: Don't make me be bittersweet.

Ghost: Sweetheart, what the fuck are you talking about?

You: Let me love you like a woman.

Ghost: …

You: Let me hold you like a baby.

Ghost: …

You: Let me shine like a diamond.

Silence.

Then—

Ghost is CALLING…

You ignore it, which admittedly isn’t your smartest move in the grand scheme of things..

Ghost: Answer the fucking phone.

You: Let me be who I’m meant to be.

Ghost: WHERE ARE YOU?

You: Talk to me in songs-

No response, you figure he’s gone back to work, that he’ll respond later. It doesn’t cross your mind that he could be making the ten minute drive home until you hear tires screeching as they come to a stop.

Through the curtains you can see the silhouette of the truck, of him jumping out and rushing to the porch. The front door swings open so violently that it nearly comes off the hinges.

Ghost stands in the doorway, all 6’4” of him, broad-shouldered and seething. His skull mask is pushed up onto his head, revealing his sharp, exasperated glare.

He crosses his arms, staring you down. "Talk to me in poems and songs? What the hell kinda cryptic bullshit is that?"

You crack up, practically folding in half in the armchair you’re perched on. "Oh my God, Simon, it was a prank! Song lyrics! Lana Del Rey!"

Ghost blinks. "You pranked me?"

"Yes!"

A muscle in his jaw twitches. "You had me thinking you were having some sort of existential breakdown and ignoring my calls for LANA DEL FUCKIN’ REY?!"

You wheeze, clutching your stomach. "You should’ve seen your face!"

"You should see yours when I’m done with you," he mutters, already closing the door behind him.

You blink. "What?"

His fingers flex. "Oh, sweetheart, you wanted my attention, didn’t you?*"

Your stomach drops. "Simon, wait—"

Too late.

Ghost lunges, sweeping you up effortlessly and tossing you onto the couch.

Your squeal is drowned out by his low, amused chuckle. "Let’s see how poetic you’re feelin’ after I’m through with you, love."

(Lesson learned: never mess with Ghost unless you’re prepared for consequences.)

Johnny "Soap" MacTavish – "in the club doin a murder"

(Song: Gorgeous – Taylor Swift)

You had just come back from girls night, tipsy and craving your favorite persons attention, though he’s nowhere to be seen as you toss your bag onto the empty couch, the tv was playing what looked like an old football match, and there were a couple of beer bottles littered on the coffee table..stumbling to the bedroom you toss yourself lazily onto the bed, half on, half off, ass pointed towards the door as you swipe your phone open, pulling up your message thread, you felt like fucking with him a little.

You: You should take it as a compliment, that I got drunk and made fun of the way you talk.

Soap: EXCUSE ME??

You: And I got a boyfriend, he’s older than us.

Soap: WHAT FUCKIN BOYFRIEND?!

You: He's in the club doing, I don’t know what.

Soap: I’M ABOUT TO BE IN THE CLUB DOIN’ A MURDER, WHO THE FUCK—

You: You’re so gorgeous!

Soap: YER DAMN RIGHT I AM, BUT WHO THE FUCK IS THIS BOYFRIEND YER TALKIN’ ABOUT?!

You: I can't say anything to your face.

Soap: WELL YE BETTER FUCKIN START BECAUSE I AM TWO SECONDS FROM LOSIN’ IT.

You: ‘Cause look at your face.

Soap: STOP TRYIN’ TO BUTTER ME UP AND ANSWER ME, WOMAN.

Then—

Soap is CALLING…

You ignore it, pouting because you were in the middle of typing something and he interrupted.

Soap: ANSWER. THE. PHONE.

Soap: WHERE THE FUCK ARE YE?

Soap: YER ACTIN’ SHADY AS FUCK, LASS, I SWEAR—

His little bubbles go away and you start typing again, wondering if he was checking your location so he could come whisk you away. Before you can even finish typing another response, you hear the thunderous stomp of boots approaching. He mustve been down in the basement..

Then—BANG.

The door slams open.

Soap stands there, looking red-faced and furious, chest heaving like he just ran to find you. His hands are braced on the doorframe, like he’s physically holding himself back from shaking the answers out of you.

"What the fuck is this?!" he demands, holding up his phone.

You burst into laughter, barely able to breathe. "Oh my God, Johnny, it’s song lyrics!"

His eye twitches. "Song lyrics."

"Taylor Swift, babe! It was a prank—"

Soap lets out the most dramatic groan, dropping his phone onto the table as he scrubs his hands down his face. "*Ye mean to tell me I just sprinted through the fuckin’ house for TAYLOR SWIFT?”

"I’m so sorry—"

"Yer not," he accuses, glaring at you. "Ye knew I’d lose my fuckin’ mind over that shite!" He stalks towards you, you’re still half off of the bed, ass facing him.

You wipe away tears of laughter. "Aww, you got all jealous and protective. That’s kinda hot, Johnny."

He glares at you, and you don’t see his hand raise until he’s swinging it down, landing on your ass with a thwack. “Wanted to fuck around and find out, hm? Well, there’s plenty more where that came from, lass."

Your eyes sparkle. "Promise?" You wiggle your ass playfully, sly smile on your face..

Soap’s expression shifts—his jaw clenches, his blue eyes darkening just slightly.

You don’t have time to react before he lunges, grabbing you around the waist and hauling you over onto your back like a sack of potatoes, spreading your legs as he notches himself between them, the skirt of your too mini for his liking dress riding up to your waist.

"JOHNNY—!"

"Ye wanted my attention, lass? Well, ye fuckin’ got it now."

(Turns out, pranking your highly emotional, dramatic Scotsman has consequences.)

[tommydarlings]

Apocalypse | C.L

pairing: bbf!charles leclerc x verstappen!reader

warnings: reader under the influence of alcohol, mentions of sexual harassment, smut, soft&gentle!charles

w/c: 4.5k

summary: you were drunk, the little sister of a formula one driver and a hopeless romantic who hadn’t had any sex in a while — and maybe you also had a tiny crush on a specific driver in red who you coincidentally shared your favourite song with.

song recommendation: Apocalypse by Cigarettes after Sex

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Three Charles Leclercs… no, maybe two.

You weren’t sure anymore how many versions of that god forsaken man you saw but you were sure that it wasn’t only one at this point.

With wobbly legs and a tiny grin on your lips that you didn’t even really know where it came from, you stumbled over to your brothes friend before you crashed into his side as he talked to Lewis.

“Well hello you, little one,“ Lewis jokingly said with a giggle as soon as he saw you leaning into charles who quickly set his glass aside and caught your arms.

He was an asshole — but a caring one.

Charles looked down at you with furrowed brows, the loud music of the crowded club hurting your head as you tried your best to hear him over it.

“What’s gotten into you?“ he asked.

You grinned up at him, “clearly no dick lately which is actually-“

“Okay yeah yeah,“ charles mumbled more to himself before he told Lewis that he’s gonna take you him to which the Ferrari driver just nodded with his infamous smile.

Charles walked towards the doors of the club with you, dragging you by your arm but not in a way that it hurt.

He cleared his throat, “how much did you drink?“ the monaguesque glanced at you as he led you towards his Ferrari.

You sighed loudly before you groaned, almost as if you realised in what kind of state you’re actually in, “stopped counting-” but you only sighed again and closed your eyes as you two continued walking, “I actually never even started counting to be honest,“ you told him in all honesty.

Charles scoffed and shook his head, “I always have to take care of you at the end of the day — your brother is max verstappen! Can't he take care of you?“ he questioned.

You smiled briefly, “c’mon… don’t lie to me,” you looked up at him as you reached his car,

“you enjoy taking care of me, just admit it!“

He looked down at you and rolled his eyes with a sigh, “get in,“ he demanded as he opened the passenger door.

You two never really got along, at first you didn’t mind each other but then you just started bickering like teenagers and ever since then you simply disliked each other… did you still think that he was secretly one of the most attractive man you ever laid your eyes upon? Of course.

As you sluggishly got into the passenger seat of his car, Charles nonchalantly raised his hand and put it onto the bottom part of the roof of his Ferrari so you wouldn’t hit the top of your head.

But in your drunken state, you didn’t even notice the caring gesture — you sat down in the passenger seat and grinned up at him as he slammed the door shut.

“Why are you even taking me home? I’m not tired, you know?“ you looked at him as he hoped into his seat.

The Ferrari driver sighed again and started to drive the car into the direction of your flat, his eyes focused on the road while yours where still focused on him, “you’re wasted-”

“I’m not wasted, charlie!“ you interrupted him with a gasp.

He scoffed and almost cracked a little smile at the nickname, “stop calling me that.“

You grinned from ear to ear and leaned over the middle console, “why? I think the name fits you really well, charlie.“

Your 'caretaker' of the night rolled his eyes, “I think it sounds ridiculous, so quit it, yeah?“ he glanced at you for the first time since you got into the car.

You noticed his intense gaze on you for a few seconds before you looked away, both of you embarrassingly blushing a tiny bit now.

After a couple of minutes, you spoke up again,

“I’m cold,“ you sighed quietly before you hugged your figure, you were only wearing a rather short dress.

Charles sighed and briefly closed his eyes before he cleared his throat, “There should be a hoodie laying on the backseat,“ he mumbled in a deep tone, his eyes looking straight ahead.

You swiftly unbuckled your seatbelt and got your knees up on your seat before you turned around and grabbed the big piece of clothing.

But both of you knew that you were a tease.

So you stayed in that bend position for a bit longer and slowly wiggled your ass for a few seconds.

And as soon as he noticed that you did all of this on purpose, he gulped before he released he deep breath, his fingers wrapping tightly around the wheel, his knuckles turning white at this point.

“You got it?“ he asked, his eyes trying his best to keep his eyes on the road and not the curves of your ass and hips.

You smirked, the hoodie obviously still in your grasp, “mhmm, I can’t find-”

“Sit back down,“ he demanded suddenly.

You gulped now as well, “But I-”

“Sit. back. down. now,“ Charles told you, his tone still deep and demanding and this time you obeyed and slowly sat back down.

After you quickly put the hoodie over your head, you looked at him again, it’s almost as if you couldn’t get enough of staring at him.

“Something on my face?“ he asked quietly, his tone sounding softer again.

You grinned again, it was that typical girly grin you always wore when you were drunk, “yeah, a bit of a pink blush, leclerc,“ you whispered.

He briefly glanced at you before he adjusted his posture in his leather seat and put his eyes back on the road ahead, just shaking his head.

The rest of the ride was silent, you unintentionally nuzzled more and more into his hoodie as you kept your eyes on your window, watching the other cars and buildings pass by.

———

“You got your keys?“ Charles asked you as you both walked towards your front door of your apartment.

You nodded, “yeah, of course,“ you got your keys and unlocked the door before you both walked into the direction of the elevator, to your surprise it was pretty filled up with other people that lived here with you.

Charles stepped into the elevator as well, being right behind your smaller figure as you tried to squeeze into an empty corner with him.

To your surprise, Charles gently placed his hand on your lower back and led you into that one corner, staying very close to you.

As the elevator closed its doors and took off, some old man — that you’ve only seen a couple of times before, scooted closer to you…

You gulped and glanced up at Charles who already narrowed his eyes at the old man and in the surprisingly softest way possible, slowly put his hand around your waist and pulled you closer to him, your hands unintentionally landing on his chest as the side of your face grazed his shirt.

Very gently, you fisted his shirt and leaned a tiny bit more into him, both of you now crammed up in this one little corner.

You two were never this close before, and you honestly thought that you’d never be this close to each other.

“Just stay close, yeah?“ Charles whispered, his hand now holding your waist a tad tighter, pulling you impossibly close to him.

As your hands slid unintentionally down to his abs, you sighed quietly, “where else should I go, hm?“ you raised your brows as your fingertips felt his muscles.

He even smirked for a quick second, his eyes still on the older man though, “touché,“ your brother's friend nodded.

But suddenly, the older men took a step closer to you, his eyes shamelessly scanning your legs that were a bit exposed due to your dress and Charles’s hoodie which were both not very long.

You gulped and immediately leaned more into the formula one driver's chest but Charles had other plans.

His hand left your waist and he carefully shoved you into the corner behind him before he stepped in a protective manner in front of you, his eyes staring straight ahead at the older men, his facial expression pretty tense.

And even though he wasn’t saying a single word to the annoying man next to the two of you, his eyes clearly spoke volumes.

You gulped and bit your lip, really trying your absolute best to hide a grin before you tiredly leaned against his muscular back.

Luckily, the older man finally got the message and cleared his throat before he turned his back to charles.

Disgusting male creatures, or animals you would rather say — you rolled your eyes.

Then you looked up at charles again after he turned around, your hands laying lightly on his chest.

Men — you grinned for a split second.

Not even a minute later you were able to walk out of the elevator, your brothers best friend walking behind you again, his big hand hovering over the small of your back.

After a few stumbling steps, you finally reached your apartment door and unlocked it, still swaying a bit from side to side but charles was caring enough to put his hands on your waist each time you almost fell to the floor,

“Be careful, please…“ he told you in a quiet but warning kind of tone.

You giggled before you walked inside your apartment, charles following you and closing the door behind him.

You swiftly locked it again before you threw your keys onto the nearest surface and messily took your heels off, almost falling once again.

“Careful, I said!“ he scolded you like a child as he caught you by your waist before he sighed and picked you up, carrying you over to the couch where he gently sat your figure down.

You mumbled a quick, 'thanks' before you also removed your second heel and tossed them carelessly to the side.

Charles crossed his arms as he watched you as you closed your eyes and leaned backwards, seeming pretty exhausted.

Your dear caretaker cleared his throat, “so you’re just gonna lay here now and wait until you fall asleep?“

You shook your head and looked up at him,

“No… I actually want to take a bath,“ you replied quietly but in a serious tone, you weren’t joking around now.

He raised his brows in surprise, “A bath? A hot bath? Right now? While I’m here?“ he wanted to clarify if you even understood what you just said to him.

You nodded and hummed, “yeah, I really need that now,“ you said under your breath.

Charles glanced at his watch, “it’s almost two in the morning,” his tone got quieter.

But you only shrugged, you knew it was pretty late already but you simply didn’t care.

Charles sighed before he slowly walked towards your bathroom, “yeah, c’mon, get up.”

You grinned up at him before you slowly lifted your arms up — you were rather demanding and stubborn when you were drunk.

Charles closed his eyes and took a deep breath, “I know you’re drunk but you can’t be that-”

But you only leaned forward and lightly smacked his chest — which was secretly just an excuse to touch his muscles again but he didn’t need to know that.

“Ow!“ he furrowed his brows for a second before he released a long sigh and picked you up — and god was it hard to hide your giggle as he carried you almost like a child towards your bathroom.

“You’re just like your brother, you know that? Extremly stubborn and wants everything to be handed to her on a silver platter,“ he mumbled more to himself as you put your arms properly around his strong neck.

“We’re siblings, charlie,“ you heard him scoff at the nickname but you just continued, “of course we act the same,“ you clapped back.

Charles stepped into the bathroom with you in his arms and quickly filled your bathtub with hot water.

You watched him, still clinging onto him like a little girl even though you would have never clung onto him like that if you were sober,

“Can you add some bubbles?“ you pointed at the bottle with the lemon scent.

The formula one driver set you carefully down onto the floor before he added some bubbles.

He focused on the bubbles slowly covering the water, “you can undress yourself, I won’t look I promise,“ he murmured under his breath.

You gulped before you slowly removed his big hoodie and your dress.

Then you just stood there and watched how he slowly ran his hands through the steaming water before you unhooked your bra and took your panties off, putting the small pile of clothes to the side for now.

After a couple more seconds, Charles finally stood back up, his eyes still trained on the bathtub before he wiped his hands on a towel, “I’ll wait outside, okay?“ he asked quietly.

You nodded, “yeah,“ you whispered before you walked towards the tub — Charles swiftly turned around and walked with slow steps towards the door as he heard you stepping into the hot water behind him.

Just when his hand touched the door handle, your words made him stop in his tracks,

“Charlie?“ you loved the nickname, you couldn’t help it, “can you stay here with me? Next to the tub? I don’t want to be alone right now,“ you whispered so quietly he almost couldn’t understand you properly.

You weren’t sure if you just craved his presence because you were drunk or if you actually needed him by your side now.

You only knew that it started to hurt in your chest as soon as he stepped towards the door.

Charles's hand slowly slipped off of the handle before he turned his head, eyes still trained on the floor,

“Are you sure? You’re dru-,”

“I’m sure, charles,“ you told him quietly, your arms resting on the edge of the tub.

He cleared his throat and slowly nodded before he turned around and looked at your figure hiding beneath the bubbles, his eyes darkening for a brief moment before he stepped towards the bathtub.

He crouched down next to you, his eyes staying straight on your face, not daring to look elsewhere.

You looked at him with doe eyes, your chin laying comfortably on your arms.

“Why?“ he suddenly murmured, his eyes glancing at your lips, your eyes too mesmerising for him.

You still had a bit of alcohol in your system so you smirked and god it drove your brothers best friend wild, “Why what?“ you whispered.

Charles sighed, “Why all of this? Why did you fall in my arms tonight? Why-”

“Because you have the only pair of arms I would allow to catch me,“ you interrupted him in a soft tone.

He almost gasped at your words, his body sinking to his knees now, his face at the same level as yours, “and why do you want me by your side now?” He asked with his brows furrowed.

With a tiny smile, you answered his desperate question,

“I don’t want you,“ he was almost not even able to hear your voice, “I need you — I feel like I fucking need you and I don’t even know why.“

You still couldn’t stop smiling a tiny bit, your own words sounded crazy and you knew that but you also couldn’t lie to him, you couldn’t hide your feelings, you were always bad at that.

The formula one driver gulped, his eyes still not going any further down than to your lips.

“You’re my best friends sister,“ charles mumbled, probably talking more to himself — but you only nodded,

“I know,“ you replied quietly, “I may be younger but I’m not dumb, charlie.”

Charles sighed and shook his head, “What do you expect from me now?“ his voice was embarrassingly quiet as well, as if you were both scared to speak up.

You smiled softly and tilted your head to the side before you started to hum a song, your eyes glancing down at his lips.

The formula one driver briefly furrowed his brows as you started to hum a well known song, “apocalypse? Cigarettes after sex?“

You nodded, “you know that song?“

He nodded as well before you spoke up again,

“How do you know it?“ you looked into his gorgeous eyes again — Charles averted his gaze from your face,

“Well it’s your favourite song isn’t it?“ he whispered, making your brows shoot up in surprise.

You cleared your throat, “yeah… it is,“ you nodded along before you grinned at him again,

“Wha-“

“You leapt from crumbling bridges watching cityscapes turn to dust,“ you suddenly started singing in a hush tone.

Charles chuckled and shook his head, “I’m not singing, there’s-”

“Filming helicopters…“ you waited for him to continue the line — and as soon as he looked into your eyes, the entire song began to play in his head,

“Crashing in the ocean from the way above,“ — he continued in a hush tone, his brows slightly furrowed.

You nodded with a tiny blush, “Got the music in you, baby, tell me why.”

He cracked a smile, “Got the music in you, baby, tell me why,“ he glanced at your lips before back into your eyes.

“You’ve been locked in here forever and you just can’t say goodbye,“ you also found yourself glancing at his lips.

He sighed, but it was more of a happy sigh, maybe mixed with a bit of 'what-the-hell-am-I-doing-here?',

“Kisses on the foreheads of the lovers wrapped in your arms,“ Charles slowly leaned in pressed his lips ever so gently against your forehead.

You smiled before you simply continued, trying your best to get the words out without stuttering, “You’ve been hiding them in hallowed-out pianos left in the dark.“

Charles closed his eyes, his forehead barely touching yours as his hand was softly laying on the back of your wet neck, “Got the music in you, baby, tell me why,“ he whispered.

You dared to lean in a bit more, the tip of your noses touching each other, “Got the music in you, baby, tell me why.”

“You’ve been locked in here forever, and you just can’t say goodbye,“ he went on, not moving an inch away from your face which was dangerously close.

With slightly dilated pupils, you glanced up at him, “your lips, my lips, apocalypse,“ you grazed your lips carefully against his.

It was like a cat caught his tongue for a short and sweet second before he actually continued letting the romantic words roll off of his tongue, “your lips, my lips, apocalypse.”

And then he finally made it happen, he tenderly crashed his soft lips against yours, it was slow and almost careful but still with a hint of something you were only able to call desperation.

At the first connection you pulled your head back a tiny bit but Charles chased your mouth as if it was the only thing keeping him alive at this point.

At the second connection of both of your lips, you leaned in, almost making him fall backwards but he quickly held onto your slightly wet elbow and leaned in as well, your noses squished against each others but you couldn’t care less at the moment.

And at the third connection you both smiled, grinning against each others lips as if you were two teenagers that just shared their first kiss.

And then the distance between you two suddenly bothered you — so you grabbed him by his upper arms and awkwardly pulled him with all your strength into the tub with you.

“What are you-? No!“ but it was too late already, his clothed body landed on top of your soaked and bare one, his hands going to either side of your hips to steady himself, his forehead clashing lightly against yours but you didn’t mind.

And you only laughed unstoppably, throwing your head back in ecstasy, your arms around his neck, soaking his skin and the top of his shirt.

And god he wanted to have the sound of your sweet laugh to be stuck in his head for forever and ever, until death comes and collects him.

“Oh god!“ he laughed loudly as well, joining your sweet melody before he put one of his wet palms onto your waist under the hot water, his fingers digging lightly into your skin.

Then you looked at him and crashed your lips eagerly against his once again, your palms cupping his cheeks.

And he did the same, kissing you with tenderness but still hungrily while the water in tub swayed from side to side next to your bodies.

Obviously the floor was a bit wet now as well from when you pulled him so swiftly into the tub with you but you decided to take care of that later, you were way too busy with him now.

You giggled against his soft lips, “sorry, I couldn’t help it!“ your thumb stroked his cheek.

Charles shook his head and smiled as well, his dimples showing the cutest way possible, his hand that is under the hot water and placed gently upon your skin not daring to go any lower.

You always knew that he was a gentleman.

As he felt your thumb stroking his skin, the thumb that’s laying on your waist also started to slowly caress your wet skin,

“It’s okay, you just surprised me a bit because I didn’t expect it,“ he mumbled against your lips before he kissed them again.

The two of you continued making out like teenagers that were hopelessly in love — maybe you two were but it was probably still too early for that — but then he slowly scooted back on his knees and pulled you with him so your naked and wet figure was sitting comfortably on his lap.

You bit your lip as you bare pussy touched his pants, your hands slowly going down to his belt, “off?“ he asked quietly.

And you only nodded with a quiet whine — the next thing you knew was that he unhurriedly opened his belt and slid his pants and boxers down, just enough to free his already hard cock.

You shortly looked down and aligned your entrance with his already leaking tip — but before you could sink down on him, Charles gently grabbed your chin and made you look into his eyes,

“Want you to look at me,” he mumbled before he helped you sitting down on him, his palms softly squeezing your hips.

While you bit your lip and only groaned quietly, Charles quickly parted his lips and released a deep moan, his brow furrowed as he looked at you with desperate eyes, “oh my god,“ he threw his head back.

“Wanted this for so long,“ you leaned forward and kissed his exposed neck, slowly bouncing up and down on him, your hands on his broad shoulders.

He wrapped his arms around your wet waist and pulled you closer, your breasts lightly squished against his still clothed chest, “me too, god,“ he groaned and bit your shoulder.

After you started whining at the deep sensation, you hugged his head, forcing the formula one driver to bury his face into your neck which he obviously didn't complain about.

“Tu te sens si bien, chérie,“ you feel so good, sweetheart, the monaguesque moaned quietly into your ear.

You gulped before you lightly parted your lips and gasped — did he just really call you sweetheart?

You continued moving up and down on his slick cock, your fingers pulling lightly on the hair on the back of his head, “did you just call me sweetheart?“

With teary eyes but a tiny smile, you turned your head to look at him, “hmm?“ you needed an answer.

Charles gulped heavily before he finally answered, his voice quiet and deep,

“You know I did, don’t act like you don't,“ he grinned a bit, his wet fingertips running along your bare back, his lips going back and forth on your collarbone.

You nodded before you whimpered, your hands going down to his shoulders again while his big hands went down to your hips, his fingers squeezing your lower back.

It was really funny to you how he didn’t dare to touch your ass yet, or generally go any lower with neither his hands nor his gaze.

But then you suddenly felt his lips softly kissing the top of your breasts, kissing your wet skin each time you sank down on him, there and then still releasing a deep moan.

In the meantime, you buried your face in the top of his head, his soft hair touching your cheek, nose and mouth.

Charles switched between kissing your right and left breast, “don't stop please,“ he squeezed his eyes shut and growled quietly, making you smirk a bit before you groaned as well.

“I won’t,“ you shook your head with a whine, it was all very gentle and loving but the sounds of your wet hips slapping together was more than sinful.

Your legs trembled under water, your wet hands cupping his cheeks to lift his face so that you could kiss him slowly.

Charles raised his brows in surprise as you softly connected your lips with his, his big hands running along your back as your movements stuttered a bit due to how close you were.

And he noticed, “me too, I’m so close,” he nodded along his words, his brows furrowed, his plumb lips parted and his hands gripping your waist and the back of your neck tighter.

“Oh, fuck!“ you moaned against his mouth, your orgasm crashing over you like a tsunami while Charles groaned deeply and panted heavily, his high also washing over his entire body with surprising intensity.

The formula one driver ran his fingertips down your back, taking deep breaths to calm himself down as you continued occasionally clenching around him, “Everything okay?“

You slowly nodded into his neck, “yeah, I’m… perfect,“ you smiled a bit and turned your head to look at him, one of your hands cupping his cheek.

His little dimples were on full display again as he smiled up at you, his thumbs gently stroking your hip bones, “Tu es si belle,“ you’re so beautiful, the monaguesque mumbled under his breath.

You furrowed your brows with a grin,

“I-,“ you laughed, “I don’t understand any french, charlie!“ you playfully smacked his wet chest, “what did you just say?“

He ironically wiggled his eyebrows, “who knows?“ Charles chuckled — you rolled your eyes and bit your lip before you rolled your hips under the water, obviously wearing a cocky smirk while doing so.

Charles gasped for a brief second and glanced down before he put his eyes back on your pretty face, brows furrowed and lips parted, just like earlier.

Wow, you literally only rolled your hips.

“I said you’re beautiful!“ he quickly blurted out, his wet hands squeezing your hips.

You bit your lip and giggled, “well thank you baby,“ you pecked his lips but he swiftly pulled you closer for a proper and deeper kiss.