#trying to spread out my reblog heavy days

[blog-o-meter]

Balcony Daydreams - Nicholas Alexander Chavez x fem!reader

summary: (Y/N) ogles her neighbor, Nicholas, as he mows his yard in the July heat and offers him a glass of lemonade.

warnings: 18+, unprotected p in v

required listening: West Coast by Lana Del Rey

word count: 4, 350

a/n: I’ve had west coast on repeat and then they dropped that photo of Nicholas and I HAD to write this

reblogs, likes, and replies are greatly appreciated and let me know if you'd like to see more!

The humid July air was heavy with the scent of freshly cut grass, the low drone of the lawnmower blending with the distant chirp of cicadas. From my balcony, I watched as my neighbor Nicholas worked below, completely in his element.

He wore a fitted white tank top that clung to his broad back, streaked with flecks of grass and dirt, the evidence of his labor etched into the fabric. The way his shoulders moved — strong, deliberate, fluid — held me captive in a way I couldn’t quite justify. His hair was damp, curling slightly at the nape of his neck, the sun catching in its messy waves.

He paused for a moment, resting his hands on the mower’s handle as he gazed over the yard, his back still turned to me. The lines of his muscles were sharp under the tight stretch of his shirt, the faint outline of his shoulder blades shifting as he breathed deeply. A silver chain caught the light against his tan skin, sitting just at the curve of his neck, and I found myself wondering who had given it to him — or if it was something he wore for himself, a quiet, unspoken piece of who he was.

The heat of the day had painted a sheen of sweat along his arms, making his skin almost luminous. He reached up to swipe his forearm across his forehead, muscles flexing with the motion, and I had to grip the edge of my chair to stop myself from staring too long. But even as I told myself to look away, my eyes betrayed me, roaming over the way his shirt clung to his frame and the subtle, careless smudges of dirt on his skin.

The air seemed heavier with him out there, as though his presence alone had turned up the heat by a few degrees. My heart beat a little faster, a soft ache settling in my chest at the sheer effortlessness of him. I romanticized him without permission — this quiet moment of his, as though he were a character written into the script of my life just for me to observe. Nicholas, my too-good-to-be-true neighbor, the kind of man who moved through life like it was his own stage, unknowingly drawing all the light toward him.

And then, as though he could feel the weight of my gaze, he glanced up. My breath caught. His dark brown eyes lifted to meet mine, and even from a distance, the spark of recognition was unmistakable. For a second, I thought I might’ve imagined the way his lips curved into a crooked smile, soft yet teasing, but the heat rising to my cheeks told me otherwise.

Caught, I froze, clutching my glass of lemonade tighter than necessary. I thought he might say something, but instead, Nicholas ran a hand through his sweat-dampened hair, turned back to the mower, and kept going. That smile lingered, though, etched in my mind like a secret meant just for me.

The moment stretched as I sat there, trying to collect myself. His smile — crooked, teasing, like he knew what I was thinking — had set every nerve in my body alight. I swallowed hard, willing myself to calm down, but the next thing I knew, I was on my feet, grabbing the pitcher of lemonade I’d made. My hands trembled slightly as I poured a glass, the ice clinking against the sides.

I didn’t let myself overthink it. Before I could talk myself out of it, I stepped off the balcony, down the stairs, and across my yard toward him.

Nicholas had just finished another pass with the mower, his movements slowing as he noticed me approaching. His brows lifted slightly in surprise, and then that same lazy grin spread across his face. God, he was dangerous like that — so at ease, like he had all the time in the world and I was the only thing worth focusing on.

“Thought you might want a break,” I said, holding out the glass to him over the short white picket fence separating our yards. My voice sounded steady, but inside, my pulse was a riot.

He switched off the mower, leaning against it casually as he reached for the glass. “Well, aren’t you sweet?” he said, his slightly raspy voice wrapping around the words. His fingers brushed mine as he took the glass, and even that small contact sent a jolt straight through me.

Nicholas took a long sip, his throat working as he swallowed. A bead of condensation slipped down the side of the glass, mirroring the drop of sweat trailing down his neck. I forced myself not to stare, but he didn’t make it easy. When he finished, he let out a satisfied sigh, holding the glass up in a mock toast. “Best lemonade I’ve ever had.”

“Flatterer,” I teased, though my voice was softer than I’d intended. He chuckled, setting the glass down on the mower before turning those dark brown eyes back to me. Up close, they were even more mesmerizing — warm, rich, and impossibly intense, like he could see right through me.

“Seriously,” he said, his tone dropping, quieter now. “Thanks for this. I owe you.”

I shrugged, trying to play it cool. “Just being neighborly.”

His grin widened, and he stepped a little closer, closing the already small space between us. “Neighborly, huh?” His voice was teasing, but there was a heat in his gaze now, something heavier, more deliberate. “That why you’ve been watching me from your balcony all afternoon?”

I froze, the blush spreading from my cheeks all the way down my neck. “I wasn’t—”

“You were,” he interrupted, his smile softening. “It’s okay, baby. I don’t mind.”

The way he said it — baby — with just the faintest edge of amusement, sent a shiver through me. My breath hitched as he reached up, brushing a stray strand of hair away from my face. His hand lingered, his fingers just barely grazing my cheek, and I couldn’t move, couldn’t think, couldn’t do anything but stand there and fall apart under his touch.

“Tell me if I’m wrong,” he murmured, his voice low, almost a growl. His eyes searched mine, waiting, giving me an out.

But I didn’t want an out.

“You’re not wrong,” I whispered.

That was all he needed.

Nicholas closed the distance between us, his lips crashing against mine in a kiss that was anything but tentative. His hands found my waist, pulling me against him, and I melted into him, my fingers gripping the fabric of his tank top as if I needed to hold on or risk losing myself entirely. He tasted like lemonade and something darker, headier, and I was dizzy with it, drunk on the way he made me feel.

He broke the kiss just long enough to murmur, “Inside?”

I nodded, breathless, and he crossed the picket fence over to my side. I took him by the hand, leading him toward the door of my house. The mower, the heat, the rest of the world — all of it faded as we stepped inside, the cool air of the kitchen doing little to calm the fire building between us.

Nicholas didn’t waste any time. The second the door shut behind us, he spun me around, pressing me against it as his lips found mine again. This time, the kiss was slower, deeper, his hands roaming my sides as though he wanted to memorize every inch of me. His touch was firm yet careful, his fingers slipping beneath the hem of my shirt to trace the bare skin of my waist.

“You’ve been driving me crazy, you know that?” he muttered against my lips, his voice thick with want. “Sitting up there, looking so damn perfect…”

I couldn’t help but laugh softly, the sound catching in my throat as his lips moved to my neck. “I wasn’t trying to…”

“Doesn’t matter,” he said, his teeth grazing my skin in a way that made my knees weak. “You did.”

My protests dissolved into a gasp as he lifted me effortlessly, setting me on the counter. His hands splayed on my thighs, spreading warmth everywhere they touched, and I was gone — completely and utterly his.

The cool marble of the counter was a sharp contrast to the heat of his touch, but it only heightened the sensation, grounding me in the moment. Nicholas stood between my legs, his hands sliding up my thighs with deliberate slowness, his thumbs brushing against the hem of my dress. He paused there, his eyes dark with intent as he looked at me, waiting for a sign to keep going.

I leaned forward, threading my fingers through his messy, damp hair and pulling him closer. That was all he needed. His lips claimed mine again, hungrier this time, his kiss searing and unapologetic. He tasted like summer, sweet and heady, and I couldn’t get enough. My hands trailed down his back, feeling the way his muscles shifted beneath my touch, still warm and slick from the sun. He groaned softly at the contact, his fingers gripping my waist tighter as though he couldn’t get close enough.

The kitchen was bathed in golden light, the curtains billowing softly in the warm breeze. Outside, the world went on — the cicadas still sang, the sun still shone — but inside, time seemed to stop, the two of us lost in this perfect, reckless moment.

Nicholas tugged at the hem of my dress, his fingertips brushing the bare skin of my thighs. “Is this okay?” he asked, his voice low and rough, his dark eyes searching mine.

“Yes,” I breathed, nodding, my heart hammering in my chest. “Yes.”

His hands moved with more certainty then, sliding the fabric higher until it pooled around my hips. His gaze roamed over me, lingering just long enough to make my cheeks flush, but he didn’t give me time to feel self-conscious. He leaned in, his lips trailing down my jaw and along my neck, leaving a path of fire in their wake. Every kiss, every touch was deliberate, like he was savoring me, like he’d been waiting for this moment as long as I had.

“You’re beautiful,” he murmured, his voice a soft rumble that sent shivers down my spine.

I couldn’t think, couldn’t speak — all I could do was feel. The press of his body against mine, the heat of his breath on my skin, the way his lips curved into a satisfied smile against my collarbone when he found the spot that made me gasp.

Nicholas’s hands were firm, calloused from his work, their roughness dragging against the soft skin of my thighs. His tank top, streaked with dirt and sweat, clung to his body as if it were a second skin, and I couldn’t stop myself from running my hands up under the fabric, exploring the planes of his back. He was hot to the touch, his muscles taut and shifting beneath my fingertips as though he’d been built for this — for me.

He growled low in his throat when I traced my nails lightly down his spine, his body reacting instinctively. His lips crashed against mine again, demanding and fervent, and I met him with the same hunger, clutching him to me like he might disappear if I let go. The faint, salty tang of sweat on his skin only added to the overwhelming heat between us. It was intoxicating, dizzying, and I wanted more.

The tension in the room was electric, the sticky summer heat still clinging to both of us even in the cool air of the kitchen. Nicholas pressed me harder against the counter, his hands roaming over me as though he couldn’t decide where to touch next. When his lips left mine to trail along my jaw and down my neck, I gasped, my head tilting back to give him better access. His breath was hot against my skin, and I shivered at the contrast of it against the cool sweat still drying on my chest.

I pulled him closer, my nails digging into his shoulders as he worked his way back up to my lips. “Nicholas…” I whispered his name, and he answered with a kiss that stole my breath away.

“You have no idea how long I’ve been wanting this,” he murmured against the hollow of my throat, his voice rough and unsteady, like he was barely holding himself together. His teeth grazed the delicate skin there, and I let out a soft cry, my hands tangling in his damp hair.

“Then stop holding back,” I whispered, the words spilling out before I could stop them. My voice was breathless, trembling, but I didn’t care. I wanted him to know how badly I needed him, how much I had craved this moment.

His head snapped up, his dark brown eyes locking onto mine. They were heavy-lidded with desire, but there was a flicker of amusement there too, a crooked smile tugging at his lips. “Careful, baby,” he warned, his voice low and teasing, but the heat in his gaze told me he’d taken my words as a challenge. “I might just take you up on that.”

Before I could respond, his hands gripped my hips, tugging me closer to the edge of the counter. My legs wrapped around his waist instinctively, pulling him against me, and I felt the hard lines of his body press into mine. There was no space left between us now, only the unbearable heat and friction as his hands slid under my thighs to lift me effortlessly.

He carried me like I weighed nothing, his strength undeniable and utterly captivating. The sweaty tank top clung to him, streaked with green smudges from the freshly cut grass, the dirt on his skin rubbing off onto mine. I didn’t care — it only made the moment more real, more raw.

Nicholas set me down on the kitchen table, his lips finding mine again with a hunger that matched the storm building between us. My hands roamed over his chest, pushing up the hem of his tank top until I finally peeled it off of him. His skin was slick with sweat, the salty tang of it lingering on my lips as I kissed my way down his neck and across his collarbone. My fingers traced the outline of the faint tan line where his chain rested, and I couldn’t stop myself from tugging him closer, greedy for every inch of him.

“You’re making a mess,” I teased breathlessly, glancing at the streaks of dirt and grass clinging to his skin, now smeared across my thighs and the edge of the table.

Nicholas smirked, his hands gripping my waist. “You complaining?” he shot back as he fiddled with the button of his grass-stained jeans, his voice low and gravelly, the heat in his gaze making my stomach flip.

“Not even a little,” I murmured, the words slipping out before I could think. My chest heaved as I tried to catch my breath, but Nicholas wasn’t giving me a moment’s reprieve. His smirk deepened, and with one smooth motion, he pulled his sweat-soaked tank top over his head and tossed it onto the floor.

The sight of him made my heart stutter. His body, glistening with sweat, was a masterpiece — all defined muscle and raw power, streaked with dirt and flecks of grass from his work outside. The chain around his neck gleamed in the golden light streaming through the kitchen window, and I couldn’t stop my eyes from trailing down, taking in every line, every shadow, every inch of him.

“Like what you see?” he teased, his voice low and gravelly, as he stepped closer, his hands finding my thighs again. His thumbs brushed over the dirt-streaked skin there, his touch deliberate and almost possessive.

“Maybe,” I managed to reply, though my voice betrayed just how much he had me unraveled.

“Maybe?” he echoed, his dark brown eyes locking onto mine as his fingers tightened their grip on my legs, pulling me closer to the edge of the table. “Baby, don’t kid yourself.”

I opened my mouth to argue, but his lips were on mine before I could form a word, silencing any protest. His kiss was intense, his hands gripping my hips to keep me in place as he pressed himself against me, his bare chest warm and damp from the sun. The faint, salty tang of his sweat mingled with the taste of lemonade still on my lips, and I couldn’t hold back the soft moan that escaped me.

“That’s what I thought,” he murmured against my mouth, his voice thick with satisfaction. His hands slid higher, fingers curling around the hem of my dress. The fabric bunched under his grip, and he pulled it higher, his knuckles grazing my skin as he exposed more of me.

The tension in the air was suffocating, the heat between us impossible to ignore. My fingers tangled in his messy, damp hair, pulling him closer as he trailed kisses down my neck, the faint patches of stubble scratching deliciously against my skin. I could feel the strength in his body, the way his muscles flexed as he lifted me slightly, adjusting me against him like I weighed nothing at all. The wood creaked faintly beneath my weight, but neither of us paid it any mind. My legs tightened around his waist, pulling him flush against me, and his lips claimed mine again, heated and unrelenting.

The sweat on his skin mixed with the streaks of dirt that clung to both of us, smearing against the table as he leaned over me. His chain dangled just above my chest, catching the fading sunlight that poured through the window. My fingers curled around it, tugging him closer, and a low growl escaped from deep in his throat, vibrating against my lips.

“Nicholas,” I murmured, his name falling from my lips like a plea. He pulled back slightly, just enough to meet my gaze, his dark brown eyes heavy-lidded with desire. There was a teasing glint in them, but also something more — something raw and unspoken.

“You like saying my name, don’t you?” he muttered, his voice rough, a husky edge of amusement threading through it. His hands trailed up my thighs, slow and deliberate, spreading warmth everywhere they touched. “Say it again.”

“Nicholas,” I whispered, my breath hitching as his hands moved higher, his fingers skimming the sensitive skin just beneath the hem of my dress, tugging my underwear down and letting it fall at my ankles.

“Good girl,” he murmured, his lips finding the hollow of my throat as his hands splayed against my hips, holding me firmly in place. The way he touched me, with a mix of roughness and care, sent a jolt straight through me, igniting every nerve in my body. I arched into him, my nails dragging down his back, leaving faint, deliberate marks against his sweat-slicked skin.

His mouth moved lower, leaving a trail of fire along my collarbone and down the curve of my neck. Each kiss, each graze of his teeth, felt like a carefully placed spark, threatening to consume me entirely. My hands tangled in his messy, damp hair, tugging him closer as his name slipped from my lips again, softer this time, almost a sigh.

His hands gripped my waist as he finally undid the zipper of his pants and pulled the layers of fabric down, pulling me further toward the edge of the table until there was nothing but him holding me steady. I couldn’t form words; all I could do was feel — feel the strength in his arms as he steadied me, feel the heat of his body pressed against mine, feel the way every inch of him seemed to mold to me like we were meant for this, for each other.

“Tell me if it’s too much,” he said, his tone softer now, his lips brushing against my ear as his hands held me in place. “I don’t want to—”

“It’s not,” I interrupted, breathless and trembling beneath his touch. My voice was shaky but certain. “It’s not too much.”

That was all he needed. Nicholas’s mouth covered mine again, deeper this time, more consuming. His hands gripped my hips tightly, his fingers digging into my skin just enough to anchor me to him as he slipped his length inside me and started to move against me, his body strong and deliberate. The dining table creaked beneath us, the sound blending with our gasps and the faint hum of cicadas outside.

Time blurred, each moment stretching into the next, until all I knew was him — his heat, his strength, the way he whispered my name like it was something sacred. My head fell back, and his lips found the curve of my jaw.

The tension built steadily, each movement more deliberate than the last. Nicholas’s hands gripped my hips firmly, guiding me against him as though we were moving to a rhythm only the two of us could hear. His lips trailed along my neck, his stubble scraping my skin just enough to heighten every sensation. I gasped, my fingers digging into the slick, sweat-dampened muscles of his back as he filled me completely, each motion driving me closer to the edge.

“God,” he murmured, his voice rough and ragged, his forehead pressing against mine as he paused for a moment to catch his breath. His chain grazed my skin, cool against the heat of our bodies, and I couldn’t stop myself from tugging him closer, desperate to feel every inch of him.

“Don’t stop,” I whispered, my voice trembling as I wrapped my legs tighter around his waist. The words spilled out before I could think, unfiltered and needy, but I didn’t care. All I wanted was him—closer, deeper, more. “Please.”

Nicholas’s dark eyes met mine, and the way he looked at me made my breath catch. His lips curved into a crooked grin, and he pressed a kiss to my temple before murmuring, “I wasn’t planning to.”

He shifted slightly, changing the angle, and I cried out, my back arching off the table as a wave of pleasure crashed through me. His hands gripped my thighs, holding me steady as he moved again, slower this time, deliberate in the way he pressed into me. The table creaked beneath us louder, the sound barely registering over the pounding of my heart and the soft moans spilling from my lips.

The sunlight filtering through the window painted golden patterns across his skin, accentuating the way his muscles flexed with every movement. His chest rose and fell with labored breaths, a thin sheen of sweat making his tan skin glisten. The faint streaks of dirt and grass on his arms and shoulders transferred onto my skin, grounding me in the reality of him.

“Look at me,” he whispered, his voice low and rough as his hands slid up to cup my face. His thumbs brushed gently against my cheeks, a stark contrast to the intensity of his movements. “I want to see you.”

I opened my eyes, meeting his gaze, and the raw emotion I saw there — the hunger, the need, the unspoken connection between us — was enough to send me spiraling. My hands slid up his arms, gripping his shoulders as I gave in completely, letting him take me higher and higher.

“Nicholas,” I gasped, his name falling from my lips like a prayer. He groaned softly in response, his head dipping to press a kiss to the hollow of my throat as his pace quickened, the tension between us reaching its breaking point.

“God, you feel so good,” he muttered against my skin, his voice thick with need. His hands gripped my waist tightly, anchoring me to him as he thrust into me, his movements growing more desperate.

My world narrowed to the feel of him, the heat of his body against mine, the way his voice wrapped around me like a tether. The tension coiled tighter and tighter, the edge drawing nearer with every deliberate motion until finally, the world seemed to shatter around us.

My body arched against his, a broken moan spilling from my lips as the pleasure overtook me, wave after wave crashing through me. Nicholas followed moments later, his grip on my hips tightening as he buried his face in the crook of my neck, a low, guttural sound escaping him as he came undone. My fingers clung to his shoulders, my chest heaving as I tried to catch my breath, and he warm breath brushed against my skin.

For a long moment, neither of us moved, the soft hum of the cicadas and the faint rustle of the curtains the only sounds filling the space around us. His hands slid up my sides, gentler now, and he pressed a soft kiss to my shoulder, his lips lingering there like he wasn’t quite ready to let go.

“You okay?” he murmured, his voice quieter now, almost tender.

“Yeah,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper as I nodded, my fingers still tangled in his hair.

He leaned back slightly, just enough to look at me, and the crooked grin I’d come to know so well spread across his face. “Good,” he said, his voice still low, though there was a playful edge to it now. He reached up, brushing a stray strand of hair from my face, his thumb lingering against my cheek.

“Anytime you need me to come over and mow your lawn…” He paused, his grin widening as his dark brown eyes flicked down to my lips before meeting mine again. “You just let me know, baby.”

I couldn’t help the laugh that escaped me, soft and breathless, as I shook my head. “I think I’ll take you up on that,” I said, my voice teasing but full of promise.

“I’ll be waiting,” he said, leaning in to press one last kiss to my lips, slow and deliberate, like he wanted to make sure I’d remember it.

[toribookworm22]

Tentative Post Schedule

Hey, guys! Thought I'd share this week's posting schedule with all my lovelies:

Monday - catch up day, including tag games, personal reblogs, and hopefully some asks

Tuesday - Spiderverse

Wednesday - WBW & Writeblr

*Thursday - possibly Character Interviews 🤣

*Friday - definitely Character Interviews 🙃

Saturday - STS & Writeblr

Sunday - Neurodivergence & Mental Illness

*Character Interviews are in the work and their post date will depend on when I get them done. I'll hopefully know by tomorrow and update this with that information.*

Love y'all!

~ toribookworm ♥️

[sadembryhours]

Can you a Josh x reader where the reader helps Josh cope with his sisters’ death?

HUMAN! ♡ josh washington

synopsis : you try your best to help him live ; allow him to grieve and hold his hand as he does. silently, he’s forever thankful.

cw : heavy mental health talk / depections , josh is unwell , reader takes care of him

song inspo ; human by dodie

🪷 if you have a blank blog [no bio, no user, no header or profile pic, nothing reblogged, etc] do not interact with my content. you will be blocked. 🪷

Blue and red lights surround you, bouncing off of the freshly fallen snow. Jess is sobbing into Mike's shoulder, Emily holding her hand as they talk to two officers in their uniform. Sam is laying her own head on your shoulder, her hand squeezing yours as you both sit in silence.

Chris stands with Josh, who only stars at the mountain view around him.

You shiver as the wind whips by you, carrying a conversation your way. Two other officers look at Josh warily before looking back at the lodge. It was a crime scene now — closed for everyone until further notice.

"With me," your voice cuts through. Josh's watery, unseeing eyes seem to find you. With a frown, you look back towards the officer. "He can stay with me."

⋆｡‧˚ʚ🪷ɞ˚‧｡⋆

The silence of the drive home follows you as you lead Josh inside. He treks in slowly, boots heavy, laced with snow and distress. Lifelessly, Josh all but falls onto your couch, perching there stiffly.

You frown, "Josh? Are you hungry? Thirsty?"

He mumbles, but you can only hear him saying his sisters names. Crouching, you meet his gaze as best as you can. Your fingers lace into his — they're cold ; frigid and frozen as he simply twitches at the touch. "Josh. Are you with me?"

He still doesn't speak, no movement or sound comes from him at all. You hold your dismay in, concealing it and composing yourself instead. You stand, shuffling Josh out of his shoes and jacket until he's left in his sweater. Taking off your own outside clothes, you turn the tv onto something silly and absent-minded. With a stroke to the top of his head, you leave Josh to make something warm to eat.

It'll take time, you think to yourself. The stove comes to life, warming your house up even more as you cook. The living room is silent — Josh sits as still as a statue. You don't even know if he's blinked since coming in — since Sam woke him up from the horrible prank that was played on his sisters. It'll just take some time.

You blow on the food you'd made, setting it on the coffee table in front of you. A cup of Josh's favored drink goes to the left of it as you leave to get on your own plate. The couch dips as you sit beside him — he's still blank, even as you nudge him gently.

"Eat before it gets cold," you say quietly. Gentle — Josh needs gentle, tender words to help him come back ; help him heal. He merely blinks. "Should I feed you, then?"

A twitch of his lips — it's not much, but it's enough to get a grin out of you. Leaning forward, you meet his eyes. "I will! Is that what you want? The royal treatment, your highness Josh?"

His lips spread into a small, delicate smile before creaky, frozen joints start to move. He grabs his silverware with shaking hands, settling the plate on his lap. Josh stares at the steam, "thanks."

"Eat up," you respond. You squeeze his free hand for a minute before letting it go. Josh looks at you through his eyelashes and you smile at him. "There's plenty more if you're still hungry."

⋆｡‧˚ʚ🪷ɞ˚‧｡⋆

No longer catatonic, Josh still only spoke quietly and sparsely. He ate one meal a day, if that, and only because you pestered him to do so. A week had went by with him simply sitting. He turned the tv to a news channel, eyes wide and seeing each and every emergency broadcast.

Simply waiting for any news of his sisters.

"Hey," you lean on the doorway between the kitchen and living room. Josh turns his head only an inch, eyes cemented on the current weather updates. "Want to shower? It'll warm you up."

Josh's hands twitch in his lap as he blinks. You bite your lip, going to stand in front of him. It's as if he's looking through you ; as if he can still the tv you stand in front of. "Josh?"

With no response, you take matters into your own hands once more. A warm washcloth is held in one hand, a bowl of steamy, soapy water in the other. You kneel on the floor in front of Josh, the bowl off to your right. Dipping the washcloth in the water, you wring it out before wiping Josh's face tenderly.

He blinks at the warmth, inhaling the scent of your soap slowly. Life trickles back into his eyes, sea foam brightening surely until he's looking at you. "[Name]."

"Hi," you grin at him. You set the rag down, hands in your lap as Josh stares. "Doing alright?"

"Yeah." Looking at the damp cloth in your hand, Josh blinks. "I don't think I can stand."

You shake your head before he finishes his sentence. You lift yourself to your knees, raking your fingers in his hair. "Don't worry about it. This is enough for now."

Josh's eyes flutter at your touch as you continue to give him a half-hearted bath. His hands unclench, leaving his side to wrap around your elbows. You pause, rag against his neck as you look at him curiously. He breathes out, "thank you."

"I'll get you a change of clothes when I'm done, hm?"

⋆｡‧˚ʚ🪷ɞ˚‧｡⋆

The nightmares seem to start then. The more Josh continued to come back to reality, the meaner his mind became. Trying to get him in a bed was useless — your guest room was absent of a tv and he needed to see the news.

Whimpering wakes you from the small sleep you'd drifted off to. You never had a deep sleep now, always keeping one ear open for Josh. Letting out a sleepy sigh, you stumble into the living room.

He's already awake by the time you find him. Curled up on the floor in front of the couch, knees to his chest as he cries. "Sorry," Josh stutters, "sorry, I'm so sorry."

You don't know if he's talking to you or someone — something else.

Slowly, so you don't spook him, you take a seat to Josh's left. Your eyes droop as you lean your chin on the table, hand inching to his. You entertwine your fingers with his, taking them from where Josh was pulling and tugging at his hair.

Josh jumps, eyes wide and startled as he searches for you in the darkness. You smile his way softly, "let's sleep in my room tonight. I'll keep the tv on."

You're already half-asleep when Josh curls around you. Turning, you open you arms to welcome him into your embrace. A heavy, withering sigh escapes his mouth and causes his chest to tremble. Josh burrows his face into your chest, "thank you, [Name]."

"You have to stop thanking me," you slur sleepily. Tender, tickilish nails scrape against his scalp lightly, bringing him closer to you. Josh sighs and relaxes further. "I don't mind taking care of you."

As you drift off, a tentative, burning kiss is left at your clavicle. Josh breathes you in once more before he delves into blissful, happy memories of his sisters.

————

sadembryhours © do not copy, plagiarize, repost, or translate my content on any platform. if you see my content under any other name than my own, let me know. i only have this tumblr and an ao3 account under the name airbendertendou.

[anchoeritic]

「 𝐦𝐢𝐝𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭’𝐬 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞. 」

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: jake sully x fem!human

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: nsfw(18+), minors dni. clit play, praise kink, degradation kink, pet names (sweetheart, baby, etc.), fingering, squirting, use of “girl”, size kink/difference.

��𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: “i'll touch you as you wish, but only if you can stay quiet for me.”

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫’𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: two jake fics in a day? i might as well make my comeback now. reblogs and feedback are appreciated but never pressured! feel free to send in requests while you’re at it.

“you’re so pretty, aren’t you, sweetheart?” he would whisper against your lips, hoping to hear the smallest whimper from you.

his hands were always quick enough to make you answer; caressing your breasts through the thin fabric.

his hands could cover your entire body: him compared to you was the biggest difference and he loved that about you.

he knew he would always tower over you and make you say yes. you were his prey.

nipples erected and clearly toyed with, he licks his lips, observing the way your eyes would roll back for him. “jake,” a whine came out from you, earning a devilish smile from him.

“hm, talk to me,” he would reply, starting to trail kisses along your jaw, “tell me what you feel, baby.”

he knew what he was doing when he teased you. he always made you say what you wanted, felt, before he continued to pleasure you. he was a man of control, he needed those sweet words to come out from your mouth before he could devour you.

you bucked your hips on his lap, biting onto your lip softly. “i need you.” toying around with your nipple, he pinched it gently.

“you sure you can take it?” he teased you, brushing away a fallen strand behind your ear to see your eyes clearer.

his tongue traced circles into your cheek, the slight coldness of his teeth pinching your flesh.

you agreed obediently, nodding your head.

he could only reply with a laugh, caressing your jaw softly. "so needy to be touched," he started. "can i make a deal with ya?"

humming, you laid your head against his chest still rocking yourself softly against his thighs.

“i'll touch you as you wish,” his hand slides up from your breasts, wrapping around your neck tightly before you could react. his breaths grew heavy against your skin, sending shivers down your spine.

there had to be a catch to it. he'd never give in to you so easily, right?

“but only if you can stay quiet for me.”

there it was.

“you want me to stay quiet?” you whispered.

“that includes no talking, sweetheart,” he smirked, slipping a finger between your wet folds. he watched as your teeth sink into your bottom lip, nearly drawing blood.

struggling to stay silent with one finger inside you, he slipped a second one, pumping them into you with no mercy.

caught by surprise, your immediate reaction was to close your legs, but jake thought otherwise.

with his strength, he used his arm to pull your leg up, holding it up against your chest as his other was playing with you.

struggling to stay quiet, you bit onto your own leg, burying your face against it.

“still wanna be mean, sweetheart? guess who gets to tell you when to cum.” he pinched the inside of your thigh.

“such a needy, needy girl. i wonder what'll happen if i end up making you squirt.”

a third digit is added, stretching you out beyond what you can take, but could never compare to jake.

you shake your head attempting to push his hand away, only to be met with a hiss from him and a quickening in pace.

“i feel you getting tighter,” he added as you clenched around his fingers. "c'mon, make me happy, baby."

shuttering, you spread your legs wider, trembling when you felt the cold air hit in all different places.

“i know you want to cum,” he mumbled into your hair.

your hips could no longer control themselves, trying to ride for the high. your arousal was already dripping down from between your thighs, drenching jake's lap.

“cum for me.”

his words sent you over the edge, body shaking into an orgasm.

a low groan was heard by jake as you brushed against his bulge, turns out you weren’t the one that had to be quiet.

you threw your head back onto his shoulder, breathing heavily. that had been one of the best of your life and you were silent.

bite marks were scattered around your knee: all made by you attempting to keep yourself quiet.

smiling down at you, he placed gentle kisses on the crown of your head.

“so good for me.” he praised.

“sìltsan 'eve.”

[thyme-in-a-bubble]

frank’s finishing up his book, he’s right at the end and is completely incapsulated in the story. but you’ve been so needy all day and he looks so. damn. good. you keep trying to get his attention, rubbing his biceps, kissing his neck… nothing. fine you’ll play with yourself. you slowly strip, grabbing your vibe, and frank finally closes his book.

“you just couldn’t wait for me, could you baby?”

frankie pounds into you all night, pressing your vibe on your clit, mouth on your neck.

a/n: i came up with something very evil. you’re welcome hehe

word count: 1310

∼ gentle reminder that feedback, but especially reblogs are the way you support writers on here ∽

masterlist | join my taglist

“What can I say,” you grinned as Frank finally stalked towards you, “you were taking fucking forever,” thinking that you’d finally won, you switched off the wand, but his fingers found your wrist before you could manage to set it down. 

“Oh, no, no, no, I didn’t say you could stop,” he gazed down at you, “turn it back on.”

“What,” you cocked your head as his touch dissipated, “do you seriously not wanna fuck me right now?”

Not denying in the slightest, Frank simply repeated firmly, “turn it back on,” a playful smirk faintly twitching at his lip. 

Placing the round head of the vibrator back against your already weeping cunt, you clicked it back on to a low buzz. 

Eyes locked with his, you let out a moan and instinctively spread your legs even further apart even though they were already folded and melted against the mattress on either side of your frame. 

Your mouth hung agape as he then kneeled down to be at eye level with your glistening core. 

“Oh, look at that pretty little pussy…” your brows knit together as his breath fanned across your centre, though he didn’t move to touch you one bit, “fucking crying out for me… I bet she wants to be stretched out real bad, doesn’t she?”

“Yeah,” you nodded, almost hypnotically. 

Straightening back up to his towering height, his palm found the palpable tent in his pants, “you want my cock, is that it? Is that why you’ve been fucking drooling all day? You’ve been drooling for my cock, baby?”

“Uh-huh,” you panted, eyes glued as he slowly began to reveal his length. 

Granting himself leisurely strokes, he squinted down at you in mocked sympathy, “bet you’d fucking do anything right now just to feel it inside of you, am I right?”

“Anything…” your thighs trembled at your sides, “anything at all.”

“Then cum. Right now,” a soft smile accompanied his challenge, “if you don’t, then I guess you won’t get to feel me today, might even be mean and make you wait till the week is through.”

“No!” you nearly scramble towards him out of overwhelming desperation, “no, please!”

Not taking the despair in your tone to heart, he simply warned, “if you don’t cum right now, then I’m gonna start counting,” your eyes rolled in your skull as you turned up the speed of your toy, “one… two… three… four–, oh, there you are, sweetheart,” he rumbled warmly as you tumbled over the edge with a lewd moan, “fuck…”

Writhing against the sheets, you let the vibrator drop down beside you. 

Your eyes were still sluggishly shut as his deep timbre stirred you from your haze.

“Christ,” you faintly felt his touch spread your puffy petals apart, “you’re so fucking soaked I bet I could just–,” and with that, all of the air slipped out of your lungs as Frank gave you exactly what you’d been whining for all day, though not in the way you’d imagined he would, not in the manner he usually did. None of his typical tender gentleness was to be found as he feverishly buried himself so deep within you that his heavy sack nuzzled against your core. 

“A-ah!” you cried out, still reeling from your high, he simply pushed passed the sensitive tightness that still lingered as he made room for himself. 

Blinking up at him, mouth agape in a silent scream, you watched as he sank down over you. Propping his forearms up on either side of your face, he melted down atop of you and pressed his lips to yours, swallowing your reeling whimpers. 

When you slowly relaxed around his staggering girth, his hips steadily began to move. Pulling out of you almost entirely, the motion was unhurried but rough as he pounded back into you, staying there for a breath before repeating the lavish pattern once more. 

“Mhm,” his gravelly groan seeped into your very bones, “you can’t just run around and tease me like that all day, sweetheart… so fucking needy…” glossy spiderwebs of your cream clung to his skin every time he pulled out, “if you wanna act like a little slut, then you might as well get treated as one. Is that what you want, huh?”

“O-oh, F-Frank,” your nails dug into his broad back. 

“You want me to have my way with you? Put you in your place, huh?” he then pried your legs even further apart, hooking his arms with them as he fucked you into the mattress, “because after that stunt, I think you deserve a mighty punishment… don’t you?”

“Yes,” you panted. 

“Maybe I should just stop,” he suddenly pulled out of you, though still hovered just above you, his sturdy nose grazing against yours, “since you’re such a bad girl, maybe I just shouldn’t touch you at all.”

“No, no, no–”

Cutting off your frantic protest, he swiftly filled you back up, “no, no, I know you, you need something different to learn your lesson,” picking up his pace, he then told you, “grab the toy.”

Blindly fiddling for it, you eventually found it just beside your hip. Switching it back on to a low rumble, you pressed against your swollen clit as Frank continued to rock into you hard enough to make your frame jolt with each rough motion. 

Letting go of one of your legs, he snuck his hand down between your bodies till his fingers wrapped around the wand as well, though when his thumb extended further down and turned the vibrations up even higher, your entire frame began to tremble beneath his.

“O-oh, shit!” a high-pitched moan flowed from your lungs as he pressed it down harder against you. As the second wave crashed over you and turned your brain into mush, Frank slid out of you, though didn’t let you pull the agonising toy away from your overly sensitive clit, “F-Frank, it’s too much, I can’t–”

“Oh, yes you can,” he brushed your own flittering fingers away as he crawled back to watch you convulse, “you wanted me to play with you, so that’s what I’m doing. If you really think this is too much, then you have no idea what I’m capable of, honey… you can do it, you can take it…” a hoarse scream then left your lungs as the overstimulation became so severe that squirt began to gush out of your aching cunt, “there it is, atta girl,” his skilful fingers then briefly curled inside of you to tickle even more out of you, “that’s it, I know you can keep going, come on,” your legs tried to slam shut, but he swiftly stopped them.

When he finally switched the toy off and tossed it deeper into the bed’s plush, your eyes were screwed shut so tight that you thought you’d never be able to peel them open again. 

“No, no, no,” his soft chuckle rumbled against your cheek as he kissed you gently, “don’t fall asleep on me yet,” you felt the hefty weight of his fat cock press against your fluttering core, “do you want me to flip you over and spank you just to get you to perk up again?”

“Nghh, I’m awake, I’m awake,” you murmured, your fingers fluttering up to find the side of his face.

Stealing a slow peck from you, he then asked, “you think you’ve learned your lesson yet?”

“Oh,” a lazy smile spread across your features, “I don’t know… I think if you don’t punish me enough today, then I’ll just do the whole spiel again tomorrow,” you rocked your hips up against him.

“Well, we can’t have that now, can we?” he chuckled as his nose nudged against yours. 

Hazily blinking your eyes open, you caught his coffee ones and uttered in the utmost sincerity, “I love you…” 

© 2024 thyme-in-a-bubble 

[intoanotherworld23]

Good And Bad

Pairing: Reader x Joel Miller

Warnings: NSFW 18+ MDNI, this one shot is all smut and sex so ye have been warned, unprotected sex, bondage, slight bdsm, oral female receiving, minor fingering, dirty dirty sex

Summary: You just want to be a good girl for Joel, but you can’t help but wanting to be bad at the same time

Authors note: Man I only imagine what those hands of his could do! Reblog reblog reblog! I can’t stress how much reblogging helps out writers! If you guys enjoyed please let me know! Plus my tag list is always open so don’t hesitate to ask me! Thanks everyone so much! XOXO

Hall Of Hunks

"God that feels so good."

The heat between your legs was becoming almost unbearable at this moment. It was like an ache you couldn't get rid of, and it was starting to get to you.

Fingers gripping onto the hand rails behind your head as the silk fabric started to cut into your skin. The more you pulled the tighter it seemed to wrap around your wrist.

Back arching off the bed as your toes became entangled in the cold sheets. It was like you were being tortured, and you loved every minute of it.

Your legs were numb to feeling as they were constantly shaking, and thick hands were gripping your soft flesh.

A wet tongue lapping relentlessly at your raw core. Running circles around your dripping opening like you were his last meal. The sounds of your slickness like music to his ears. He could keep you like this all day, and you knew he would too.

"Mhhhm. More Joel." Whispering just enough for him to hear.

"You want more?" Tongue sucking onto your clit making your cry out.

Diving his tongue right in as his fingers spread your lips apart getting easier access. Nuzzling his face so close his nose was brushing against your clit. His tongue massaging your inner walls as his hands rubbed soothing circles on your outer knees.

Rotating your hips against his face wanting more, but unable to open your mouth and say the words. His tongue literally had you speechless right now.

"Something wrong sweetheart?" His tone condescending as he smirked up at you. "Did you need something?"

Pushing two fingers inside of you admiring how tight you were. Biting your bottom lip so harshly you thought you might draw blood. His fingers felt so delicious inside of you.

Your limbs felt so heavy but relaxed at the same time. Whining down at Joel to go faster, and he responded with a light chuckle.

"Can't wait to fuck that little cunt of yours." He says biting his bottom lip.

His thick fingers continued to slowly thrust and curl inside of you. Waiting for your response as you gasped when he sharply pushed his digits all the way up into your cervix. He was in complete control over you, and had you right where he wanted you.

Joel quickly realized that you weren't responding or saying anything. He found it quite amusing that you wouldn't say anything back almost like you were trying to hold back, and didn't want to be too loud.

"Cat got your tongue?" He teased when you weren't responding.

Watching intensely as your mouth hung open, and only little squeaks came out. Kissing up your stomach as he nuzzled your hot skin loving how vulnerable you were for him. Really pulling against your restraints hoping he would untie you.

"Such a poor little thing aren't you." Joel coos into your ear. "So desperate to cum."

"Joel." Mewling desperate to grip onto his locks or just something.

Instead of responding he just pulls apart your thighs even more. The slight burn radiating all the way down to your calves. Meanwhile he just stared between your legs licking his lips noticing just how wet and raw you looked.

"Fuck just look at you." Shaking his head in almost disbelief you were all his. "Look so fucking beautiful."

Watching as he lowers one of his hands to grip onto his very erect cock. Stroking himself groaning in pain from how sensitive he was. All he wanted right now was to bury himself deep inside of you.

Even though it was a very simple motion it was still the hottest thing you had ever seen. Grinding your hips into the air wanting him to touch you or something. Of course Joel saw what you were doing and grinned down at you.

"What do you want baby?" Reaching out to grip softly onto your neck with the same hand that gripped his cock just seconds ago.

"Joel please." Whining up at him just hoping he would give it to you.

"No no." He shakes his head at you. "My sweet girl I want to hear you say it."

His hand tightening around your neck just slightly. Feeling the pressure of his fingers against your throat. Smoothly running his hand down past your collarbone, and in between your breasts. Feeling just how heavily your were breathing.

Joel was known for pushing you past your comfort zone. He wanted you to always give in to what he wanted when it came to sex. He wanted you and nobody else.

Just to tease you even more he places the tip of his cock at your entrance. Gathering your juices and rubbing it up and down. Twisting your hips to get more, but he just grabbed your hips to keep you still.

"Tell me like the good little girl you are." His tip barely just entering you.

Hoping that Joel would just give in push in all the way, but he wasn't having your silence. He kept it there while wiggling his hips just to tease you even more.

"Wanna hear that pretty mouth speak." His tone very low as his eyes became darker.

"Please fuck me Joel." Finally able to say the words. "Just fuck me so hard I want your cock so badly."

Smiling down at you as he leaned forward to attach his lips to yours. His mouth moving along yours in such a sensual manner you felt so many sparks of fireworks. Feeling the outline of his cock pressed against your pussy.

Pushing his tongue inside your mouth at the same time he pushed his length inside of you. Swallowing your moans as his hips were pressed into your pelvis. Staying there for just a few seconds so you could adjust. Savoring the moment your walls enclosed around him like little suckers.

"Such a tight delicious pussy for me." He groaned as he pulled out and pushing back in. "Gonna have to fuck you more often sweetheart."

He begins to pound into your cunt with no mercy. The sounds of his hips slapping against yours. Moving the bed and slamming the headboard into the wall. His little grunts echoing in your ear and he moved relentlessly inside of you.

Feeling the fabric rubbing against your skin even harder creating a painful burning sensation. Typically the pain would have brought tears to your eyes, but right now it was only heightening the pleasure even more intensely.

"Look at me baby girl." Commanding you noticing your shut eyes. "Look into my eyes as you cum around my cock."

Noticing how his jaw clenched as he grit his teeth staring deep into your eyes. Feeling your cheeks begin to become hot with such an intimate interaction. It was just you and him in this moment, and he wanted you to become lost in each other.

"That's my good girl." He praised you. "Always such a good sweet girl for me."

Wrapping your legs tightly around his waist as you began to feel that intense feeling building inside your stomach. Breasts bouncing back and forth with the motion of his rocking. His eyes looking down at them with lust. Unable to bear it anymore as he attached your left breast into his mouth.

"Oh my god." Crying out throwing your head back.

Joel could tell you were right there with each squeeze around his cock. He wanted to cum at the same time that you did. Holding himself back from spilling his seed inside of you too soon. Sweating so heavily he felt like he would almost pass out.

Lifting his head to look down at where you two are connected. Noticing as each time his cock pulls out a white creamy like substance strings along his length. The image drives him absolutely feral. Moving in and out of you so harshly your afraid he might actually break your body.

Your pathetic whimpers and moans are what keep him motivated. His eyes staying concentrated on your completely blissed out face. Your pupils absolutely dilated from being high off of each other.

"Cum for me sweetheart." He begs you unable to hold back any longer.  "I'm right there."

One of his hands reached down between you two to rub circles against your bundle of nerves. That was enough to send you spiraling. Your toes curling as your whole body shook with such an intense orgasm. Legs trembling against Joel's hips as he held onto you.

Spilling his own seed inside of you his cock twitching a couple of times as he drained the last of his fluid. Laying against you feeling absolutely tired but relaxed.

"Was that okay?" He asked timidly as he reached up to untie your sore wrists. Your limbs falling straight down. "I didn't hurt you did I?"

"No." Responding out of breath eyes fluttering. "No Joel it was perfect."

"Good." He smiled up at you snuggling against your sweaty body his head on your chest. "Cause I'm not done with you yet."

[brairslair]

zoro smutty thought perhaps

18+ ONLY (minors please be kind and dni)

a/n: a lil peace offering while i work on requests ! heavily inspired by these zoro hc’s

don’t forget to like, reblog, and comment to support my work! mwah <3

“wanna savor this”

“zoro-” the word that holds so much weight gets caught in your throat as you speak it, muscles twitching and contacting as you thrust your hips to meet his, “faster…” your voice wavers between suppressed moans.

he eases your hips back down with one hand, his other arm wrapped tenderly under your back to pull your chest against his. “no need to rush it, wanna savor this.” he grunts out, “just relax, i’ve got you.”

his hips move at an agonizing pace, letting you feel every inch of him filling you up with the slow drag of his thrusts. every movement is calculated and designed for you, worshipping you like he’s a sinner on his last day on earth. his mouth is all over you, leaving tender wet kisses anywhere he can reach. the spit cools on your skin and makes you shiver.

mostly though, he kisses your lips. every swirl of his tongue against yours spells out the words he can’t speak out loud. soon, but not yet. so for now he kisses you harder and pushes into you deeper until your nails are digging into his skin. he accepts the twinge of pain like a medal. it’s a feeling he’s earned. a feeling he’s grown to crave from you.

he adjusts his hips just right, kissing a trail up your jaw as it goes slack with each brush against that sensitive spot. his hot breath is shaky against your skin.

a familiar tingling heat spreads through you like a leak, slowly and steadily rising all the way from your toes and flushing your chest.

incoherent whines and pleads fall from your lips, but he hears you, bending to your will without a second thought. his thumb catches on your clit, lighting sparks with each slow circle.

your toes curl and your nails scratch against his shoulders, trying desperately to ground yourself as static slowly and steadily creeps higher and higher. it feels heavy in your belly, ready to spill over at any moment.

“it’s okay, i know.” his choked words spoken for only your ears to ever hear, “you can let go. just let yourself go for me.”

so you do, allowing yourself to float up into the hazy bliss, knowing he’ll be right there with you when you come down.

asks are open!

[rogerswifesblog]

Secrets

My Masterlist

A/N: Hi! It’s my first a/b/o one shot where reader is an alpha-plewse I’d love some feedback on it:) (just remember to stay nice 😂) and thank you @jamneuromain for your help with this 🥰

Summary: Steve’s heat can sometimes be unpredictable, especially with someone he’s attracted to around…oh and nobody knows he’s an omega.

Pairing: Omega Steve x Alpha Reader

Warnings: ABO, heat, female member being inside and swelling up when being aroused (I’ve never written a female alpha and saw many ways to make her genitals work so I’ve decided to use this one), subby Steve, smell/scent kink?, masturbating, oral?(over underwear), nipple sucking, toy use, implied fingering, ….

Feedback, comments and reblogging are very appreciated

Steve knew it was coming as soon as he woke up on the seventh day of the mission. He felt warm. Too warm. His skin felt tight, tingling and itchy. His breathing was heavy, his body covered in sweat, the clothes and sheets felt like they were glued to his body. A whine escaped his lips, that he knew you definitely would’ve heard if you’d be awake-in the bed next to his.

The reason why he suddenly went into heat.

Your scent.

So close.

So fresh…so different from all the other alphas he had smelled before. Somehow even a bit sweet, like….maple syrup.

And there was also some rum….

And…maybe apples or…

The more he thought about what he could find in your smell, he felt his dick twitch, slick gathering at his hole quickly, wetting through his sweatpants and probably leaving a wet spot on the sheets.

As soon as he noticed that, he forced himself out of bed quickly making his way to take a shower and to put on some scent blockers, which he usually did first thing in the morning. Especially putting on his blockers. He used the strongest ones he could get and until now no agents and nobody on the team found out about him being an omega.

But now? He had no idea how to hide it now.

Especially not while he was just sitting on the floor and rubbing your soft towel against his cheek, his cock twitching every time he pressed his nose into the fluffy material.

Meanwhile you woke up from a very sweet smell. A small smile spread onto your lips while you slowly stretched, not even opening your eyes yet. “Mmm, Steve….do I smell breakfast? Apple pancak-”, when you finally opened your eyes Steve wasn’t there, his bed empty, the blanket halfway on the floor.

That’s very unusual.

Not waking up before you, but his bed being unmade?

Then the scent hit you once again. So, so good. So delicious. But there was no food. Lightly pulling your eyebrows together you sat up, once again looking around the room. Maybe Steve went for a run? Hoping you wouldn’t wake up before he gets back.

And then there it was again.

The scent.

It was all over the room.

It smelled like…no that wouldn’t make any sense.

Sighing, you shook your head, trying to stop yourself from overthinking about it. Where would a random omega scent come from? Steve definitely didn’t bring an omega to your shared room. Maybe a scent for….a bit of self care…?

You shook your own head, feeling your own brain being overpowered by the sweetness in the room. It didn’t smell like just any omega…it smelled like an omega in heat. A male omega…

While putting on your clothes your gaze fell once again to Steve’s bed. You had already made yours, it would only be nice to do his too. With that in mind you stepped closer, the smell getting stronger, sweeter and so much more intense.

That couldn’t be…

You stepped away, looking once again around the room until you noticed the bathroom door being ajar. Oh, there he must be. A bit nervous you stepped to the door, knocking lightly, waiting for an answer but nothing came. “Steve, can I come in?” Still nothing. “Are you okay?” No answer.

The alpha in you immediately felt alerted.

What if he fell in the shower? What if he hurt himself?

You immediately opened the door, wanting to help Steve in case something was wrong but-

Oh

Oh

“Stevie?”, you whispered, kneeling down next to the on the floor lying omega, using his towel as a blanket. His cheek pressed into…your towel?

“Steve, hey, come on, open your eyes”, you touched his shoulder gently, finally getting his attention. When he looked up at you, his blown eyes widened and he immediately sat up, trying to get away from you, pressing himself against the wall. Not wanting to scare him-for whatever reason-you pulled away, sliding a few inches back. “Don’t be scared, Stevie, what happened? Are you in heat?”, you asked gently, already knowing the answer.

He pressed your towel closer against his chest, trying to hide his face behind it. God, he looked so adorable but so scared. Slowly nodding at your question he turned his back to you, the scent of shame filling your nostrils. “Oh baby, no…don’t feel upset. Do you want me to hug you? Maybe you want a nap? We should get back home, postpone the mission for now. I call Natasha-“ he immediately shook his head. “Not ‘Tasha. Furry…or Maria. Nobody else knows” “Oh Steve…you shouldn’t hide it from us-no, no I don’t mean to upset you, I’m sorry. It’s just…I would’ve helped you get back home so you don’t have to be in a hotel for your heat”

Steve slowly turned back to you. “Didn’t know it was coming…it should be in two months”, while talking he rubbed his face against your towel, your chest feeling warm while watching your omega rub your scent over himself-wait, your omega? You quickly shook the thought away. Even though it was hard especially when more slick gathered at his hole and filled the air with his sweet scent.

“Let’s get you into bed, I’ll go and buy a nice blanket for today so you don’t have to be in the hotel sheets, meanwhile you’ll eat a bit and try to sleep, okay?”, Steve nodded, letting you help him up.

When you noticed Steve was actually naked, his thighs glistening with slick, his cock already hard and throbbing. You swallowed hard, averting your gaze. “Bed, let’s get you into bed, omega”, only then did you notice the slip, especially when Steve whined quietly.

Not saying anything else you took Steve’s hand and guided him back to the beds-but to your surprise he laid down in yours, immediately pushing the blanket like he wanted it, fluffing up the pillow.

Only then did it hit you, your whole body lighting up, chest feeling tight, your breathing becoming heavier. “Stevie, are you building a nest in…there?”, you asked quietly, watching as Steve’s cheeks turned a soft rosy color, while he nodded slowly, looking up at you with his big eyes. “Smells nice”, he mumbled, before making grabby hands at the blanket from his own bed. You gave it to him, a soft smile on your lips. “Okay, Stevie. Stay there, I’ll make you something to eat”, with that you left him to build his nest, not being able to stop yourself from glancing at him a last time when you noticed how he lifted his ass up, very close to presenting.

After Steve ate something you left him, wanting to buy a few new softer blankets and some more snacks for him. Should you buy him a toy? No that…that seemed a bit too much. Even though the alpha (and friend) in you wanted for Steve to feel as good as possible. It would probably be just for one day, at least you hoped so. You didn’t want him to spend his heat in a hotel room, alone and unsatisfied-and you also didn’t know how much you could control yourself around him. His sweet scent filling your senses…. He smelled so good.

Walking into an omega shop you looked around, wanting to find some blankets and maybe pads or something Steve could use…

You never had an omega, especially not one in heat. What should you do? How could you help- “Is everything alright here?”, a women’s voice interrupted your thoughts. You immediately nodded, sighing. “Please, help me find something for my omega. He’s in heat-it happened suddenly-he just woke up like that and I don’t know what to do. We’re in a hotel, so it’s…” “oh you want him to be comfortable?”

For some reason you blushed. “Yeah, I thought about some soft blankets maybe….and I’m not sure if I should get him something for…his needs-you need to know we’re not together-just friends-Jesus, I need to book another room-“ while you rambled about everything, the assistant showed you soft pillows and blankets that you all threw into your basket.

“Even when you’re not a couple, bringing a toy couldn’t hurt…just give it to him and he'll do with it whatever he wants to”, she gave you a knot toy, that wasn’t too big, but apparently should feel good enough to still meet some of his needs. She also gave you another one- “wait that looks like a-“ “some male omegas like to use their members too”, explained the woman, making me nod. Of course. It made sense, in the end the same happens with female alphas. Sometimes you just like some…variations.

After buying everything the assistant told you would be important you went to get some more food and snacks, after doing so you finally went back to the hotel room, walking in on him rubbing himself on your sheets, whining into your pillow, your sleep shirt clutching with one hand.

Once again your breath hitched, you felt yourself getting aroused. God, he was so beautiful, so sweet…fuck. No, stop that.

“Hey Stevie, are you alright? I got you some fluffy blankets and…a few other things. Is it okay if I step closer?”, you asked, him not hearing you at first. “Omega, can I come closer?”, this time he did hear you, nodding and making grabby hands at you. Softly smiling you stepped closer, not expecting Steve to grab you by the waist and pull onto the bed, into his nest.

He buried his nose immediately against your throat, just smelling you, nudging your scent glads. “Smells nice”, he mumbled, wrapping his legs around your hips. You could feel his cock against your hip, the wet spot on his clothes rubbing against you, but didn’t say anything. Instead you just pat his hair gently. “Stevie, I got you the blankets and pillows…they even had a cute teddy bear in a captain America costume”, you laughed into his hair, while he slowly looked up at you, not saying anything yet.

“Can you let me go so I’ll get the blankets? And also something else they told me to get…”, you started taking the things out, Steve immediately arranging the blankets how he wanted them, your blanket and shirt still mostly at his head for him to have your scent close.

But when you put the toys on the bed, Steve’s movements froze. “They told me to get you those, to….so you’d…you know.” He blushed, but took it anyway, already feeling his hole flutter, his cock hardening making a visible outline in his pants, some slick leaking onto his thighs. A smile crept onto your lips when you noticed him being happy with the toys. “I’ll go book another room for me and you can stay here-” “don’t-dont go, please, alpha”, he whined with tears in his eyes, taking your hand and pulling you a bit closer.

Once again you felt aroused, which Steve seemed to smell, his pupils blown wide, while his nostrils fluttered, slowly scenting the air. “Steve I- okay-I’ll stay here but I’ll have to do some work, while you're here in your nest, okay?” Steve whined, but seeing your stern gaze he nodded anyway, pulling a blanket over his body, cuddling into your pillow. “Just try to…get you mind off of things or maybe help yourself out, have a nap…”

You kissed him on the head, before taking some fresh boxershorts from his suitcase and telling him to put these on, before walking to one of the tables, taking the necessary documents out and filling the reports out.

After twenty minutes Steve waddled up to you, sitting in the chair next to you, a blanket around his shoulders that were hutched, making him look smaller. “What is it Steve?”, you finally looked back at him, an amused smile creeping onto your face. “Are you…wearing my night shirt?”, you giggled, stroking over his chest. He immediately blushed, but still pushed into your palm.

“ ‘s nice”, he mumbled, sliding a bit closer to you, putting his head on your shoulder, close to your throat, to your scent glands. “Let me do the reports, Stevie, I can hug you later, okay?”, he whined and you slowly felt his nose busing your gland, nuzzling into your skin. Sighing you brushing over his head, kissing his cheek.

While you started writing something down, you felt Steve slide a bit closer, kissing your throat gently, before unsurely likcing over your scent gland. Gasping you pushed him lightly away. “Steve-what-“, he whined when lost the warm feeling of your skin. Looking into his big puppy eyes you sighed. “Fine, do whatever you want, just don’t disturb me, I need to finish these”

While you started working on the report again you could feel Steve sliding down from his chair, onto the floor underneath the table, suddenly pushing your legs apart. “Steve what the hell-“ “scent so strong”, he whispered, nuzzling his nose into your crotch. You felt your blood rush to your cheeks, while Steve just buried his face between your legs. “Steve, wait-” when his nose bumped into your clothed clit you moaned quietly.

Steve smelled your arousal, his dick twitching in his boxershorts, while he slowly grinded against your leg. “Please-alpha-pants-take your pants off, please”, he whined, looking up at you from beneath the table, all needy and hungry for…something.

You bit your bottom lip. “Steve but…you’re in heat, I don’t wanna feel like I’m taking advantage”, you whispered, seeing tears welling up in his eyes.

Fuck, no.

No, no, no, no.

“Okay-baby, I’ll take off my pants, yeah? But underwear stays and we won’t have sex-” “s fine, I have my toy in”, the image that popped up in your head made you moan; Steve, opening himself up with his fingers, his slick hole swallowing them one after another, before pushing in the thick toy.

He helped you take off your pants, before immediately going back to nuzzling his face into your crotch, not being able to stop himself from licking over your slip. You felt your knot swell a bit, but tried to ignore it and push your own needs aside. “Fuck-omega”, you moaned, throwing your head back, while pushed himself closer against you, fucking your leg and humping you, till your whole leg was covered in slick, having leaked though his boxershorts.

You couldn’t stop yourself from looking down at him, so hungry and-you bit your bottom lip when you noticed his hand being in his boxershorts, stroking his cock.

While Steve nuzzled and licked over your slip without a rhythm, his hips moved faster, the knot pressing right against his soft spot, rubbing it all the time. “Alpha-so good. so, so good-wanna be all yours-only yours”, he whined just when he felt his orgasm approach, his chest feeling tight and tingling, while he orgasmed. His slick gushed around the toy, onto your leg and floor, his whines getting louder, while his scent filled the air more than before. His cock twitching against your leg, leaving a wet patch behind.

Breathing in his smell made you purr In delight. You did it, without really doing anything. Steve just came all over your leg, still panting against your slip, nuzzling his face between your legs.

“Come on, Stevie, let’s get up, you need a bath…and maybe then a nap, huh? You seem tired”, you whispered, noticing how his eyes fluttered heavily. He nodded slowly and let you help him up. Steve took your sweatpants you had worn before and threw them to the nest, a small scuff on his face when they didn’t land the way he wanted them to. “You wanna fix it or take a bath first?” He thought about it for a moment, his expression so soft and relaxed.

“Bath, please”, he mumbled, letting you guide him to the bathroom, where you immediately filled the tub, not using any scented shampoos, assuming he could be too sensitive right now. Helping him take off his clothes, you wiped away some of the slick from his thighs, your body once again reminding you of being neglected.

“Stevie, you need to take out the toy, too, okay? Just put it in the sink and I’ll clean it later.” He whined a bit at that, mumbling something about not wanting to do so, but he still did it in the end, putting the slick toy into the sink.

You prayed to god to give you enough strength for the next few days.

After you helped him into the bathtub, he held your hand, pulling you closer. “Please alpha…come here…want cuddles”, he whispered, needly pushing his face against your thigh. You sighed quietly, but nodded nevertheless, even though you knew this would be the hardest thing you had to do in your whole life.

You stepped into the water, still wearing your slip, not wanting to tempt Steve while he was in heat, even though he seemed mesmerised with your breasts either way, immediately sliding closer to you, leaning his head against your chest, his big body curling into a small ball in your lap. “Oh Stevie”, you whispered, gently scratching his back. He seemed pretty…touch starved.

Maybe he was?

When nobody knew about him, he probably hadn't had anyone touch him in a long time. Not like that at least.

“It’s okay, I’m here now…”, you whispered, kissing his head. It felt wrong in a way-but also so right. You have never been so close to Steve, but you have often thought about it-even though you had thought he was an alpha or beta, but now, knowing his true self and what seems also knowing he had a thing for you…god, you wanted it to be real. Could it be real? Even after his heat?

“Your alpha is here, sweetheart. My sweet, sweet boy”, you felt him relax more against you, while he gently nudged his nose against your nipple. “You wanna suck on them, sweetheart? I can tell you’re thinking about it”, you felt him nod, before slowly licking over your nipple and sucking it into his mouth, now feeling completely relaxed and comforted.

Meanwhile you carefully washed his body, your hand slowly trailing down between his asscheks, to wash the slick away, but as soon as Steve felt that, he moaned quietly, pushing ass back into your hand. “Alpha-“ “I’m washing you, om-Steve, nothing else, okay?”

He whined again, still pushing his ass back, your fingers grazing over his puckered hole for a moment. “Please-please, alpha-need you. I need you so much…need to feel you”, he sobbed, his cock getting hard against your thigh, while he slowly sat up, pushing it against your stomach. “Please, Alpha, I need you.” You felt your member swell up, soon extracting and pushing against your panties. You knew you had get yourself together.

“Sweetheart, I-I can’t have sex with you-not like that. You’re not in the right place to decide”, you whispered, cupping his face in one hand, still having the other one at his ass. He grimaced, but nodded in understanding, yet not stopping rutting against your stomach. “No sex but fingers? Please? Just touch me, alpha, need your fingers. Need you to fuck me”, he whined against your throat, kissing your scent gland, sucking gently at it.

You bite your bottom lip, his words slowly changing your mind-at least a bit. Were you slowly falling into your own mind space? “Just fingers, Stevie, okay? But first I want you to tell me you want to-and use my name. I want to hear my name.” He whined when your hand left his skin, making him lift his gaze. You could tell he was concentrating and thinking hard, but he slowly nodded, still not saying anything tho….

He whined when you stopped his hips from grinding against you, but making him finally actually think about it. “Please use your fingers on me, Y/N”, he said, still looking a bit out of it, but his eyes were less foggy than before. “I mean it, I-I really wish it wouldn’t be happening all so suddenly, but I wanted you for so long, Y/N-Alpha. Wanted you to be my alpha for so long”, he whispered, leaning down to kiss you, softly.

A smile crept onto your lips, making it nearly impossible to kiss back. Just nearly.

Slowly you started brushing your hand over his round ass, squeezing gently. “Okay, my sweet omega, I can touch you…make you feel good”, you whispered into his ear. “Do you want that?”

Steve immediately started nodding forcefully, pressing his body against yours, his dick rubbing at your stomach. A quiet chuckle escapes you, when you hear Steve's quiet moan against your throat, while your finger slowly brushed over his wet, puffy hole…

Thank you for reading! I hope you liked it. Please let me know by leaving behind feedback and maybe reblogging🥰 it means a lot.

Questions? HC ideas? Drabble ideas? Thoots? -> flood my inbox! And let’s talk😋❤️

Taglist for CE content: @inlovewithchrisevans @rogersbarber

[ponderingmoonlight]

JJK men with drunk reader part ll

You can find part l with Choso and Nanami here

Pairing: Geto x reader; Megumi x reader; Gojo x reader

Word Count: 4k

Warnings: harrassment in Geto's and Gojo's part, breakup in Megumi's part, HEAVY (and I mean it) mentions of smut in Gojo's part, I'm sorry if it's shitty As always, I apprechiate every little comment or reblog. Thank you my loves <3

Suguru Geto

You’ve had the greatest night since forever, celebrating your birthday with your closest friends.

“Okay, one last shot, come on!”

You give in to your classmate Kenzo who literally pushes you to the bar. To be honest, you are already full to the brim and it is definitely past midnight. But still, you let him grab your hand, dragging you behind him while he orders two shots of your favorite liqueur.

“To you, sweetie.”

In a normal state of mind, you’d probably immediately turn him down. Kenzo has been hunting after you since he first laid eyes on you, always trying to push forward a relationship. And while you do think he is a decent person, the spark simply never spread.

But tonight you had way too much drinks to bother about his wording. With a swift motion, you empty the shot glass with one gulp, smiling triumphantly at the man in front of you.

“Hey (y/n), we’ll leave now”, another friend of yours announces.

“Oh yeah, I’ll leave soon too”, you reply with a sly grin.

“You want us to wait for you? You really shouldn’t walk home alone anymore, (y/n)”, the concerned voice of your bestie shouts over the blasting music.

“Nah don’t worry, I’ll go to the toilet now and then call a taxi.”

“Fine. Take care of yourself and make sure you go home alone”

She embraces you in a tight hug. With one last glance at Kenzo she and the others leave.

Suddenly everything seems to be too much for your overstimulated brain. The loud music, the constant glimmering of lights, the sweaty people surrounding you and especially the alcohol that makes you feel dizzy and a little unwell. Yes, it really is time to go.

“I’m gonna pee an’ leave”, you mutter into Kenzo’s ear before turning on your heels and walking towards the toilets.

Damn, you’re really not feeling well anymore. That last shot was definitely too much, you can’t even walk a straight line, even pulling down your panties seems like an impossible act at this point. A glance into the mirror reveals your pale face and sunken eyes. Yeah, you should call it a day. Let’s just get this over with and call a taxi.

You make your way back to the bar, back where you’ve seen Kenzo the last time. Even though you have absolutely no nerve to talk to him right now, you force your way through the crowd of people.

“Will leave now. See ya.”

Without waiting for his reply, you push through the crowd of people to the exit, wobbly legs barely able to even stand on your high heels any longer.

The fresh air of the night hits you like a wall, almost making you throw up. Fuck, you feel like shit. You’ll definitely regret drinking that much in the morning.

“Hopefully I don’ have to puke…”, you mumble to yourself.

While holding onto a tree for support, you kick off your shoes, almost falling into a nearby bush when picking them up.

“Much better…”

The streets are lonely, almost therapeutic at this point. Maybe you don’t even have to call a taxi. After all, you’re only living a few blocks away from here. This shouldn’t be a problem, right?

“Hey, (y/n)!”

Urgh, that voice. That all too familiar voice you really don’t wanna hear anymore tonight.

“What’s up, Kenzo?”

“I can’t believe you’d leave without me!”

You blink at him, face showing absolutely no emotion while you desperately try to not vomit all over him. What’s up with that pick-me guy?

“Told ya I’m goin’ home now.”

He takes a few steps towards you, eyes darkening. Oh no. No, no, no. Even though you’re definitely very very drunk, this gives you chills. This can’t be a good sign. God, please just let him pull some dirt out of your hair, please let him-

“There’s something I wanted to talk about with you for a while now, (y/n).”

Geto didn’t mean to spy on the conversation that lays itself out just a few meters away from him, but he can’t help himself. The two of you probably left the nearby club while he gets home after exorcising some curses. Well, lives can be so different.

“Oh please don’t”, a female voice replies.

He has to squint his eyes in order to see who’s talking. A quite tall man who positioned himself in front a woman. She doesn’t seem too eager to be this close to him, though. Should he help you? No, he shouldn’t interfere.

“Just one kiss. Just one kiss and you’ll see that you like me too.”

The man grabs her shoulders violently, forcing himself onto you.

Geto should just keep going-

“Let me go!”, you scream out, your weak attempts to push him away failing miserably.

He can’t. With rapid steps he walks towards you both, pushing the man so hard that he stumbles backwards.

“I think the lady said no”, Geto notes calmly, positioning himself in front of you.

All you can do is stare at the scene with glossy eyes. Fuck, is it your fault that it came this far? Of course you always knew that Kenzo has feelings for you. You just never thought that he’d…force himrself onto you like that. But far more important is the man that came to save you, that man with his black hair in a neat bun wearing a black uniform. That man that looks so striking that you can’t take your eyes off him.

Who is he?

“This is none of your business!”, Kenzo barks at him.

“You might be right, but I can’t let you force yourself onto her, can I? Now please lower your fists and go home.”

He’s talking so friendly, his voice so soft and melodic that you just have to listen to him. You hold your breath, watching Kenzo’s every move.

“Please just leave, Kenzo. I told ya over and over I don’t wanna be with you”, you mumble.

“Get out of the way!”

It happens faster than you are able to even think. Kenzo lunges himself at the stranger, fists flying through the air. It only takes him one swift motion of his arm to knock Kenzo off his feet, landing in the grass butt first. His other hand is firmly pressed against your shoulder, keeping you at distance to the scene that folds itself out in front of you.  

You have to blink a few times, mind still trying to process what just happened. Kenzo wanted to force himself onto you. That man, that absolutely breathtaking handsome man saved you with just one motion.

“Are you alright?”, the stranger asks in your direction, smiling at you so charming that you forget to properly breathe for a moment.

“Y-yeah…”, you stutter.

“We’ll talk about this when I see you again, (y/n). I won’t forget that”, Kenzo coughs out while lifting himself up.

“We sure will man”, you bark at him.

With one last glance at you, he turns around and stumbles away into the darkness of the night.

“I hope I didn’t scare you too much, I just couldn’t watch this. Are you really fine? You look a little pale to me”, the stranger speaks directed towards you.

The second he turns around to fully face you you are lost. He is much taller than you, huge frame lingering over you like a shadow. Despite his hair being in a neat bun, one single strand of hair frames his delicate features so perfectly that you can’t look away. And that smile…

You are mesmerized.

“Can you hear me? He didn’t hurt you, did he?”

You vehemently shake yourself out of your daydreaming.

“Nah, I’m alright.”

“Maybe a little drunk”, the stranger comments with a grin.

“Yeah, that’s for sure”, you mumble, a small smile creeping up your face.

“Are you living far away from here? I’m not comfortable with letting you walk around this late at night all one.”

“It’s a nice lil walk. But if you want to keep me company I wouldn’t be mad. Who are you?”

“My name is Suguru Geto. What’s your name?”

“Huh, what a nice name for a nice man…”, you spit out.

Fuck. Why are you always talking so openly when being drunk? This is definitely not the right time to get saved by a handsome guy.

Suddenly he begins to laugh at your comment, scratching the back of his head with a little blush creeping up his delicate cheeks.

“Don’t flatter me. Let’s get going, shall we?”

“Yeah…”

Even though you carry your heels in your hands, walking seems like an impossible mission this late at night after drinking so much. Your eyes focus on the pavement as hard as they can, mind telling your unruly feet what to do.

“Let me hold these for you.”

Gently, he takes your heels and carries them for you. Oh my, why does he have to be such a gentleman? A striking beautiful man with a character of gold is definitely stuff where dreams are made of.

“Why where you out there this late at night?”, you ask through the silence of the quiet streets around you.

“I just came back from work”, he replies.

“Oh, that’s rough buddy.”

Where the hell is he working this late at night with a fine uniform like the one he’s wearing? Definitely somewhere important.

“God, I love guys in uniform…”, you mumble more to yourself.

But of course he heard you, heart almost beating out of his chest by the way you gaze up at him. Despite you’ve probably been up all night long and what you had to endure that evening, you still look breathtakingly gorgeous.

“Who was that man? Did you know him?”

It’s not wise to get lost in your appearance. After all, he saved you from being harassed. Doing the same thing isn’t appropriate at all.

“Yeah, that’s Kenzo. He has a crush on me since a few years now. Guess he saw a chance because I’m drunk…”, you explain briefly, rolling your eyes just thinking about that jerk.

You’ll definitely confront him and then never talk to him again. What a creep.

Before you’re able to properly understand what’s going on you begin to fall over a breach.

Just a second before you hit the ground full force, a pair of strong arms catches you mid-air.

“Hey, are you alright? Don’t worry, I’ve got you”, Suguru notes, his hands holding you in place.

You don’t know what to do, eyes completely lost in his brown orbs that look down at you gently. His arms feel muscular against your back, making your breath hitch. God, how is this man so attractive? And why on earth is he so kind to an idiot like you? Your hands hold onto his broad shoulders tightly, not daring to let go. It feels as if he light a firework inside you you didn’t even know existed.

Is this the alcohol? No, definitely not.

“I will get you back on your feet now, okay?”, he breathes out while Suguru’s very own knees go weak by the way you gaze up at him.

You continue to walk in silence, both minds racing and hearts pounding out of your chests.

“Here I am…”, you finally mutter.

“You didn’t even tell me your name yet”, Suguru speaks out, kind eyes fixated on yours.

“If you want to see me again, find out and meet me…”, you purr, amazed by your own courage.

“Fine, I will. Have a good night. And don’t meet up with that guy again”, Suguru replies, pulling you into a short hug that leaves you absolutely speechless.

God, please let this man find you when you’re sober.

Please.

Megumi Fushiguro

He lays his eyes on you the whole time. The way you just sit in the corner of the room, staring into the cup in front of you with empty eyes. While Megumi isn’t the type to party himself, you were always outgoing, confident, everyone’s sweetheart at every event. Seeing you like this at a birthday party doesn’t match this at all.

Why does he bother, though? He never failed to tell you to slow down, after all. Wouldn’t it be strange if he suddenly approached you like that?

“Huh, looks like (y/n) isn’t feeling that well”, Yuji comments beside him.

“I thought so too…”

“She and her boyfriend just broke up. Now she’s sitting there after gulping down some drinks…”, Nobara explains.

Megumi’s heart skips a beat. The two of you broke up? He always hated that guy, the way he treated you like shit and even worse, made you feel like it too. You should be glad it’s over just like he is.

Stop. He shakes his head in disbelief over his own thoughts. Why would he even bother about your relationship? You are nothing more than friends, going to Jujutsu High and fighting together. It isn’t more than that…

Right?

“You should go talk to her, Fushiguro”, Yuji suggests suddenly, making Megumi almost lose his cool.

He, talking to you about your relationship?

“Why me, idiot?”, Megumi mumbles.

“Because you have the best connection with her. No go”, Nobara persists, shoving his body your direction.

No, there’s no way in hell he can have that talk with you. Maybe he’s spilling the beans, maybe you’ll think he’s a weirdo.

Or even worse. Maybe you’ll get the idea that he likes you more than a friend.

Mindlessly, Megumi grabs a cup from the table, pouring down whatever it contains. He has no other choice, though. You’re feeling miserable and he can’t see you like that.

“Hey, how are you doing?”, he greets you before sitting down next to you on the couch.

“Oh, ‘m fine…”, you mumble.

He can tell by the way you smell like a sake factory and your stumbled words that you’ve drank a lot tonight. Megumi swallows, slipping back and forth uncomfortably next to you.

“Actually no. He broke up with me, ‘Gumi…”

Tears swell up your eyes all over again. You shouldn’t be sitting here like a fool, all depressed over a boy who never really loved you. No, you shouldn’t drink so much that you might forget his name. It’s not about him, though. It’s about the way he made you feel like shit, as if you aren’t worth being loved by someone.

And maye…Maybe he’s right with that. Your relationship lasted only 4 months. Maybe it is your fault, after all. Maybe you aren’t someone to be loved.

“I’m sorry to hear that”, Megumi replies.

“Don’t be. The relationship was shit anyways. Just like him…”

Megumi furrows his brows, trying to understand what you mean.

“Then why are you sad?”

Urgh, you hate the way Megumi looks at you, it’s not hard to tell that he’s judging you behind those eyes.

“Never mind, I need fresh air…”, you mumble, standing up so suddenly that your head spins in confusion.

Fuck. Megumi curses himself for being so dumb. Why did he ask such a question? Why did he just let you go like that while he’s still standing there, looking after you like the idiot he is?

Instinctively, his hand grabs another cup before he begins to run after you.

You hate the way tears run down your cheeks all over again. Damn, drinking was definitely a bad idea. While you do feel even better after a few sips of sake normally, the alcohol seems to strengthen your sadness when you’re down already. Angrily, you wipe over your face, try to stop yourself from feeling this depressed over a damned boy.

Megumi’s heart shatters when seeing you outside, your tears glistening in the moonlight. He clenches his hands into fist. God, just thinking about that jerk…How could he hurt you like that?

“Hey”, he gently mutters, his hand brushing over your back.

“Get lost”, you mutter into your hands.

Why does Megumi have to be here right now? He has never seen you cry. No, not in a million years you would have cried in front of him. But at the moment, everything seems to be crashing down on you, life a pile of pain.

“I won’t”, he remarks.

“Maybe it’s because I’m drunk or maybe I’m just being sensitive right now but…Megumi, do you think I’m the problem?”

His fingers stop right in their tracks, eyes darted towards you in nothing but disbelief. Did you really just say that? Is this really how you feel about yourself?

“I don’t want something like that coming out of your mouth ever again, (y/n).”

Suddenly Megumi is so close to you that you can feel his breath brushing against your face, eyes only inches away from yours.

“This guy was a jerk, he never deserved you anyway. You could do so much better.”

With him. You could do so much better with him.

“I know, this isn't about me having feelings for him. But what if I’m the problem, Megumi? Maybe I’m just hard to love…”

Megumi himself doesn’t know what’s happening to him. Is it because he himself drank more than usual or is it because you are drunk? He can’t tell. But at the moment, all he is able to do is grabbing your face and pressing his lips against yours.

He waited so long for this moment, even though he was never able to admit his feelings to you. But how is he supposed to keep his composure when you’re standing in front of him like that, tasting like mohito and tears you shouldn’t be crying out?

“You are definitely not hard to love. Believe me, I know it best”, he mumbles against your lips.

Your sharp and fast breath brushes against his opened lips, glossy eyes gazing up at him. Did Megumi really just kiss you? The Megumi Fushiguro who told you over and over how much he dislikes you? The Megumi Fushiguro who never really showed his feelings to anyone?

“Megumi”, you breathe out.

“Maybe it’s the alcohol, but I love you. I have loved you for a long time”, he mumbles.

“Finally!”, Nobara suddenly cries out.

Both of you break away from each other immediately, your face heated like fire.

“You see, Fushiguro? Wasn’t that hard, was it?”

“Can you just leave you idiots…”, he hisses through gritted teeth.

“Tell me (y/n), is he a good kisser?”

“NOBARA!”

Satoru Gojo

You can’t help but admire your boyfriend on the dancefloor, his sunglasses reflecting the neon light so well. God, what a beautiful sight he is, how absolutely gorgeous.

“Enjoying the view babe?”, he shouts your direction.

His voice magically attracts you. Without thinking twice you make your way to him, arms wrapping themselves around his neck while you rub your butt against his crotch. The way his gaze lingers over your body makes shivers run down your spine, drunk mind wandering to places it shouldn’t be in.

“I’d rather enjoy you, babe”, you purr into his ear.

How is it that you have a few cocktails and start acting like a horny teenager? Satoru doesn’t mind, though. Quite the opposite, he loves it when your attention lays exclusively on him. In a crowd full of good-looking man, he is the only one you stare at shamelessly.

And he is the only one who’ll take you home tonight.

“I’ll grab a drink, don’t run away from me”, you seductively note, hands roaming around his broad chest before letting go.

“You’d have to stop me from following you instead, babe.”

With a last grin, you disappear in the crowd. Damn, how did he get so lucky? You’re the best thing that could have happened to him, a woman that turns heads on a regular basis. And you’re his. Exclusively his alone, the only man who gets the pleasure to see your striking body, the only one who’s allowed to hear your cute little moans.

“What is a cutie like you doing here on her own, huh?”, a black-haired guy next to you suddenly hushes into your ear, his breath of sake almost making you retch.

Ew, who is this guy and what the hell does he want from you? Even though you get it on from time to time, something about than man tells you that he’s off.

You are way too drunk and horny to deal with him right now.

“I’m not on my own, thank you”, you remark dryly, watching as the bartender mixes your swimming pool.

His body draws uncomfortably closer. So close that you can feel his disgusting body heat against yours.

“You sure about that? I’m not seeing any guy around here.”

Stay cool, he will leave when he finally gets that you don’t have interest. One last comment will be enough to get rid of him.

“That’s because you’re not looking close enough, asshole”, you bark back.

Faster that you are able to react he grabs your wrist, roughly forcing you to face him. Well, you definitely didn’t expect this. You dizzy mind races, trying to think about what to do next.

“Get your hands off me, idiot”, you shout at him, desperately trying to free yourself out of his iron grip.

“You’re a little drunk, huh? That blush on your cheeks, I can see you like that…”

You can feel his hand before he even speaks a word, his sheer presence making time stand still for a moment. This man will hope he never stepped into that bar tonight.

“You’re touching something that’s mine.”

His voice might sound calm to an unexperienced listener, but you know all too well that he’s cooking on the inside. If there’s something your boyfriend hates more than anything else it is men approaching, let alone touching you.

“Sorry, didn’t read your name on her”, the man replies with a sly grin.

Oh, wrong answer. Definitely wrong answer. Satoru’s grip around your waist tightens, pressing you even closer to himself.

“I won’t repeat myself. Get your dirty hands off her right now or you’ll regret it.”

But even though you kind of enjoy the way your boyfriend stands up for you, you’ve seen enough. It is time to take matters into your very own hands.

“Don’t worry babe. I’ve got this”, you mumble into your boyfriend’s ear.

Violence isn’t a solution. No, it would be a bad idea to slap him. After all, he isn’t worth getting entangled with the police or getting your knuckles bruised.

Fuck it.

With a swift motion of your fist, you knock the man in front of you off his feet, nose instantly bursting out in blood.

“Next time think carefully about who you’re harassing, asshole”, you spit at him, pressing your heel into his cheek before walking away with Satoru right by your side.

“Nice blow handsome”, he comments, guiding you out of the bar as if nothing happened.

“I’m kinda proud, didn’t thought I had this in me after four cocktails”, you reply with a satisfied grin.

The cool air outside caresses your heated face gently. To be honest, you have enough of partying. All you want to do is going home now. After all, you are still on a mission…

“Babe, are you okay with leaving?”, you question, wrapping your arms around his back.

“To do what?”, he teases you, placing his hands just a few inches over your butt.

You know exactly what he’s up to, that he wants to make you blush. But after a few drinks, you aren’t that reserved anymore.

“To get myself laid on your couch while moaning your name of course”, you response sweetly.

Fuck, Satoru can feel something twitch inside his pants, begging him to take you home right here on the spot. Desperately he wraps his arm around you, caressing your face with a bunch of kisses.

“You’re mine”, he breathes against your forehead, hands roaming all over your body.

“Yours alone”, you confirm.

“No matter who else wants you.”

“I only want you…”

“That’s what I wanna hear. Now let’s ride home, shall we?”

“How about me riding you in the car though?”

Satoru grabs your hands, hastily dragging you to his car.

“You don’t have to say that twice…”

[bratbarzal]

On Your Side (NH13) / Chapter Ten

Pairing: Nico Hischier x Fem!OC Poppy Jensen

WC: 22k (one day I'll write like a normal person)

Chapter Warnings: I'll highlight the important stuff first - poppy's part has a pretty heavy scene with mentions of stillbirth/miscarriage/child loss/birthing complications and genetic disorders. poppy is safe, cheeto is safe and it's a backstory thing so if you are triggered by mentions of those topics, it's technically skippable (you can message me and I'll write up an overview without the mentions in there so you're not missing out) and at the end of the first scene of her section, the beginning of it will be marked in red, and the end will have the usual divider. other than that, there are sprinklings of angst in here - mentions of anxiety around flying, self doubt, Poppy and Nico have their little family bubble kind of burst, a bit of hurt/comfort, long distance longing and it's otherwise generally fluffy. some sexual references but not smut. some EXCESSIVE declarations of love. like we get it. you're into each other.

Series Masterlist

Previous Part (Chapter Nine)

A/N: I wrote and rewrote so much of this I've kind of driven myself crazy i’m not sure if this chapter will be everyone’s cup of tea tbh but it’s important to the characters as I close this story up. I'd like to dedicate this to my HATERS (aka the anons I literally asked to trash talk me for motivation it actually did work lmao I love you) I know that quite a few people have found this story since the last chapter so thank you for all your lovely messages, and all the stuff you guys send to me in my inbox, or tag in your reblogs it means the world 2 me!! I honestly have seen so many nice things said about this fic and my writing over the past few weeks it really really makes me so happy I love you guys so much!! I feel like putting out the bonus chapter hopefully eases some of the tension from this one, but like I said, and like you can read in the extra chapter where Cheeto is born, she's safe, don't let my warnings put you off unless those things do trigger you!!

Nico

There are quite a few routines that Nico has fallen into with Poppy over the last couple weeks where they have been much closer. 

There’s mornings with Poppy, more often rushed than not after the two of them refuse to leave whichever bed they’re in, cuddling up under the covers and hitting snooze as many times as they possibly can before they really need to get up. 

There’s the beautiful dance they have mastered in the bathroom, brushing his teeth while Poppy does her skincare routine, jutting out his chin for her to put some moisturiser over the centre of his face and letting her rub it in with soft fingers.

There are routines in the evenings, where Nico usually gets home a lot later than Poppy, her key now on his keyring so he can let himself in whenever he needs to, finds her on the couch waiting for him, and brings her back something to eat, even if she’s eaten already that night.

And lunchtimes might be his favourite, making the most out of the times he’s at the arena, and not on the road, stopping by her office, the two of them going for walks now that the weather’s nice again, and trying all the different spots close by.

Returning to her office and going giddy with affection, pressing wanting kisses to her lips where he’s never had the pleasure of doing it so casually, before.

It’s how they’ve ended up where they are now, Poppy sat on the edge of her desk, legs spread for Nico to stand between as his mouth works eagerly at the skin of her delicate neck, drinking up the soft sounds she makes for him, quiet enough that only he will hear.

“We can’t do this,” she gasps at the feeling of teeth nipping, her ass scooting forward until it’s right on the sharp edge of the wood. “Not here.”

“We’ve ticked off every other spot,” he hums just beneath her jaw, nipping at the skin there teasingly until her body arches into the attention. “Your car,” he moves further down her neck, “My car,” and further, “Every single surface in both our apartments,”

“The dryer was fun,” she reminisces, her fingertips reaching out to clutch at his shirt.

“May as well cross your office off the bucket list.” He shrugs, smirking right against her ear where he mutters the words.

“Someone could walk in.”

“Even better.”

“Nico,” she whines as he remains unrelenting in his pursuits.

“Lucky them, getting to see you all pretty for me like this,” his hands press into either side of her thighs and push at the hem of her skirt until it bunches all the way up, parting her legs even further so he can step in between them. “Wanna touch every inch of you,”

“Thought you were doing that this morning,”

This morning, he breaks out into a dopey grin at even the thought.

All these years, he has thought he was living his dream, making a successful career out of his talent, playing in one of the greatest leagues on the planet - all that before he ever experienced co-existing with Poppy.

Coming home to her after a strenuous trip away, falling asleep with her in his arms, being woken at least 10 times in the night to her repositioning herself in her sleep, eyes drifting open in the morning and looking down to see her cheek smushed into his chest, hair matted into the small space left on his pillow, taking up half of his side of the bed, drooling onto his skin as soft snores still puff out from between her parted lips.

That’s his dream, now - to wake up like that every day for the rest of his life. 

And he had told her as much when she came to, shamefully wiping at the spit on his chest with the collar of his shirt that she was wearing, kissing and kissing at her despite her protests of morning breath and needing to pee. He had followed her into the bathroom, all privacy long thrown out of the window as he brushed his teeth while she relieved herself, and Poppy did the same, and it was at the bathroom counter where he had made his first efforts to stretch out their lazy morning together.

Hoisted up beside the sink, legs wrapped around his waist as he pressed minty kisses into her neck, nipping and sucking at her skin until she tugged at his hair and pulled him up to meet her lips. 

He had told her he could do this everyday, and had meant it. But the two of them had been in such a rush to do something while they had the time, that he hadn’t really dived deeper into the topic of it being an actual possibility.

Of the two of them actually living together. Of him giving her the key to his apartment he had cut for her, and proposing that the two of them get a head start on a nursery before he has to potentially leave for the World Championships in a week.

They then moved from the bathroom to the kitchen, from the kitchen back to bed, and then from bed to a late morning start in work, entirely too distracted for him to pick back up where his thoughts left off.

“Lost count of where I got up to, gonna have to start again.” He smirks into her skin.

“You’re crazy.”

“Your fault.” He mutters with lips pressed to her jaw, “This could technically be our last shot here, Poppy,” he leans back a little to get a good look at her, head thrown back in distracted pleasure like she isn’t the one trying to get him to calm down. “You’ll be on leave by the time we get back, who knows when the next time we’ll both be in your office is,”

“I do.” She chuckles, “In 3 hours when you think you miss me too much to function, again.”

“Hey, I was checking up on you,” he presses a kiss closer to her lips, “Couldn’t have you in here all alone, know how worked up you get after a little while without me, huh?”

“I get worked up?” She scoffs, gesturing to the hands splayed out beside her hips on her desk, “You literally can’t keep your hands to yourself,”

“Can you blame me? Look at you,” he hums, kissing at the space between where her mouth curves up at the corner and her cheeks puff into a smile. “Go crazy thinking about you.”

She places soft hands on either side of his face, taking a grip of his jaw and moving him in front of her. “You can’t sweet talk me into fucking you in my office, baby,” she tells him, unable to stop the fully-fledged smile that forms when he grins back. 

“Not even if I take my shirt off?”

The look she casts down his body makes him feel exposed, an electric tingle shooting down his spine - so much that he just wants to press into her to quell it, somewhat.

“Might be worth a shot,” she shrugs, hands shifting until fingertips dance at the sensitive skin on either side of his neck, tickling back into his hair as she grasps at it, just a little. “No promises, though.”

And it’s just as he leans back in to kiss her that a hard knock rattles the door to her office, the two of them shooting apart as if shocked by electric, Poppy shimmying off her desk until she’s standing, pulling her skirt back into place and smoothing down her hair. 

Nico takes a few steps to the side, putting a good few feet between them so their closeness doesn’t rouse suspicion when Poppy invites the intruder into the room. 

“Sorry to interrupt,” Josh says with a meek smile as he steps in and closes the door behind him, not at all perturbed by the presence of Nico and Poppy, and seemingly not sorry at all, “Something’s come up and I figured I should run it by you.”

“I’ll leave you to it,” Nico says, doing his best not to sigh or grumble at the fact he has been so rudely disrupted from his new favourite part of the day. 

“Actually,” Josh steps back to block the door, “It concerns you too.”

Nico frowns, glancing back towards Poppy, who’s swiping a thumb at her smudged lips and shrugging a little when she meets his eye.

“What’s up?” She asks.

“So, uhm,” he seems nervous, now, the bravado he had when stopping Nico from leaving disappearing as he swerves around him to put the little folder he is carrying on Poppy’s desk, “It seems like the fans have picked something up from an interview you did after practice today, Nico.”

Shit.

If PR are involved, it has to be something bad.

But he’d just talked about the mood in the locker room, if he remembers right? The morale amongst the team after their loss yesterday in Philly. He hadn’t cursed, hadn’t said anything offensive or troubling.

Maybe he’d pouted a little, been a little frustrated, but that’s to be expected of the position they’re all in, surely?

And why would Josh be running it by Poppy?

“Did I say something bad?”

“No, it’s not anything you said.”

Nico watches as Poppy takes the folder, slides it across her desk and opens it, and from what Nico can see from where he’s stood, it looks like a screenshot of a bunch of tweets.

Whatever they say, it seems like overkill to print them out. Couldn’t he have just pulled up twitter like a normal person?

“Oh.” Poppy frowns, and Nico finds his feet carrying him toward her just at the sight of the expression on her face as she reads down the page.

As he leans over her desk, he sees that they are tweets. The first being a video of the interview he had done after their morning skate today, and the second being a couple of screenshots - each picture zooming further and further into something in the background.

With the paper upside down, Nico can’t quite tell what that something is, but at least it isn’t something he said. 

That’s good, he thinks, right?

The confusion must be evident on his face, because once she’s looked up at him for any sort of reaction, Poppy turns the sheet around on the table, and Nico is able to zero in on exactly what the tweets are getting at, sinking into the seat on his side with bated breath.

In a crystal clear quality he didn’t even know the cameras brought into the locker room could deliver, he sees his copy of Poppy’s latest scan, sat front and centre on the shelf of his locker. 

Fuck.

His eyes skim over the rest of the tweets on the page, an influx of capital letters and exclamation points, the words barely registering in his brain until he gets to the bottom of the page.

Sentiments of ‘Nico is having a baby?’ line up against mentions of Talia, of the two of them still being together, of all the variations of shocked, mind-blown emojis.

His heart starts to hammer in his chest as he reaches for the next page, hoping there’s a tweet from someone with an ounce of sense on there.

But this page is worse. So much worse.

‘He’s with someone else. Served them at my work last week in NYC!’

And attached is a picture from when he and Poppy went to lunch with her parents.

If this whole situation didn’t flood his system with panic, he’d be able to admire just how cute the pictures are - Poppy sat beside him, looking up at him in adoration as he jokes with her father. It’s the kind of thing he doesn’t really get to see or notice when he’s not looking at her - just how infatuated she is with him. It makes his skin tingle and his chest feel warm in the best way. 

Their seats are so close that they’re practically pressed together, his hand disappearing under the table where he remembers it sat on her lap the entire meal, her fingers either tangled with his or tracing little shapes into his palm. 

‘She’s cute.’

‘Where do I know her from?

‘She works for the Devils! Seen her at a few events with the foundation!’

Nico takes a shaky breath as the rest of it unfolds in front of his eyes. 

Poppy’s name, her job, the about us section from the foundation website, her private social media pages with requests to follow, pictures where she’s in the background or smushed into a group shot. She didn’t sign up for this, he thinks, people having such little regard for her privacy online. 

His interview in the locker room had been an hour ago, maybe two, and all they had to go off was a single blurry screenshot of a scan picture. And now they have pictures of her, of the two of them together, of her parents. They know her name, her place of work, and on the very last page, when he reads, ‘She lives in my brother’s building’ he thinks his heart stops.

“You guys aren’t in trouble, or anything,” Josh reassures her, reaching out in Nico’s peripheral and placing a comforting hand on her shoulder that he really wants to shoo away. “I mean, everybody here knew, I wanted you to see everything so you can figure out how you want to handle it. Or if you want to handle it at all.”

“What do you mean?” Nico gulps, speaking mainly to divert Josh’s attention from her, to try gain back some semblance of control on the situation, himself.

“I mean, we don’t really get involved in personal stuff like this, but I could help you come up with something to say between yourselves?”

“Something to say?”

Maybe Nico has been ignorant, this whole time, to the possibility that this sort of thing could happen. It’s not like they’ve been hiding it, not really. They’re out in public a lot together - they go to the convenience store sometimes, they eat out, they grab breakfast at the same spot if neither of them have the energy to make it, themselves, waiting in the queue with Poppy perched beneath his arm and him pressing kisses to the crown of her head.

His relationship with her has never been something that he felt like he had to hide, or had to protect, not in that way, anyway. 

Especially compared to when he was with Talia. When her social media presence became catered to hinting at the two of them. Cut off shots of his arms on tables, wearing clothes he had just been seen in, posing in front of his car, in the family suite at the arena - and that had all been before he found out she had been sharing their private pictures with gossip accounts, too. 

Poppy doesn’t court attention like that. All her pictures with him or of him are hers, and hers alone. Printed out and put on her refrigerator or framed in her apartment. Or there’s maybe one or two that she rotates as her phone background, but he does the same with her so he can’t exactly complain about that.

It’s cute, he thinks, the small ways in which she tries to keep him close. 

He’s just been assuming the two of them would be on the same page about the whole thing, wanting to keep things as they were, just between them, but also not going to extra efforts to hide their relationship, to erase all essence of normality and routine they’ve managed to build.

Especially considering the fact that for so long, even they didn’t know what they were or what they would be.

He still doesn’t know, if he’s being completely honest.

Poppy isn’t a grand gesture kind of girl, he knows that. She likes things simple, likes things easy, and as much as he might want to tell everyone that she’s his girlfriend, they haven’t really had that conversation yet. And he’s trying to let her take the lead on the whole milestone thing. He doesn’t want to push her into something she’s still building herself up to in her head.

So what is he supposed to say?

“If you don’t say anything, they might continue to dig.”

“I don’t think there’s much left for them to find,” Poppy scoffs, speaking for the first time as she flicks back through the pages on her desk. “Maybe my social security number, or my dental records or something.”

Ok, she’s cracking jokes, he thinks, casting a concerned glance her way as she finally meets his eye over her desk. 

She doesn’t look angry that he’s catapulted them into this mess. Doesn’t look hurt or disappointed. She’s chewing on her bottom lip and her eyes are wide looking back at him as if she’s expecting him to say something. 

“Do we have to decide now?” Nico asks, despite knowing the answer.

The last game of the season is tomorrow. Home against the islanders. Leaving things to chance and having all eyes on him will only fuel the fires of online speculation. 

“I’ll leave you two to talk about it, if you want?”

Nico narrows his eyes at the hand that still rests on Poppy’s shoulder, patronisingly patting at the curve of it before she sends him a thankful, forced smile, and he has to bite his tongue when Josh does the same thing to him on his way out.

The silence that lingers following the click of the door to Poppy’s office is tense, elongated enough that Nico starts the feel the throbbing of his pulse in his ears. 

His eyes are cast down, but he can feel Poppy’s cautious gaze on him, can sense as she rises out from behind her desk and circles around to his side, perching herself on the edge, sat beside the damning evidence that has caused this mess.

“What are you thinking?” She asks, softly.

“I’m thinking I messed everything up.” He sighs, leaning into the chair with tension in ever muscle, back stiff, jaw clenched. “I’m so stupid, I forgot it would even be visible, I just like having it there, so I can see her all the time, I didn’t mean for this to happen, Poppy, I swear,”

“Hey, I know,” she consoles him, pushing straight off of her desk and standing in front of him, crouching to his level. “Our bubble was bound to burst eventually, Nico, it’s okay,”

“Maybe we can fix this,” he thinks out loud, “I know a guy, a hacker, he’s really good, he could probably do something,”

“He must be really good if he can turn back time, babe,” Poppy scoffs, and he straightens in the seat, adjusting his positioning and gesturing for her to sit on his lap, as awkward as it might be. “How the hell do you know a hacker, anyway, Mission Impossible?”

“His name’s Myles, he lives over in The Heights,” he hums in response, large hand cupping at her thigh to hold her in place, “Maybe he could get the pictures scrubbed from the internet, or something?”

“Is that what you want?”

“I just want to keep things the way they are,” he sighs, “I want our bubble back. I liked our bubble.”

Poppy smiles, soft and affectionate, and cards her fingers through his hair to push it back, nails scratching soothingly at his scalp. 

“I liked our bubble, too.” 

The two of them sit like that for a minute, thoughts racing between the two of them, but the tension slowly easing, the silence becoming a little more comfortable as they both take a moment to think about what it is they want to do. 

Poppy’s fingers stroke at the back of his neck and his stroke soothingly into her thigh.

“We don’t have to say anything, if you don’t want to,” She’s the first to speak, and Nico’s heart hammers at the sound of her voice, more than usual, at least. “We can just wait it out, it’s the last game of the season, these things just go away after a while, right?”

“I don’t want it to go away, Poppy.” He huffs. “I don’t want to hide you, or pretend you don’t exist, pretend we aren’t having a baby together, pretend we aren’t-,”

His fingers tighten in their grip on her flesh, and he lets out a heavy sigh, trying to refrain from laying his heart on the line in the possibility she might trample on it out of heightened emotion. 

“I can ignore it,” she says, “The stuff online, I don’t really use social media, they can say what they want about me, about us, it doesn’t really matter, right? They don’t know anything.”

“They know where you live, apparently.” He scoffs, and despite the voice in him telling him to reel it in, the voice that, for so long now, has been telling him to hand the reins over and let her guide him down whatever path she wants to be on, the next thing comes out without much thought behind it. “Maybe you should move in with me, my building is a lot safer.”

He had been wanting to ask her, anyway, right?

He has the key in the glove compartment of his car, ready for her to claim. They spend enough time at his place, it’s the same distance as hers from the arena. 

And the timing is almost perfect. He’ll have some time to move her in before he leaves for Europe. Have some time to get her settled before they’re separated, just for a bit. They can keep sharing these routines they’ve built so well, together.

She’ll have an all access pass to all the clothes she so often likes to lounge around in, and he’ll have an all access pass to her, to all the developments with Cheeto, to-

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

What?

In what world is it not a good idea?

“I don’t think we’re ready for that, yet.”

Not ready?

What about them isn’t ready?

“Poppy-,”

“I have a meeting in 5 minutes, I should really fix myself up.”

She pushes herself up from his lap, despite him pawing at her to stay, and rushes back to her own side of her desk, tucking her hair behind her ears as she tries to make herself look busy, avoiding the way in which he chases her gaze.

What the hell just happened?

“We need to talk about this, Mohn,”

“We will,” she reassures him, “Later, I promise. Dinner at Jesper and Nic's, yeah, with the team? I'll meet you at your place.”

His place.

No, he thinks, it should be our place.

His heart hammers in her chest as he watches her, tries to get a gauge on what on earth she’s thinking, why the hell she’s distancing herself after, I liked our bubble, too.

“Poppy,” he tries again, stepping and trying to convey something in his tone that might bring her on side, might make her reconsider. 

“I can’t be late, Nico,” she sighs, “I’ll come straight over after I finish work, okay?”

“Okay,” he sighs, shuffling over to the door with the weight of the world now on his shoulders. 

How the hell had he gone from the morning from heaven, to this?

Exiled from Poppy’s office and shot down like the thought of living with him turned her stomach. 

“Love you,” he offers as a goodbye, a hand on the door handle with his neck craned back to see her one more time, to meet her eyes and try and ingrain the sentiment to her memory.

“Yeah,” she smiles, tight and half-hearted. “Love you, too.”

Nico can’t recall a time where he’s ever been this stressed in his life.

And that seems like an almighty feat considering the year he’s had, so far. All the stuff with the team, with losing their manager half way through the season, with injuries, and fights on the ice, with trying to organise his place in the national team. With Poppy, with her parents, with navigating their relationship, navigating the fact he’s going to become a father soon.

But no, 3 missed calls to his girlfriend-but-not-his-girlfriend-but-she’s-carrying-his-baby-and-he-wants-her-to-be-his-girlfriend’s phone and he’s literally having heart palpitations and breaking out into a cold sweat.

He’s pacing, for God’s sake, shoes tapping against the hard wood of his apartment as he waits for any sign of life.

They’re all going straight to voicemail, and beyond driving all the way back to the Rock and trying to retrace her steps, he doesn’t know what to do.

Despite where they had left things earlier, despite the way she stomped all over his hopes and dreams, she had told him she’d meet him here straight after work, and it’s been almost an hour since she was due to finish.

It’s 30 minutes from the arena, maximum.

He should have stuck around and given her a ride, he thinks. At least them he’d know where she was.

But then she’d feel smothered, a whiny voice rings through his head as he presses to dial her again, the same tone ringing straight through to her machine. She doesn’t want to live with you, she probably doesn’t want to be in a car with you, either.

“C’mon, Poppy, pick up,” he sighs, trying one more time, holding his breath as he presses his phone straight to his ear, wanting to throw it against the wall when the same thing happens, again. 

He can’t calm himself down. He hasn’t been able to all afternoon since he left The Rock, driving home without any music playing, coming up to his apartment and not being able to sit still for the past few hours.

She doesn’t want to live with him. She doesn’t think they’re ready.

Despite the fact that they’ve shared a bed every night, almost - aside for when he’s been on the road - for the past two weeks. Despite the fact that all he’s done since February is try to prove himself to her. 

Prove himself as a partner, first and foremost. There for every appointment, accommodating her every craving, her every need. 

He’s even learning to cook, for Christ’s sake, beyond pasta and breakfast food, and knows her breakfast order by heart. 

He’s tried replaying their entire conversation in his head, tried figuring out which part had soured her entirely to the idea, and all he has been coming up with is blanks.

And now, she’s blanking him. Now she’s saying love you with weak smiles that make his heart ache, and he doesn’t know what to do about it.

He’s pacing so much, stomping so hard, that he almost doesn’t hear the knock at his door, stopping in his tracks just to catch the end of it and shooting over so quick he almost stumbles and crashes to the floor.

Seeing her isn’t enough for the tension to drop from his body, not entirely, not yet - not even when she gives him a guilty smile and immediately goes in for a soft, sweet kiss against his bitten lips. 

“‘M’sorry,” she mutters into his mouth, “My phone died and I left my charger in your car.” She waves her blank phone screen in between them as if to prove her point, and Nico thinks back to getting in his car to come home, earlier, huffing and puffing about all the wires in the centre console and throwing them onto the passenger seat.

He kisses her back, almost in an unspoken apology for getting so worked up, not that she had any idea just how worked up he was getting, and hums, “It’s okay,” in response. “Are you okay?”

Are we okay? He wants to ask, but doesn’t.

She’s here, now. They have to be okay.

“Yeah,” she smiles, and he wants to take it at face value. She’s had a long day at work, she’s probably exhausted. Her smile isn’t half-assed or forced. She wouldn’t be here if she didn’t want to be. “The guy who’s covering my maternity is a board-certified yapper, Nico, God help you when you have to work with him. You’re gonna miss the hell outta me.”

“Won’t have to miss you, Mohn,” he chuckles, despite the fact that it isn’t entirely true. He wouldn’t have to miss her, if she lived with him, but the way she smiles back eases his worries, a little bit. 

There’s the summer to figure things out, he realises.

There’s no rush, and he keeps getting into the habit of thinking there is.

Baby steps.

She takes them with such ease that it really makes him look like an idiot, he thinks. 

“You ready to go? Do you need a drink or anything?”

“I think I’ll last the ten minutes it takes to get there,” she rolls her eyes fondly as she takes his hand in hers, and the two of them make their way down to the parking level.

Nico bites at his tongue the whole way to Jesper and Nicole’s place.

He’s trying his best to take whatever she’s willing to give him, and if ignoring the problem at hand is what she wants to do, then he’ll do it. He won’t ask her if she’s thought any more about things, despite her telling him earlier that they’d pick it back up. He won’t ask if she’s still willing to ignore all the outside noise.

Won’t ask her why she doesn’t think they’re ready to live together.

And he bites his tongue all night, really. 

It becomes easy to do so as the two of them sink into the familiarity of the team dynamic. Loud and boisterous, fun and carefree, like they haven’t got a game left tomorrow. Like they all aren’t going to have to sit and watch the playoffs play out, thinking what if, and why not me?

Like they all aren’t getting separated for the summer, scattered across the globe with the ever so slight chance they won’t be reunited again.

Not in this format, at least.

But Poppy’s hand holds his in her lap. Poppy rests her head on his shoulder as she listens to Timo tell her all about Switzerland, hyping her up for all the cool things they’re all going to get to do together, and her looking up at Nico with a beaming smile and eyes like twinkling stars.

Poppy stays glued to his side for the group picture Nicole insists on taking, sandwiched between Nico and Timo with the biggest, cheesiest grin on her face, and he thinks he’s probably looking at her as the camera flashes - meets Nicole’s eyes when she’s looking back at the photo and knows he isn’t looking into the lens. 

Poppy rests her free hand on her bump, strokes little shapes absentmindedly on it in a way that makes Nico’s heart soar with pride.

Poppy sinks into his side when he’s talking to Nicole’s brother, and who doesn’t flinch when Nico introduces her as, “Poppy, my girlfriend,” in a way that just rolls of the tongue with little to no thought behind it.

And Poppy doesn’t bring it up until they’re sat back down at the large, extended dining table, mostly deserted and the room a lot less rowdy now that a few of the guys have cleared out for an early night.

“I’m your girlfriend, now, huh?”

Shit.

“Sounded nicer than Baby Mama,” he chuckles, the laughter quickly dying down when he sees Poppy’s reaction to his words. It’s that same weak smile she had given in her office, earlier. Resigned and reluctant. “To be honest, I didn’t really know how to ask you about it.”

“Usually starts with will you and is followed by be my girlfriend?” She teases, turning into him a little more as he leans into her, opening herself up more to him than she has all night.

“Don’t you think we’re past that, though?” He smiles softly, thankful for the soft beaming light that returns to her eyes. “Girlfriend feels,”

He doesn’t want to say small.

He doesn’t want to say not enough.

He doesn’t want to say anything that might upset her enough to retreat again, but it’s what he means.

He can’t help it.

It just feels juvenile and insufficient.

She’s so much more than that.

And, because she’s Poppy, and because she can’t help but take the burden of having to say it away from him, she takes his hand in hers, thumb rubbing at the top. “I know what you mean.”

Thank God.

“I called Nia earlier, and she called you my boyfriend, and it sorta freaked me out a little.”

“Freaked you out?” He gulps, nerves settling in the pit of his stomach at the fact that taking the next step with him is freaking her out. 

“Yeah,” she sighs, “Like boyfriend seems,”

And she looks like she’s found herself stuck in the same rut he had been in, moments prior. Knowing what she means, but unable to voice it.

“Limited,” he realises, after a moment of consideration for the way he feels just when he looks at her. “Casual, even.”

“Yes!” She agrees, lips twisting into an approving smile. “That’s exactly it! You’re so much more than my boyfriend, Nico.” 

“So much more,” he hums, leaning in to press his lips straight to hers, trying to memorise how the shape of her smile feels against in the hopes that he can use it if he ever gets that stressed again. Can remember how easy she makes it to wriggle one of these out of her, to make her eyes gleam like they hold all the love in the world in her irises. “Like your husband,” he speaks the words into her mouth like speaking them into existence, drinking up the sound of her laughter when she pushes him away with fingers to his chest.

“Don’t push your luck, baby."

He comes to the conclusion that he was probably moving a little too quick, or a little too reckless earlier that day. He had told himself as much, before the fact, constantly trying to pull himself back and follow Poppy’s lead on things, because she does make life easy in a way he can never comprehend.

How he got from pacing the floors of his apartment in a panicked, sweaty, discombobulated mess mere hours ago to laid beside her in his bed, heart lulled back into a steady, comfortable rhythm, he doesn’t know.

Only the steady rhythm doesn’t make it through the night. Not when she’s clearly mulling something over beside him.

He had thought at first she was thinking so loud he could hear her blink, but when he had looked over, she was turned the other way, and her breaths were coming out in long, slow drawls - similar to those of when she is sleeping, so he had drifted back off.

And then the tossing and turning started. Huffs and puffs and mmphs that she couldn’t seem to control. Facing him, facing away, facing up.

And then she was up, trudging over to the bathroom with slumped shoulders, spending a minute in there before returning to the bed, and plonking herself down in it with little care for how he might be asleep.

Not that he was.

“It’s 3am, Poppy, why aren’t you asleep?”

“Not tired,” she huffs, arms crossing over her chest.

“You’re always tired,” he chuckles, easing his hand into the crook of her elbow and tugging to uncross them. He pulls until she’s sinking closer to him on the mattress, but her body is stiff with tension, and he just wants to ease the load. “Growing my baby is exhausting, remember?” He tries his hand at humour, but she just sighs, shuffling to get comfortable. “Poppy, talk to me.”

“I want to move in with you.” She blurts out, and he feels like he’s going to get whiplash from the flurry of emotions that passes through him.

Relief, gratitude, happiness, confusion.

“That’s what’s keeping you awake?” He asks, like the concept of her sat worrying about that when he’s the one who asked her in the first place is crazy. All this huffing and puffing and interrupted sleep, for what?

“Well, yeah,” she drags out like it’s obvious at all, “Because you asked me and I said no.”

“I remember, I was there,” he chuckles. “Did you change your mind?”

“No.”

“I don’t understand.”

He really doesn’t.

“I didn’t say no because I didn’t want to, Nico,” she almost snaps, her voice tired and her tone direct.

“Poppy,” he levels, “It’s 3am.”

“What are you, talking clock? I know the time! I’ve been staring at it for the past like 4 hours.”

Nico lets out a heavy exhale, sitting up in bed and trying to meet her eyes in the dark. “Why did you say no?”

“I said no because I thought you only asked me because it was something convenient for us to do.” She pouts, “And I want you to want to live with me because you love me, not because your building is more secure.”

“I do love you,” he frowns, like his infatuation with her isn’t the most painstakingly tangible thing in the world. “And I want you to be safe, and to be happy,” 

“Are you in love with me?”

“Is that not what I literally just said?”

“You said you love me,”

“And that’s not the same thing?”

“I don’t know, is it?”

Jesus Christ, he curses to himself, refraining from once again pointing out the time.

Is this a pregnancy thing, he wonders? Losing your mind like this in the middle of the night? Is this what all those dreams have accumulated to? Is this his fault?

“If you’re asking me if all those times I told you that I loved you, did I mean I was in love with you, then yes. I thought that was obvious.”

He’s been in love with her way longer than he feels like he can communicate at such an absurd hour, but he’ll do it if he has to. If tomorrow when they both leave for the arena, he can slip that key he has stashed away onto her keychain and can move on with his day without the stresses of earlier.

“Oh.”

“Was it not obvious?”

“I don’t know.”

“Poppy,”

“What?”

“Do I have to lay it out for you?”

“I mean, only if you want to.”

“It’s 3am.” He reminds her, one last time.

“It’s never too early for declarations of love, Nico.” Her lips twist, and his gut does in response, amusement evident even in the darkened room, eyes glistening with mirth as they meet his.

“I just told you, Mohn, I’ve declared my love over and over.”

“Maybe you should do it again.”

“I’m in love with you, Poppy,”

“With feeling,” she encourages him, shuffling closer until their legs tangle in his favourite way.

“Even when you’re annoying and you won’t let us sleep.”

“Declarations of love can’t include the word annoying, baby.”

Maybe she’s right. How can he be annoyed when she’s calling him pet names and looking at him like that? He’s so in love with her that he’d do anything.

“I’m in love with the way you press your freakishly cold feet between my legs and send my whole body into shock every morning.” He starts, shuffling himself until they’re in his favourite position, facing each other, limbs tangled, her bump pressing into his own stomach, and her hands splayed on his chest. “And when you try to make me breakfast but you for some reason can’t touch a bagel without burning it, and I leave the house every morning smelling like burnt toast.”

“I’m trying my best, there’s a really fine line between them being done and over-done.”

“Whatever you say. I love you when you’re grumpy and hormonal, and you get really specifically annoyed and nothing I do is right but you won’t tell me that so you just huff and puff like a child.”

“I had every right to huff and puff. You asked me to move in with you because your building is safer. That’s not romantic, Nico.” And despite his earlier stress and anxiety, all he can do looking back now is laugh. He’d been so caught up in the mantra of Poppy doesn’t like grand gestures that he hadn’t taken his own words into account. “Is there anything good you love about me?”

“I’ve loved you from the day I met you, Poppy, there’s plenty of good.” And when she raises a brow, urging him to continue, he chuckles, deep and hearty and in a way that wracks through him in delight. “I love how you’re kind, and you’re funny, sometimes I even think of you and laugh,”

She frowns, and Nico can see the argumentative cogs turning in her head. “Well, that’s not-,”

“How you have something to say about everything, even the way I’m baring my soul to you.” He grabs gently at either side of her face, only just smushing her cheeks teasingly before releasing the pressure and holding her in place. “I love how you’ve given a new purpose to my life. How it’s not just me and my job anymore, it’s us and our family, and I never feel like any of this is out of my control. I want you to move in because you’re like home to me, Poppy. I want to wake up every morning I can next to you, I want to finish a long day and end it with you. I want to lay awake half way across the world and think of you in our bed, in our apartment, and know that you’re safe, and nothing can get you here.

“I don’t know how I ever pushed these feelings down for so long, Mohn, because they consume me now. I’ll never get enough of you, of your pretty smile, or that really dorky, snorty laugh you do when you’re tired, or how you always put too much sugar in my coffee and now every time I taste something sweet I think of you.”

The smile she’s giving him might be his favourite, teary eyed and so wide he thinks it must ache in her cheeks. Her lips tremble slightly and her fingertips dig deliciously into his chest. 

“The thought of you being the mother of my child, of her having that dorky laugh, and your pretty sparkly eyes, and me never getting a second of peace between the two of you talking back to me, I feel like the luckiest guy in the entire world. Is that enough feeling for you?”

“Just about.” She whispers, leaning up to press her lips straight to his, cautious not to get too lost in it before he utters his response straight into her mouth.

“Great. Your turn.”

“It’s 3am, Nico,” she scoffs, rolling her eyes, playfully. “I love you too, Jeez, are you ever gonna let me sleep?”

“Are you in love with me?”

“I’m so in love with you, that if I weren’t already pregnant right now,” her voice is deeper as she moves closer to him, lips edging toward his ear until they press at the skin just below on his neck, whispering her next words, teasingly. “I’d so let you put a baby in me.”

Nico’s so relieved he doesn’t have neighbours he could possibly wake up with the laugh that comes out of him. A loud exclamation of joy that shines straight back to him through Poppy, a wide grin and shaking shoulders as she giggles back at him.

“That’s an outrageous thing to say considering we’ve only been together officially for,” he checks his watch over her shoulder, “Like 8 hours.”

“Yeah, well,” she shrugs, offering a wink he’s thankful to catch, “When you know, you know.”

“You’re crazy.”

“Ask me again.”

“Will you move in with me, Poppy?”

“Yes.”

Moving Poppy into his apartment - their apartment - had been easier than Nico could have ever hoped. 

She had parted ways a little too easy with most of her furniture, under the sneaky compromise that keeping his stuff and moving into his building, meant that she was owed more closet space as some form of compensation. 

And Nico had figured that it was only a small sacrifice compared to what she was doing - giving up the last remaining scraps of her independence and leaving behind the beautiful home she had built for herself. The home where their relationship had began to flourish. The apartment where the wheels had been set in motion all those months ago for their baby girl to be brought into existence.

He’s sort of thankful her lease situation isn’t entirely sorted yet, with her moving out but still paying the rent until they can figure out what to do with all the stuff she’s leaving behind. Even he isn’t quite ready to say a proper goodbye.

But that’s a problem for when they get back at the end of summer.

A problem for him, at least, because he knows he won’t want her stressing about any of the technicalities at that point. 

It makes him less anxious to leave her, knowing she’s safe in their shared space, and has the benefits of Lionel being downstairs if she needs someone. 

Knowing that his initial worries for her safety ended up, thankfully, being an overreaction, entirely, after Nicole had posted her picture of the group to her public instagram, and the gossipers online had taken that as all the confirmation they needed and swiftly moved on.

Knowing that Poppy’s fully moved in, and they’ve had the luxury of properly co-existing, back in their perfect little bubble for just over a week before he has to leave.

Just over a week of shared mornings, stretched out to the fullest capacity, sometimes even into the early afternoon, the two of them only leaving bed for food and bathroom breaks. 

Late afternoons, when Poppy gets home from work, and curls up with Nico on the couch, him getting more comfortable cooking for her when she ends up falling asleep melted into the cushions, and wakes when her senses kick in and she can smell food being made without her. 

Evenings sat cross-legged on the floor, mapping out an idea for the nursery that will be going into Nico’s mostly-unused home office. Making the travel plans for Poppy to fly out and meet him once all her work back in Jersey is wrapped up, and his work with the national team is over. 

And nights spend curled up under the sheets, Nico promising to show her all the parts of his world that he’s been telling her about all these years.

It’s a life Nico gets a little too lost in, and before he knows it, before he can grasp just how much he loves what they’ve built here, already, it’s time to say goodbye to Poppy.

He tries to drag it out as much as he can.

He sets an earlier alarm, despite her grumbling protests, just so he can spend another 15 minutes with her in his arms.

He drives them both to the airport for her to drive back, spare hand holding hers over the centre console and squeezing in patterns of three every time they hit a red light. 

And he had followed Poppy’s advice, begrudgingly, arriving at the airport with plenty of time to spare, which meant he could take that little longer saying his goodbyes before he really had to go.

Goodbyes that Poppy made harder than he ever thought they could be.

“And I left my shampoo for you to use,” he mumbles into lips that continue to chase his, back starting to ache a little from leaning over the middle of the car but he couldn’t really care less.

“And if I run your water bill up high enough, would you come home to me to investigate?”

“Well, when you make it sound so tempting,” he kisses her, this time, before muttering, “Poppy, you’ve got to let me go.”

“But I just got you,” she pouts, chasing another kiss, “I don’t think we’ve done enough to catch up for all that time we wasted, I think we need to try out your backseat again, one more time for good measure. I promise you can leave straight after, no funny comments from me about it.”

“As nice as that sounds,” he chuckles, “Airport security scares me, I’m not getting into trouble with those guys because my girl is insatiable.”

“You’re boring,” she frowns.

“It’s 4 weeks.”

“That’s so long,” she huffs, still holding onto the front of his shirt.

“I know,” he kisses her again. "But then we have all summer together,” and again, “and by the time we get back here, we’re gonna be getting ready for baby girl to come,” and one more time for good measure. “Just 4 weeks. Maybe not even that,”

“4 weeks. My man has a medal to win.”

His chest swells at the thought of it, and he smiles, in a way that feels like might never fade. “That reminds me,” he jolts, reaching into his pocket for what he had stashed in there when clearing out his locker back at the arena the other week. He zips down the inner compartment and pulls out something that makes her gasp.

“You kept it?” She reaches out, taking the bracelet into a gentle gasp and looking at it with eyes that shine brighter than the jewels bezelled into it. 

“Of course I did,” he smirks as he takes it back to clasp it around her wrist, looking up into her eyes with a sly smirk spreading across his lips, “it was really fucking expensive.”

She swats hard at his chest, trying so hard to suppress an aching grin from taking over her pretty features. “Promise me you’ll look after yourself?”

“Of course, I have precious cargo,” she smiles, hand cradling the bottom of her growing belly, where his reaches out to join, settling his softened gaze on the roundness of it before looking back up at her. 

“You’re precious too, Mohn.” He whispers, and he can’t help himself, kissing her one final, passionate time before pressing his forehead to hers, closing his eyes and breathing her in as much as he can before he leaves. “I’ll see you soon.”

“I love you, Nico,” she whispers, words meant just for him, just to settle the growing ache in his bones that won’t be relieved until they’re reunited. 

“I love you too, Poppy.”

Poppy

Poppy has always loved having a space of her own. Ever since moving into her apartment, after having lived with Nia through college and a a little while after, she has relished having a place that is exclusively hers - where she doesn’t have to share responsibilities, doesn’t have to lay down boundaries, or protect what is hers, because everything is hers.

Her comfy Facebook Marketplace couch, that she had found for a steal and her and Nico - mostly Nico - had lugged all the way up to her apartment not long after she had moved in, and holds an abundance of memories, especially lately, that warm Poppy to her very core. Memories of being cuddled up with him, large hands rubbing soothing circles into her belly to try rouse any sort of premature movement in there, while he distracted her entirely from the Harry Potter movies he was supposed to be getting her invested in.

Her big cosy bed, with mountains of pillows Nico constantly grumbles at having to remove when he stays over, cloud-like heaps of blankets that she has to trap him in so that his legs stay under, and she can wrap hers around them before he manages to stick them out in the cold. 

Shelves lined with keepsakes and trinkets - which now includes little framed scan photos, a small pregnancy memory journal sent over by Nico’s mom, where the two of them have been writing little daily messages to their baby girl for her to read one day when she’s older.

And she always thought that when it came to sharing her space, when it came to being in a relationship with someone, progressing to the point of living together, and having a home be theirs and not hers, she’d have wanted it to be somewhere that had been hers, first.

She never thought she would leave her apartment, never thought she’d haul her belongings a few blocks over, give up her couch, her bed, all the random pieces of furniture she had sourced over the years, pack up her trinkets and say goodbye to the last scrap of independence she would ever have with an all-too-ecstatic wave and immerse herself so wholeheartedly into someone else’s home.

But Nico had made it easy. He makes everything easy, Poppy has very quickly realised.

It’s all he has done since they found out she was pregnant. 

Any fears of feeling like an intruder never even had the chance to materialise in her thoughts before he was calling his place theirs, referencing their home like it had always been that way, like she was always destined to be a part of his life, like there’s more to that word for him than walls and belongings. 

He had told her as much all those weeks ago, wrapped up in his sheets in the early hours of the morning, when he had told her that she was like home to him. And she had thought the same - she still thinks the same, but being here without him, she still feels it, despite him being so far away for so long.

She doesn’t feel like a house-sitter, or something temporary.

She feels it in her new routine, in figuring out his appliances, in adjusting his thermostat and shower temperatures to her liking, in replacing some of the books on his shelves he most definitely has never read with her books, her trinkets, her pictures. Their pictures. 

It has become a stark contrast to all those months ago, when she had walked into this space with heavy feet, the weight of the world on her shoulders and the fear of rejection weighing on her heart - when she had taken note of the lack of warmth, or the personality she knew all too well. 

His kitchen shelves are now lined with books of recipes she can’t wait to cook for him when they are co-existing - when summer is over, and their baby is here, and their lives have officially begun. 

She tells him as much when he calls every night, usually when she’s making dinner, and he utters the same sentiments, his features softening into that dopey smile she loves so much when he comments about missing her cooking. He’s usually propped up against the utensil pot, watching intently as she flits around their kitchen, the drawers now memorised so she no longer has to ask him where a tin opener might be, and every time she looks over, he has this far away look in his eyes like he’s watching back a dream.

His call had come a little earlier, today, after she had sent over a voice note she had taken for him at her routine scan. It had been just long enough for him to listen to it before the tell-tale FaceTime ringtone had rung out from her pocket, just as she had been hauling her groceries down the hall to finally make it home after a long day at work.

“Did you send that by accident or is it a distress signal?”

Poppy smiles down at her phone as she makes it through the front door, heading straight for the kitchen and putting the bag of groceries on the counter.

“That’s out daughter’s heartbeat,” she chuckles, admiring the way he leans down onto whatever table he has her propped up on, heart thudding as she realises he’s still out in public, despite it being late where he is, not even able to wait until he gets back to the privacy of his room like normal to call her. “Strongest one this side of the Hudson, so I’ve been told.”

“Oh really?” He rests on his forearms and uses them to support his chin, his smile tired and exhaustion seemingly creeping into his bones. It’s been almost 3 weeks now since they have seen each other, and every night Poppy sees a difference in him - focus increased and motivation teetering. There isn’t long left, though, until she leaves Jersey. Until she heads straight for him and they finally get some time together with no other responsibilities than to be with each other. “You get any pictures?”

“Whoa, kinky,” she smirks when she sees him roll his eyes, heat creeping onto his cheeks, and she huffs out a slight sigh of disappointment when he runs a hand through his hair, and she can see the ear buds carrying her voice to him. She’d only slightly been hoping to embarrass him in public. She deserves the little pleasures, she thinks.

“Of our baby, Poppy,” he huffs, his annoyance entirely forced and the way she charms him evident in the glint in his eyes, even through a phone screen.

“Duh,” she rolls her eyes as her fingers swipe through her phone, looking for the pictures she already had primed to send over to him. 

“If you have any other pictures though, you can send them through. I'll be back in my room in 10 minutes.”

“Nice try,” she scoffs, waiting for the blue line to run the whole way across her screen as the pictures and videos start sending. “That second video, when she turns a little, you can see she has your nose, it’s so cute,” she sighs, dreamily, as she settles the phone back onto the counter, leaning down to watch his reactions as he receives them. She can feel warmth spread through her chest as she takes in the movement of his eyes, flickering across all there is to take in from the latest scan - the tiny developments since the last one, especially considering she had opted for the 3D scan despite how much she thought it might freak her out.

Seeing her baby girl all curled up, tiny hands supposedly waving, little features scrunched up in a mirror image of the man Poppy loves the most in the world - it had really set her emotions off that morning. She had to sit in her car for a good 20 minutes before work, sobbing into a snotty tissue and cursing the time difference for the fact that Nico was probably asleep, not wanting to disturb him just to call and worry him. 

“I think she looks like you,” he mutters, entirely hypnotised by the videos, lips stretched into a soft smile, dimples pushing into his cheeks, emphasising the fresh gash below his eye that she has actively been trying not to look too much at. “She’s so beautiful. Did you get copies?”

“Yeah, I’m gonna put them straight into my carry on so I don’t forget to bring them over. Got a copy for your mom, too.”

“She’ll love the nose thing.”

“It’s a cute nose,” Poppy hums, “A strong one, too, swear she’s like a sniffer dog in there, I’ve been craving mac and cheese all day since she smelled someone else’s lunch yesterday. Had to go buy a grater just so I can make some from scratch.”

“I don’t have a cheese grater?”

“Not that I could find,” Poppy frowns, having searched high and low in every cupboard and drawer when she got home last night, “Although neither of us should be surprised, Nico, you don’t even have a full set of pans,”

“Why would I need a full set? I only ever use one at a time.”

“You’re giving yourself too much credit, baby, we both know you live off of meal prep delivery.” She jokes, and he shakes his head in silent denial. “But don’t worry,” she picks her phone up and switches the camera to show him the pan set she had brought home with her yesterday, “I’m here to improve your life one pot at a time.”

“Is that how you’re spending your evening?” He asks, “Stocking our kitchen with new stuff?”

“That’s the plan for tomorrow, actually,” she smiles, picturing all the shopping she can do as she starts unpacking all the ingredients for her dinner, “My dad said he found a bunch of old baby clothes in their garage, he had a meeting this way today and is gonna bring them over for me to look at tonight.”

“Your baby clothes?”

“Yeah, I’m hoping, you should see the way they dressed OlI when he was a baby, like half of his genetic structure was colour-block Gymboree.”

“I have no idea what that means,” he frowns, adorably, eyes gleaming still with the beginnings of a fond smile.

“Trust me, you don’t want to, he looks like a clown in all his baby photos. Hideous.” She shudders as she focuses her attention back on the phone, catching a glimpse of Nico stifling a yawn and checking the time. He isn't usually out of his room at this time, usually getting settled in for the night, lounging in his bed so he gets to say goodnight to her. She doesn’t really want to keep him if he’s tired. “He should be here soon, so I’ll let you go get your beauty sleep.”

“Yeah, I need all the help I can get,” he chuckles, a finger wagging toward the cut on his cheek with a tired smile. “Text me before you sleep, so I can wake up to it?” She nods. “Love you, Poppy,” The casual manner in which he utters the words does little to quell the excitement they arouse.

“Love you too, Nico.”

Poppy feels lighter than air as she pads around the apartment after their call has ended, unpacking her groceries into the refrigerator, keeping out what she needs so that she can start cooking up her dinner - her grandmother’s mac and cheese, the secrets of her recipe finally bestowed upon her now that she has someone to make it for - her phone hooked up to his speaker system, filling the space with her favourite music in a way that already makes it feel like she has been there forever. 

She cuts up her cauliflower and puts it in a pan to steam before she gets to work making her sauce, grating an almost excessive amount of cheese and giving herself an almighty ache in her arm.

It isn’t too long before she gets a message from Lionel - him now texting her to alert her of any visitors coming up, the familiarity ironing out that last crease of imposter syndrome where she had feared she might have to run is by Nico, his concierge now treating her like a proper resident.

So when the knock at the door comes, she practically skips over, a giant smile pushing at her cheeks as she reaches to open it, only for it to drop at who’s on the other side. 

“Don’t look too excited to see me, Honey,” Poppy’s mom rolls her eyes as she pushes past her, trailing two large holdalls behind her as she steps into Nico’s apartment, dropping them just past the door before she stretches her arms dramatically. 

Poppy cranes her neck out of the open door to look for any sign of her dad, any sign of a buffer or safety net to fall into, because there’s no way in hell she’s going to have to suffer her mom’s presence on her own, right now. 

“Is dad bringing more bags up here, or something?”

“No, he got held up with a working dinner, I said I’d bring this stuff over.”

She watches her mother as she slowly steps further into the apartment, casting a judgemental eye around in a way that immediately gets Poppy’s back up, feeling protective of the space already, hesitant to close the door in an attempt to give the negative energy a way out.

She can’t keep it open forever, though, not when her mom seemingly has no plans to leave.

“Is that grandma’s mac and cheese?” She asks as she enters the kitchen, lifting the lid on the pot of steaming cauliflower.

“Yeah, she finally gave me the recipe for the sauce, and I’ve been craving it all week.”

“You’ll need to take that off the heat, soon, or it will be like mush at the bottom.”

Poppy’s eyes roll by instinct as she lets out a huff, stomping toward where her mother is stood and flicking the switch for the burners. “I know what I’m doing, I literally have a step-by-step,”

“You don’t have to turn everything into an argument, Poppy, I was just saying.” She steps away from the stove, narrowing her eyes at her daughter. “God forbid I try to help you.”

“You’re not trying to help, Mom, you’re hovering,” she scoffs, “Like you literally came over just to judge.”

“You’re so dramatic,” she scoffs, “I’m hardly judging, I’ve said one thing.”

Poppy bites her tongue from retorting, one thing too many, but something starts bubbling inside her, too strong for her to swallow down, this time.

She thinks it might be Nico’s doing, this new instinct to defend herself - defend herself to her mother, at least, because God knows she has no troubles doing it with anyone else. She had always thought she had a handle on her, could control herself, could throw quick jabs back to lessen the blow of scrutiny and shame that’s usually sent her way by her mother, but hearing how Nico had stood up to her dad, she realises she’s just been masking a problem this entire time. She’s never really stood up to her, never really let her know all the ways in which she’s been hurt by her mom’s judgements over the years, too scared to stick around for what might be the final blow, too scared of the impact, or that neither of them may ever recover from it. 

But it has to be better than this - than the constant holding of her breath in anticipation of it coming. It isn’t doing either of them any favours. There’s only so far her sarcasm will get her, now. 

“I swear you hate that I don’t rely on you,” she says, softly - not through trepidation or doubt, but because she doesn’t want this space to be one where voices are raised, where tears are brought to her eyes and lumps to her throat. “I’ve lived on my own for years, cooked for myself every day almost, and it’s like you can’t even fathom for a second I might not need or want your help.”

“I’m not arguing with you over macaroni, Poppy.”

“This isn’t about macaroni, it’s about you having an incessant need to make me feel like crap. It’s like you can’t stand that I can do things on my own.”

“Maybe I can’t.”

Well, there it is.

Poppy hadn’t been expecting it to take her aback quite like this, breath held, shoulders tensed, mouth agape. There’s a shrill, nagging voice that harps, I told you so, in her head, but it does little to help. She hadn’t really wanted to be right.

If she’s entirely honest, she wanted her mom to shut her down, again. To tell her she’s being stupid, to tell her she’s proud of her independence, and is just being catty because that’s who she is. That’s who she’s always been. 

“What?”

“Maybe you’re right. Maybe I can’t stand the way you behave. Maybe I loathe it,”

Her hand falls almost by instinct to cradle the curve of her bump, like she’s trying to lessen the impact, to not let the hurt she feels seep all the way to where her baby girl lays in her belly, peaceful and darling and blissfully unaware of the pain that can be inflicted by a mother’s sharp tongue.

“Maybe I wish for once in your life you’d be serious, and think about things before you just dive headfirst into situations you have no business being in. And subjecting a baby to them, nonetheless. God, Poppy, I’ve always known you to be impulsive but this,” her mother’s hand flops almost dismissively her way, hard eyes set straight on her stomach before twirling on the spot and gesturing around them, “And all this, you think you’re being independent? You’re being careless and selfish.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Not raising her voice goes straight out the window, “First of all I’m irresponsible for not living with Nico, and now I’ve moved in with him, I’m careless? Nothing I do will ever be enough for you, will it?”

“It’s not about me,”

“Yeah, right,”

“This is about your baby,”

“Don’t act like you care about my baby,” Poppy scoffs, “She’s not just another thing you can try to control. You don’t always know what’s best, Mom, and I don’t want my daughter feeling the way I feel around you, it isn’t good for any of us, so I’m gonna ask you one more time to stop.”

“Stop what? Trying to help you-,"

“You’re not helping! I don’t know how many more times I can say it! I don’t understand how I can try my best to get everything right and you just pick out all the flaws!” Here come the tears in her eyes, and the lump in her throat, too.

Of course it would have been her mother to burst her happy bubble, yet again.

“Because somebody has to open your eyes to the fact that this isn’t the dream you think it is, Poppy! Pregnancy, being a mother, it isn’t all sunshine and rainbows and handsome boyfriends who move you into their fancy apartments and promise you the world-,”

“Oh, here we go again,” Poppy fires back, “What is it then? I gave you lopsided breasts and thin hair so now you get to ruin my life?”

“Not you-,”

“Right, like you’d ever give golden boy Oliver this kind of grief,”

“Your sister.”

Poppy can feel a rush of blood to the head.

Her what?

She knows deep in her heart her mother would never do crack, but maybe she picked up something else at one of her luncheons. Maybe she accidentally stumbled into one of those botox parties and they injected a little too deep into her forehead. 

No, Poppy thinks, she can see frown lines, still.

“Her name was Primrose. Rosie. She was my first.”

There’s a steady, softer tone to her mom’s voice that Poppy hasn’t heard in years. An undertone of reminiscence and longing. Of love.

Her feet carry her by instinct, rounding past her mother and heading for the couch, patting the space beside her and meeting her mother’s eyes with a somewhat solemn gaze.

“She was from a relationship I had before your father and I got together. I was nineteen, and in college, and I had all these great things lined up for my future. I had this concrete plan, and there was nothing in the world that was gonna take me away from it. Build a career, build something for myself, and then start a family. But then I met a boy.”

It isn’t exactly how things had worked out for Poppy, but the outline seems the same. Career focused, strong minded, independent, and then, bam! Nico.

“His name was Charlie, he was an aspiring chef, working a bunch of jobs to get him through culinary school, he was a real grafter, that’s what your grandpa used to say. He was so charming, made me feel like the whole world revolved around me.” She smiles wistfully as she looks back on that time in her life, a softness to her that Poppy doesn’t quite recognise. One that’s already bringing those tears straight back to her eyes and that lump straight back to her throat. 

Charming, made her feel like the world revolved around her. Yeah, that’s a familiar outline, alright. 

“And you know how your grandparents are, they encouraged it, if anything. Grandma is always drawn in by the dreamers, she used to tell me all the time how good he was for me.”

The lump intensifies, her blood running cold at all the possibilities of where this could go.

“Everything was so perfect, until it wasn’t.”

He better not have hurt her, she thinks. She doesn’t care how old he may be now, or how pregnant is. She’ll find Chef Charlie and beat him black and blue.

“Rosie had Downs Syndrome, we found out around half way through the pregnancy.”

For as long as Poppy has been alive, her mother has worked with the Downs Syndrome Association, hosting galas and fundraising events every year - helping raise money through sponsorships to assist with education, and to support those affected as well as their families. It’s the one thing she’s always loved doing with her - seeing her so passionate and focused. And now she’s cursing herself for never wondering why - always taking that devotion to the cause and paying too much attention to her brother’s mouth in her ear, telling her not to look a gift horse in the mouth, not to question why her mom only ever lit up in that environment.

“That’s why you run the benefit.” It’s not really a question, at this point. A realisation, more than anything, the weight of it settling into her spine.

“It makes me feel closer to her.”

“What happened?”

“Charlie, he had all these plans for what our life was gonna be after he found out I was pregnant. He was going to work his way up in a restaurant, was gonna do everything he could to support us and build something for the three of us that was more than what he had growing up. My parents offered to support, but he was so set on being the provider. He made everything seem so perfect and so easy.”

Easy, like Nico, Poppy thinks. She had the same sentiment about him, earlier.

“Having a kid with special needs didn’t fit into this version of life he wanted to live, so he bowed out the first chance he got. I made it to 32 weeks on my own before she-,”

Of all the things she can say about her mom, Poppy doesn’t think she’s ever seen her choked up like this. It makes her blood run cold.

“After 28 weeks, a miscarriage is considered a stillbirth, you have to physically give birth, there isn’t another way, so they induce labour, and I didn’t want to take any time to think about it so I had them do it as soon as I found out. Your grandparents were on a cruise off the coast of Greece, and Charlie was nowhere to be found. I had to deliver a baby I knew was already gone, on my own, with nobody to hold my hand.”

Poppy takes a hold of it immediately, as if clasping her fingers around her mother’s now will make up for having no one around to do it back then, when she needed it the most.

“She was so beautiful, Poppy. She had this little button nose, she looked so delicate I didn’t want to touch her too much when they let me hold her, she was so tiny and fragile.”

Her scan earlier in the day had been 3D, a multidimensional view of her little girl’s features, little nose, pouty lips, tiny hands. To think about the size of her in context, around the size of a mango or a large tomato, she can’t fathom what it would be like to hold her in her hands. Despite only being 19 weeks along, the thought of it makes her heart thud rampant and uneasily in her chest.

“I had all these ideas of what she could do, and what she would be, and I never let go of those, even when she was diagnosed. I had prepared myself for what life with a special needs child could be, I’d read all the books, I’d gone to a support group at the local community centre, and I’d dreamed up this great life for her. And we just never got to live it. No amount of therapy of counselling can ever erase that version of your life from your head.”

Poppy thinks about all the dreams she has for her little girl, all the ideas she already has of what she might be, might look like, might act like. To never get to see that would break her entirely.

“Your dad helped me through it after. I knew him since we were younger, always knew he was an option, but he was safe, and I always pushed him to the side. But after Rosie, after Charlie, I didn’t really want to be a dreamer anymore, didn’t want to think up these idealistic scenarios that would never come to be. Going down my own path, with Charlie, with all of it, it took me somewhere too dark to ever fathom a way out. And then your father became my light.”

Her parents have never been the lovey-dovey kind of parents, the ones that would make their children yuck with PDA or sentimentality, but they’ve always been solid. Always on the same page, always showing up for each other.

She's always thought her mom was the backbone of the two. Her father is strong, that has never been in question, but her mother has always seemed unwavering in her resilience for life in a way her dad doesn't measure up.

“Getting through my pregnancy with Oli was the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do, but he was so easy. I never really got sick, all his scans were clear, his heartbeat strong, he moved all the time. His delivery was so quick it was like I sneezed him out.” That same wistful smile returns to her lips, and Poppy can feel the but coming a mile off, can sense her defences building back up at the impending jab, at the certain comparison where Oli always comes out on top. “And then you came.”

The you sounds more defeated than pointed. The smile drops, but not entirely, and tears begin to well in her mom’s eyes again.

“You never wanted to be where the doctor wanted you to be, you kept your legs crossed for so long every time we thought we were going in to find out your gender, we’d leave disappointed, and your dad ended up deciding we should just leave it until you were born to find out. Not do the extra tests. Let the cards fall where they may. You didn’t move that often, and I was always anxious something was happening to you.”

Cheeto’s been moving more, lately. Within the last couple of weeks, Poppy has started to feel it. Routinely, in fact, so she can’t imagine what it would be like to go days without it, now. She’d be the same, worrying all the time, thinking something was wrong - and that’s without ever having experienced any problems before. Having a previous loss looming over her head must have driven her mother crazy.

“It wasn’t until you came out after 12 hours, where they had to manually reposition you at one point when you were breached, and just as they decided they might cut me open, you started crowning. After all that trauma, you came out and you were a girl, and your dad was so happy, but I-,” Poppy sort of knows this part. Her father had been praying for a girl, had celebrated as if the Giants had won the Super Bowl. And all she knows of her mom is what she’s told her in the plainest words. She had pretty bad postnatal depression after Poppy was born. She was pretty much nursed by nannies, and Poppy had always just assumed that’s where the rift stemmed from. “I just remember sobbing. Your dad bonded with you straight away, but every time I looked at you, I thought of her. Of Rosie. They tried putting me on medication but it never really took this feeling away that something was off, and, looking back, when I found out I was having another daughter, I think I projected a lot of what I wanted for Rosie onto you. I was always planning to be her caretaker for as long as it took, so I probably tried to control you a little more than I did Oliver. And I understand that’s unfair, but bringing a girl into this world is more difficult. You have this responsibility to prepare her for the weight of it.”

Prepare her, control her, be her caretaker. She supposes they all link. It makes sense, trying to stamp this life she had dreamed up on Poppy because she never got to do it with her sister. She never stood a chance to try forge her own path, not really. Small failures in her mother’s care after that initial loss set the foundations for the rest of Poppy’s life - an ignorance to the pain she was struggling with, and belittling of her grief, resulted in someone clinging so desperately to her own control that she flattened her daughter with it. 

“No one ever prepared me, Poppy. I love your grandparents, but they didn’t set me up to handle what I went through. And despite everything that I tried to warn you of, despite everything I tried to mould you to be, all the ways I tried to protect you, all you ever wanted to do was defy me. All the time. All the way down to those scars on your knees from not wearing the pads on your bike.” Priscilla’s hand gestures to where Poppy’s legs rest between them, a reminiscent scoff falling from her lips. “I tried so hard to shield you from a life you just wanted to dive headfirst into, no helmet or anything. You never listened, you wouldn’t make a plan for your future, you attend a college doing a degree for something that isn’t a guaranteed career path. In fact, you deny having your hand held down a guaranteed path when your father offered you all those jobs. You move into a city on your own, into a high crime neighbourhood, into a job surrounded by boisterous men, and somehow you hold your own.”

There’s an underlying sense of pride that Poppy can feel now - for all the ways her mom wants to paint these things as faults or inconveniences, she also sees them as strengths.

Maybe a part of her has all a long. A version of herself from before life came at her full force, a version of her clinging to whatever surface she can find to hold on and prevail.

“And you fall in love with one of them, with a boy who isn’t safe. Who knocks on your door out of nowhere one day, and you tell me he’s there to whisk you away, and it takes me straight back to being nineteen again, to having a man who, despite making me feel like it revolved around me, turned my world upside down. So maybe I can’t stand to see you making the same mistakes, knowing what kind of pain it can cause.”

Poppy remembers the day her mom had met Nico for the first time. They had been getting ready for one of the fundraisers for the Downs Syndrome Association - her mom on edge all day, micromanaging everything Poppy did, and she had answered a knock at the door to see Nico on the other side. Her dislike of him had been brewing even before then. It isn’t even Nico she dislikes. It’s everything that he represents, crashing into her life at a time that things were resurfacing. It all makes sense, now. “That’s why you got so hell-bent on setting me up?”

“Nico seems like a good enough man, Poppy,” She doesn’t know the half of it, Poppy thinks. “And I see that he makes you happy, I’m not blind to what the two of you have, or have had for a while now. But his life, his career, it’s not a sure thing. He has a lot of pressure outside of your relationship, and he might not be the best bet for when things go wrong. I just wanted you to have something more stable.”

Poppy lets the words linger for a minute. To dwell on the situation as a whole - a lifetime of anguish between the two of them, and finally she knows the cause. 

She really wishes she could have a drink right about now. It would probably ease the tension a whole lot more, sharing a bottle of wine with her mom to really break bread. 

But the more she thinks, the more she’s sure of her response to all of it.

“I’d bet on him.”

There’s no use in telling her mom she’s sorry for what she went through. She hopes her presence is enough of an indication of that - that she’d never want to even think of her mother dealing with that kind of grief, alone. 25 years of control isn’t going to be resolved with one conversation, she knows that - knows her mom knows it, too. And it doesn’t entirely explain a lot of her other behaviours, either, so it probably isn’t going to be the only heart to heart they have. But all she can now do is explain herself. Tell her side of the story she’s trying to write for herself and hope her mom ends up too invested in the ending to close the book completely.

“I’d bet everything I have that he won’t let me down. And you might think that’s shortsighted, or naive, but I need it to be enough for you. What Nico and I have, it started off impulsive, and a little chaotic, and messy, but I promise you, it’s stable. We’ve both put a lot of work into what we have to make it safe, I really need you to trust me on that.” 

And Poppy isn’t saying it for argument’s sake. She isn’t trying to defend something she isn’t sure on, herself. Nico would never leave her when things get hard, he’s proven as much to her already. He’s taken the baby steps, he’s integrated her entirely into his life, into his family, into his home - and even disregarding all that, it isn’t in his character. He’s loyal, and supportive, and honest. He won’t let her down.

“I may be a little hard-headed, and defiant, and stubborn when it comes to what you want for me, Mom, but I would never be reckless when it comes to what’s best for my baby.”

“I understand what you’re saying, Poppy, but I thought Charlie was the best-,”

“Nico isn’t Charlie.”

She feels a little harsh to say it, but it’s the truth. Her mom can’t hold her own misfortunes over Poppy for the rest of her life, it isn’t fair.

“And as much as you might think I’m not prepared enough to come to that conclusion, that I don’t know until something happens, I know him. And I know myself. I’ve spent years trying to push these feelings that I have down and it’s done nothing but hurt me. If you gave him a chance, you’d have seen it for yourself, he doesn’t give up, not for anything.”

There’s another prolonged silence as her mom mulls on her thoughts, and Poppy can practically see the transition of emotions pass through her. Hesitation, doubt, confusion, deliberation, and then finally, acceptance. 

“Maybe when the two of you get back from your time in Europe, we can put that to the test.”

Poppy can feel her face drop, mouth agape, eyes widened, brows raised, but she can’t find it in her to care how dramatic she might look. Her mother, who would rather have her hands hammered or swallow nails than admit she may have been wrong, is willing to give her a real shot to prove herself to her.

“You’ll really give him a chance?”

“Let’s not be rash. Baby steps, darling,” her mom rolls her eyes playfully.

Poppy can’t quite believe the serendipity of the situation.

It had been in this exact spot, in this exact apartment, that those words had been uttered to her those few months ago. Hands held between her and Nico, and a promising glint in his eyes and certainty to his tone. 

And she feels the same optimism that she had back then.

She feels her face break out into an almost aching grin, tears welling at her eyes as she leans in to hug her mom, feeling the gentle rub of maternal comfort ease into her spine. 

She invites her mom to stay for dinner, the two of them working in tandem to make her grandmother’s mac and cheese, Poppy actually accepting her mother’s helping hand, and they eat together while Poppy catches her up on all the latest with her scans and tests, and all the ever developing symptoms of her pregnancy.

And as she burrows herself into her and Nico’s bed later in the night, body swallowed in sheets that smell of his detergent, surrounded by everything that reminds her of him, she just feels warm all over.

She thinks to herself that maybe this place is magic. Maybe he’s magic, healing a lifelong rift between her and her mother from over 4,000 miles away. 

And there’s no maybe about the fact that she can see forever with him. 

That, she’s sure of.

Poppy has never had any issues when it comes to flying. 

Having being fortunate enough to have vacationed with her family every year up until she turned 16, and her parents stopped inviting her, she’s never been bothered by planes or airports or travel.

In fact, she quite likes the whole process. Packing everything meticulously into little cubes, organising those into co-ordinated cases pulled at either side of her body as she ambles through the terminal, mooching around the shops for little trinkets and stocking up on copious amounts of candy. Lounging around her gate until it’s time to board and settling it in, ears cushioned by thick headphones and a nice mellow playlist to calm the chaos of her day so far, or to set the mood for the flight ahead. She likes watching in-flight movies, even likes the gross in-flight meals, always food she’d never dream in a million years of eating outside of whatever tin can she’s residing in for the next few hours. She doesn’t even mind turbulence.

But she hasn’t travelled such a long distance in a few years.

And she has never done so whilst pregnant.

All the glamour of travelling overseas, along with all the small pleasures she has found over the years, is quickly outweighed by the fact she now has to wear compression socks. Now has to keep drinking water throughout the day, which means she has to keep peeing, keep walking around despite the muscles at the bottom of her back begging her to sit back down. 

And she had thought in the days leading up to her flight that she had been keeping a brave face on her daily calls with Nico, not letting her stress about the whole thing impact his mood, or his focus leading up to semifinals of the world championship, but she’s never been so thankful for someone’s stubborn perception than when she had opened her door the night before her flight to see his sister stood on the other side of it.

“Nina?” She asks, dumbfounded, before slender arms are thrown around her, rubbing gently at her back as she sways a little into the cuddle.

“Hey, travel buddy!”

“What’s going on, what are you doing here?” Poppy asks as she welcomes her in, heart jumping erratically at the sight of her. Nina was supposed to meet her on the other side of her flight, being her ride from the airport to the hotel while Nico would be in training, and she kind of feels like her nerves have manifested her into the apartment like some sort of thirst-induced mirage. 

“Nico was getting all antsy at the thought of you travelling alone, so I’m supposed to say we decided as a family for one of us to come out and travel with you, but the truth is I may or may not have been bribed.”

“What did he bribe you with?”

“Said you’d name your daughter after whoever came.” She smiles victoriously as she makes her way through the apartment with ease, throwing herself onto the couch, just beside where Poppy has two big open cases splayed out on the floor, almost fully packed. “I had to literally pull my mom out of a cab to beat her to the airport.”

“Sounds just like the kind of Hischier family dynamics I was promised, to be fair,” Poppy chuckles, joining her in the living room and perching herself on the floor beside her cases, carrying on with her previous task of organising that she had been preoccupied with before the mysterious knock at the door. “You’re just in time actually, I was about to order some food, I’ve cleared out the refrigerator so you can take your pic of what we get if you want!”

Nia had been around earlier in the afternoon, and had helped Poppy prep the apartment to be left empty for a few months, which included clearing out all the perishable food and hauling it down to the waste disposal  room because the bag wouldn’t fit down the chute, and neither of them wanted to be held responsible for clogging it up for the whole building. She had helped her figure out what to pack, as well as bring over some travel essentials she had picked up from CVS, creating a little kit for Poppy to take on the plane with her.

Face mist, hand sanitiser, an eye mask, ear plugs and intensive lip balm - a lifesaver considering the amount Poppy has been nervously chewing on her bottom lip for the past few days straight. 

And then she had left, in an emotional goodbye where Poppy had waited until Nia was in the elevator to burst into tears, distraught at the thought of not seeing her best friend for the next few months.

It isn’t the first time they’ve ever been apart this long, but Nia has been her rock throughout her pregnancy, and leaving her behind just as all the fun parts of the whole experience are starting to kick in feels sad. But with promises made to call as often as possible, and assurances that Nia will spend the next few months meticulously planning a welcome home-baby shower hybrid, the tears soon cleared up as Poppy distracted herself making sure she wasn’t forgetting anything. 

“Aren’t you craving anything?” Nina asks as she slips down onto the floor beside her, the two of them kneeling next to each other. 

“To be honest, I felt sick before you got here, so I hadn’t really thought about it.” Poppy shrugs. She had been planning to go to bed, try and sleep away her anxiety, but she doesn’t want to seem irresponsible, not to Nina. “There’s a really great Italian place not too far from here that delivers, though. And now that you mention cravings they do these little tubs of tiramisu and if I don’t get one before I leave it’s all I’ll think about for the next four months.”

“I’m sold, we could share if you’re not too hungry.”

“We’ll share pasta, I share dessert with no one.”

“That’s fair,” Nina chuckles as she helps Poppy push herself up, her bump becoming more of a hinderance to her usual habits with every day that passes.

She ambles over to the TV console where her phone had been discarded and works at ordering the two of them dinner through her PostMates app, agreeing to share some lasagne and get a tub of dessert each.

Nina helps her sort her cases until they’re ready to zip up, and agrees to do one final check of her bag she’ll be taking on the plane so she has a fresh set of eyes to suggest anything else she might need.

“You know your hotel room will have pillows, right?” Nina scoffs, pulling one of the pillows from Poppy’s bed out of the carry-on. “Why do you have one in your bag?”

“You’re gonna think I’m crazy.” Poppy sighs, collapsing onto the couch with a heavy sigh.

“You’re having a baby with my little brother, Poppy, that ship has already sailed.” She laughs, turning to look at Poppy with the same look Nico usually gives her, exasperated somewhat but entirely fond. It makes her miss him that much more. The same dark chocolate eyes, same dimpled smile. “Promise I won’t judge, girl talk is a safe space.”

Poppy smiles, fond in her own way.

She hasn’t spent much time alone with Nina. They’ve met a few times before, hung out with Nico, with his parents, with the team - at bars, restaurants, even the arena - and Poppy remembers a couple times where Nina and her had both uttered the same sentiment. It’s nice to have another girl around. 

“I haven’t washed his pillowcase since he left,” she admits, feeling her cheeks flush already, "And I just carry it around the apartment and sniff it sometimes when I miss him.” It only barely smells like him still, but it had gotten her through those first two weeks more than she’d like to admit, shuffling over to his side of the bed to breathe him in every morning like he’d only gone out for training, and would be back before she knew it.

“Yeah, that’s weird.”

“You said no judging,” Poppy pouts.

“I lied.”

“I was gonna take it on the plane with me tomorrow.” Her flight is in the late afternoon, and she has no doubts around the fact that once her butt touches base into her designated seat, she’ll be out like a light. If it weren’t for her constant need to pee, and warnings to have intervals on her feet, she would hope to sleep the whole way through. What’s better than closing her eyes in one country and waking in another? The miles between her and Nico reduced to mere double-digits, she can’t wait for this heaviness on her chest to dissipate into nothing the second she’s breathing the same air as him. “Figured if I’m gonna be uncomfortable for 9 hours straight it might help.”

“So happy that you’re reuniting soon, because I think you’ve lost your mind,”

“Yeah,” Poppy sighs in agreement, because there’s really no use denying it, now. A month without him, longing to be with him, missing him in even the most mundane ways has well and truly sent her off the handle. Nia had told her as much, earlier, too. And Luke when she’d text him asking if he happens to see Nico in passing while he’s overseas to please send her pictures like a crazed stalker. “I thought I’d be better at this whole thing, but I miss him more than I ever have before.”

“That’s cute,” Nina smiles, sympathy glimmering in her dark irises as she tilts her head and watches the way Poppy’s own features shift.

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

“He has this thing whenever he talks about you, like his eyes get all animated and turn into hearts,” she smirks, “Yours do the same. It’s sweet.”

Poppy feels her mouth stretching, a deep smile tugging at each corner of her lips. “Cheeto kind of does the same thing, shuffles a little in my belly when she hears him.” She’s noticed it the last few days, slight movements whenever Nico calls, whenever his voice rings out from the confines of her phone and warms her entire body. And despite everything she reads online about how it isn’t possible for her baby to hear anything outside of her body yet, she doesn’t care. Maybe it’s a reaction to the way Poppy’s heart sings for him, instead. 

“Baby Nina, you mean?” Poppy rolls her eyes fondly as Nina settles beside her on the couch. “Are you sure she isn’t trying to shield herself from how sickening the two of you are?”

“Possibly,” Poppy’s lips twist, “I can’t believe I’m sat here whining about how much I miss him when it’s been a few weeks, you don’t get to see him for most of the year.”

“It’s different,” Nina places a comforting hand on Poppy’s arm, “You two are building a life together, as much as he’s my brother and I love him, my world doesn’t revolve around him like your world does.” Poppy nods, mulling that fact over in her head. “That came out sounding worse than I meant, I think-,”

“No, not at all,” she reassures her, shifting her arm to take her hand, “You’re right, it’s so weird being at this phase of my pregnancy and trying to wrap my mind around how everything is gonna work and him not being here, it’s a little like a mental block.”

Having her world revolve around him isn’t a bad thing, she doesn’t think. 

Telling the Poppy from a year ago that she’d be at peace with having her world revolve around any man would have had her throwing punches. Telling the girl who valued her independence like her hottest commodity - who barely liked to share her time, let alone her space, her day, her bed, with anybody else - that she would have moved in with her boyfriend, ready to start a family together and planning their final child-free summer over text threads would have been like telling her the moon was made out of cheese.

Ludicrous, but ever so slightly intriguing.

But it’s all so familiar now. All so right.

“One more day, Poppy,” Nina just so happens to echo the sentiment that Poppy has been telling herself all day. All week, all month, ever since that day outside the airport, counting down the days until this one, twisting the bracelet around her wrist nervously as if it’s a tether straight to him. “This time in 24 hours, we’ll be almost there.”

One more day, she repeats in her head, nodding with a smile to Nina and taking a deep breath.

She can do one more day.

Only one more day turns into almost two until Poppy is reunited with Nico.

She thinks she cursed herself, if she’s honest, whispering to her bump just before she had gone to sleep that night that they would be reunited with daddy before either of them knew it.

And then the travel day from hell occurred.

She thinks if she didn’t have Nina, she would have had an almighty breakdown - but every time she looked over and met those warm eyes, the tears in her own dissolved.

It had started with traffic on the way to the airport, a police incident on the skyway tripling the usual 20-minute travel time, and the only thing Poppy could find to be grateful for is that they had got an Uber instead of her driving, knowing her stress would have been tenfold if she was stopping and starting all the time. 

Lucky for her, she always allows for delays in her planning, and they made it to the airport with plenty of time to spare, check-in going without a hitch, thankfully, and still giving them time to peruse for snacks to keep Poppy’s cravings at bay for the 9 hour flight ahead.

Time that, in the end, didn’t matter, because their flight kept getting delayed. 

At first it was an hour, a problem with the initial departure of the inbound plane, and Poppy could deal with that. They were due to land in the early hours of the morning in Prague, anyway, so getting there an hour later didn’t really bother her. She had Nina for company, an abundance of snacks, and access to clean toilets in the airport lounge. She could have been trapped on the tin can, so all things considered an hour was too little of a delay for her to get worked up about.

That hour soon turned into two, which turned into three, and Poppy could feel her resolve dwindling as she watched the clock tick down. The first hour was more of an inconvenience than a problem. The second hour meant she probably wouldn’t make it to the hotel in time to spend some time in the room with Nico before he left, which was disheartening, but not entirely earth shattering. The third hour meant she wouldn’t get to see him at all before he left for the arena. 

Nina was trying her best to keep on top of Poppy’s nerves, but even the power of those glimmering Hischier brown eyes couldn’t outweigh a delayed flight and an irksome lack of communication from the airline. 

The only silver lining to the whole situation is the depth at which two people can bond when forced to just sit and wait together.

She learns more about Nina than Nico could ever tell her - about her career, her passions, her interests. Her love for volleyball, and various other sports, for travel, including her bucket list of countries to visit, and an already-planned itinerary of what she would want to do in each one. The two of them shared stories of their own travels over the years, gushing over secret spots they had both visited in the few spots they shared an interest in. Nina regaled Poppy with childhood stories of Nico, ones even her parents weren’t privy to - and it reinforces a lot of the things Poppy has learned herself about him over the years - of his love for learning, always wanting to educate himself, better himself. His love for trying new things, and how, despite being the youngest sibling, always encouraged his brother and sister to do the same. 

They talk about music, about movies and TV shows, fashion, podcasts, food, their differing experiences in college, and by the time it is finally time to board their flight - after replenishing their stock of snacks - their conversation carries on seamlessly until half the journey has passed, almost. 

Talking to Nina is easy. She’s friendly and charming, in a way Poppy is sure must run in their genes - hopes it does, and is passed down to her daughter like their brown eyes and dimpled smiles - and there isn’t a second of hesitance when it comes to her caring for Poppy like a little sister.

It’s the kind of sibling bond she has never really had before.

Her and Oli didn’t argue that much when they were kids, but their difference in age created an unmovable barrier between the two of them, and so they were never as close as the Hischier siblings appear to be.

It makes Poppy think of her mom, again. Think of Rosie, and the what-if of growing up with a big sister, herself. Would they have bonded over things like clothes and music? Would they have been each other’s shoulders to lean on? Knowing that it was ever a possibility makes her feel a lack that wasn’t there those couple of weeks ago, when she hadn’t ever known of her sister’s existence. 

And she knows it’s strange to hope that building a relationship with Nina might fulfil that - edging herself into whatever gap the Hischier family might leave for her might make up for this gap in her own heart that now she feels will never be filled again - but spending the day with her makes her long for something she never spared a thought to before now.

She looks after Poppy in the way a big sister would, too. Makes sure she’s getting up and walking around intermittently, makes sure whenever the beverage cart comes around, she’s ordering refreshments to make sure Poppy stays hydrated. She keeps a watchful eye on the WC when Poppy starts shifting in her seat, lets her know when the vacant sign lights up above the door so Poppy can amble over and relieve the growing pressure on her bladder from trying to constantly drink. 

And when Nina finally lets herself drift off, Poppy can’t help but stay awake, teary eyed, wondering how she ever got so lucky.

How she was lucky enough to have a partner like Nico, so in tune with her emotions that he sent his sister over to keep her company when she didn’t even know at that point it would be exactly what she needed. How she was lucky enough to have an extended family that cared enough about her to agree to it, to fight over the responsibility, as Nina had implied her and Katja had done. How she was lucky enough to get on so well with Nina, to talk to her almost non-stop for hours on end, to bond over their appreciation of so many things that stretches so far beyond their shared love of Nico. 

She gets so caught up in her appreciation that she eventually drifts off with a dopey smile on her face, the dimmed lights of the cabin soothing her to sleep for the rest of their flight, and she lets the contentment she feels seep into her bones so much that when they’re delayed another hour on the tarmac when they land, she doesn’t let it get to her. When she's stuck behind a group of pensioners who don't know how to operate the scanners at passport control, she withholds her huffs and puffs. When her bags are the last to come out on the luggage carousel, she refrains from complaining.

She’ll see him, soon. She might not get her hour alone in their hotel room. She might not get her kiss goodbye in the hotel lobby. She might not even, at this rate, catch the beginning of the game, despite it being the only thing the two of them have talked about for weeks - the possibility of the team making it to the finals in the world championships, to her getting to see him live out his dreams live in action. Between taking her bags to the hotel and travelling to the arena with Nico’s family, not yet accounting for the inevitability of further traffic on her way, because that's just her luck, she’s probably going to get there part way through the first period, and the optimistic part that remains within her tells her, at least she's getting to see him at all.

But she’s in the same country, now. When she gets out of this god forsaken airport, she’ll be breathing the same air, kind of. And the months, that turned to weeks, that turned to days, have now turned to hours. 

She can definitely do hours.

She can do anything for Nico.

In all the lead up to Poppy flying out to Europe to meet Nico, the two of them had never really accounted for it turning out like this.

If she really thinks back on it, she thinks she was giddy, too caught up in the romance of it all, of the whirlwind nature of everything that unfolded - of flying overseas to be with him, of preparing to spend the summer together, surrounded by his family, in his favourite place on earth, of getting to watch him play again like the weight of the world isn’t on his shoulders.

The ending to the Devil’s season had been tough - and he would never show it, not to Poppy, not when the two of them were spending so much time together, but it had taken a toll on him. She knows Nico doesn’t back down. She had told her mom as much. Nico doesn’t fold to pressure. He builds himself back up, builds those around him back up like the true captain he is, and he never lets the outcome of a game get to him. 

For most of the season, there’s always the next game. Always room to improve, always a chance to claw things back in his favour. But those final few months, with playoff contention just slipping further and further out of his reach, his relationship with his own game had suffered a little.

She would watch him come home with a slump in his shoulders, eased away only by her gentle embrace. Would take notice of the way he would talk about work less, shifting the subject or speaking in phrases without much heart behind them.

And seeing the spring return to his step at the thought of playing in the world championships, of initially captaining his national team, had flooded her with pride, and with hope.

Every time the team progressed, their plans would change.

The first plan had been to meet him at home in Switzerland. She had work to wrap up, keeping her in Jersey, and he was going to get his apartment over there ready to fit the two of them for the inevitable future. And then the team kept progressing. Kept winning. And plans to fly out and stay with just him turned into plans to fly out and stay with the family, his opportunity to get things ready getting shorter and shorter the better they played.

And then rolled round the quarter finals. The semi finals only two days after, the day before she was set to fly out - and no matter what the result of that game was, she would be jetting off to Prague, instead.

And she hadn’t really said it to him, not wanting to jinx anything, but it was like she had known somewhere in her heart that he would make it all the way to the end.

It’s what Nico does. He fights tooth and nail to get to where he wants to be, and she knows, after the season the Devils had, that Nico wanted that gold medal more than anything. 

And when she had been sat on that plane, waiting on the tarmac for the delayed opportunity to disembark, and had decided at that point that there was nothing she wouldn’t or couldn’t do for the man she loved, she hadn’t entirely prepared herself for the possibility that anything could mean consoling him after such a heartbreaking loss.

She would like to think she’s good at comforting him, would like to think she’s mastered it over the years of knowing him. In those first years of their budding friendship, where she might have seen him after a few games, he might have dropped by her desk, or later her office, in the days after a game, she’d do her best to pick him back up. Some dumb jokes, a hug or two, eyes meeting and sticking in what she now remembers as a heated gaze until he would melt, would give a bashful smile and crack a joke back.

And that had progressed to him coming over to her apartment. To collapsing onto her couch with a heavy sigh and trying to blend himself into her routine, to erase the part of himself that hurt and cover it up with the part of himself she made feel better.

He picked up the same sort of habits when the two of them had fully reconciled, seeking solace in just her company, even if they weren’t properly together at that point. Comforted by fleeting touches, the holding of each other’s gaze, and all the soft, affirming words spoken between the two of them. And by the end of the season when they were together, it was by intimacy, the moments shared underneath her sheets that weren’t explicit, the bump of noses, the fluttering of lashes against cheeks, the soft whispers of unspoken worries that were trapped by a duvet pulled over their heads, their doubts not allowed to seep out into the blissful world they’re trying to create together.

But this kind of pain is a crease she fears can’t be ironed out by the simplicity of touch. Of kisses in the dark, of hands on hearts and legs intertwined.

When she hears the soft beep of his key card to his hotel room, listens for the heavy footsteps that carry him down the hall, and looks up to see the man she loves, defeated and remorseful, in front of her, her resolve shatters into a million pieces. 

For all the lows she has held his hand through, nothing compares to this moment. 

That night in the bar at the end of the season last year, where she had rested her head on his chest and heard the clunky beat of his broken heart, doesn’t even come close.

It’s the rattle of a shaky breath he lets out that has her own heart breaking, shooting up from where she had been perched, picking at her fingers nervously on the edge of the hotel bed, and launching herself at him.

She pulls her body straight into his, wrapping her arms around him in the hopes that such a small gesture could ever possibly convey the love she has for him.

She had thought seeing his sorrow blasted across the jumbotron earlier in the arena had hurt. She had thought their initial, rushed reunion after the game, where he had put on a brave face and told her he would meet her back in the room, the pressure of his kiss the only giveaway to his internal anguish, was bad. 

But this is so much worse.

Holding him as he chokes out a sob, the initial flimsy wrap of his arms around her turning into fingers clutching with a white knuckle grip at the shirt on her back, trying to conceal his pain through muscles that tense around her, restricting his shaking frame from giving his emotions away.

She holds him for as long as she feels like he needs to be held, until that tension eases a little, those shaky breaths even out, and his body starts to sway a little.

When their bodies part, she can’t bring herself to entirely leave his orbit, pressing kisses to wherever she can reach as he basks in her affections, eyes fluttering closed like he’s still trying to hide from her.

“I’m so sorry you didn’t get your dream, baby,” she hums into the corner of his mouth, leaning a little to press a gentle kiss to the scar forming deep into his cheek, his neck craning to make it easier for her to reach.

His eyes squeeze tighter, keeping the warmth of his irises from her softened gaze, and she’s too close to see the bob in his throat, but she does see the clench of his jaw, stress still present in every fibre of his being. She wants to be his relief, wants to be the one to make things okay, make things better, but even she knows sometimes that isn’t for the best.

He needs to let these emotions, as heavy as they are, pass through him. He shouldn’t have to cover them up just to make her more comfortable, make their time together more enjoyable. She has the rest of her life to enjoy him, if he’ll let her.

So she clutches at the shirt covering his chest and pulls him back toward the bed, sitting him down and perching herself beside him, a comforting hand on his lap and a shoulder ready for him to cry on, literally.

She doesn’t even have to prompt him, then, to open up - the nature of their relationship thus far prevailing in the way he sniffles, turns to her with knees knocking, and starts to fiddle with her fingers resting on his thigh.

“I feel like this was my last chance to prove something,” he starts, his voice hoarse and his posture folding, “This year has just been so rough, you know?”

Poppy nods, because she does know, even if he hasn’t explicitly said it before now. Nico wears his resilience like armour, but she sees him when he’s bare. When the clunky metal that protects him from everyone else is removed, and his vulnerabilities are exposed, only to her. She sees the heavy sighs, the slumped shoulders, the forced smiles. She sees discomfort, unease, exhaustion.

“We got hit by all those injuries, and we didn’t make the playoffs, and the boys were all so down, and I,” he lets out an elongated exhale, tongue swiping out to wet the corner of his mouth, “I feel like I’m not living up to what’s expected of me, or what I expect of myself.”

She rubs soothingly at his knuckles, biting her tongue to withhold from telling him that’s he’s everything and more, because it isn’t what he’s asking of her. 

“I just needed a win.” He chokes out, and as a tear slips from his watery eyes, Poppy reaches to catch it with her thumb, swiping at his skin. “I just needed to feel like I could achieve something like this before it slips away from me.”

“Where is it slipping away to?” Poppy frowns, letting her touch linger on his cheek. 

“We’re having a baby, Poppy,” he speaks through swollen lips, glassy eyes meeting her gaze in the dark of the room. “When she comes, my dreams are gonna be different. My priorities will be different, I owe it to the two of you to be better. You deserve better.”

“It’s not one thing or the other, Nico.”

“Isn’t it?” He asks, “I have to put you first-,”

“You already do.” 

“It won’t be enough when she comes, it’s not fair to either of you,”

“Says who?”

“Says everybody. Says Talia, says your mom, says me chasing this stupid medal and leaving you to travel half way across the world on your own while you’re 5 months pregnant only for me to lose-,”

“Stop it,” she commands him, firm, despite the growing ache in the back of her throat, both hands clasped on either side of his jaw and levelling him with a stern look. “You don’t have to give me any more of yourself to be enough, Nico. I wasn’t on my own, I had Nina, because you have this little section of your beautiful brain,” she taps on the side of his head to point it out, “That, despite being worked to the bone for almost 9 months straight without a real break, and despite all the chaos of us figuring everything out, and you chasing after your dreams, which are not stupid, by the way, saw straight through me trying to pretend I wasn’t completely losing my mind these past few days and sent your sister out just to make sure I wasn’t alone-,”

“You wouldn’t have been alone if I were th-,”

Poppy places her hand over his mouth, the rest of his sentence mumbled into her palm as she narrows her eyes at him. “I said stop, didn’t I?”

He nods, his shoulders sagging and his eyebrows doing all they can to express the emotion that she’s covering him from speaking through his lips.

He’s far too good for her, she thinks.

So good that she has struggled to put it into words, basking selfishly in his affections, bathing in their love so long that the water has gone cold by the time it’s his turn to sit in it.

She has felt it for as long as she can remember, this crippling adoration for him, this warm devotion that cushions the blow of everything else life tries to throw her way - but she hasn’t said it. Not clear enough, anyway, for him to not doubt it’s there.

Not in the way he had, all those weeks ago back in his bed - their bed - at 3am. He had poured his heart out to her, and she had drank it all up with nothing left to spare.

“You do all these things for me, you send your sister half way across the world just to circle straight back, you call my dad and my brother out, you shame my family into loving me more so that they can live up to the ways that you do it, and you don’t even understand how much of yourself you already give to me. I could sit here all night and not run out of ways to tell you how you make things better. Every part of my world that you touch, you make it good, you make me good. And a lot of that comes from who you are outside of our relationship.

“So I’d never want you to think you have to give any of the other stuff up to be enough for me. I fell in love with the parts of you that you give to the foundation, to the community and all the causes we help. I love the parts of you that you save just for the ice. I love the parts of you that you leave at the Rock, in the locker room with the guys, or in the parking lot when you stop and sign stuff for the fans waiting in the cold. And whatever parts of you are left to come home to me, or that you dedicate to me when you’re not home, God, Nico, I don’t think I’ll ever even be able to measure how loved you make me feel. I can’t wait for our daughter to feel that.”

His eyes are watering, and tears drop until they run their course down his cheeks, stopped by her fingers still clasped over his mouth, fingers she removes to hold his head again, the scratch of his grown out beard tickling at her palms, to hammer her point home.

“I know that this hurts right now. I know how hard you worked for this, how bad you wanted it, and it’s okay to have wanted it so bad that it kills you that you didn’t get it, but don’t let it take away what you mean to me. This isn’t your last chance to prove yourself, Nico, not to me, not to our baby, I promise you.”

Poppy knows how it feels to want to have achieved certain things before their little girl arrives. She’s worked herself up enough about it since finding out she was pregnant, but being a parent isn’t about who she was before. She’d realised that when she had sat down with her mom, when her dad had started making more of an effort. When the two of them had made promises to try, and it had glued together small parts of her heart that she thought could never be fixed.

All they can do is be the best version of themselves in the moment. When their daughter comes, it’s about who they are then, not what medals they won, or what trophies they lifted, or milestones they hit. They can still do those things with her there, and those moments will be all the sweeter for experiencing them with their daughter.

“Can I speak yet?” He whispers, dark eyes more intense than she thinks she’s ever seen them, staring right into the depths of her soul.

“No,” she replies, in the same hushed tone, “One more thing.”

She shoots over to where she had discarded her carry on, earlier, digging through to the bottom where a small leather box sits - where it has sat since the day Nico left Jersey all those weeks ago, and she had felt an impulse too strong to ignore to get him something after he had given her bracelet back.

When she goes back to stand before him, he parts his legs, and pats his thigh until she perches herself on it, careful not to drop all of her weight until a hand curls around her waist and holds her in place. 

“It’s a signet ring,” she smiles softly as she takes it out of the box, tugging his right hand closer and sliding it onto the finger beside his pinky. “They’re supposed to be a sign of family. Usually they’re engraved, but I thought we could figure that out later and go do it together.”

“You have one, too?” He asks, admiring the way it glints as he takes it in, the band thick and heavy below his knuckle, the perfect fit. 

“I will when my hands aren’t like blown up surgical gloves.”

And through teary eyes, for the first time all night since they have been reunited, a laugh bubbles up from the pit of his stomach, hearty and deep, eyes crinkling in the corners and cheeks dimpling into that beautiful smile she loves more than anything else in the world.

“Aren’t I supposed to be the one getting you a ring?”

God, she thinks, how could he ever possibly think he isn’t enough?

Melting her heart with such a question, accompanied with an ever-so-innocent glint in his eye.

She’s still holding onto his finger, twirling the ring around on it until it starts to tickle, starts to seemingly twitch with the need to hold her back.

“Only if you want to,” she shrugs, lips twisting as he raises his hand to cup her cheek, fingers swiping her hair behind her ear and the cool metal of the jewellery pressing to her warm skin.

“I do.” He promises before he kisses her, meaningful and deep, a whole month of longing wrapped up into the searing press of their lips.

Poppy wakes the next morning to soft, continuous buzzing and a wash of light spread almost heavenly over the room. The space beside her is empty, but warm, the sheets crumpled as if only just vacated, and it’s as she starts to gain consciousness and make sense of her surroundings that she realises what the noise is.

“No, no, no, no, no!” She exclaims as she kicks the tangles sheets from her bare legs, them balling up in a messy pile as she shoots up off the bed and stumbles toward the bathroom. “Do you hate me or something?!”

“What are you talking about?” Nico chuckles deeply, the morning rasp to his voice not quite enough to distract her from the device he’s holding in his hand - the hand she had only just last night brandished with a ring, for God’s sake.

“I literally professed my undying love for you not even 12 hours ago, Nico, and this is how you repay me?”

“Maybe I’m testing the limits of the undying part,” he shrugs, amusement flickering across his stupidly beautiful eyes - and the part of Poppy that’s over the moon to see him smiling, is quickly shot down by the part of her that’s been waiting to get her hands on that bearded jaw for weeks.

“You’re testing my patience, is what you’re doing,” she scoffs, reaching to snatch the clippers from his grip. “I didn’t even get to have a turn!”

“What am I, a carnival ride?” He laughs heartily as he pulls them just out of her reach, her body stepping into his so that he can land his free hand on her hip and keep her close. “It had to go, Poppy, I looked like a caveman. Coach said we all have to clean up a little for today.”

“Your coach is a traitor,” she pouts, allowing him to crowd her back until the base of her spine bumps against the counter. “You’re my caveman. My gorgeous, sexy, caveman baby daddy who I’ve only got to see through a screen for four whole weeks, you can’t do this to me with no warning.”

“You wanna finish it off?” He asks, head tilting as he smirks down at her.

“It’s only fair I do,” she sighs, placing her hands on the counter and hoisting herself up onto it with a huff, parting her legs so that he can step between them. “Maybe I can salvage something,” she mutters, running delicate fingers over what remains, an untouched moustache and some growth left on his chin. “Can I give you a goatee?”

“Do your worst, Mohn, I’m at your mercy to defile.”

“You’re gonna regret that.”

“I’ll never regret anything where you’re concerned.”

Next Chapter

Taglist: @alwaysclassyeagle @bunbunbl0gs @idgaf-if-youre-here @youflowerr-youfeast @thearchersstuff @bellsdi0r @wonderheartz @jjgsunflower @butterflies35 @kenziepickle @josierosie @laheyxlover @mrsmattytkachuk @dasiysthings (sorry if your tag hasn't worked btw)

[stvharrngton]

omg ky what about. 20 and 25 from the list u just reblogged with steeb ofc

— @inkluvs

coming right up <3 hope u enjoy !!

pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader

word count: 1k

warnings: smut, 18+ minors dni, oral (f and m receiving), sixty-nine, throat fucking, spanking

prompt: "breathe through your nose" and "does that feel good?" from this (x) list

taglist: @inkluvs @dukesmebby @sweetbabygirlsworld @kennedy-brooke

“Fuck,” Steve moaned out.

His eyes were dark and heavy as he stared right into your dripping core. Steve was naked, lay on his back on his bed as you were above, on top of him.

He never thought you would both end up here when you started making out on his bed, but then one by one your clothes ended up on the floor and when you asked if you could try something new, something different, all the blood in his body rushed south.

He hadn’t even touched you yet and he had your pussy dripping on his tongue, the boy moaning just at the sight of you like this for him. You ghosted your fingers up the shaft of his thick cock, a drivel of saliva leaving your lips and landing on the tip. 

Steve’s hands are gripping your ass, fingers pulling and kneading at the flesh. Large palms hot on your soft skin. Once you wrapped your lips around the tip of his cock, Steve went hell for leather.

Sure, he was always enthusiastic when he went down on you, licking and sucking at your pussy like a man starved but this was something else. It’s like Steve was addicted to you, addicted to your taste, your scent and he’d been starved for days and now he was finally getting his next fix.

He’s soft with it, tongue swirling around your cunt as his lips move over you gently but with just the right amount of pressure. The tip of his tongue dipping in and out of your hole as he moaned and groaned into you, toes curling into the sheets as Steve resisted the urge to fuck his cock up into your warm mouth.

You moaned around Steve’s cock, the vibrations rolling through his body as his length twitched in your mouth. His eyes rolled back, fingers digging into your doughy thighs. He pulled away from you for a beat, the pad of his thumb brushing over your puckered hole before he delivers a soft smack to your ass.

Steve presses his lips over your pussy softly, moaning out below you, “You taste so fucking sweet, baby.” He brought his finger to your entrance now, his index digit pushing into your hole, curling and fucking in and out of you slowly. 

You released Steve’s cock as your mouth relaxed, letting out an obnoxiously loud moan. He kept going though, filthy words continuing to leave his mouth, “Does that feel good? Little pussy’s just dripping for me, isn’t she?”

Trying your best to turn your attention back to Steve’s aching cock, you all but failed as he continued to lick at you. You settled for rolling his heavy balls in the palm of your hand, your tongue licking at the underside of the head of his cock.

Steve buried his face in your pussy, skilled tongue licking itself all over, a mixture of spit and your juices covering his mouth and chin, the stickiness spreading to your thighs. 

“Fuck, I can’t, Stevie–” you groaned, eyes fluttering closed, “mouth feels too good, shit.”

“Come on, baby,” he cooed, a light teasing tone lurking beneath his voice, “you asked for this, hm? Don’t give up on me now.” You couldn’t see but Steve was smirking below you, a stupid sexy smirk that you would normally love to wipe right from his face, “You’re so good at sucking my cock, pretty girl.”

You whined at his words, desperate to refocus but you just couldn’t. Steve was too good, too intense. You were overwhelmed to say the least, but you powered through, rolling his balls in your palm a final time before something in Steve snapped.

The boy bent his knees, strong arms wrapping around your lower back as your eyes widened in suspense and anticipation. “Breathe through your nose, baby.” was all he said as Steve began to rut his hips up off of the mattress.

“Oh,” Steve groaned, lips brushing over your cunt, “there you go, baby, that’s it. Good girl.” 

Steve fucked his cock in and out of your warm, wet mouth, his tip brushing the back of your throat with every thrust of his hips. All you can do is whine and whimper around his length, your eyes squeezed shut as Steve regains his composure and goes straight back to burying his face in your pussy.

You instinctively begin to roll your hips, grinding your cunt against Steve’s tongue as the tears begin to well in the corner of your eyes, your lashes wet, the salty water leaking down your cheeks. You’re not sure how much longer you can last, the tears are streaming now, your mouth is covered in saliva, saliva that’s dribbling all over Steve’s thick cock all the way down to his balls.

Steve’s thighs begin to tense as he smacks your ass once more, fucking your mouth so full of his cock, his tongue lapping and sucking at your puffy clit, it was all too much. You went into overdrive, your orgasm crashing over you like a tidal wave. 

Your pussy was soaking, creamy and leaking all over Steve’s waiting mouth. He took it gladly, lapping up everything that you had to give him. He groaned into you, toes curling into the sheets as his fingers caressed your waist softly.

He wasn’t far behind you, his body tensing all over as he leaped over the edge with a few more strokes of his cock. Your mouth is too tight and wet, too warm and inviting. The movements of his tongue on you ceased, his lips still brushing against you but the only thing that was leaving his mouth was whimpers of your name and incoherent moans as Steve rode through his orgasm.

“Fucking hell,” he groaned, skin clammy, hair sticking to his forehead, his chest heaving with heavy breaths.

You were in no better state, your skin hot and shivery. You crawled off of Steve as gracefully as you could, rolling into his side as he wrapped you up in his arms.

“We are definitely doing that again.” Steve chirped, a coy grin on his face as he pressed his lips to yours.

[deliciousangelfestival]

The Lady - 4

Character: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader, Eddie Horniman x Female Reader

Summary: After fifteen years away, a step-daughter returns for her Duke step-father's funeral, only to inherit a staggering 8 million pound debt and strike a risky deal with a criminal underworld figure.

Main Masterlist || support: Ko-fi

Chap 1, Chap 2, Chap 3 , Chap 4 , Chap 5 , Chap 6 , Chap 7.

Your ongoing support means the world to me! Reblogs are a fantastic way to help spread the word about my work. I'll do my best to reply to all your comments.

Thank you for your continued encouragement! ❤️❤️❤️

After a half-hearted attempt to watch the tennis tournament, you, Hugo, and Eddie retreated for afternoon tea.

"Me? The criminal organization in this country want me?" you asked incredulously.

Eddie nodded, casually adding sugar to his tea, with Hugo mimicking his actions. "They're still trying to figure out who you are. They won't ask Barnes since they despise him. They've made inquiries, but your identity remains a mystery to them, given your recent arrival."

"What about you, Eddie?" you inquired.

Eddie raised an eyebrow, a smile playing at the corners of his lips as he sipped his tea. "Hmm?"

"Why didn't you expose me to them?" you clarified.

Eddie set down his cup, meeting your gaze directly. "And let them exploit your expertise? You're too valuable for that, my dear."

The endearment caught you off guard, evoking memories of summers spent at Manor with Eddie's parents, particularly his mother, who often referred to you as "My Dear" during afternoon tea. But when Eddie used the term, it carried a different weight.

Eddie continued, "I faced a similar situation last year. This organization is far more dangerous than most people realize, even those at the UN dealing with cross-border issues."

"True," you agreed, contemplating the chaos of the criminal underworld. "The real zoo is here. But what about your organization?"

"My cannabis business remains neutral in conflicts," Eddie explained. "Even in our silence, there are those who seek to undermine us."

He paused, then offered, "If you want to join forces, you could. You could easily settle the debt."

The air hung heavy with the implications of his proposition, the tension palpable as you considered the possibilities.

"No," you interjected firmly.

Hugo finally joined the conversation, shooting Eddie a defiant glare. "My dad paid a high price to cut ties with cannabis."

You were surprised by Hugo's sudden assertiveness, especially considering his awareness of Rupert's dealings.

Eddie chuckled, unfazed by Hugo's challenge. "I could see you as a Duke in the future."

But before the tension could escalate further, another voice cut in, catching you off guard.

"Well, well, what do we have here? Are you cheating on me in broad daylight?"

You tensed at the sound of Bucky's voice, turning to find him standing beside your table, impeccably dressed in Ralph Lauren, his smirk as infuriating as ever.

"Can't I have a day without seeing your face?" you retorted, unable to hide your irritation.

Bucky feigned injury, clutching his chest dramatically. "Ouch."

Eddie intervened, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "What are you doing here, Barnes?"

"I wanted to try tea time. Felt like a royal for a change, but the cake tasted like shit," Bucky quipped, oblivious to the disapproving looks from nearby tables and the waitress.

"Well, I just wanted to say hello and meet the Duke of Horniman. Say hi from me to Bobby Glass, will you?" Bucky continued, his smirk never faltering.

Eddie's smile turned sour. "I won't."

"Great," Bucky replied casually, turning his attention to you. "Wait for my call, Your Grace."

You responded with a curt, "Fuck off."

Hugo nearly choked on his drink at your blunt retort, while Eddie struggled to contain his laughter.

Unfazed by your harsh words, Bucky simply bowed and took his leave.

Eddie glanced at you, his expression sympathetic. "I can see what you're dealing with."

As you drove back to the manor with Hugo, his voice interrupted the tense atmosphere inside the car. "Can we switch our ride?"

You glanced at him, raising an eyebrow. "What's wrong with this one?"

Hugo's enthusiasm was palpable as he explained, "My buddies have got green cars, red cars, even yellow ones. And get this - their car doors pop up like wings when they open!"

You couldn't help but chuckle at his excitement. Seeing him like this, he seemed more like a kid dreaming of his favorite toy.

If Rupert weren't neck-deep in debt, you'd have no qualms about splurging on Hugo's dream car. But for now, you couldn't bear to crush his hopes. "Yeah, sure. Once we're done here, we'll get you one."

As you drove back to the manor with Hugo, you delved into a conversation about Rupert's work.

"You know a little about Rupert's work?" you inquired, curious about your stepfather's business.

Hugo nodded thoughtfully. "All I know is, dad wanted to quit the cannabis business because of Charles."

His mention of Charles brought a warning to mind. "Don't ask anything about weed with Bro Charles," he cautioned.

"Why?" you asked, intrigued by the sudden seriousness in Hugo's tone.

Hugo shook his head solemnly. "Ask Mom or Charlotte."

"Fine," you conceded, understanding the need for caution.

Upon your return to Evergreen Manor, you inquired about your mother's whereabouts from the butler. Learning that Susan was out shopping with friends, you sighed in frustration. With no one else to turn to, you realized you would have to seek answers from Charlotte.

Entering the living room, you spotted Charlotte engaged in a live conversation with her followers. It was clear she was preoccupied. "This will take a while," you muttered to yourself, bracing for what lay ahead.

Four hours later, Charlotte's hostility lingered as she addressed your inability to come to a conclusion on your own.

"Can't you figure it out on your own?" she snapped, arms crossed tightly as if she couldn't bear to share the same air as you.

You sighed, bracing yourself for another round of her disdain. "No, I can't. I've been out of touch with everyone for the past 15 years," you admitted, resigned to the reality of your isolation.

Rolling her eyes in exasperation, Charlotte gestured for you to follow her. You trailed behind her to the barns, where an out-of-place container caught your eye.

As Charlotte swung the door open, a wave of nausea washed over you as the unmistakable scent of weed filled the air.

"Weed," you muttered, the pieces of the puzzle slowly falling into place.

"Dad was making extra money with this, but he wanted out because of Charles," Charlotte explained, her voice tinged with bitterness.

"Why?" you pressed, eager to understand the full extent of the situation.

Charlotte remained silent for a moment, her expression guarded. "This is why you should at least read the emails that Mom sent you, even if you don't want to reply," she scolded.

Her words struck a chord, and you listened intently as she revealed the shocking truth. "Charles overdosed," she continued, her voice heavy with emotion. "We almost lost him. The doctors said he was brain dead. It's truly a miracle that Charles could come back alive. That's the reason why he became a priest."

The revelation left you speechless, your ignorance laid bare before you. "I had no idea," you whispered, grappling with the weight of the revelation.

"But now you know," Charlotte replied, her tone softer. "And you understand why my dad cut off all contact with anything related to drugs."

Charlotte's words hit you like a punch to the gut, stirring up a whirlwind of emotions within you.

"What did you say?" you demanded, your voice tinged with disbelief.

"If you never came here, none of this would have happened," Charlotte muttered, her gaze heavy with accusation.

You bristled at her insinuation. "None of that is my fault," you retorted, feeling the weight of her words bearing down on you.

Charlotte's voice was laced with bitterness as she continued, "Your existence changed Charles."

You recoiled at the truth of her words, the realization hitting you like a ton of bricks. Charles's feelings for you had always been a taboo topic, one you never dared to confront. It explained so much—the distance, the tension, the unspoken truths that lingered between you and your family.

You couldn't help but feel a pang of guilt, even though you knew deep down that you were not to blame. "I didn't even ask to be born," you muttered, a bitter reminder of the unfair hand life had dealt you.

The tension crackled in the air as you and Charlotte locked gazes, each refusing to back down from the confrontation.

"You can't blame me for Charles's choices," you snapped, your frustration boiling over.

Charlotte's eyes flashed with resentment. "I'm not blaming you for his choices, I'm blaming you for existing!" she shot back, her words like daggers aimed at your heart.

Your jaw clenched as you struggled to contain your rising anger. "Well, I'm sorry if my existence inconveniences you so much," you retorted, your voice dripping with sarcasm.

"It's not just about inconvenience, it's about ruining lives!" Charlotte spat, her voice trembling with emotion.

"Ruining lives?" you scoffed, incredulous. "I didn't ask for any of this! I didn't ask to be the reason Charles spiraled out of control."

"Maybe not, but you're still the reason!" Charlotte's voice rose with every word, her frustration reaching its peak.

You took a step closer, your own anger boiling beneath the surface. "And what about me? What about the life I've had to live because of all this?"

Charlotte's expression softened slightly, a flicker of guilt crossing her features. "I know it's not fair to you either," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Then stop blaming me for everything!" you pleaded, the weight of years of resentment and guilt bearing down on you.

"Stop it," Susan's voice cut through the tension, her breath heavy as she approached.

Both you and Charlotte halted, the argument stalling at Susan's arrival. She hurried over, concern etched on her face as she reached Charlotte, who appeared flushed.

"Are you alright?" Susan's voice was laced with worry as she checked on her daughter.

You felt a pang of resentment, knowing that despite being her biological child, Susan often treated Charlotte as her own. It stung, a constant reminder of your place in the family hierarchy.

As Susan tended to Charlotte, you clenched your fists, a surge of frustration coursing through you. You turned away, unable to bear the sight any longer.

Walking away, you pulled out your phone, dialing a number with shaky fingers. "Where are you?"

Inside the car, you and Bucky sat side by side, watching the second target intently. The bomb had already been discreetly placed under the car, and now it was just a matter of waiting.

Bucky's voice broke the silence, filled with genuine awe. "Damn, watching you do your thing is like watching Picasso paint."

You shrugged nonchalantly, trying to downplay your talent. "Yeah, turns out anger can make me completely focused."

Bucky let out a low whistle, his admiration evident. "Well, color me impressed, sweetheart."

As you both observed the target, a man stumbled out of the club, clearly inebriated. His drunken antics drew attention, and he shamelessly flirted with every girl he encountered, much to your disdain.

"What's the reason for him?" you inquired, unable to hide your distaste for the man's behavior.

Bucky's response was simple yet cryptic. "Someone just really hates him."

Moments later, the target climbed into his car, oblivious to the impending danger. Without hesitation, Bucky pressed the trigger.

'BANG' The explosion echoed through the night as the car erupted in flames, sending shockwaves through the surrounding area.

'KYAA!!'

The chaos erupted as the explosion sent shockwaves through the crowd, eliciting panicked screams from bystanders.

"Too bad the wedding will never happen," Bucky remarked casually, his tone laced with dark amusement.

Your heart sank at his words, a sense of dread settling over you. "Huh?" you muttered, struggling to comprehend the gravity of the situation.

Bucky's pointed gesture toward the burning car made everything click into place. "He's your step-sister's fiancé," he explained bluntly.

A wave of guilt washed over you as you realized the ramifications of your actions. You cursed your ignorance and lack of foresight.

In frustration, you turned on Bucky, your voice trembling with anger."Next time, how about a little warning before we go blowing up someone's bloody ride?"

Join the taglist? 🩷💙🩷

@bagoffeelings

@darkofimagination

@starsofcloud

@cherrybubblebullet

@winterslove1917

@thezombieprostitute

@xcaptain-winterx

@namoreno

@sagebarness

@tenaciousathleteoperatorgarden

@unaxv

@missvelvetsstuff

@kjah97

@freshlemontea

@kandis-mom

@scott-loki-barnes

@differenttyphoonwerewolf

@ordelixx

@blackwood-bodecker-housewife

@mostlymarvelgirl

@musicandbooksaremyhappyplace

@charmedbysarge

@rebeccapineapple

@almosttoopizza

@cakesandtom

@njavezan

@thealyrs

@emerald-writes

@fantasyfootballchampion

@sjsmith56

@bellabarnes1378

@valhalla-kristin

@learisa

@choppedgalaxynerd

@terrormonster55

@haciendoquemeamas

@alysianc

@sapphirebarnes

@identity2212

@greenarrowhead

@mannien

@surazim

Author Note: Hey friends,

If you've been enjoying the content, I've set up a Ko-fi account.

Your support through tips would mean the world and help me keep creating.

Only if you feel like it!

Here's the link: Ko-fi

Thanks a bunch for being fabulous followers!

[imperhine-deactivated20241019]

mesmerize - rain ghoul x gn!reader

hello there, this is my first time writing for ghost despite reading a fuckton. i humbly offer you all some rain smut without any real plot. reblogs are appreciated 👁

tags: smut, reader is a ghoul/ghoulette, switchy!rain, porn without plot, reader thinks rain is very pretty (just like me fr)

word count: 647

In your eyes, Rain was perfect. In every state he was in, he has managed to mesmerize you. Whether you're performing alongside him on the stage, cheering him on from the sides of the curtains, or during days off in the clergy.

But seeing Rain lose himself to you was something else. Perhaps it's both of your ghoulish instincts kicking in, but you couldn't help it from happening time to time.

These were one of those times. The way you had your legs up as he moved inside you. His hips stutter as he keeps his pace. Your hands roamed around his body, stopping at his shoulders. One of your hands grasp the base of his right horn, ripping out a moan from him. His horns are oddly sensitive during sex, each rub and slight tug further turning his brain into mush.

"Fuck. Aren't you so perfect, love?" You say in a voice meant to tease him, waiting for a reaction.

"Ah, that's sensitive..." He whines out, shaking his head a little.

"Mm. That's the point. Feels good, doesn't it?" You coo, a small smile on your face.

He nods, trying to keep a steady pace despite your touch distracting him. Rain loves you too much to be focusing only on his pleasure. He gets as much satisfaction from knowing you're feeling as good. He opens his eyes shyly, blue gaze focusing on the features of your face.

"Always so pretty under me." He whispers more to himself, thrusts steadily increasing in speed.

A blush spreads across your face, and Rain takes this surprise as an opportunity to get a deeper angle inside you.

"Rain~ F-fuck! That's it!" The way his name sounds when you moan it out only serves to fuel his lust.

His own breathing gets heavy as he moves faster, and at this point his moans get shamelessly loud. Every sensation is heightened, he buries his head in your neck to try ground himself. Although it proves to be ineffective, your scent only driving him wild.

"I can't hold it in- Please, my love..." He begs you in the sweetest tone.

"Then don't. Go faster. Don't stop!" You say in a strained voice, almost breaking into a moan. He kept hitting the right spots inside you, feeling more and more sensitive each time.

He takes that as encouragement, doing his best to drive you two over the edge. Your legs wrap around his waist, tail moving to intertwine with his own in a possessive manner.

"You feel so good around me..." He says shakily. "I'm so close! A-ah~"

"Rain, Rain- I'm gonna cum, don't stop! Cum with me."

The final string of control he had over himself snaps as he sees you reach your climax.

"Hah~ Thank you for letting me... Mmph!" He bites your shoulder, whimpers slipping out right next to your ear. His hip pushes in and out, cock twitching as it spurted out cum. He watches it in interest as some gets onto your thigh.

Rain pants out as he collapses beside you, one arm looping around your arm and the other caressing your face. He presses a small kiss to your lips, still too blissed out to form any sentences. You stare at him with affection, silently admiring how he looked. The sheen of sweat across his body, the way his face is flushed, and how his hair was messy from how you played with it and his horns. You can't help but steal another kiss.

"Love you, Rainy." You whisper, lips still barely touching.

"I love you more." He smiles in such a cute way as if he wasn't just railing you a moment earlier. That was unfair, you think. How can he always be this gorgeous?

[rainbowmothed]

╰ ⋯ ➢ PREENING WINGS ; CHAGGIE FLUFF FANFIC

★ more content for the sapphic ladies because my brainrot for them is unfathomable!! as always, likes and reblogs deeply appreciated ♡ ly all

───────────────

Vaggie yawned as she sprawled her wings out across the mattress. What she used to see as something horrible– a constant unwavering reminder of her gruesome past– was now something that she openly embraced. Most merely presumed she showed up in Hell with them since they didn't inherently look exactly like exterminator wings, so, hey, that was a definitive plus if anyone curious stumbled past.

Vaggies’ back ached slightly, strained from her previous workouts and strenuous activities. Through babysitting most of the Hotel residents to try to fix her fighting style with the help of Carmilla as her mentor, sometimes it got tiring. But one thing she could always look forward to at the end of the day was her girlfriend. Her beautiful, excellent, talented, outstanding girlfriend– who was also conveniently the Princess of Hell. But, sometimes, Vaggie failed to realize just how serious Charlie's status within the underworlds’ hierarchy was. After all, she interacted with Charlie just as she would anyone else; if not obviously much sweeter, and that was only because she was the best person in the world. Who wouldn't treat Charlie with utmost respect and love? Crazy people, Vaggie mused. The woman was a bundle of sunshine– it was hard to dislike her shining radiance. Charlie's idealism and bubbly attitude clearly set her apart from most other Inhabitants of Hell, which was one of Vaggie's favorite things about the demoness.

Vaggie flipped on her side, heavy eyelashes fluttering as her eyes opened, a flicker of illumination entering her pupils and catching her off guard as she saw the door to the bedroom slowly creak open, casting a line of soft, dull light across the carpet floor of her quarters. Vaggie’s first instinct was to reach for the angelic spear she kept by her bed at all times– soldier instincts, she endearingly deemed her first reactions to any possible threat– but she didn't. Vaggie wouldn't dare draw a blade on the person she loved the most, even if she was damn well considering it for the first few weeks following their first meeting. That all felt like such a blur, such a long, long time ago. It was both sweet and sad at the same time; the overbearing nostalgia was an overwhelming feeling that was foreign every time Vaggie experienced it, no matter how many times she was pulled through it.

The moth-like demon stretched slightly, a soft smirk spreading across her lips, which were still tainted with her typical black lipstick. Vaggie used her arm to perk her head up, resting her elbow on the mattress as she willed herself into a more comfortable position. “Hey, hon.” Vaggie greeted Charlie gently, tone as delicate as always.

“Heya, babe!” Charlie cheerfully mirrored the welcoming, despite hers being far more chipper and upbeat. It usually always was. She had an affinity for being loud; Charlie felt like she got to others easier that way! The princess bounded across the room, shutting the door behind her with her foot and flicking on the lamp with her index fingers, smooth black fingernails brushing across her girlfriend's forehead and swiping away any stray hair as she placed a kiss to her cheek.

Vaggie chuckled in response, scooting over to make room for her girlfriend on the bed. Charlie sat down and was immediately transfixed by her girlfriend's wings. They were always so beautiful to her– soft, feathery, and absolutely adorable! Everything that Charlie cherished, but especially the adorable-ness. Obviously, she had a clear affinity for things of that nature. Charlie got to work expertly running her fingers through the feathers, preening them with her delicate fingertips, mirroring the actions she'd been taught by her girlfriend. Charlie of course had wings, just like her father– but she disliked them. She never thought they fit with her overall demeanor, and were far too flashy for her personal liking. Charlie had a strong dislike for coming across as threatening, and strived to avoid drastic changes in her appearance like that to stay as gentle-looking as possible. “Your wings are so pretty, Vaggie,” Charlie complimented. “They fit you.”

Vaggie immediately rested her head on the pillow, lulled into ultimate relaxation as her girlfriend gently got to work preening her wings. She smiled further at the array of compliments spewing from Charlie's mouth, though most of them were drowned out by her state of rest. Usually, Vaggie never had time to truly settle down like this; it almost always felt like she was bouncing from one place to another, straying far away from one thing or pulling another closer. It was a busy life schedule, especially when she had to pertain to the Hazbin Hotel and its residents, but the gleeful grin on Charlie's face always made the hard work and raw effort worth it in the end.

“You're prettier than any old wing, Charls,” Vaggie retorted softly, paired with a chuckle under her breath. Charlie beamed, a bright toothy smile spreading across her face, enveloping her round features. “I wouldn't trade anything for you, you know that?” Vaggie continued, pressing her cheek into the fabric case of the pillow.

“I don't know about that. You're like, the prettiest thing in the history of pretty things!” Charlie responded, chipper as ever. That earned a chuckle from Vaggie. “I'm serious! You're gorgeous, Vaggie. I love you more than anything.”

───────────────

★ not proofread, so if there are any mistakes, i apologize!! have a good day everyone <3 more content coming soon,, feel free to leave requests!!

[qrrieterisunnq]

Too Much - Trevor Zegras

trevor!zegras x fem!reader Summary: Y/n is so overwhelmed by everything happening in her life. One night she can’t keep it in, so she lets it out on the first person she has around herself, Trevor A/N: I don't really know what to say/text in here. Just enjoy this angst/fluff and happy rest of the day! requested: yes/no likes are good, reblogs are better <3 gif, not mine word count: 0,7K warning(s): angst, overwhelmed reader, yelling, protective boyfriend Trevor

masterlist | wip's

It’s too much.

Everything is just too much.

Your work, your boss, your parents, and your life.

Everything is just so much on you.

You feel like the weight of the world is lying on your shoulders. If you screw something up everything is just gonna fall apart and you’ll be responsible for it.

With a sigh, you straighten yourself and let out a groan when your back cracks, relief spreading through your muscles. Standing up from your sitting position, you walk over to your room for the book you’ve been reading for the past few days.

You sat back on the couch, getting comfy under the blanket Trevor gave you for your third anniversary, last year. Sighing you let the book pull you into the plot, enjoying the presence of the characters in the book.

Even though you are so drawn into the plot, a voice pulls you out of it, an annoyed groan leaving your lips.

“I’m home!” Trevor yells from the hall announcing his arrival. You say nothing as you continue to read trying to ignore his presence. Not that you are unpleased he’s home, but right now, you need your peace and silence. “My legs are hurting! Couch had us do twenty laps and I’m so tired.” He complains making you roll your eyes. He sits down next to you, peaking from behind your shoulder on what are you reading.

“What?” you snap at him lightly, looking at him with bored eyes.

“Woah! Nothing just looking at what are you reading,” he raises his hands in the air. “No need to be so snappy.” he chuckles shaking his head as he pats your tight.

“I'm not snappy.” you look at him before your attention is back on your book.

Trevor's brows furrow in a thin line at his girl's behavior. He notices the little changes a few days ago, but he tells himself it's because of the big project she's been working on. But now, after the project was done, and she's still like this, he doesn’t know the cause.

“What’s going on babes?” he takes the book in his hands and places it next to him, earning your full attention. “Why are you acting like this?”

“Like what?” you snap at him, standing from your seat when you feel his hand touching your tight. “I’m acting the same, that’s the problem. I’m always the same person!” You shout, throwing your arms in the air. ”I’m always the one who does a slave for everyone around her. My parents, my boss, everyone.” You are heavy breathing with your hands on your hips.

“You aren’t a slave, y/n,” Trevor whispers, a small smile playing on his lips when he walks over to her. He places his hands on her hips, pulling her closer to him. “You are an amazing human. Yeah maybe, sometimes, you are too nice to some people, but you are not a slave,” with a sigh, he cups her cheek and forces her to look him in the eyes. “I may not know what is going on now, but I know you’re the strongest person I’ve ever met, my love.” He says with a smile playing on his lips. You rest your head on his chest, tears now sliding down your cheeks from the overwhelming stress that I slowly dripping down your shoulders.

“I am so sorry, that I snapped at you like that.” You cry out, wrapping your hands around his torso as you snuggle closer into him, breathing in his scent.

“That’s completely okay love, I know how it is when there is too much to hold in. You had to let it out. But next time, don’t hold it in for too long. I’m here to communicate with and help you, so use me as much as you want.” Trevor tickles your sides, trying to cheer you up, which he does when you giggle in his chest.

“I will, I promise,” you pull away from him, wiping away the tears and taking a deep breath. “And I’m really sorry. It’s just too much on me and I don’t know what to do first.”

“I get it, I have these times too,” He chuckles, walks over to his bag, and pulls out his hoodie as he tosses it on her. “Put it on.”

“Thank you.” You grin at him, slipping into the hoodie.

[kindahoping4forever]

Laying Here In Nothing But My Feelings // Luke Hemmings

This fic is 1000% dedicated to @cal-puddies - I had an inexplicable - and rather explicit - Luke breakdown in our chat over the summer and she not only egged me on but when I was done, she was immediately like "fic please." It was essentially a joke between us until Christmas Day (lmao) when she suggested taking my concept for a spin could be a fun way to spend the holiday. And here we are now! Everyone say thank you, Cass! (And also for giving notes and feedback as always and just generally being the best.)

This is the first Luke fic I've managed to finish on my own (Waiting For It Gets So Boring was co-written with Cass!) so please let me know what you think and if you'd like to see more!

Warnings: Boyfriend!Luke, band responsibility disrupting sexy plans (no angst, just sexual frustration and tension). Dirty talk, use of sex toys (solo and partnered), sexting, masturbation, prolonged teasing, lowkey body worship, very brief oral sex (female receiving), very not brief rimming (male receiving). For real, like 2500 words of this is rimming. So. Also I apparently mention Luke's thighs 12 times. I'm fine.

Word Count: 12,575

Masterlist // Ko-Fi linked above

Reblogs and feedback are greatly appreciated!

I no longer use a tag list so more than ever, these fics live and die by reblogs! If you enjoy, please consider sharing so it can circulate and be seen by other readers!

“Oh… oh just like that… don’t stop… don’t stop… oh… babe, wait… Ash?”

Luke looks up from between your legs, mouth glistening, breath heavy, eyes shining with hunger and amusement. “Honestly shocking that’s the first time you’ve accidentally called out his name,” he cracks, snorting at his own joke as he dodges the kick you aim at his chest.

“Haha,” you respond dryly, grabbing your phone off the nightstand and holding it out for him to see. “I told you not to send him to voicemail all those times, now he won’t stop calling me.”

“A likely story,” he jokes, reaching for his own phone. He sits on the edge of the bed to text Ashton while you curl up behind him, nipping at his shoulder.

“Tell him you’re busy,” you purr, reaching around to wrap a hand around his cock. You thumb over his slit, spreading the precum around, smiling at the hiss he lets out when you start slowly stroking. “Tell him you’ve had a hard morning and you can’t be bothered until you deal with some pressing matters… like pressing this cock into my ---”

Luke jumps as his phone vibrates in his hand. “Hey, man, what’s going on?” He answers, rushing out his greeting while stilling your hand. You relent and instead peck at the freckles on his neck. “Wha--- I thought that wasn’t due until tomorrow… oh I guess I didn’t see when that email was sent… so like, today tomorrow?”

The sound of this conversation instantly alarms you and you pop your head around to his line of vision to let him know, shaking your head. He grimaces in response, nodding silently as he listens to Ashton’s monologue. 

“Okay… no, of course I’m not too busy, of course I can be there,” he answers, mouthing sorry at the way your jaw drops. “I can be on the freeway in like 10, I’ll text when I’m there.”

He ends the call and frowns at the look of disbelief on your face. “Baby, I’m sorry,” he starts, immediately scurrying around the room, cock still half hard. “We fucked up and that new song’s gotta be mixed, mastered and turned in before midnight tonight, not tomorrow.”

“Oh wow, that’s intense,” you offer with quiet compassion. He disappears into the closet and you chew your lip, trying to swallow down the disappointment you’re feeling. You wonder out loud, “And you guys can’t just send files back and forth like you have before?” 

He emerges, dressed and pulling on his leather jacket. “Ash already called an engineer in so we all should probably be on site,” he explains, sighing as he grabs his jewelry off the dresser. “I’d have loved to hold off, spend a little more time here but the guy’s already on his way, Ash is flipping out, I’m closest to the studio… I just don’t really have a choice.”

“Aww, Lu, that sucks,” you sympathize. He sits on the bed to pull on his shoes and you rest your head on his shoulder, rubbing his back soothingly. “Sucks your day is starting off so chaotic, sucks we gotta spend it apart now. I was really looking forward to spending today in bed with you.”

“Me too, honey. Me too,” he laments, offering you an apologetic kiss. 

The kiss begins sweet but he can’t help deepening it and you eagerly pull him in closer by the lapels of his jacket. “You got ready pretty quick, babe… Think you’ve got a spare few minutes?” You murmur, leaning back on the bed seductively, hoping to woo him back into bed.

Luke’s eyes scan over your form with interest before he shakes his head, as if he’s physically trying to break a spell you’ve cast on him. He lets out a groan of your name that’s part desire, part regret. “Baby, we both know I can’t be trusted to keep it to my ‘spare few minutes’,” he flirts. He pecks your lips again as he eases off the bed. “Promise I’ll make it up to you tonight!”

“You’re assuming I won’t have already worn myself out in your absence,” you tease, fighting a giggle as he stumbles grabbing his backpack, clearly distracted by what you just said.

“Okay, well now that’s all I’m gonna be thinking about all day,” he says with a wink, heading out the door. A beat passes and then his voice calls out from the staircase, “Love you!”��

“Love you,” you respond, slumping against the pillows.

The whirlwind of the past few minutes sinks in as you stare at the ceiling. You tried to react reasonably, obviously you recognize the predicament Luke is in, but you also think you’re allowed to be disappointed. It’s been ages since the two of you spent some quality time together and setting aside today to lay around and just enjoy each other was Luke’s idea in the first place. 

You sprawl out, figuring you might as well appreciate how much more spacious Luke’s bed is than yours; you run your hand longingly across his side of the bed, giving a sad laugh when you knock into the bottle of lube beside his pillow, a lost vestige of a sexy morning abandoned. An idea sparks in your mind and you sit up excitedly, grabbing the bottle and your phone.

*  *  *

Across town, Luke finds a corner table to sit and wait for his order. You were right, he did have a spare few minutes and he decided nothing softens the blow of an unexpected studio day like fresh donuts waiting for everyone. He proudly sends an update text to Ash and is about to polish off the powdered sugar donut he picked up for himself when a notification from you pops up on the screen. 

Glad to see you’re not still upset about his sudden exit, he taps on your name and his smile quickly morphs into a smirk when he sees the photo you’ve sent - a bottle of lube and a box of tissues atop your nightstand, while your hand dips into the middle drawer, “the fun drawer” as it was dubbed when you first started bringing toys over. The accompanying text reads: 

Wonder if something in here can make me feel as good as you would’ve.

He catches his lip between his teeth as he types back: 

Miss your taste so much already, baby… Use the suction vibe, the pink one we took on vacation. I know it’ll make you cum just as hard as my tongue would.

You giggle reading your boyfriend’s message, pleased at having correctly guessed what his selection would be. You laugh again, this time with a bit more of an edge, as you lube up an entirely different vibrator, the thrusting toy he left for you when he was leaving for tour. When the purple silicone looks nice and slick, you hold it out in front of your phone, making sure your hand is wrapped around the widest part of the base, hoping that’ll make him think about it stretching you out.

Luke stares at the box of donuts he just sat on the passenger seat, wondering if he should fasten the seat belt around it to keep it in place. His phone vibrates on the dashboard and a thrill runs through him when he picks it up to see another notification from you. He was hoping he'd hear from you again, maybe get a sexy afterglow pic to thank him for his toy suggestion.

He takes a sip of coffee as he opens your message and immediately sputters it back into the cup, hurrying it back into the cup holder so he can examine the photo. He zooms in, trying to determine if the vibe is covered in lube or you before determining the answer doesn't really matter because now all he's thinking about is how wet you felt against his face this morning, how his beard still vaguely smells like you.

He runs a hand through his hair, flustered, and finally notices you sent a text as well. 

Thanks for the rec but I think I'm more in the mood for this one. Gonna put it on the highest setting and let it absolutely ruin me the way I wanted you to. Would give anything for this to be you. Can’t wait to see you tonight. Miss you, miss your cock too much already.

“Fuckin’ hell,” he mutters to himself as he resumes staring at the picture. He remembers the videos you sent while he was overseas, how relentless the toy’s thrusting motion seemed to be, the way your legs wouldn’t stop shaking by the time you were done with it, how he dreamt of the noises you made for the next three nights. “Coulda been you, dummy,” he chastises himself, deciding that while donuts are great, his time would’ve been better spent making sure you were satisfied before he left. *  *  *

You bite your lip, pressing the tip of the vibe to your entrance, teasing yourself. You briefly entertained the idea of queuing up some porn, maybe lighting a candle or two, but between your interrupted orgasm with Luke and the thrill of sexting him, you’ve accepted you probably won’t need much to get off.

Your phone buzzes nearby and you blindly pat around the bed until you find it. You click the new message, already plotting your saucy response, when suddenly your mind goes completely blank as a picture of Luke’s hand gripping his visibly hard cock through his pants fills your screen. 

Fuck, baby… I should’ve stayed. You should be cumming around my cock instead of that toy… should be babbling to me instead of an empty room… should be making a mess on me instead of my sheets. Fuck. I need you so bad, baby. Don’t know how I’m gonna get through the day.

If you weren’t so horny, you might be embarrassed at the way you’re zooming in to study his picture. God, he looks so hard… if he were here, he’d be acting so desperate already… pressing into you, whispering against your ear how much he wants you, hands roaming your ass, tongue running along your ear, employing all the tricks he knows make you weak. Silently vowing to make him that needy tonight, you sink the vibe into yourself, surprised at how loudly you gasp. No, this isn’t going to take long at all. *  *  *

Luke finally pulls into the studio parking lot, breathing a sigh of relief when he sees that despite his detour and your distraction, he’s still the first to arrive. He reaches into the backseat to grab his Airpods out of his backpack, figuring while he waits he can listen to the most recent mix of the song and make notes on what changes are needed. He’s searching through his files for the right version when he’s startled by the vibration of another message.

He takes a deep breath, cock already stirring in anticipation for what you might say - or show - next. He selects your conversation and is momentarily puzzled when no pictures or texts are added to the thread; he glances up at the top of the screen to make sure he has full service and even closes and reopens the chat before he realizes you’ve sent a voice message. Equal parts curious and confused, he adjusts his earbuds and hits play.

There’s nothing but quiet shuffling at first, enough that Luke begins to wonder if you recorded and sent this message by mistake. He’s about to turn the volume up to make sure he’s not missing anything when he hears an all too familiar sigh and he grips the steering wheel, lightheaded from how fast the sound travels to his cock.

“Luuuuke… babe,” you coo, unmistakably slick noises in the background giving away why you sound so breathy. “That picture you sent… fuck… I can’t stop thinking about you getting so hard just from thinking about me wanting you… are you still that hard, baby? Did you have to drive all the way there with your cock straining against your pants like that? Fuck, Lu, wish I was there, I’d be leaning into your lap so fuckin’ fast… how have I never sucked you off in that car? We’ve gotta do something about that, babe, you’re so fucking sexy when you drive, it always makes me want you.”

By the time you take a breath, Luke’s heart is pounding so loud in his ears, he’s afraid you’re going to get drowned out if he doesn’t pause and take a second to calm down. He exhales loudly and leans back, shell-shocked, head feeling like it might float away if he dares to lift it from the seat’s headrest. 

His mind races to process everything he’s feeling. He’s the dumbest man on the planet, how could he have ever left you this morning, he had no choice but to leave you this morning, but how could he have ever left you this morning? He knows you understand that he’d much rather be there with you, so why are you torturing him like this? He loves you for torturing him like this, he hopes you never stop torturing him like this, he’s ready and willing to die or at the very least cum in his pants from listening to you taunt him like this.

Having accepted his fate, he presses play, closing his eyes so he can properly visualize everything he’s hearing.

“God… want you so bad, babe… was so close when you had to stop… I love when you eat my pussy, I almost came right when you first started… should’ve cum for you while I had the chance, I just didn’t want it to be over so quick,” you ramble. “Didn’t want this to be over too soon either, ‘s why I haven’t turned my toy on yet. Was gonna tease myself more but I had to put it in as soon as I saw that picture… oh, Lu, I wish this was you filling me so bad.”

Luke says a silent prayer of thanks to whatever god blessed him with such a vivid imagination, he can perfectly picture you spread out on the bed, chest heaving as your hand moves between your legs, brow furrowed as you fight yourself to keep yourself from going too fast. He squeezes his eyes shut even harder, almost as if he concentrates enough, he can will himself into the room with you.

“Wanted to be naked with you all day… so many things I wanted to do with you… to you… been thinking about it all week… been wet for it since you woke me up this morning… kissing my neck, pressing your cock against my ass...” 

There’s silence for a beat and then a distinct mechanical whir starts up. You resume speaking but your voice is notably affected - a little more rushed, a little more whiny - and Luke can’t help but press his palm to his crotch, groaning with relief at the brief pressure. 

“...Feels too fuckin’ good, babe, I’m already close… all that’s missing is you telling me how good I feel around your cock… how good I look with your hand squeezing my throat… how good I sound begging you to cum all over -- ”

The sharp sound of someone knocking on the car window startles Luke out of his lustful trance. His eyes shoot open, he sits up so fast he bangs his knee on the steering wheel and for some reason, his panicked mind tells him it’s necessary to yank the Airpods out of his ears and throw them to the side as if they were on fire.

It takes another couple of seconds for him to realize he should see who wanted his attention and he turns to see Ashton doubled over, laughing so hard there’s no sound coming from him. Luke first rolls his eyes and then rolls down the window before commenting plainly, “You scared me.”

“You’re lucky that’s all I did! What are you doing sitting with your eyes closed like that? Napping?” Ash asks, wiping the tears from his eyes. “Anybody could’ve snuck up on you, smashed a window, grabbed your laptop off the backseat. Or that box of donuts you were so excited about.” He peers around Luke, looking for the prized pastries.

“Right, the famed donut snatchers of the San Fernando Valley,” Luke quips, shifting in his seat, hoping the snacks are the only thing Ash is able to ogle from his vantage point. He grabs the pink box, passing it to him through the window. “Here, you go ahead and set up in there, I’ll be just a minute.”

Ashton looks at him suspiciously and Luke impresses himself with how cooly he explains, “You know how many Airpods I’ve lost already, now I’ve gotta stop and find the ones I just threw across the car since you decided to creep up on me like a psycho.”

“Fine,” Ash shrugs, peeking inside the pastry box. He turns to leave, calling over his shoulder, “If you’re not there in five minutes, I’m eating this eclair I know you were saving.”

Luke scowls but moves into action once Ashton disappears around the corner. He scans the car's cabin, giving a satisfied tongue click when he spots the wayward earbuds, one on the passenger seat, one under it.

A sucker for punishment, he fits them in his ears, scrubs to the last 30 seconds of your message and hits play before he can change his mind.

There's ambient noise - a quiet buzz and a steady rhythmic pattern that he eventually determines must be your breath. The buzz becomes louder and louder before stopping entirely; once it dawns on him that the volume increase was due to you pulling the toy from your body to shut it off, his pants are back to feeling as tight as they were before Ashton’s interruption.

“Mmm… well… guess you’ll be coming home to freshly washed sheets tonight,” you laugh breathily, sounding tired but elated. “I needed that. Still need you more, though. Love you so much, Lu, still wish more than anything you were here with me.”

Luke pouts, his heart aching almost as much as his cock. He can picture you, bottom lip swollen from pulling it between your teeth to stifle your moans, hair crazy from the way you run your fingers through it when you’re coming down, eyes slowly closing as you fight through your exhaustion for the sake of pillow talk.

“...We can make up for it tonight. Thinking about that is what’s gonna get me through my day. Maybe now you’ll be thinkin’ about it too,” you continue, satisfied smile evident in your voice. “Hope you have a good day, babe, get some good work done! Hopefully I didn’t make it too hard… well… the work, I mean.” You giggle at your unintended double entendre and with a kissy noise, the message ends.

He shakes his head, wondering if it’s too late to fake an illness so he can get home to you as soon as possible. He hits record on a voice note of his own and debates the topic out loud. 

“...I mean, I guess Ash already knows I’m here - oh yeah, remind me to tell you that story - but also maybe he’d believe it came on suddenly. Had to have looked pretty pale when he saw me since every ounce of blood in my body was in my dick,” he jokes. His voice drops as he continues, “I’m still so hard for you, baby. I can’t stop hearing your noises… your breath… I swear I could feel it on me. Thinking about how good you must have looked cumming like that… how good you must have felt. Jesus… how do you do it? Every day I think it’s the most I’ve ever wanted you but then you do something else and it’s another level of wanting. Want you so fuckin’ bad, baby. I love you and I’ll see you tonight.”

Before he can think better of it, he briskly undoes his zipper, hooks a thumb in the waistband of both his pants and his boxers and takes a quick picture of the stubborn erection you've left him with.

*  *  *

A sly smile crosses your features when you hear the message tone in the distance as you step out of the shower; you hurry through drying off, excited to see your boyfriend’s reaction. You wrap your towel around yourself and shuffle over to the counter where you left your phone.

You feel your eyebrows raise, intrigued by the message preview which reads: “Well, this should be an interesting studio session.” The chat loads and naturally, your eye is immediately drawn to the photo; you chuckle to yourself when you realize you’re instinctively licking your lips at the sight of his neglected cock tenting his pants. He was clearly rushed and at an odd angle so it’s not the best dick pic he’s ever sent, just partial shaft and a lot of his hand trying to hold his underwear out of the way, but simply knowing Luke needed you to see how much your message affected him to the point that he tried to stick his phone down his pants in the studio parking lot has you feeling flushed.

Tearing your eyes away from the picture, you realize he left you a voice message and as soon as you hear the rasp in his voice, how absolutely destroyed he sounds, you place a hand on the counter, steadying yourself. Oh, tonight is gonna be fun.

*  *  *

“You’re not even fuckin’ paying attention, bro,” Calum complains, gesturing at the phone that’s been glued to Luke’s hand since they sat down.

“Am so!” Luke protests, laughing at how juvenile his defense sounded. His eyes scan over the message app just to make sure he hasn’t missed anything and then he sets his phone down. “I’m just waiting on an important message.”

Michael swivels around in his computer chair. “Is it an update on whether or not you’re still the worst? Because I can go ahead and confirm that for you.”

Luke frowns as his friends laugh at his alleged inattention. “We’re gonna double track the pre and take a layer off the first half of the chorus to see if that makes a difference,” he reports, beaming at the surprised faces staring back at him. “It’s almost like I can care about two things at once you asshol-- oh shit…” His bragging is interrupted by the sound of his phone vibrating on the table next to him and he reaches for it, the strings on his guitar plucking atonally as he maneuvers.

“Your important message?” Ashton asks with a knowing smile. Between the delayed response this morning, the curious parking lot exchange and Luke’s generally distracted behavior during this session, Ash feels like he has a basic idea of where his mind is.

“Just a delivery notification,” Luke answers glumly, expression turning sheepish when he sees the look on his bandmate’s face. “The coffee’s on its way though.”

“Oh, sweet!” Ash chirps, holding his hand out for Luke to pass the guitar to him. 

Luke opens his notes app and sits back on the couch, ready to give the latest mix his full scrutiny. It takes half a verse for his mind to wander, remembering how much you loved this song the first time you heard him workshopping it at home. His brain reminds him of the way you curled up in his lap while you waited for him to finish piecing together the vocals and the way he eventually gave up once your mouth attached to his neck. He smiles, thinking about how he had you naked and under him within seconds of carrying you to the couch and how he was able to finish the song while you slept, warmed by a blanket and sated by an orgasm, on his studio sofa. 

It’s a wonderful memory but one that has him switching over to check your chat one more time. He’s not sure if your delayed response is part of your game or if you just got distracted but he’s not too proud to double text, especially when he’s missing you this much.

*  *  *

Petunia barks at your phone chiming on the kitchen counter, the sound interrupting her concentrating on lapping up the water you’d just placed in front of her. You laugh and scratch behind her ears, laughing again when you see Luke’s message.

I can only assume you haven’t responded to my striking dick photography because it sent you into such a horny spiral, you’ve orgasmed yourself into a coma.

You’re grinning from ear to ear as you respond.

Yes, cum coma. Definitely it. Not like I was taking my time, starting my day, letting you possibly get some work done so you could get home to me on time. Definitely the cum coma.

You shake your head as your message goes from “delivered” to “read” instantly and it shows him already typing a response.

Oh I’ll definitely be home on time… there’s literally nothing that could keep me from getting home on time… this song isn’t done in a couple hours, I’ll just leave the band.

You giggle as you flop onto the living room couch.

Bold of you to assume I’m interested in sleeping with an unemployed musician.

We’re called “independent artists,” ya clout chaser.

Petunia was considering climbing up to lay with you but after the howl you let out at that last message, she opts for watching you curiously from her dog bed instead. 

“You can’t let your dad know I think he’s that funny, we’ll never hear the end of it,” you tell her before resuming your conversation.

How are things going? Clearly you’re fully focused and engaged with the project.

Luke snorts quietly, eyes darting around the room to check that the rest of the guys are still preoccupied: Ashton and Michael animatedly debating the volume of a particular synth while Calum stoically listens in, expression indicating he’s either weighing their arguments carefully or not paying attention at all.

Was going great until we listened back and now I can’t stop thinking about you naked on my studio couch.

Luke smiles at how quickly your typing bubbles come up, pleased to know you remember that day as vividly as he does.

Ohhhh… THAT song.

Every time I hear that chorus melody, I think about trying to overlay those vocals while also trying to keep your hands out of my pants.

You were being super sexy with your glasses and your crazy hair and your musical genius… was that not all just a ploy to get me to touch your dick? My bad.

Part of you wants to feel silly for smiling so much your cheeks hurt but it’s never mattered if you’re just trading texts, speaking over the phone or if he’s sitting right next to you - the two of you have always had this easy rapport - loving, teasing, comforting and titillating all at once. It serves you well at home and it’s especially beneficial during times of separation, whether it be for a few hours like today or for weeks when he’s on tour.

Your phone buzzes in your hand and you smirk as you read the screen.

Please, we both know I don’t have to work nearly that hard, you were on me the second you came in and saw I didn’t have a guitar on my lap.

You feel your cheeks heating as you type.

You know what I remember? You working with me in your lap, tracing the tattoo on your thigh… feeling you get harder and harder against my hip… the way your cock would jump whenever I’d graze your skin with my nails…

Luke shifts a throw pillow onto his lap, pants getting tighter for what seems like the millionth time today. He really has no one but himself to blame - not just for leaving but for instigating this latest sexting adventure. He just couldn’t help himself, once he gets to thinking about you like this… he just needs you.

You always love playing with that tatt… I love it too… love it even more when you tease it with your tongue.

Your heart speeds up both from the message and from how surprisingly loud your slow but forceful exhale sounds sitting alone in Luke’s living room. It takes a moment for you to decide how to play things but you let out a self-satisfied hum when you finally start constructing your reply.

Yeah… you love the teasing, don’t you? My tongue teasing your body, my words teasing your mind… I’ll bet you love that you’ve been hard all day and haven’t been able to do a thing about it. Love feeling your cock up against your zipper, love feeling the precum trickle onto your boxers, love wondering if anyone has caught onto what you’re up to.

The studio suddenly feels irredeemably warm as Luke reads your message. He casually presses down onto his lap pillow, strategically alleviating some of the pressure between his legs. He has to admit your read on him was pretty spot on, now he just has to decide how far to take things, especially considering that the guys are just about ready and he’ll be expected to contribute soon.

Can’t help it, baby… want you so bad sometimes I want to make it last… even the buildup is worth getting off on with you.

He leans back, mentally congratulating himself on his response when he feels his eyes widen and his cock throb at your reply. 

I’ll be sure to remind you of that when you’re begging me to let you cum tonight.

*  *  *

Luke goes radio silent for the next several hours until you finally get that long awaited “On my way,” accompanied by a potpourri of excited emojis, just to make sure his enthusiasm comes across.

You’re excited too, grinning to yourself as you fly through the house to make sure you’ve taken care of everything for his impending arrival. You already took Petunia out and refilled her bowl, already charged the toys, and as promised, already washed and changed the sheets. You pull your overnight bag onto the bed, looking over the lingerie you brought, undecided on if you should surprise him with a sexy greeting at the door. You eventually land on “sexy underwear but make him work for it,” grabbing the pink band t-shirt he’s been wearing lately to slip on over the set you chose.

As your final task, you set two cold water bottles on each nightstand, giving a little exasperated huff as you pull out your phone to check the traffic again; it feels like he texted you forever ago but you know you’re probably just impatient. You’re pondering which of his bandmates was most likely to stop him on his way out, when you hear the garage opening and you clap your hands together gleefully, springing up to fix your hair in the vanity mirror.

Luke’s calling your name as soon as he opens the front door; you originally planned on playing it cool, letting him come to you, but you can’t deny how thrilled you are that he’s finally home and you race down to him. 

The two of you meet up at the foot of the stairs, huge smiles decorating your faces. You take advantage of being on the step above him, throwing your arms around his neck and burying your face in the stubble you’ve missed feeling all day. He wraps his arms around you with a chuckle, squeezing you tight, letting you be the one to pull away first. You give him a few quick pecks before you notice the sound of crinkling cellophane coming from him and you pull back curiously to see what the source is.

“These are for you,” Luke sing-songs, presenting you with a brightly colored bouquet of assorted flowers. You pout, touched by the gesture and before he gets a chance to elaborate, you pull him down to your lips to show your appreciation.

He murmurs against you, tangling a hand in your hair, leading you into a slow, sensual kiss. You moan as his tongue greets yours and again when his hand travels down to squeeze your ass under the rising hem of your t-shirt. He groans into your mouth when he feels the high cut lace of your underwear, his mind automatically scrolling through his memories of all the ravishing sets you’ve worn for him, wondering what he’ll be stunned by tonight.

“Been thinking about this all day,” he murmurs, holding you tighter, kissing you harder.

“Me too,” you sigh. “Well we know what I’ve been thinking about… what have you been thinking about?”

“For starters, this,” he replies, lifting you off the step and wrapping your legs around his waist. You giggle as he starts to climb the stairs, briefly resuming the makeout before determining he should focus on getting you both to the bedroom safely.

As you pass the hall bathroom, you tap him with your flowers. “We should probably get these in water before we get too distracted.”

He takes the bouquet from you, laying it on the dresser as he enters the bedroom. “They’ll be alright for a little longer.” He carefully sits you on the bed, looking at you hungrily. “You’re all I care about being wet right now.”

You sit up on your knees to kiss him passionately and rid him of his jacket and shirt. You run your hands over his chest, loving the tiny noises he makes as your nails run through his chest hair, tracing along his nipples. You slip your fingers in his waistband, pulling him closer by his pants.

“Been so patient, even while I had my fun with you today… always so patient with me, Lu… love that about you,” you coo, looking up at him alluringly as you palm over the outline of his hardening cock. You keep eye contact as you unfasten his pants and start pulling them down.

It’s a beautiful sight seeing Luke peer down at you, eyes already glassy, mouth already open in awe; his hair is a mess from your fingers running through it, curls hanging over his eyes as he watches you breathlessly. Your stomach drops in anticipation of the moan you know is coming when you dip your head down to mouth at him over his boxer briefs. He doesn’t disappoint, voice both loud and shaky as your lips apply gentle pressure to his cock; you find the tip and pucker your lips more, softly sucking at his shape through the fabric. 

He groans your name in a bid for you to stop, wanting to pace himself. He grips your face in his hand, rings digging into your skin deliciously as he roughly pulls you back up to his mouth, pressing his body to yours as he kisses you, letting his hardness and his tongue work in tandem to let you know how much effect you have on him.

His hand travels down your throat, lingering just long enough to get your blood pumping, before he leans you back so he can grab the hem of your shirt. You help him tug it over your head and he curses under his breath as he takes in the bubblegum pink underwear you picked out. Before you started dating Luke, you never cared much for brightly colored lingerie but with him it feels right: playful and loud while still erotic and intimate, just like the two of you are in bed together.

Luke loves when you dress up for him and you love watching him appreciate all the little details, his eyes poring over the peekaboo sheerness of the lace lining, his fingers reaching out to trace along the geometric caged cutouts above the bra cups, his guitar-worn fingertips an enticing contrast to the smooth satin of the straps. 

“Beautiful, baby,” he whispers reverently, leaning in to place a kiss on each of the tiny bows decorating the set: one on each strap, just below your collarbones, one in the center of your cleavage and one right under the waistband of your panties. He laughs warmly at the gasp that last location elicits from you and he chastely pecks over the front of your underwear a few times before raising back up to grin at you. “This is new, right?”

Nodding, you play with his necklace, somehow feeling both bold and shy under his attentive gaze. “I picked up a couple new things for today, actually… wasn’t kidding when I said I wanted to spend all day in bed.”

“Aww, honey,” he pouts, kissing under your jaw until you giggle. “Well I love it… love you… love that you’d think to do that. Looks so good, I almost don’t want to take it off.”

You tease, “Well good, because you don’t get to yet.”

He laughs, surprised but delighted, and you scoot back on the bed; he follows suit, coming to lay with you, quickly kicking off his pants and shoes. The two of you take a moment to enjoy kissing, teasing and enjoying the feeling of each other’s bodies after a long day of wanting. When you can tell he’s getting restless, making more noise against your mouth, hips grinding against you more urgently, you shift him to lay on his back.

“Missed you, Lu… wanna show you how much,” you murmur, sucking at his neck. You feel the vibrations of the contented hum he lets out as you leave a mark on his throat. You pull back to admire your work, boasting, “Mine,” as you rub over the red spot. 

He strokes over your face, thumb soothing at your skin that’s looking raw from rubbing up against his beard. “Didn’t need a hickey to tell you that, honey,” he replies, looking at you lovestruck. You lean into his touch, kissing his palm before moving on to explore more of his body. 

Luke sweetly fingers through your hair as you kiss over his chest, nibbling at his collarbones, massaging over his pecs, tongue flicking over his nipple. You start to show the other side the same treatment and he gives a quiet whine, hips bucking into the air.

“Patience, my love,” you chide while your hand snakes over his stomach to squeeze his still clothed bulge. “Is this where you want me, babe? Think I’d forget about this cock? Haven’t thought about anything else all day.”

He pants, breath hitching as you drag your nails over the curves and ridges pressing up against his boxers. “I’m just… so… so fucking ready for you, baby.”

“Mmm,” is the only reply you give, tugging his underwear off. A giant sigh of relief escapes him as his cock is freed, dropping onto his stomach, precum immediately dripping onto his skin. You sit between his legs, thinking out loud, “As I remember it, you were also pretty fucking ready before you left this morning, so… I think you can hang on a little longer.”

His stunned silence turns to an interested murmur as you move back up, returning your attention to his nipples. Once you’re satisfied with how puffy and perky they look, you gently push his arms up, indicating you want them above his head. Dazed but trusting, he complies, resting his hands against the headboard. 

He moans loudly as you flash a warm smile at him and lilt, “Good boy,” before pressing a wet kiss to the puzzle piece inked on his left side, now exposed for you. You smooch and nibble at his skin before switching over to trace your tongue along the vertical script running down his right side. You love that his tattoos are almost always covered - sometimes it feels like you’re the only other person who knows that they’re there. And you love knowing you’re the only person who gets the privilege of touching them like this, of teasing them until he’s squirming uncontrollably.

“Babyyyyy,” he hisses as you begin to peck over his stomach, causing you to laugh against his skin. You look up at him innocently, smirking because you’re not sure if his complaint is due to the work your mouth is doing or the friction from your body leaning across his. 

"What do you need, handsome?" 

Luke tries to pout but can't hold back a grin as he playfully whines, "You didn't kiss the bird," looking sadly over at the ink adorning his right bicep. 

"Oh, my mistake," you play along, crawling back up to where his arm is resting behind his head. You press your lips to the tip of the hummingbird's beak, following along the outline of the tattoo before filling the inside of it with smooches. "How could I forget? Such a pretty bird on a pretty guy."

Before you can move back down, he holds his wrists up to you expectantly, watching smugly as you take the hint and kiss the tattoos he has there as well. As you pull away, he silently points to his lips and you giggle with delight.

"Luke."

"What?! I missed you! Thought you missed me too," he defends dramatically, joining your laughter as you lean in closer.

You intend to kiss him softly but you're weak to his advances once he starts adding heat to it, one hand on your ass, the other dipping inside your bra to cup your breast, pinching at your hardened nipple. His hand sneaks from your ass to between your legs and he groans when he feels how wet you are.

"Oh honey, c'mere," he advises, trying to move your body up the bed. "Get on my face, let me take care of you."

Shaking your head adamantly, you wriggle out of his hold and start moving back down his body. "You first," you insist. He begins to protest but you reach back up and press a finger to his lips to quiet him. "Had all day to fantasize about playing with you, want us to both take our time and enjoy it." 

He lights up hearing you mention thinking about him again. "All day, huh? Tell me what you thought about, baby."

He breathes deep as your fingers dance down his chest and stomach, followed by a sharp exhale when your touch skips over where his cock is resting, instead opting to stroke his upper thigh. You watch his face change while he decides whether or not to verbalize his disappointment; he eventually calms and you dip down to lightly peck his hip.

“Thought about how much I love your body… how beautiful it is… how responsive,” you trail off, giving his hip a teasing bite, smiling to yourself when he bucks up against you with a loud yelp. You kiss the small indent and continue down. “Thought about noises like that… you know I fucking love how vocal you are when we’re together, Lu. Makes me feel so good to know I make you feel so good.”

You nip and kiss your way down to his thigh tattoo, making sure to give it the affection it deserves, especially in light of the memory you shared earlier about how sensitive he was that day you visited his studio. He gets louder and you muffle a groan against him, knowing he’s thinking the same things you are; you lift yourself up to his lips, needing to kiss him, needing to be in that moment with him. His cock twitches between your bodies and the two of you moan in erotic harmony.

“No one else has ever made me feel like this, you know,” he tells you, gripping your hair to kiss you one more time. “Can’t remember ever wanting something - someone - this bad before. Never thought feeling you everywhere but my cock could feel so good… get me this hard. God, you’re incredible.”

Beaming, you place your forehead on his. “You’re incredible, babe. You’ve been waiting so long and you’re still letting me love on you like this? Haven’t tried to guide me anywhere, haven’t asked for anything… haven’t even tried touching yourself. You know you could’ve, right? I didn’t tell you not to,” you point out.

He shrugs, as if the option never even crossed his mind. “I know that anything you do is gonna feel a million times better than anything I could do for myself just because it’s you, so.”

“Luuuuuu,” you melt, bringing yourself to his lips again.

He laughs, “That being said…I would like to cum sooner than later.”

You snort, giving him a playful shove as you push yourself up. “Oh is that something you were interested in doing tonight? That what all the moaning and writhing is about?”

He gently knees your side as you settle back between his legs. “Bold talk from a lady who was so horny earlier, I’d barely been gone ten minutes before you had to get yourself off.”

Giggling, you pinch his inner thigh and giggle some more when he’s surprisingly into it, giving a half-moaned, half-yelled reaction. “Whatever, man, I wasn’t the one jerkin’ it in the parking lot of my job.”

“Nooooo, that’s the whole point! I didn’t jerk it, that’s why I need to cum now,” he insists, tone still lighthearted but with a slight edge to it.

He’s getting desperate and you smile, appreciating how fun he is like this. “Aww, baby, you’re so right. This poor, poor cock deserves some attention, doesn’t it?”

Luke nods pitifully and holds his breath as you move in to press a single closed mouth kiss to the tip of his cock.

“Baby.”

You look at him with wide eyes, feigning shock that he’s disappointed. “More?” You place another chaste kiss halfway down his length, followed by one right at the base. You feel his cock throb under your lips, excited even from just that small amount of contact, and you almost feel bad when you hear his exasperated sigh as he realizes your game. You look up again, teasing, “Still not enough? Such a needy cock, isn’t it? Don’t know how you survived the day, babe, must’ve been so tough not giving in. Didn’t give it even one little stroke?”

He feels you moving down and when your breath is on his thighs again, he gasps. “N-no… wanted to wait for you,” he sputters, breath uneven as your lips brush across his skin.

“Good boy,” you purr, licking your lips and giving a wet kiss to his balls. You move over a fraction, kissing again, this time letting your tongue poke through your mouth and his body jerks so hard, you’d have sworn he jumped about five feet off the bed. “You like that, handsome?” 

A choked cry answers your question and you move and kiss again, sloppier, letting your tongue swirl and linger on his skin. His response is still intense, so you continue, using the same technique but traveling lower and kissing longer; his moan is sharper, breathier, and you notice his legs are opening wider for you, his ass scooting closer to your face. 

Oh.

You contemplate his reaction before moving in again, placing a firm, wet kiss to the space just under his balls. The way he whines your name is unlike anything you’ve ever heard before and judging by the ache you suddenly feel between your legs, you’re confident it will play a starring role in every masturbatory experience you have from now on.

“Luke?” You sit up to get a good look at him, biting your lip to keep from audibly reacting as you take in the sight of his flushed face, his curls frizzed from sweat and his hands resting at his sides, balled up into fists in a clear effort to keep himself from tending to his cock, much redder, much shinier and much angrier than it was when you last looked at it.

“Yeah?” He answers weakly, as desperate as he’s ever been but too dazed to hide it now.

You consider your words before deciding there’s really no delicate way of putting it. “Do you… um… should I eat your ass?” 

“Jesus Christ,” he breathes, screwing his eyes shut in an attempt to focus. “Is that… do you want to?”

“Lu,” you soothe, stroking his thighs. “Babe, you know we always say if there’s something one of us wants to try, we’ll hear each other out. And this seems like something that’s really turning you on and I’m really interested in exploring that if you are.”

He stares at the ceiling for a beat before focusing his gaze on you. “Yeah… yes. Yes, I- I think I’d like that.”

Breathing deep, he runs his hands through his hair, obviously overwhelmed. Your instinct is to rush up to give him a calming kiss but you fight the urge, wanting to give him space and time to process whatever he’s feeling. Instead, you hug his knee, using your fingers to draw soft circles on his leg, watching as his face softens and after a moment, he looks back down at you.

“You good, babe?”

“Yeah… I just got like, nervous for a second,” he laughs.

“Well that’s okay.” You smile softly, resting your chin on his knee while you talk. “Are you sure you wanna? We don’t have to, you know I’d be more than happy to suck your dick.”

With a naughty grin, he insists, “I mean, I’d be more than happy to have my dick sucked but I do think it’d be fun to try this.”

“Promise you’ll tell me if you change your mind?”

“Of course… and same.”

“Of course.”

Satisfied, you peck each of his knees before spreading them wide again. You dip down, pressing your chest to the bed, popping your own ass to give him a good show. You knead his ass cheeks before gently pushing them apart, pausing to take a steadying breath of your own.

“Love you,” the voice above eagerly offers.

Your head drops to the mattress and you laugh with glee. “Love you too, babe… especially love that you thought to tell me that just as I’m about to lick your ass for the first time.”

He wheezes before deadpanning, “Sounds like the best time to make that known, if you ask me.”

Shaking your head, you start nibbling at his inner thigh again; you suck and nip at his skin, moving closer and closer to unknown territory. When he feels your warm breath between his cheeks, his noises go totally quiet in anticipation of what you’ll do next.

Leaning in, you hold him tightly and lick a long stripe over his entrance; his entire body tenses and he makes the sharpest yet quietest noise you’ve ever heard from him. Just as your brain wonders if that was a good reaction or a bad reaction, he answers your question by rocking his hips up, silently asking for more.

You oblige him, flattening your tongue to cover even more territory, licking slow and wide from his hole back up to his balls and down again. This time, he’s not shy about letting you know how he feels, a few breathy “fuck”s and a shaky “oh god, baby, yes” falling from his lips. You repeat the same route, experimenting with a swirling motion on the way down and the groan it’s met with tells you it was the right decision.

“You like that, babe?” You raise up to check in with him, your question more curious than teasing. “Feeling good?”

Luke’s face is buried in his hands, surprised at how instantly he’s beside himself with want. “It feels fucking amazing,” he reports, voice muffled but clearly wrecked already. 

Looking at his neglected cock, leaking profusely and a deep shade of red, you ask, “Do you want me to jerk you off while I’m ---”

He interrupts, “Jesus, fuck, baby, no!” It takes a beat for him to hear his own reaction and then he giggles at how serious it was. He explains, “I swear to fuck, I will immediately cum all over myself if either one of us touches my dick for even a second.”

“I thought you wanted to cum sooner than later,” you tease.

He props his head up to grin at you. “I like the idea of your tongue in my ass more if I’m honest.”

“The most romantic thing you’ve ever said to me,” you quip, getting back into position. “Also… you said in, so…”

“Oh. I mean… is that… would you?”

You lean in and playfully bite a chunk of cheek. “Honestly, Lu, if it’ll get you to keep making noises like you have been, I’ll do literally anything you want to this sexy ass.” 

He laughs, low and raspy enough to give you chills. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

You grab his ass, push his thighs a little higher and dive back in, your tongue flicking wetly over his hole. As you work, the increasing volume of his sighs and the frequency with which he’s bucking into the air gives you confidence and your strokes become firmer, your flutters more teasing. You return to the sensitive skin below his balls, your lips providing gentle pressure before beginning a slight suction, and the prolonged moan he gives in response has you squeezing your legs together, hoping for some pressure of your own.

Emboldened by his feedback, you move down to his rim and apply the same method: pressure followed by suction. Luke can’t stop the whimpers spilling from his lips as yours move over him, breath catching as your tongue starts lapping in time, the sloppily wet sounds permanently etching into his brain. 

He wants to tell you what a good job you're doing, how unbelievable you're making him feel, but it's taking all his concentration not to grind himself back against your face, so all he can think to do is moan. He briefly considers reaching down to thread his hands in your hair and show his appreciation that way but that’d put his hands way too close to his cock and he doesn't trust himself enough not to touch it.

He groans as your grip on his thighs tightens up, trying to get a better angle; your nails dig into his skin as you do your best to keep him steady and he whines, feeling a fresh round of precum run onto his stomach. You press yourself closer, the tip of your tongue up against his opening before cautiously dipping inside. A strained shout escapes him and he claws at the sheets, pushing his ass down to meet your mouth, a tiny “sorry” lost in his throat as you work your tongue inside him and thrust. His head is spinning, he swears he’s never heard himself make the sounds he’s making and when your tongue thrusts into him again, he cries out as his cock twitches involuntarily.

All his noises are going straight to your pussy and you pull back, panting, in desperate need of a break. 

“Luke,” you huff, pecking across his thighs as you lift yourself up to address him. “I’m glad you seem to be enjoying this, babe… I apparently can’t get enough either, I’m absolutely soaked.”

He lifts his head to look at you and you sit up enough for him to see the center of your panties is a much darker shade of pink than it was before. “Holy shit, baby… that’s just from working on me?” You nod, lip between your teeth, and he groans. “God, you’re a fucking dream, you know that? Looking like that, making me feel… fuck, I don’t even know how to describe it… but you’re really, really fucking good at this.”

You grin, basking in his rambled praise. “Well, I’d be lost if I didn’t have such good feedback. All your pretty sounds, the way you keep grinding against my face…”

“Sorry about that,” he chuckles, a hint of shyness in his voice.

“No, Lu, I love knowing I’m making you feel so good. It’s so hot seeing you get so…”

“Slutty?”

You laugh, squeezing his knees affectionately. “I mean, that’s really nothing new, is it?” He giggles, breath slowing as your hands start roaming his legs. Your tone turns teasing, “So slutty… so needy… and yet, still so good for me, huh? Look at that cock! I don’t know if I’ve ever seen it so hard, have you? I’ll bet it’s absolutely aching, isn’t it, baby?”

“Ahhh, uh-huh,” he agrees quietly. He holds his breath as you lean over him, your hands rubbing over his stomach, so close - too close - to where his cock lays.

He gasps as you swirl your finger through some of the precum that’s pooled on his skin, the sensation causing his cock to jump up again.

You moan at the sight, loving that you’ve got him so worked up. Your finger inches closer and he whines helplessly. “You sure you don’t want me to do something about this, babe? Looks like it wouldn’t take much… what do you think? Think I’d be able to get even one stroke in?” You lightly run your nail against his stomach, right next to where his tip is and he lets out what can only be described as a sob. “Think I’d even get my hand around it before you make a mess of us both?” 

You lift your hand as if you’re going to test your theory and he wails your name desperately.

“Good boy,” you coo, backing off, watching the pronounced rise and fall of his chest as he tries to regain composure. You settle back between his legs and check in. “Keep going - yes or no?”

The question has barely left your mouth before he’s rushing out, “Yes, yes, yes, baby.” He slides his hands under his thighs and lifts them up to emphasize his point. “Please.”

Groaning at his eagerness, you feel even more wetness drip onto your lace bottoms. “Let me hear you, baby,” you encourage, softly kissing his cheeks, working your way in. 

You begin a pattern of kitten licks over his entrance that has him instantly moaning. You then teasingly swirl your tongue around - 1, 2, 3, times - and on the final circle you let the tip dart inside him and he lifts his legs even higher, rocking himself towards you, needing more. You duplicate the process but slower, adding in a few extra swirls just to hear his reaction - 1, 2, 3, 4, 5 - and your taunting is met with a series of increasingly frantic whines and a few strangled pleas of your name. When you finally flit your tongue inside, the relieved “Oh my fucking god, baby, yes, that” feels a hundred times better than the orgasm you gave yourself earlier.

As you continue, Luke feels like he’s lost control - his hips pumping against you seemingly of their own accord, his voice producing a consistent stream of sounds he doesn’t recognize, his cock springing up with interest yet again. And does he always leak this much precum? Fuck. You squeeze his ass, your hair tickling his cheeks as you wiggle, working your tongue in deeper; he notices a distinct sensation spreading through his body but he’s so overwhelmed he can’t quite place it yet. 

He looks down to see your head moving in a familiar bobbing motion and he has to groan as his mind acknowledges that he’s being blessed with one of his favorite visuals not because you’re sucking him off, but eating his ass.

“So good, baby… so fucking good,” he praises dreamily.

You murmur against him in appreciation, giving his ass another squeeze and he whimpers, that confusing sensation running through him again but more insistent. You’re effectively fucking him with your tongue, digging your nails into his skin, trying to hold on as he fucks back against you, and when your own muffled moans start pouring from your throat, that same mystery sensation returns to his body with such intensity, it demands to be recognized.

Oh. 

It takes up until the second that Luke starts cumming for him to realize that’s what’s happening and it’s not until he feels the first rope of cum hit his chest that he actually believes it. He tries to call your name but all that comes out is the first letter followed by a bunch of unintelligible cries, voice unfamiliar as his body shudders. His cock pulses and throbs mindlessly, spraying his release near and far, coating his entire torso all the way from his belly to his chest. 

The high of this orgasm seems to have no limit, building and building even when it seems like it's beyond time to fall back down to earth. He tries to express this thought but his breath comes out in short, wrecked sobs while his arms shake as he struggles to hold his legs in the air. It’s probably the most exhilarating - and bewildering - thing he’s ever felt and when it finally crescendos, he gives an elongated groan of something resembling your name and lets his limbs drop down as he melts into the bed.

As soon as his legs hit the mattress, you’re racing over to his side. “Luke? Baby. Oh my god,” you fuss. He looks absolutely destroyed - hair disheveled, skin flushed, eyes tightly shut. His breath is steadier than it was but still labored, heaving chest covered in sweat and cum. He’s never looked more beautiful. You speak tenderly, stroking his cheek, “You did so good, Lu, oh my god, that was incredible, baby… are you okay?”

His eyes flutter open, still a bit glazed. He takes a moment before he answers. “Yeah… I… just… whoa.”

“Yeah, definitely whoa,” you laugh quietly, pushing the curls off his forehead. “I’ve never… did you know you could -- “

He shakes his head. “Nope. Never happened before, not even close.” He chuckles in disbelief. “I didn’t even know it was happening until it was happening.” 

You giggle with him. “I felt your body like, pulse and before I even had time to think about it, you were moaning and… oh my god, babe…” You move closer to snuggle him but he holds his hands out to stop you.

“Messy,” he laughs sheepishly, gesturing at his sticky skin.

With a comforting squeeze to his arm, you promise, “One sec,” and hop off the bed, hurrying to the en suite. Luke closes his eyes, the sound of the running faucet serving as the perfect white noise as he lays there, content but exhausted. Several moments later, he feels the bed dip, followed by the pleasant sensation of a warm washcloth moving across his chest.

“Thank you, honey,” he says quietly, reaching out to squeeze your hip. He traces the waistband of your panties admiringly. “Couldn’t let these gorgeous pieces get stained… not yet, anyway.”

He wiggles his eyebrows suggestively and you snort. “Such a thoughtful lover,” you joke, softly flicking him with the washcloth before tossing it aside.

“Well actually, speaking of which,” he starts, hand moving to rub over the now transparent from arousal patch of your underwear. “What should we do about this?”

“I was actually gonna see if you wanted a snack,” you shrug, patting his now clean skin dry with a new towel. He narrows his eyes skeptically and you explain simply as you pass him his water bottle. “I came this morning.”

“Oh, trust me, I remember,” he smirks, taking the bottle but grabbing your arm to pull you close. He caresses your cheek, continuing, “But you seemed happy - eager even - to have another so I wanna check that you’re not passing it up just because you made me cum my brains out and think now you gotta take care of me.”

You take a thoughtful sip from your water. “I guess I got a little worked up watching you… and talking to you over the course of the day… and looking at the pictures of your dick that you sent me,” you shrug again, a coy smile creeping at the corners of your lips. “I just… that was so intense, babe, are you sure you don’t need anything?”

He opens his arms and you don’t hesitate to accept the invitation, curling up on him, letting him wrap himself around you. “Honestly all I need is to feel my girl laying in my arms… heart racing, hips bucking…” He kisses sweetly over your face, ghosting over your lips before darting down to suck under your jaw instead. He runs his hand over the mark he leaves, tracing his thumb over your mouth. “Little gasps, sweet moans spilling out from these beautiful lips… if that’s something you think you might be interested in.”

Your eyes meet his as you suck his thumb between your lips, biting gently. “Well… if it’ll make you feel better, I guess,” you joke, sighing as you’re pulled into a passionate kiss. 

His fingers toy with the caged straps of your bra and he whispers, “Wanna be naked with me?” You eagerly nod, hissing quietly as he unfastens you; you help him pull the material off and then quickly shimmy out of your bottoms. You shiver under his appreciative gaze as he murmurs, “That’s my good girl,” before capturing your lips again.

The makeout is slow and familiar, a lovely juxtaposition to the frenzied experimentation you’re both still coming down from. His hand makes its way down your body, slipping between your legs and you both groan as he starts stroking through your wet folds. You almost instantly start rocking your hips into his touch - you’ve been waiting to feel his hands on you all day and you’ve been so turned on for so long and your body is so grateful to finally have some relief.

He laughs raspily, “Baby… after all that buildup, don’t you think you deserve more than humping my hand?” You whine as he pulls away and whine again when you see him reaching over into “the fun drawer.” He grabs the first toy he touches and it happens to be the one you used this morning. He clicks the button and it whirs to life, thrusting back and forth enthusiastically, much to his delight. “Look at this bad boy! I’ve always wanted to watch you with this one.”

“Well pay attention because it’s not gonna last long,” you laugh.

After some discussion, he props some pillows up against the headboard and sits back with his legs open for you to lay between. You relax into him, immediately angling your head for a kiss while Luke’s first order of business is getting his hands on your breasts. You tease each other a bit - your teeth tugging his lip, his ringed fingers twirling your nipples - and then he’s nudging you to pick up the vibrator.

“Been thinking about this since I saw that picture,” he admits, watching carefully as you drag the toy down your body.

You run the tip up and down your pussy, getting it nice and wet before lightly circling your clit. “I always wait until the last minute to turn it on… it feels too good,” you explain, teasing your opening and then pulling it away, your hips tilting up in hopes of reconnecting with the toy. “Even just putting it in is too much sometimes because I know how good it’s about to make me feel.” You torment yourself a few more times and then finally let it slip in, sighing loudly as it glides inside you.

“Fuck,” Luke breathes, rubbing your legs soothingly as he stares, slack-jawed.

One hand fits the toy inside you while your other interlaces your fingers with his. “Oh this is gonna be so quick,” you laugh, leaning back to kiss his neck. “You ready?”

"I don't know," he giggles, squeezing your thigh. "Ready to see you come apart, baby."

You keep your gaze trained on his face, your hand using sense memory to locate the power button and turn it on. A deep groan escapes your throat instantly as the shaft of the toy begins vibrating and pumping inside you. You quickly click it down to a low setting and reach to adjust the arm meant to stimulate your clit, your eyes rolling back the moment it lands on the right spot.

"Feels good?" He asks quietly, visibly gulping as you nod and lick your lips. He runs his hands up from your legs, caressing over your hips, your stomach and finally your tits again, where his touch lingers. "As good as this morning?"

Bringing him into a kiss, you sigh, "Better… you're here now." You roll your hips with the slow rhythm of the vibrator, not yet ready to crank it up to your usual setting and have this end. "Don't gotta imagine your hands on my body, your voice in my ear, your breath on me… you're here."

"So glad I'm here, honey," he reassures, kissing your face. You press a button to change the pattern of the vibrations and gasp into his mouth. He groans, wanting to help you along, "Did you pretend it was me fucking you? My cock inside you?"

You confirm breathily, "Oh, Lu, yes… Pretended you were still in bed with me… like the phone never rang… like we just woke up and you were on my neck, telling me how much you wanted me… pretended we were back in that moment and I told you to slip it in like I wished I would’ve… oh god, Lu, c’mere.” You reach for his hand, panting.

The sudden shift of intensity in your tone has Luke breathing as heavy as you, rushing to do as requested. You guide his hand around the bottom of the toy’s shaft, right where it’s peeking out of your body; you watch his jaw drop as you cycle through the settings, landing on the rhythm and speed that always leaves you seeing stars.

He looks at you wide-eyed. “No way,” he laughs, feeling the strong buzz and rapid thrusts. “Baby, this is gonna launch you into space.”

“Counting on it,” you giggle, turning it back down while you move his hand to the base of the toy and adjust his hold so it’s at the angle you need. As soon as he’s in position, you turn the power back up and let out a pronounced moan.

“That’s it, lemme hear those beautiful sounds, honey,” he encourages, his free hand gripping your breast tight, hoping to both get you off and steady you.

The whines only get louder as your back arches into his touch and your hips stutter, your body too stimulated to follow along with the vibe's movements. It drives into you over and over at that delicious angle and you bury your face into Luke's neck, muffling a cry as you feel your climax start to light up every single cell in your body. 

The pleasure rushes through you, the chemicals flood your system and most importantly, your boyfriend’s arms tighten around you. The orgasm is great - fantastic even - but feeling this good while being this close to him is what makes all the waiting, all the teasing, all the frustration of the day worth it.

“Oh, that’s it, baby… what a good girl… look so unbelievable when you cum for me,” he encourages as you huff and shake in his embrace. A few seconds later, your body settles and your breathing quiets but a small whimper remains and he knows that means you’re done with the vibrator. He shuts it off and carefully pulls it out, soothing in a soft voice, “I know, baby, that was so much… it’s alright, I’ve got you.”

He gently eases you onto your pillow, freeing up his arm to grab the tissue box off the nightstand. You pout and make grabby hands at him as he stops to wipe down your toy; he grins, pecking your lips before starting to clean you up as well. Neither of you have much to say, content with simply trading soft smiles and softer touches. 

Luke lays his head on your chest, gazing up lovingly at you, and you tangle your fingers in his curls, loving the way his eyelashes flutter as you comb through his hair. You take the moment in until something occurs to you. “Hey, babe, I don’t think I ever actually thanked you for those flowers? They’re gorgeous… that was really sweet of you.”

“Aww, honey, I’m glad you liked them!” He beams proudly. His expression briefly falters but he shakes it off and continues, “I wanted to kind of acknowledge and apologize for this morning… I promised this would be our day and I should’ve taken a minute to find a compromise instead of just taking off like it was nothing.”

“Luuuuuke,” you whine, stroking his cheek softly. “I know I complained at first but you know I understand the band comes first - it’s your job and it’s important. You’ve got a lot of people counting on you.”

He shrugs. “I had you counting on me and you’re someone I don’t ever wanna disappoint. I should’ve asked if you wanted to come have lunch or something. I don’t know where my head was at.”

“Well, babe, I appreciate the apology but I still had a pretty fun day,” you reassure him, smirk curling the edges of your mouth.

“Is that so? I never would’ve guessed,” he jokes, pushing up to kiss you. “Glad to hear you had a good day, though… spent most of mine worrying I’d ruined it.”

You giggle, “Babe, I’m pretty sure the only thing that got well and truly ruined today was you.”

He laughs with you, a faint blush spreading over his skin. “So best case scenario then,” he cracks, pressing another kiss on your lips.

He sits up, sipping his water, passing yours over when you prop yourself up next to him. You suddenly remember to ask, “Hey, how was the studio, by the way? How’d our song turn out?”

Luke grins. “Oh, is it our song?”

With a naughty smile, you explain. “I don’t know about you but I doubt I’ll be able to think about anything besides tonight when I hear it.”

“Well… tonight and the night I wrote it.”

“See.”

“You’re right, it’s definitely our song,” he giggles, squeezing your knee. “I really like what it’s turning into, I think it’s almost where it needs to be.”

Your brow scrunches, confused. “Almost? Wasn’t it due today?”

“Oh!” He laughs, shaking his head. “The deadline actually got extended.”

“What?!”

“Mmm hmm, some kind of server maintenance - the label apparently can’t handle any incoming files for a day or two. So we all decided we should use that time and really get it right.”

You’re quiet for a moment before offering a simple, “Interesting.”

Luke can tell you’re calculating if this will affect your time together again and he slinks his arm around you, leaning your head on his shoulder. “It doesn’t need nearly as much work as it did today though, so hopefully it won’t take up too much of the day.” 

“Yeah, hopefully.”

With a smile, he adds, “But just in case, I’m thinking my phone’s gonna accidentally die overnight, what about yours?”

——————————————— Thank you for reading!