#when i watched this scene for the first time it fucking opened my third eye

[horror-aesthete]

Dracula, 2020, dir. Jonny Campbell

SE01E01 The Rules of the Beast

[laneywrld]

Oh Baby | part three

third and final part.

word count: 8.6k

Warnings: tame(er) smut. Pregnancy sex. childbirth.

progress is made, all thanks to your hormone gremlins.

It's safe to say everyone's favorite duo was back like they never left,  just with a lingering air of sexual tension and babies in the oven. 

You were never good at holding water, which is why you told your family and friends about it the very same night. Your friends were the most excited you'd ever seen them, and that was before you even mentioned who the father was. 

When Miles questioned who the father was with a meek voice interrupting said celebrations, Lewis stepped forward with a cocky smirk and a pep in his step that made you want to kick the back of his legs in. 

Instead, you gently motioned to Lewis with your arm thrown out. 

You'll never forget your friend's reactions like a scene from a telenovela; they all gasped dramatically and clutched their pearls. "Oh, I'm going to beat everybody's ass; why didn't we know y'all were together?"

"We are NOT together." You interrupt.

"So fucking?" Miles pipes up, and you feel like you are on stage with a literal spotlight directed at you, with the way they are all intently observing you, including Lewis.

"Not fucking either." You deny, slapping Lewis' arm as to say, help me out here. He shakes his head at you, shoving his hands into his pockets.

"It was a one-time thing that we both agreed would never happen again. This is the consequence of our actions that night." You put your hands on your pudgier stomach. "Yay!" you cheer quietly.

Whit stands first, and with tears in her eyes, she throws her arm over your shoulder, pulling you into a hug. Mori stands after already having been emotional since the initial announcement. She saunters over with a coo of "Aww, mama bear," joining in on the embrace. 

Lewis' boys stand up, Miles put his hand out to Lewis for a dap and ends up pulling him into a hug. "One step closer." He chuckles gripping Lewis' shoulder as he steps back. 

Daniel grins, approaching Lewis with his arms open and ready, "I'm proud of you, brother." He congratulates them through his own wide grin. 

You turn to Lewis with your bottom lip poked out as your friends kneel around your tiny belly. It doesn't even really look like there's a child in there, but that doesn't halt your friends from gently caressing it.

You wipe away an unsuspecting tear as Miles coos gently to your stomach, "Hope you don't get your dad's forehead, lil man."

"She's a girl!" Whit scowls, mushing his face away from your belly.

"We don't know what it is, actually." Daniel returns Whit's actions, mushing her to the right as he emerges front and center.

Lewis, who had stood off to the side watching your friend's love on you and your unborn baby, steps to your side, wrapping his arm around your shoulder and pulling you closer to him. He leaves a lingering kiss on your hairline before knocking Daniel over with his foot. 

"Don't call my child an it."

-

Your parents, on the other hand, were a completely different story.

Your full government name is shouted by your mother as she holds onto your dad for support. They both look like they've been shot, and the greater betrayal was that you were the one who pulled the trigger. "Oh, Lord in heaven, please!"

"Ma." You whine, "Don't look like that, guys."

Lewis parents are sat beside your own, his mom is eyeing you up and down a interested look dawning her face. When your dad wipes the suprise from his face he looks like he is beginning the five stages of grief. 

"My baby- I can't."

Lewis' mother slaps her ex-husband's thigh, motioning to the anxious look adorning their son's face. 

"Lewis," His mom all but shouts, "Are you the father?" It comes out in a squeal, one that has your parents pausing their dramatics and leaning forward in sync.

Lewis looks like a thief caught red-handed. And just as you looked to him for support earlier, he does the same to you. You shrug at him, throwing your hands into your pockets.

How does it feel to be thrown to the sharks?

He stutters for a while, so he avoids eye contact with your dad. When his father speaks up, his voice is demanding. "Be a man, Lewis, answer."

You almost feel bad watching as your guys' parents sit literally on the edge of their seats. Lewis has never felt more nervous in his life. Deciding to put an end to his misery, you close the distance between you two and intertwine your hands.

"The baby is mine," Lewis announces, and your family jumps up like they've won the lotto.

Unlike your friends, they don't rush to you guys; they rush to each other. Your mom and Lewis' mom bounce up and down as they hug, and like the annoying men your fathers are, they point at each other with wide grins on their faces before they are in each other's embrace as well.

You and Lewis face each other in perplexity.

He clears his throat, and you call out, "Umm, hello?"

"Aww, my baby," your mom cries, rushing to you with her arms held high. You still stare back at Lewis, and your face is set in bafflement as she presses her lips to your cheeks and then cups your belly. Your dad comes barreling through, quite literally pushing your mom out of the way, and he is enveloping you in a bone-crushing hug.

Your mom shouts your dad's name, whacking the back of his head, "The girl is pregnant. Be gentle."

He eases back and holds your face in his hands, eyes staring into you with such adoration that it makes you emotional all over again. "My baby is having a baby."

Choked up you see Lewis' parents loving on him in the same manner, you catch Anthony's eyes and he is unraveling himself from his son and pulling you into him. "I couldn't be any more happier, my girl." He talks quietly into your ear as he hugs you. 

As you talk to Lewis' mom, you see your dad and mom embracing Lewis, and you chuckle as he happily accepts their graces.

As time went on they just barely settled down.

"Oh please," you taunt. "You literally looked like you guys were ready to kill me." 

You watch on in puzzlement as they begin writing Facebook posts. 

"Yes, my darling." Your mother hums. 

"Before we found out Lewis was the father." His mom adds with a cheeky smile.

"So?" your dad motions between the two of you, relaxing comfortably on the loveseat. "How long has this been a thing?"

At your words, the grin is wiped from his face, "It's not."

"Have you defiled my daughter Lewis Carl Dav-"

"Dad!" you shout, groaning again as he turns to Anthony with an incredulity like no other. 

"So, maybe let's not do Facebook?" You suggest.

Lewis raises from beside you sauntering over to the dad couch, he sits on the arm of the chair beside your dad and talks lowly to them. You cannot hear what he says but by the way a grin covers the faces of the entire couch you know he's used his classic Hamilton charm on them.

He watches you as he speaks and shoots you a wink when he sees you trying to read his lips. 

"I think we're going to head back to our wing of the house." He announces and that's your cue to start lifting from the couch. 

You say your goodbyes, giving everyone smooches and welcoming the last of their congratulations. Lewis saunters over to you after doing the same and reaches for your hand. You graciously accept, waving one final time before he pulls you from the secondary house. 

"So how are we going to go about this?" You question as the two of you walk hand in hand.

"However you want."

"I don't like how you just agree with everything I say; give me some input; this is your child, too." You ensure, "I'm open to what you want as well."

"I want you to be close to me during the pregnancy. It'd make me feel better for sure." He hums.

"Can I ask how that'd work? You're going to be traveling for the season. I want to keep my job for as long as I can."

"I want you to be stress free, I meant what I said, I'll take care of anything you need. Please just- you don't have to quit forever; just let me take care of you while you're pregnant, at least."

He looks so concerned with the idea of you working that it has you reaching up to physically push the frown from his face. You stop in front of him and poke your finger on his face by the corner of his mouth.

"Stop pouting," you instruct, "I work for my dad, after all. I think he'll understand."

He breathes a sigh of relief, grabbing your hand again as you start walking ahead of him.

"I also want everyone to know the baby's mine." He adds. "Unless you planned on keeping them out of the light, which I get-"

"Done." You cheese. "I'll let the world know you knocked me up, Sir Hamilton. More requests?"

"Move in with me."

You don't say anything as you turn to face him. The moon creates a glow around the two of you as you glance up at him. 

"C'mon, I purchased the house because you liked it anyway," he shrugs. "You're there more than me during the season; Roscoe loves having you there; I love having you there. Plus, you love it there."

You stare up at him with an admiration like no other. It has him turning his blushing face to the side.

"I did say it'd be the perfect home for a kid one day, huh?" You squeal, wrapping yourself around him, "I'm so excited!"

He lifts you with one arm like you weigh nothing, and you wrap your legs around his waist.

"I'm excited, too." He hums as he walks you into the primary home. The lights are all off as he carries you up the stairs and into your room. He plops you down onto the bed, crouching down to pull your slippers from your feet. 

"I can do that myself, you know? I'm not that pregnant yet." You huff.

"What kind of man would I be if I had my baby mama doing anything?" He smirks up at you.

"All it took was me carrying your child for you to be awfully sweet to me, would've fucked you sooner."

"Always sweet to you," Lewis smiles up at you, "gotta stop talking like that to me if you don't want me to get the wrong idea."

"Mhmm." You fall back into the bed.

Lewis crawls onto the bed beside you, laying his head against your stomach; he pokes you, making you jump.

"Stop it, I'm ticklish." You warn; he only smiles, nestling further into you. "There's a baby in here." His voice is so low you almost miss it. 

"Thank you." You express gently, rubbing your fingers through his braids. 

"For what?" utters Lewis as his palm rubs in circular motions against your belly. 

"For giving me everything I've ever wanted."

"I always will."

-

Whoever came up with the saying that distance makes the heart grow fonder was truly right. Although it was less than ideal, you and Lewis were back as if it had never happened. In fact, it's like the time you had away from each other forced you into the beautiful dynamic the two of you have now. Neither of you wanted to be without the other again.

It had been three months since your beautiful discovery, so that put you at a whopping five months pregnant.

Your belly was now noticeably bigger and rounder, much bigger than it would've been if Lewis' family didn't have a history of twins. And it was most definitely getting in the way of things, literally. 

You huff as you struggle to squat down low enough to lift the box of blankets you packed. Just as you feel yourself get a good enough grip on the box and you begin to lift Lewis is by your side wearing a disapproving scowl.

"How many times do I have to tell you to stop trying to carry stuff out of here."

"Lewis," you huff, "It's literally just blankets."

"I don't care, sit down." He orders.

You stomp away from him, plopping down on the couch. He walks out of the front door and returns only moments later, waltzing into your kitchen.

He appears again with a plate full of orange slices, and you sigh as he approaches you.

"Lewis, there's only so many orange slices I can take in a day, buddy."

"The doctor said oranges are a good snack for month five," he pouts, "my kids need vitamin C."  

"Trust me, belly's fine."

Almost like they can sense the presence of food, they kick at you, and you, still not used to the sensation, cup your stomach in a gasp.

"Mhhm," Lewis disapproves, "feed my babies." He is setting the plate of fruit in your lap, bending quickly to peck your stomach. "I have a few more boxes to help them load and then I'll be taking you home, okay."

You can only offer him a puffy smile, your cheeks filled with fruit. He chuckles leaning over to ruffle your hair and he's pulling your forehead to his lips pressing a chaste kiss there before he's walking towards the stack of boxes.

You dreamily sigh, watching his glistening tatted back contract as he lifts the heavy mass. 

These fucking babies were turning you into a horny mess. 

It was the second week of June. A week later than the deadline, you promised Lewis that you'd move into his home. Well, your home now, too.

It was safe to say that Lewis meant business. You had spent the last few months bouncing from country to country, attending every race with him and basking in the free time with each other, which he had before and after races. 

When you opted to skip the Canadian Grand Prix under the pretense that you would go home to oversee the movers, he hesitantly drove you to the airport the day before qualifying. 

But when you got home and your preganacy brain got to you, you realized you scheduled your movers for the wrong saturday. You could've sworn Lewis was having a panic attack with the way he was in hysterics over the facetime call as you explained your situation.

He had booked himself a very late flight after his race and appeared at your doorstep with an armful of plant-based treats and a carton of strawberry fro-yo. "It's good for the babies." He smiled sheepishly as he rushed in. 

And here you were now, big and bored, spread across the couch as Roscoe snuggled into your side. You don't remember falling asleep next to your furry friend, but as Lewis gently shakes you awake with an adorable twinkle in his eyes you can't even be bothered to be irritated.

"Hey, mama," he coos. "You ready to head out?"

You nod, still groggy, swinging your legs over the couch and preparing to stand. Lewis catches you off guard as he swoops you into his arms, carrying you bridal style with ease. He calls for Roscoe as he slips through the front door. 

He opens the passenger side door of his car and sits you down softly, reaching over you to grab the seatbelt. And he's so close to you that it has your heart hammering when his hand swipes against your chest to pull at the belt. 

"I'll be back in a second, going to lock up here."

He smirks as he closes the door and you see him taking his precious time to make it back into your former home. 

You were no fool; truthfully, you were fully aware of the sexual tension that hung between you and Lewis since the night of his birthday. 

There were lingering touches and gazes that you were sure were sexually charged. You've even noticed Lewis' impure reactions to you, and it made your brain race with questions.

The driver's side door opening drew you from your thoughts as Lewis appeared this time covered in a white tee. You will away your disappointment and reach for his phone to play some music. When you do you see a message from a saved contact.

Marie

Isn't it about time for you to come see me again?

"You've got a message." You tell him nonchalantly even though your heart aches.

"From who?"

You try to hand him the phone, but he waves it off, reversing the car. "Can you read it to me?"

"Marie, she says, and I quote, Isn't it about that time for you to come see me again? You late to a link, Lew?" You laugh even though there isn't shit funny to you.

"You can block her." He declares casually. 

"Huh?"

"Block her for me." He orders, but he still hasn't turned to look at you. "She was just someone I saw when I was in Canada."

"Lewis, you don't have to end your fun on my account; I'm the pregnant one. You do know that you don't have to."

"Yeah." He pushes out hoarsely. You wait for him to continue, but he doesn't. In a way, you feel a sense of relief wash over you. Life with Lewis has felt so extra domestic lately. It was almost like the two of you were in a relationship, minus the physical affection. And even then, that physicality was there; you two just never kissed or, well, had sex.

You wondered if he felt it the same way you had.

But then the thought lingers in the back of your head: did he see her when you left to come home?

The way he was acting oddly uncomfortable with the conversation gave you your answer, and in the end, you couldn't fault him for it.

You do as he instructs, clicking Marie's contact and blocking her number, and then you continue on with your initial mission and scroll through Lewis' Spotify until you find music to your liking.

The rest of the drive is silent except for the soft melodies escaping his speakers.

When you pull into Lewis' driveway, he parks, turns off the car, and hurries to your side, opening the door before you even have the chance to do so. He opens the backdoor and holds onto your hand. "Roscoe, c'mon boy."

He leads you into the home like you haven't passed through the very same doors a million times before. 

"Which room did they move me into?" You question making your way upstairs.

"Oh," Lewis pauses, "I figured you'd be with me, in mine."

"Oh, okay."

You walk past him and further up the stairs as he trails behind you.

When you enter his room you beeline straight into his closet, well you guys' closet and sure enough there are more of your belongings taking up space. 

You stand on your tiptoes to reach for one of his tee shirts. He is behind you in an instant, one hand holding your hip firmly and forcing your feet back onto the ground. The other reaches up and grasps the shirt you had been aiming for. 

When you turn to take the shirt from him, he once again gives you the same disapproving gaze he'd given you earlier.

"Oh God, Lewis. I can't even get on my tiptoes anymore?" You question, pulling the shirt from his grasp.

"You could've tipped over." He argues, following you out of the closet. "You want a bath or a shower tonight?" He queries, already heading into the bathroom.

"A bath, please; my body is killing me." 

"Put this on," he orders, tossing you your robe. 

You strip from your shorts and tee-shirt throwing the robe on and waiting patiently for Lewis to emerge from the bathroom. 

When he does, he's shirtless, and the sweats are hanging low.

"I've got your bath running. Sit down," he orders, pointing to the bed. 

"Why?" you question, but you're already moving to the bed and plopping down. 

"Why do you question everything?" He chuckles. And he is slipping behind you in an instant, his hands instantly moving up to knead at your shoulders.

You can't help the moan you let out. "Fuck, that feels great. Thank you."

"It's the least I can do, letting my youngsters beat you up all day."

You can only chortle as his hands move along your back. 

"Gonna come out feisty, like you."

"I am not," you argue.

"yeah, okay." He whispers, his hands traveling lower and lower. His hands are gripping your sides firmly as his thumbs massage masterfully into your back.

"Fuck, Lewis." You mewl.

"Feels good?"

"Yeah." 

You almost cry as you feel him lifting behind you, but when he pushes you onto your back gently and cradles your legs, the whine in your throat is replaced with a nervous gulp. 

His hands caress your thighs, moving up and down expertly, and you bask in the comfort.

"I didn't sleep with her in Canada, never even saw her this year."

"Oh," you murmur with your eyes closed. On the outside, you were calm, but mentally, you were shrieking tears of joy. 

"Haven't been sleeping around." He announces again. 

When you say nothing, he persists, "Haven't been with anyone since you."

You know Lewis so well that you can predict his face even before you open your eyes.

His voice sounds a bit gravelly and shaky, and you know he's peering up at you through his perfect lashes, waiting to gauge your reaction. 

So when you open your eyes and see him hovering over your legs exactly as you imagined, you can only shoot him a purposeful smile.

"I figured. You've spent all of your time with me." You shrug. He nods relief washing over him. In all honesty he was happy that you recognized the switch in him. Recognized that all of his focus was soley on you and your unborn babies, who you've nicknamed belly. 

"Five months is a long time to go without sex." You declare, and he bobs his head to the side, 

"Not really, not for me. What about you?" 

He feels his heart leap with joy at your next words.

"I haven't slept with anyone else since you either. I've gone longer without sex, so five months would've been easier if I wasn't lugging around two hormone gremlins." 

You both share a laugh as you motion to your round belly. 

"You're suffering then?"

"Suffering like a motherfucker." You huff.

"I can fix that."

You sit up, coming face to face with him; he stares at you intensely. It was your idea, not to mention the night you two had shared, as well as your doing, to solidify the fact that you two would never sleep together again.

However, your emotions were running, and your hormones were at an all-time high, so could anyone really even blame you for pulling his mouth to yours in a searing kiss?

Like the time before, it's like Lewis is ready for you. He pushes you back down, his legs still holding him above you. This time, Lewis takes the initiative, spreading your mouth open and entering like it's home. One of his elbows is being used as leverage to hold him above your bump. His other hand has your jaw in a tight grip, holding you in place.

Your hands are exploring his body. Traveling the expanse of his chest to his back, anything you can reach. 

He disconnects his mouth from yours, his head turning towards the bathroom. "Shit, sorry."

He stands, shooting you a sorrowful look as he beelines into the washroom.

When he appears again, he is looking at you with hungry eyes, but his words are so domestic that you are ready to jump his bones.

"Made your bath too hot. Got time to let that cool down."

You smirk at him, beckoning him over. You're both sitting angled towards each other and just as you move forward to touch his lips with your own he is moving his head to the side forcing you to peck the corner of his mouth.

You lean back with furrowed brows. "What was that?"

"I want to clarify something first, this time. So we won't have a repeat of last time."

Damn, you scream to yourself. You were already extremely horny, and now you'd have to sit and listen to him declare that this was a means of pleasure only. Which in return would most likely turn you off. So yay, no life-altering dick for you tonight.

"Go on then." You wave your hand, and Lewis laughs.

"Patience, you horny beast." 

You gasp, thumping his head.

"But really, I, um, wanted to let you know this for a while. It's been on my mind even heavier since my birthday."

"Okay," 

"I love you." He blurts, "and not in the conventional friendship way, you're my best friend but I love you more than that. And I have for as long as I could remember."

You feel like you've been freed from hell's gates; everything in you feels so much lighter, so much more merrier. 

Like always, when Lewis tries to find the words to say, his head is tilted downwards to the side as he works through what to say. His heart is beating a mile a minute, and he can't find it in him to look at you quite yet. He has to say how he feels now, or he'll never say it.

"I'm the man I am today because of you. You've been with me every step of the way. You've never turned your back on me or gotten sick of me; you've been everything I've ever wanted from the beginning. I've tried to fill the void of not having you with other... distractions, should I say. And it never made me forget about you, never made me want you any less, always made me want you even more."

You choke up at his words. This was all you've ever wanted to hear spoken to you.

"I love you and I feel like I have ever since I've been able to have complex emotions. You are my childhood dream. Over the racing and the luxury lifestyle, over anything. I've always wanted you more than anything. I meant every word I said to you on my birthday, and I'm taking accountability now for the argument. I wanted to hear you say that you meant the words you said to me, like I meant the words I said to you. I should have just admitted it. But I didn't, and I was a fool; I regret it every day. But I love you all the same."

He peers up at you through his lashes and through his own teary eyes he can see the tears bubbling over the surface as you poke out your bottom lip in your classic pout.

"Oh, Lew," you whine, wrapping him in such a tender embrace. "You don't know how long I've waited to hear you say those words."

He nestles his head into the crook of your neck, and you can feel wetness glide down your collar.

You grasp his head in your hands, cupping his cheeks so that you can see him eye to eye.

"I love you," you state. "More than the entire world, I've always told you that, and I've always meant it."

His lips twitch, and his eyes soften. Finally, he breaks into a smile. "How much I love you is unexplainable, Lew. I've been fighting myself forever about it, frustrated that I'd never see anyone like I see you. I've been settling because I thought I couldn't have you. You're all I've ever wanted. And I meant what I said that night, too. I was made for you and only you, always only ever been yours. No one has had my heart but you."

This time, the kiss is passionate and slow. You taste saltiness as you succumb to each other. You separate with a gasp, hand coming down to soothe your stomach. "They're beating me up again." You whisper, watching as their tiny feet nudge against your stomach.

Lewis bends down, pressing pecks to your bulging belly, "Think they're just celebrating."

You watch from above with a loving smile on your face. "My little family." You coo, bringing your hand up to rest in Lewis' hair.

"I'm going to marry you, you know that, right?" Lewis peers up at you. 

"I sure would hope so." And you lean down to press a kiss to his forehead. 

"They're not stopping." He announces, his hand covering your own on your belly.

"They always get excited when you're close to me." You admit. 

His eyes crinkle at your words, and his mouth spreads into a grin.

"I'm happy to be with you guys, too," he coos to your gut, "but we have to let Mama relax, okay." At his words, the thumps from inside of you come to a halt, and you and Lewis marvel at each other.

"Wow," you whisper.

"Come on." He is standing from the bed, holding his hand out for you. 

He helps you stand from the bed, gently pulling you into the bathroom.

When you're inside, he faces you towards the mirror. He unclasps the necklace sitting it onto the bathroom counter and slowly his hands travel to your front to untie your robe. It falls off of your shoulders and he proceeds to drag it down your arms and from your body.

You stare at him through the mirror with no shame as he trails his eyes along your body.

"Most beautiful woman in the world." He hums. You're standing in front of him naked as he reaches past you to drop your now discarded robe beside your necklace.

As he does so, he presses lingering kisses to your neck. 

He steps back, holding out his arm to direct you into the bathtub.

"Get in with me?" You suggest as you notice him standing off to the side. 

Lewis curses himself for feeling like a shy virgin around you every time you even remotely flutter your eyes at him. 

"Please." You add submerging yourself into the warm water.

Lewis slips from his sweats, easing into the tub at the other end.

"Remember when we used to have baths together as kids?" You reminisce, blowing a pile of bubbles at him.

Lewis leans back, his arms dangling over the edge. "Simple times."

"You remember when you pooped?" You tease, leaning forward.

Lewis splashes you a tiny bit, bubbles landing on your face. "That was you," he denied.

"Big fat liar." you cackled. 

Lewis sees you inching towards him like a tiger on the prowl. You're in his lap before he knows it, your arms locked around his neck. He wraps his own around your waist.

No more words are spoken between you two. You lift your soapy hand and tilt his head up to you, pressing your mouth to his.

Lewis groans into your mouth as you settle over him.

"Want you so bad." You confess, your lips trailing from his mouth to his jaw and down into the crevice of his neck.

Your hand reaches down between the two of you, and you smile against his skin as you grip him.

So hard already.

Lewis throws his head back against the porcelain as you wrap your hand around him in a snug grasp. 

You're in his ear saying some of the most obscene words he's ever heard as you sit on top of him, tugging him. He can feel your belly rubbing against his, and it's driving him mad.

"Want to make love? Can we do that, Lewis? Make it even better than the last time."

Lewis gasps out his words as you sit back on his legs and use both of your hands to twist and tug on him. He bites on his bottom lip and grips you tighter. "Fuck, yes. Please"

You can only smile at him as you observe his resolve crumbling. You don't stop even as he begins to spasm and continually moan out your name. He grunts one last time before it transforms into a fit of masculine whimpers. He literally falls apart in your hands as you massage him through his release. 

"Got another one in you?" You ask, already positioning yourself over him.

He opens his eyes, pupils blown and wild. And then his bitten and swollen lips spread into a dopey smile.

You give him a peck; widening said smile before you line him up at your entrance. The smile is wiped from his face as his facade once again contorts to one of pure pleasure.

You can only gasp and move your grip to his shoulders as you sink onto him inch by inch until you feel him nestled tightly into you.

"Fuck." He groans.

You ease your body up and down over him slowly, he's so fucking big.

You moan as you continue your slow pace. You want to take your time with him. But it was getting increasingly hard feeling that delicious stretch every time you lifted over him.

Lewis hasn't taken his eyes off of you since you sank down onto him. He is staring at you like you hung the sun, moon, and the stars yourself.

He uses both of his hands to pull your mouth towards his, "I love you." He breathes into you, pressing passionate pecks onto your lips. He holds your face close to his, maintaining eye contact as you roll over him. 

Your mouth drops open as you feel him lift his hips over and over. Between his eyes piercing into you and the slow, languid strokes he's giving you, you weren't sure what would throw you over the edge first. 

You moan quietly as you feel the blaze building in your belly. He's so big that it feels like he's entering you for the first time all over again.

You feel inebriated by him as he whispers sweet nothings into your ear. He's still just as vocal as he was the first time, and it's putting you in overdrive.

Lewis is thrusting up into you with a force that has the breath leaving your lips in sharp pants with every re-entry.  

Your foreheads fall against each other, both of you watching your bodies drive against the water.

Lewis is lifting you from his lap like you weigh nothing. He turns you around to face the opposite way. You gasp as he pulls your arms up and directs you to hold onto the end of the tub in front of you. You're on your knees, arms holding your upper body out of the water. You feel his knees slide in between your spread legs, and his hands caress up and down your wet back. 

One hand settles on your shoulder, the other on your waist, and then he is sliding into you slowly. You hang your head, letting out a deep breath, "fuck." you cry out as he strokes at such a deliberately slow momentum.

As he pushes into you, his grip on your shoulders forces you back at the same time. He's going so slow but getting so deep that it has you tightening your grip. 

When he hits your spot, you lurch forward.

He pulls you back onto him, his hand tightening against your waist.

"Don't run. Stay with me." He orders, his voice is deep and raspy. "This what you wanted, remember?"

You nod your head, eyes closing shut as your thighs quiver. "Oh god."

"Want to make you feel better." He moans. "I was waiting for you to let me see this pretty pussy again." He hums, and you feel his hands spread you apart.

"So fucking pretty, so tight."

It was like he was tormenting you, giving you an inch and then taking a mile every time he pushed into you slowly just to have you wallowing for more when he pulled himself out.

"You're being greedy, mama." He chuckles as you push yourself back onto him. "take what you want then."

At his words, you begin to swivel your hips back at a much quicker pace, feeling his pelvis brush against your ass with every motion.

"C'mon, take it." he grunts. "that's right, want it so bad."

You pull yourself forward, only to spiral back into him repeatedly. Lewis is a mess behind you, his hands reaching up to hold his braids from his face. He kneels there and allows you to use his body in any way you please. 

He takes in an unsteady breath when you tighten around him. As you drag your pussy over him, he feels himself being tugged with you. "So tight." he moans, "don't even wanna let me go."

He pulls you up by your waist, pulling your back flush against his chest, and begins hammering into you over and over. One hand travels to your throat, and his grip is temperate. 

"All you needed, huh? Feel better already?"

You nod your head, yes, head falling back onto his shoulder. He pummels into you stroke after stroke until he feels it. You constrict around him, hands coming to grip his arm, and you moan his name over and over. 

He doesn't show you any mercy. He keeps up his fast pace as you writhe in his arms. His head falls, and as he feels himself come undone, he bites down on your shoulder with a growl that lights your body on fire all over again. You feel him spurt into you, and you whine as he nestles himself into your core further. 

After a while, Lewis pulls himself from your gut with a hiss. He reaches down and unplugs the drain. He sits, spreading his legs and pulling you in between them. When you're nestled against his chest, he sighs, once again placing his hand on your neck to angle your face towards his. He places a sensual kiss on your lips before letting you go with a smile.

"Should I run us a bath, or do you want to hop in the shower for a quick wash?"

You turn to the left, observing the standing shower, and you scoff. "you've ruined my legs, Lew; I couldn't stand in there if I wanted."

"Bath it is." He grins, already reaching for the knobs.

"Plus, I want to sit with you like this for a while. Bask in this."

"I love you," he expresses, "I don't think I'll ever get used to this."

_

Spoiler alert: he never did. As the days went on and turned into weeks. Weeks turned into months, and Lewis never changed his affections. You two were in a constant honeymoon phase, which you were sure was permanent.

You two were perfect for each other in every sense and made each other whole. 

The dynamics that made you two the perfect friends bled over into your relationship, and things were flawless, to say the least.

Until, you felt a popping feeling and then a gush of water fall between your legs. Lewis was on his way home from the airport having left to race in Singapore he was relieved that he'd be back three days before your expected due date.

But when he gets a call from his best friend and hears your cranky voice in the background, his heart hammers with nerves. 

"Miles, I swear to fucking god," he hears you groan. "if he doesn't have his high yellow ass to the hospital before I push these goddamn babies out of me, I will kill him. Tell him I will kill him."

"You heard her, man," Miles stammers. He hears commotion over the phone, and he gives up his useless attempts to grab either of your attention.

"Oi Miles!" He hears a slap in the background. "Oh my fucking god," you cry out. "Where is Whit? I don't want your help, fucking men."

Miles reappears on the screen; he looks disheveled and like he's just been in a cat fight, "Hey, brother." he pants. "I'm trying here, just how far are you?" 

"Lewis leans forward, seeing his ETA on his driver's screen. "Only ten minutes. Is she okay?" His voice is full of concern, and Miles squawks.

"Brother, ten minutes is too long. She just absolutely beat my ass for putting the wrong treats in the bag. There are a million gummies in here. How am I sup-"

"Gushers, Miles. On the top shelf of the pantry behind the rice cakes."

"Why the hell are there gushers behind rice cakes?" He cries out, rushing to the pantry. Lewis sees you in the background as Miles breezes by.

You stand in the middle of the living room face set in a pout one hand grasping the a bag of organic gummies and the other holding your phone to your ear. 

"Whit!" He hears you cry out, "I'm about to have these fucking babies alone with fucking Miles! Fucking Miles! And he gives me fucking Annes organic fruit snacks, Whitney! Why the fuck would I want organic candy? And Lew hid the gushers, and he's not going to be here in time, and I don't know where he put them."

Miles drops his jaw, halting his reach for the treats. "Hey, I'm trying my best! I want the best for you and my godchildren. I'm trying here!"

"Your trying isn't enough; obviously, I need the god mom. Whit! Fucking men, can't even find my fucking candy." You call out again. 

"Ugh- did she just stomp away from me." 

The call disconnects, and Lewis lets out a sigh of relief as he pulls into his neighborhood. He rushes out of the car, running up the steps of you guys' home. When he enters the foyer, he rushes to where he saw you last on the phone. Only you're not standing in the living room in distress. It's Miles slumped onto the couch with a family pack of gushers in his lap. He notices the two gusher wrappers beside his friend, and he storms up to him, snatching the box and slapping the side of his head.

"Where's my baby?" 

"Upstairs, y'all are going to learn how to appreciate me one day. I'm the godfather to your children-"

Lewis smacks his teeth, rushing up the stairs and into your bedroom. He sees you lugging your baby bag onto the bed, and he rushes over to you, pulling it from your grasp. 

"Hey bunny, I'm here." 

Your lip wobbles as you look up at him, and you let out a relieved cry. Lewis opens his arms to embrace you, and you quickly pull the box from his hands, stuffing it into your bag. 

"I was looking for these." You cried.

Lewis, used to your pregnant shenanigans, allows you to cry tears of relief for the sudden appearance of your after-labor treat. It's all you'd been asking for for weeks, but your doctor had you on a strict diet.

"Bunny," he persists, his arms open. You sniffle, stepping into his embrace.

"How are you feeling?"

"My vagina hurts, and I was scared you weren't going to make it." 

He chuckles, holding you close to him, "always going to make it when it comes to you guys."

It's safe to say your mood didn't get any better when you made it to the hospital. 

Lewis was by your side as you held onto his hand for dear life.

"Baby," he coos, "you're doing great."

"Oh my god," you wince, pulling your hand from his as you clutch the sheets. "Get the fuck away from me."

He looks baffled as you curse up a storm.

Lewis takes a step back only to be nudged forward again by the doctor. "Trust me, she'll murder you if you get away from her."

He holds onto your hand again, using the towel to wipe the sweat from your hairline.

Even now as you take in deep breaths and hang your head like you're about to die, Lewis think you are beautiful. You're glistening with sweat and throwing out words that would make a pastor faint but you're still beautiful with your freshly done birthing braids and bewildered face.

"Oh fuck this! Count the shit, measure the shit, whatever, and check again. I don't care if I'm not dilated enough; make it enough! Get these babies out of me."

You were regretting your decision to go all-natural as another contraction rippled through you. You let go of the sheet and grasp Lewis' hand again.

You look up to him, and he is staring at you in pure adoration. "I promise, you've got this." He encourages.

You feel tears of relief pool as your doctor let's out a direct order. "And we're there, when I get to three you push, okay."

You only nod as Lewis crouches down, "Push like hell, bunny."

You don't count how many times you hear him count to three or how many agonizing pushes you give until you hear the first cry. You're momentarily distracted as you watch them hold your baby into the air. 

"Come on, Mom, got to keep going," your doctor orders. 

You exhale, taking another deep breath as you push again. Lewis remains by your side, holding your hand and coaxing you through the pain.

"You're doing so great, bunny. So proud of you. We're about to meet our babies; we just have to push a little bit more." 

His words are all you need to get through another insufferable ninety seconds before you hear an even louder cry. 

Lewis kisses the top of your head as you fall back in exhaustion. "So proud of you, baby, hmm. I love you."

You're no longer the angry woman you were twenty minutes ago. You're looking up at Lewis with tired eyes that still glow with love and excitement.

"Baby boy came first." Your doctor hums settling him on one side of your chest, Another nurse comes forward settling your second baby on the oposite side. "And his sister came to stake her territory after."

You cry out, but it comes out in the form of a laugh. Your hands come up to hold both of your babies against your chest. Lewis crouches down, eyeing you three in amazement.

"My beautiful family." 

He places a kiss atop each head, watching as they instantly settle down amongst your warm body. 

You've never felt so much love in your life. You think back to all of the times you felt you were destined to be alone, all of the times you craved for someone to love you unconditionally. You gave up hope that you'd find it in a partner, so a baby was all you craved. But here you were with a man who loved you more than it was possible for love to exist. Here you were with two products of that love. 

You order the nurse to remove one of the railings so the Lewis can nestle in beside you. The doctor suggest for him to remove his shirt and he does so quickly, gently sliding beside you. You motion for him to grab the babygirl and he eases her onto his chest with ease. You peck his head as you watch the tears glide down his face. 

"I just love you all so much." he cries. 

And you know exactly how he feels as you two bask in the moment.

You think back to the moment that made this all possible, laying in Lewis' bed as the words leave his mouth, "It's something about loving someone so much that you want to fill them up with another part of you."

Looking at your two babies, you could tell they each were going to represent a part of both of you. As your daughter lets out constant noises, Lewis turns to you with knowing eyes, "Just like her mama." Your son's eyes pop open at the sound of his sister, and you coo, "Brother bear."

"Do we have names ready?" The doctor hums.

-

y/u/n

liked by fencer, champagnepapi, and 2,786,901 others

y/u/n I want to share this love I found with everyone. you deserve to meet my happy family after all of this time. Of all of the things that I wanted to be, being a mother was always my true calling. It's not easy, but it's worth it. To my babies, mommy loves you always; when the world is cruel, and your heart makes you feel like a fool, know that I will be there always. To LJ, my daring little boy, I see your father in everything you do; you will always be my baby bear, so strong and courageous, but with a mind so strong and a heart so big, you're forever unstoppable. My baby, Giana, Gigi girl, you came into the world demanding to be heard. You're fierce and bold in all of the best ways. Already, I admire the way you think and the things I know you will do. You heal a part of me I didn't know needed healing. You're my favorite girls girl, I love listening to you yap puppy, I love that you love talking to me. Always stand your ground, girly; never dull your light or lower your voice for anyone or anything. If no one listens, know I will. And to the love of my life, who has given me everything I could've ever wanted, plus more. You've outdone yourself, Lew; there aren't enough words to articulate how much I love you. Still my best friend, soon to be my husband, forever and always, the love of my life <3

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lewishamiton I can never think you enough for all that you've given to me. I love you more than life bunny. ❤️

user okay but the family of crochet animals. PUPPY? BEAR? CHEETAH? BUNNYYYY? 🥲

whitwhit still so proud of you mama ❤️

y/u/n the best god mommy in the world! I love you.

landonorris Mother🤰🏽Literally. Beautiful souls, even more beautiful children.

y/u/n love love love you Lando

user i always knew they'd get together one day, my happy heart!

lewishamilton

liked by charles_leclerc, mercedesamg, and 7,796,801 others

lewishamilton Thank you will never be enough for all that has been given to me. I love you, bunny, and every time I think it's impossible to feel more than that, you prove me wrong. To the rest of our lives together, to our children, and to the life I've had with you. We're in this together, forever. Daddy loves you, LJ, and Gigi, forever here, forever loving you.

charles_leclerc So happy for you man!

sebastianvettel never have you been happier man, congratulations.

user you mean to tell me that all of this time we thought he was uncle lew and whole time HE'S THE PAPPYYYY

lewishamilton like these are my kids, that my son. I was so bothered by that ngl. THEY LOOK JUST LIKE ME.

user you tell us not to assume and then when we don't assume you want us to assume what do you want from us sir?!?!

so this is the end that's not the end, I'll most likely make blurbs for their future 🌚

hope you enjoyed it.

not proofread sorry for any mistakes I was rushing honey

@barcelonaloverf1life @mitruscity

[hoshigray]

Having thoughts about Toji crushing on a cutie little cinnamon roll. Maybe they go on a few dates before he finally gets her home with him, and just as things are heating up he realizes oh, she’s a virgin. That doesn’t mean he’s not interested, but it changes how he wants to go about it.

Noonie, yeeeeeeeeessss!!! I had the dumbest grin while reading this in my inbox teheheee~ Longer than I intended but what the hell lol hope you like it!!

Cw: dom! Toji x fem!reader - age gap (the reader is at least in their 20s and in college; Toji is around mid-30s) -missionary position - unprotected sex (PSA: wrap it up, or get the fuck up) - ass grabbing - pussy eating - biting (Toji bites your ears) - edging (fem! receiving) - pet names (angel, baby, cutie, sweetheart, mama, princess) - clitoral play - light comedy bc I do[n't] think I'm funny. Wc: 2k

"Ready, baby?"

Your body goes rigid, fingers playing with the hem of your shirred frilled cami romper. A shaky sigh seethes from a wary smile. "Yes." The man in front of you grins before opening the door to his place, and you enter to your doom.

Toji has been courting you for quite some time. It started with small greetings when he visited the café where you work for his usual order of black coffee. Then those greetings slowly evolved into casual chit-chat, prompting Toji to ask you out because he couldn't resist your kindhearted aura.

How could he when his day instantly brightens when you flash your gorgeous smile every time you see him? Or when you always give him a call or text anytime you return to your dorm after hanging outside campus grounds. And when you're done with work, you let him drive and drop you off at your dorm. But that's because he always stays at the café until you get off: watching you welcome customers who enter the space, offering free treats to kids, or giving him a tiny smile from the other side of the shop whenever you catch him staring. Makes him snicker like an idiot.

But his favorite moment with you was the first time you two kissed on your third date. Oh, Toji could replay the scene all fucking day. With your eyes lidded, lips quivering and gripping onto his leather jacket as the man peppered you in kisses, he adored your display of pleasure. And it was even more adorable when you nervously bid him goodnight before entering your dorm room.

It was entertaining how he was the only one that made you — his cute little darling — so shy whenever he came too close. So much so that it turned him on, his desire to have you under him waxing inside him day by day. Except he doesn't, choosing to wait for the perfect time.

And now, when he finally has you where he's been dying to have you, Toji's allowed to indulge in your charm personally. There are shudders of anticipation around him as he kisses you on the couch, his big hands roaming over your form. A deep chortle vibrates his throat when he bites your bottom lip, resulting in a shivering whimper from your swollen lips. Oh, he's going to enjoy every second of this.

But as someone on the other side of the makeout session, you found yourself in an unpleasant position. Not because you didn't want to be here smacking lips with Toji, oh no. He was a great kisser, taking your breath away simply by his lips. No, the real problem was more personal.

Something so personal that it has your brows trench as Toji's hands snake down to your butt, kneading it like putty. Wait a minute...

"Mmmm, Toji, please wa—"

"Shhhh," he hushes you with kisses down your neck. "Taste so good, angel."

Something very personal that your eyes are towed shut when he creeps a hand inside through the bottom of your romper, a warm palm groping the soft flesh of your ass. Wait, wait, wait!

Something extremely personal that you gasp sharply when you feel two fingers sneak past your panties. WAIT!!!

You push Toji off you in haste, and the older man stops with his hands up defensively. He looks at you with confusion, tilting his head to examine what's wrong. You squeak and throw apologies his way. "I'm so so sorry! I'm-I'm just...umm...."

It takes a few seconds for Toji to piece everything together, with the way you're talking in quiet mumbles, your hands fidgeting with your romper again, and your eyes downward to avoid his gaze. His head straightens with eyes slightly wide. Is...Is she a—

"Are you a virgin, sweetheart?" Another muffled squeak confirms his suspicions, and you nod with hesitance.

What were you thinking pushing him off!? If you're gonna have your first time with anyone, why not be the man you're attracted to? But then again, it is YOUR first time!! In humiliation, you cover your face with your hands, the phone call you had with your best friend earlier replaying in your head ("Get it, girl! You either die a virgin or live long enough to get some good dick in your life." "That's the worst way to reference that movie!" "What-the-fuck-ever, go get that dick!!")

You can hear a chuckle from the man, and your eyes shut as you descend further into embarrassment. Oh God, I should've taken my dumbass home so I didn't have to deal with this later and cry myself to—

Your train of thought grinds to a halt when Toji pulls you into his chest. "Oh c'mere, ya cutie." He rubs circles on your back. "Did my lil' angel save herself up fr' me to deflower?"

"No, you perv!" He barks out a laugh above you, not helping this situation. "I just...I-" You try to retort, but the way he looks at you with a sly look and playful grin has your stomach flip. Why's he so goddamn handsome!? "I was just....never ready."

He hums pensively, still rubbing your back. He stays quiet for a while, and you don't bother fixing that while resting on his chest. He doesn't say anything until a minute later. "Think yr' ready now?"

"I don't know? Kinda scared..." You're honest. "But I...I really wanna do it with you, Toji."

"Then, do ya trust me?"

"Yeah, I do."

"Well, in that case," Toji carefully pushes you off him before he hoists you up bridal style. The swift motion catching by surprise as you hurriedly wrap your arms around his neck before he starts walking. Amused, he kisses your cheek. "Don't worry a thing, princess. Gonna take care of ya real good."

You gulp as your face goes hot. Oh, I definitely should've stayed my ass home...

Yeah, you definitely should've.

Fifteen minutes in, your senses are already clouded by the lapping motions of Toji's tongue on your vulva. You're lying on his bed, your figure writhing and back arching from the commotion between your legs. You tried to contain yourself by concealing your moans, yet your lips let the pornographic noises fly.

The last fifteen minutes have been spent preparing you for the big event. Toji started by fingering your hole, making you adjust to having a foreign limb within you. When you were wet enough, one digit became two, and you grabbed ahold of his shirt as he did his expert work on your soaking chasm.

Now in your nude, you let the man continue to prep you, his hands holding onto your legs with your pussy out for him to see, for him to toy with his wet muscle between your folds and drinking your essence.

"Ahhhh-Haaaah! T-Tojiii," you look so out of it, your head squirming around the pillow beneath you and your words slurred. You've already come two times; what more does this man need for you to be ready? "Oh God, it's too much fer mee, 's too muuch!"

A sharp cry exits your mouth when the man licks your clitoris, his deep forest green eyes peer up to look at you. He snickers, "C'mon, mama, you know I gotta have my girl ready to take in all of me." He flicks his tongue on your bud, and another yelp escapes your lips. "Lemme finish up here, 'kay?"

And he goes back to finishing you up, his hands grabbing you by the hips to bring you closer to his ravenous mouth. You clutch tufts of his raven hair, and his name comes out in incoherent babbles.

Your eyes start to water as your head gets dizzy with the raunchy noises from down south. Your cold sweat contrasts with your hot bare form, and the throbbing sensation between your legs festers under your skin.

Beads of sweat scroll down your forehead. You're close to release. "Hngg! Toji, I'm gonna cu-cummm!"

Suddenly, Toji removes from your legs, leaving you and your pulsing slits to the substituted cold air. You whine for your neglected orgasm that withers away, propping yourself up to beg him to give you what you want. But your breath hitches before you can make a complaint.

Toji is off his bed, withdrawing his shirt and jeans, freeing his cock from his boxer briefs. You can't help but stare at the member before you. Following the trail of hair from his lower abdomen, his erection sprung up with precum oozing out. Compared to your fingers or toys, his dick is way beyond your comprehension in length and girth.

Oh, to die from the first dick you've ever taken. How poetic.

Toji notices you ogle at his shaft, sneering as he returns to the bed. "Like what ya see, cutie?" You chew on your lip when Toji props your legs around his waist, a hand used to position his shaft to your leaky entrance. "Gonna start real slow, so take some deep breaths fr' me, 'kay baby?" You nod, internally bracing yourself for what's about happen.

The head of his cock touches your slit, and you jolt. "Relax, baby. It's gonna hurt if you're tense like that." He coaxes, your breathing securing you from the intrusion. He watches you; with each exhale, he pushes himself. The unfamiliar limb prying in your vagina and the pain you're experiencing is like no other. But you bite down on your lip to push through.

When the tip makes it in, you gasp. Gradually, Toji pushes his member further into you, stretching your tight hole to accommodate his girth. You try to compose yourself with even breaths, but you shriek when you feel his length brush against your G-spot. When the base kisses your cunt, Toji gives you a few minutes to adapt to him. "How ya feelin'?"

"So full..." You look at him with brows scrunched, eyes hooded, and tears streaming down your pretty face.

"Hmm, I bet." He wipes your tears with the rough pads of his fingers before slowly thrusting into you. You grip his shoulders for support, your pussy tightening around his length while your legs cage him. "Oooooh, Christ, you're so tight, mama. Drivin' me fuckin' crazy."

And you're about to be driven crazier when his hips pick up the pace, his dick hitting your sweet spots with precision. It's so surreal finally experiencing your first time, especially with Toji. Maybe it's because he's older and more experienced, but whatever expectations you had up until this point have been blown out of the water. The slap of his pelvis on your slick-coated folds fills his room, his throaty groans sound way too good to the ears, and his hot kisses on your lips make you melt. It all feels so electrifying.

Just when you thought you were undergoing it all, Toji slithers a hand down to your clitoris and swipes up and down on the pearl with his thumb. A choked sob leaves puffy lips, "T-Toji, I'm so close. Please, please, please, let me—Oh God."

"Hnnmph, oh shit—" He's close, too. He bends down to nibble on your ear yet licks the pain away. "I know, sweetheart. Come on me." His thrusts then go faster, a merciless tempo you were unprepared for. Shrieks go higher as your orgasm climbs up, and it hits you hard when Toji's fingers play with your clit again. Your climax sends shivers up your spine, your tender walls pulsating on Toji's cock.

And the older man pulls his dick out of your sensitive cunt, letting his come spill onto your stomach. It looked so lewd yet deliciously attractive, especially with him heaving on top of you with his black bangs sticking to his forehead.

When you two calm down, Toji scans your disheveled appearance and chuckles. "Damn, yr' gonna have me addicted to ya, princess." Your stomach was wiped off with a towel that Toji had on hand as you giggled aimlessly.

"Wanna go again?"

"......yes?" You avoid eye contact and turn away bashfully. He chortles and kisses your cheek once more.

"So fuckin' cute."

[slasherbvnnie]

Until We Found You | Part III

Part III is now up and running! P.S. there are two playlists I listen to while writing these, they don’t necessarily go with reading them but you totally could listen to them as you read! Let me know if you would like the playlists. As usual, heed the tags. 

Modern Day College Scream AU, Obsessed AFAB!Reader, Eventual Poly!Ghostface x reader,NSFW, All characters 18+, P in V, Fingering, Overall smut 

Part I Part II Part IV Part VI Part VII Part VIII Part IX

The next few days were pretty dull, you spent a few days over at Sidney’s, the first night it was just you two but the third day Tatum, Billy, and Stu all spent the night- it was a group decision to leave Randy out because he would just go on and on about who was the killer and why they were targeting the victims. Ghostface was pretty quiet too, with no killings or attempts since you, you were starting to wonder if you were meant to be the last victim, you also wondered if you had pissed them off by not going home. Luckily today you were returning home, back to see your parents and Irena and your brand new door- no shining scene included this time.

“Need a ride? Me and Stu are going to the movie store,” Billy asked, making you turn to him after you and Sidney had pulled away from a hug. “Sure, my parents haven’t left my aunts yet so I would appreciate it,” you said before turning to Sidney again. “Thanks for letting me crash at yours, I’ll call if I have anything weird going on again,” you promised her, waving bye as you left with the boys.

“You should call us if that creep comes back, me and Billy can put him in his place,” Stu said, giving his signature laugh and smile, making you laugh. “That’s a great idea, Billy can scare him away with his crazy eyes and you can bore him to death by telling him all about horror movies,” you joked, earning annoyed glares from both boys, making you laugh again. “I’ll call if I see them again, okay? Don’t worry about me, I can handle myself,” you promised the boys as you climbed into the back seat, throwing your bag in next to you.

The day passed by smoothly, the boys had taken you to the movie rental store and bought you some candy along with a movie, which Stu insisted you watch and even rented for you. Prom Night, another fucking Jamie movie. You had popped it into your laptop that night once you were home. Irena sat on your lap as you caught up on some homework due the next day, occasionally you glanced at your laptop to watch the movie, not noticing when Irena had moved from your lap and moved to your vanity. She sat down, her tail twitching angrily, your attention finally moved to her when you heard a little growl escape her.

When you got up to see what had angered her you saw the window slide open, the same masked killer from the other day climbing in through your window. You paused, looking at them with wide eyes, wondering if the flirting over the phone had all been a plan to get you off guard, to either kill you or kidnap you so they could set you up for the murders of Casey and Steve. Your nerves didn’t calm down when they motioned you closer after closing the window, still, you walked over slowly to them. Their hand reached up to your face, cupping it gently before gripping it more firmly, holding the knife in their other hand up to your cheek. Your breath hitched, feeling the cool touch of the steel against you, but they made no movements to harm you in any way, not really at least.

The knife ghosted over your skin, not enough to cut but enough for you to feel scared and strangely turned on at the same time. Your eyes studied the mask in front of you, you couldn’t make out their eyes behind the mesh, but you could feel their eyes piercing into yours. They removed their hands from you, pushing you towards the bed, you complied but paused when you sat down on it. “My parents are home…can-can you lock the door at least,” you asked, they tilted their head towards the door and you swore you heard them chuckle as they most likely recalled how they broke the last one. They walked over to the door, locking it before making their way to you. Your legs clenched together, your ever-growing nervousness and excitement now showing to them as you wondered what they were going to do.

They looked over you for a moment before holding the knife right up to your sternum, pressing the knife onto your clothes as they began to drag it down, leaving a trail of torn clothes in their wake. “I kinda liked those…” you murmured, if they hadn’t had the mask on you may have seen the shit-eating grin they had on their lips as they pressed the knife harder against your skin. Your cheeks heated up, taking the hint to shut up as you let them continue. You had already changed into pajamas earlier in the night, your Carrie shirt now tattered and torn, exposing your top half to them. Once they reached your groin, they paused and moved the knife away, pocketing it before pushing you back onto the bed so you were laying down.

They hovered over you, tracing your face again, the rough texture of their glove trailing down your body before their fingers hooked under the waistband of your pj pants, tugging them off slowly. Your skin grew goosebumps all over, the cold air in your room felt like mercy against your warm skin, which was only growing hotter by the second. A small whimper left you as you felt them place their hand over your panties, you hadn’t even noticed until that moment but your arousal had shown even through the fabric, feeling a little embarrassed that you were so needy without much effort.

Your hand flung up to your mouth as you felt them reach into your underwear, you could feel how cold their fingers were even through the gloves as they ghosted over your clit. You bit down on your hand as they pressed on your clit, circling around it as you closed your eyes and tilted your head back. The texture of the glove bothered you a little, which they must have noticed as you bucked against their fingers. A whine left your lips as their hand pulled away, opening your eyes to see them reaching into their pocket and pulling out some torn piece of fabric. They spread it out in their hands, showcasing it to you, a blindfold. Another blush rose to your cheeks as you tilted your head up for them to put it on, a silent understanding between you two that they wanted you to stay clueless about who they were. They reached around your head and tied the fabric over your eyes, your heart began to beat faster realizing that you were completely at their mercy now.

They reached back into their pocket, bringing the knife out and making a stabbing motion at you, bringing the knife inches from your forehead. When you didn’t flinch, they felt comfortable knowing you couldn’t see behind the blindfold and began to undress. You heard them shuffling in the outfit, hearing a thud on the floor, wondering if that was the knife or their mask. You received your answer when you felt the knife against your cheek again, you felt yourself grow wetter, partially because of the knife, partially because ghostface was standing right in front of you unmasked and you couldn’t see them. Your hand tried to move to touch them but before you had the chance they pinned you down by your wrist. You whined but they only gripped you tighter, they dropped the knife and instead grabbed your torn t-shirt and tied your wrist together with it.

You didn’t have to wait much longer before their mouth was latched onto your neck and their fingers were tracing over your core. Their fingertips teased you, running over your folds as they carefully placed a hickey on your neck. You could feel a grin on their lips as they bit and licked at your skin, feeling your pulse under their tongue. You did your best to keep your voice down, your heavy breaths bounced off of your bedroom walls as they pushed two fingers into you. A louder whine sounded from you, to which they comforted you by planting a kiss against your lips. You didn’t need to see them to feel the passion in the kiss, they pushed against you with such need, teeth clanking together and making your bones shake as their thumb moved to your clit.

Your thighs opened a little wider to allow them more access, relishing in the pleasure their hands brought you. The familiar tension in your stomach was slowly beginning to build, sweat began to form on your skin from feeling their hot breath against you. You felt their eyes on you, it only made you more turned on knowing they were watching every little reaction you had to their movements. Another finger entered you, hitting a spot inside that made you toss your head back and thank any supernatural being or god there was that they were quick enough to swallow the moan you let out in a kiss. They took the opportunity to snake their tongue into your mouth, making you melt even further as their pace quickened.

Your chest began to rise and fall quickly as that knot in your stomach threatened to break. You moved slightly, your hips bucking and moving against their fingers as you let the pleasure take you over. Before you could tip over the edge they pulled away, which made you whine and squirm in protest. “Not fucking fair,” you breathed out, to which you were met with the cold blade of their knife again pressing against your neck. You pouted, realizing ghostface probably didn’t like your bratty attitude too much but it was all fixed when they kissed you again. Your legs slowly fell open again, allowing them to situate themself in between them. Their hand let go of the knife again and instead took the opportunity to roam over your body, little whines coming from you when they ran over- and teased- all the spots you reacted to.

Finally, they trailed their way back to your core, watching as your face scrunched up with pleasure as they circled your clit again. “Please…” you whined to them, their other hand gripping your thigh as a warning, “I want you in me already, please.” You begged, their grip growing even tighter, likely to leave a bruise before they finally let up. You barely took a breath before you felt them against you, your body tensed slightly but soon calmed down as you felt their lips on yours again. They were more gentle this time, but you could feel the tension they held by holding themselves back. “It’s okay., you can ruin me. Please ruin me,” you begged again, whimpering when their hand gripped your neck, squeezing the sides as they quickly entered you.

Ghostface was smart enough to put their mouth on yours again to cover up your moan, melting in their hold as they began to set up a steady pace. You wondered if they were taking it slow to let you adjust or to tease you, but they quickly had your attention again when their free hand returned to your core. Your stomach tightened once again, your head spinning with all the pleasure they were giving you. When their thrusts began to quicken you couldn’t help but arch your back, your ankles hooking around them and trapping them in between your legs, but with the way they thrusted even harder into you, you don’t think they minded it one bit.

It wasn’t long before the two of you were close to coming undone, both of your hips stuttered and bucked, their hand that played with your clit quickened a little as well, paying attention to the spots that had you shaking. “Fuck, gonna-“ you whined again, your head tilting back as they hit your sweet spot, “gonna cum,” you whimpered out between moans, trying to keep quiet. They continued the torture they were inflicting on you, your black vision turning white as you finally reached your climax. Your thighs shook around them, pulsing around them before they came.

You felt their muscles unclench, glad that you finally came to the realization that they had worn protection, mentally cursing yourself for not even checking before. They pulled out slowly, gently touching your face as you whimpered from the loss. You adjusted yourself on the bed as they finally peeled away from you, hearing the shuffling of clothes again as they got dressed.

After a moment you felt a dip in the bed, feeling them untie you but held down your wrists as they leaned in for one last kiss. You smiled into it, giggling as they pulled away. “Come again tomorrow, with a new Carrie shirt preferably,” you asked playfully, feeling their lips curl up into a smile before they pulled away. You heard the thumps of plastic before your blindfold was taken off, your eyes meeting the masked killer after adjusting to the light.

“Was that smile a yes,” you asked, smiling when they nodded. “You can take the torn one as a momento, and so you know what size to get,” you offered, holding out the piece of clothing to them. They grabbed it, heading back to the window as you stayed on the bed and watched them. They climbed out of your room while you finally stood up and watched them take off. You sighed, running your hands over the little hickeys and bruises they left on you before heading to your bathroom to get cleaned up.

There was the ringing of a phone, only sounding for a few seconds before the other line picked up. “Hey Stu, let's take the girls shopping tomorrow, we owe someone a new shirt. Also need to get you all fancied up too, you have a date tomorrow night,” Billy said, Stu laughing before beginning to question him on the details.

[sentientgolfball]

for the requests maybe a slice of life (but smutty) for the aftermath of Phantom having his ass pounded for the first time by Mountain? Anal virginity stolen by Mountain who showers him in aftercare afterwards and Swiss who walks in and teases him about his cute little gape? yeah… yeah

This ended up more sweet than smutty but ough I love it when that happens

No further tags the ask has it all :3

My requests are open !

Their ears are ringing, breath coming in short pants. They can feel their hair sticking to their forehead with sweat. They stare up at the ceiling, head completely devoid of thoughts as they slowly come back down. They barely even register Mountain’s large hands rubbing up and down their thighs. 

“You with me love bug?” He asks in between his own shallow breaths. 

They nod, eyes still glazed over as they slowly come back into their body. 

Mountain chuckles, “Good. How are you feeling?” 

Phantom has no idea how to answer that question. They hurt, but deliciously so. They feel like they’re floating, like they’re watching the scene play out in third person. Part of them wants to beg for another round and the other says they’re already spent. They also feel like they were just split in fucking two. Phantom truly did not understand why Mountain was so hesitant when they came to him asking him to be their first Topside. They get it now. Fuck do they get it. 

“M feeling…full.” It’s the only word that comes to mind. 

Mountain smiles and kisses in between their horns “I didn’t hurt you did I?” 

Phantom shakes their head and a deep purr rumbles through Mountain’s chest. He was surprised when they asked him of all ghouls to be the one to break them in. He honestly figured Swiss had already gotten to the little bug with how often they show up at breakfast together. Oh but when those lavender eyes looked up at him with blown out pupils and a desperate little plea fell from their lips Mountain couldn’t resist. He couldn’t lie, the knowledge that he was the first one to get his hands on their little bug only sweetened the deal. 

Mountain looks down at them, really taking in their appearance for the first time since the haze of lust has subsided. Their eyes are closed, little chest rising and falling steadily. Not asleep, but probably inching closer and closer to it. Their neck and chest are littered with deep purple marks. Mountain almost feels bad for how prominent some of his fang indents are. He bends to press kisses to the worst of them, a silent apology. Phantom squirms and giggles, chuffing with each soft press of Mountain’s lips. 

“Mounty stop, stop. It tickles.” They try to faux shove him away. 

He smiles against their skin, kissing them one more time before sitting up. He shifts forward, pressing a kiss to the tip of their nose before tilting his head to press their lips together. It’s nice for about five seconds before Mountain furrows his brow and pulls away. He looks down between them and grimaces at the mess that got smeared around. Phantom’s cum now coats both of their stomachs and it has gotten unpleasantly cold. 

“Okay bug let’s get you cleaned up.” Mountain carefully pulls out of them, soothing a hand down their thigh. 

Phantom whines at the loss, “I don’t wanna move ever again.” 

“You can lay in cum all you want but I’m not cuddling you if you’re sticky.” 

Their head shoots up to look at him. They look at him like a kicked puppy and Mountain’s heart throbs. He lifts one of their hands, pressing a kiss to the knuckles. 

“Stay here. I'll be right back.” He stands from the bed. 

Phantom watches him go into the bathroom, ears twitching with each click from his hooves against the floor. They shift around while they wait for him to come back, fixing the pillows to be able to lay more comfortably. There’s a pleasant ache that radiates through their whole body. Their limbs still don’t quite feel like their own, heavy and full of static. All they can think about is how good they’ll sleep tonight as they idly trace over the teeth marks on their collarbone. 

Mountain returns from the bathroom with a washcloth in hand. Phantom chirps when he sits on the side of the bed, tail thumping happily against the mattress. Mountain huffs a laugh before gently wiping their skin off. He goes slow, running the warm cloth in gentle little circles. Phantom chuffs the entire time, happy as long as Mountain keeps touching them. When he’s satisfied that Phantom is no longer a sticky mess he tosses the cloth into his laundry basket before sliding back into bed. Phantom immediately clings to him, burying their nose into his neck to inhale his herbaceous scent. Mountain chuckles, wrapping his arms around the little bug and pulling them onto his chest. He runs his hands up and back their back, fingers tracing the raised lines of their lichtenberg figure scars. 

He can feel Phantom growing heavier by the second, muscles relaxing as they get closer and closer to sleep. He grabs his phone off the nightstand, scrolling through his messages until he finds the one he’s looking for. He sends a quick text before placing it face down once more. A moment later he gets a reply, the ping making his ear twitch. He doesn’t check it though, he’s content to close his eyes and breathe in Phantom’s frozen apple scent. 

He tries not to, but his mind ends up wandering. He can’t help but think about how Phantom looked just a few months ago when they were first pulled from the Pits. Skinny and gaunt, ribs and vertebrae clearly visible under their skin. They hadn’t spoken more than a few words for the first week, too anxious to be caught making a sound. They had hid away in their room, only letting Aurora in until rehearsals finally began. Even when they did start to come around they were still wary around Mountain. He understood, a ghoul his size is something to be afraid of. 

Mountain never would have guessed he’d be here now, Phantom half asleep and drooling into his fur. He was sure the little bug wouldn’t be comfortable with him until well into the tour. He was pleasantly surprised the day they found him in the greenhouse, curious about the brightly colored flowers. Who knew that was the spark that was needed to turn the mumbly little quintessence ghoul into someone as boisterous as Swiss? 

He’s pulled from his thoughts with a knock to his door. 

“Haven’t heard a noise in like twenty minutes, is my bug still alive?” Swiss calls as he steps into the room. 

Speak of the devil and he shall appear. 

Mountain smiles, motioning for him to keep it down. It’s too late though, Phantom is sitting up and rubbing at their eyes. They smack their lips a few times after they yawn. 

“Swiss? What are you doing here?” They mumble sleepily.  

“We’re throwing a party bug. Gotta celebrate, it's not everyday your cherry gets popped by the big green giant.” Swiss laughs, walking over to set the plates of food in his hands onto the nightstand. 

Phantom furrows their brow and looks at Mountain, “Sarcasm?” 

“Sarcasm.” Mountain nods. 

Swiss grins and bends to kiss in between their horns, “I was instructed to bring dinner. Something about someone never wanting to move again.” 

Phantom suddenly perks up at the mention of food. Their nose twitches as they finally notice the two plates. They make grabby hands at Swiss, tail wagging hard enough to smack Mountain in the leg. 

“You’re lucky you’re adorable.” Swiss hands them the plate, ruffing their hair once his hands are free. 

They crawl off of Mountain, sitting with their back against the pillows as they dig in. They pop the dumplings into their mouth at an almost alarming rate, devouring it like they’ve never eaten. Mountain pats them hard on the back when they inevitably choke. 

“Please remember to breathe,” Mountain says in between his own bites. 

While they eat Swiss digs through Mountain’s closet, mumbling his disapproval of each item he touches. When he finally finds what he’s looking for he turns around, fully intending to throw the hoodie at Phantom. Instead he stops in his tracks, completely frozen by the sight before him. Phantom is leaning over Mountain, reaching to place his empty plate back on the nightstand. The position gives Swiss a full view of their ass and he gets light headed with how quickly the blood rushes to his dick. 

He stalks over to the bed, gripping Phantom’s tail when he’s close enough. He yanks it upwards pulling a surprised gasp from them. 

“Swiss? What—“ 

“Phantom. Baby. You’re fucking gaping.” He can’t take his eyes off of the way their hole is still wide open despite being completely empty. 

“Could probably fit inside you right now.” Swiss reaches forward. 

He’s stopped by a low growl coming from Mountain. He looks up, meeting his emerald eyes. He can see the warning in the way they darken. Swiss grins, fangs flashing in the dim light of the setting sun. He’s never been one to back down from a challenge. 

[iphyslitterator]

I am enamored of @mannafromtevan's Airport 1975 theory, and here's the number one reason why:

TOMMY AND ATHENA TEAM-UP

We have no information on how Athena feels about Tommy, and she's the only main character of whom that can be said. They've never really interacted in canon. Their potential dynamic is severely underexplored in fandom. I've been saying all along that integrating Tommy with the rest of the firefam, especially in ways unrelated to Buck, is necessary if they want him to be endgame and would be one of the surest signs they're considering it - pairing Tommy with Athena for the opening disaster would be huge.

Also, this isn't the only possibility, but I've been toying with the idea that Athena is the only one who actually is skeptical of Tommy. You know how Hen told Chim about Tatiana, "I'm your best friend, I get to hold a grudge about her til I die"? Athena was there for Hen's early days at the 118. Hen must have vented to her about the lack of support (at best) she was getting from her coworkers, including Tommy. And even after Gerrard left and Hen and Tommy became work friends, I can see Athena being the type to carry that grudge on Hen's behalf. I don't think she'd be actively trying to break up Buck and Tommy or anything, but she could be side-eyeing the guy, and since Bobby's totally on board with Tommy, she could see it as her job to remain suspicious - Bobby, after all, didn't know Tommy in the Gerrard days. If the show wanted to go this route, they could have Athena and Bobby touch on it briefly toward the beginning of 8x01.

Whether Athena has reservations about Tommy or just doesn't know him very well, crashing a plane together would be a chance for her to see that he's competent, tough, and loyal - as well as a bit unhinged, and with a caustic sense of humor that honestly kind of matches hers. And if they get the 118 on the line and she gets to witness the first I Love You?? *chef's kiss*

On the flip side, Tommy gets to like and respect Athena for all the same reasons. Plus if Athena has to make some sort of ethical decision about the "person from her past," I would loooove to see her talk to Tommy about it. I'm not saying Tommy should be central to the problem or solution - I'm picturing them sitting in the cockpit during a lull in the action, Athena taking the opportunity to discuss the issue with a neutral third party, maybe with Tommy offering a nugget of wisdom, in a scene that tells us something about both characters.

And IMAGINE the REUNIONS - think about it, Buck and Tommy's first Moment came when they watched Bathena reunite at the end of 7x03, so imagine a parallel at the end of 8x03!!! Tommy and Athena emerging from the plane, Bathena gaze at each other, time slows, maybe Over the Rainbow is playing idk, they run into each other's arms, AND THEN we cut to Bucktommy, but THIS time they're ALSO embracing and delivering their most scorching kiss since the hospital, ohhhh my god I'm chewing glass!!!!!

And then as enumerated by @a-mel0n, rappelling out of a helicopter into a jet was the hottest thing Buck's ever seen and he has to fuck him about it immediately amen.

[theemporium]

[REQUESTS OPEN]

[4.7k] remus is dragged out to a rock pub after being influenced by sirius, but maybe the pretty punk girl talking to him makes it worth the sacrifice. even if she makes him unreasonably flustered. (smut)

based off the prompt: “i’ve never wanted anyone to fuck me this badly”

.

Remus Lupin was never one to let peer pressure get to him, especially done by the likes of Sirius Black. 

His resolve was always pretty strong and despite his friend’s annoying persistency, he always did a pretty damn good job of telling him to fuck off before he finally caught the hint. It had been the practice over the many years of friendship the boys had shared and would most likely continue into their many years spent together into the future. 

Except for tonight. 

For some reason that was beyond him, he had broken his own tradition and found himself agreeing to whatever nonsense Sirius was rambling on about when he walked into the common room, dramatically sighing and pouting when he mentioned James bailed on him at the last minute for a date with Lily. 

“C’mon, Moony, it’s just one night,” Sirius had pleaded, half lying on the boy’s lap so he could grab the book out of his hands and gain the werewolf’s full attention. “Prongs is off with Evans and Peter has detention with Minnie. Come on! You’re my only hope!” 

“What about Mary?” 

“It’s not her scene.” 

“And Marlene?” 

“She slammed the door in my face before I could even ask.” 

Remus closed his eyes, letting out a sigh that told the boy his resolve was wearing thin. “And you can’t take Lily and James?” 

“I’m not being the fucking third wheel again,” Sirius scoffed, nose scrunched up as memories flashed through his mind. “Not after New Years. I don’t think I’ll ever get my innocence back.” 

Remus snorted. “Like you ever had it in the first place.” 

Sirius waved him off, eyes wide and hopeful as he flashed his friend a grin. “So you’ll come with?” 

“I–” 

“Brilliant, see you at six, Moony!” 

“I didn’t even say yes yet!” Remus called out after him but the boy was already running towards the common room door, not giving the boy a chance to even wiggle his way out of whatever Sirius had been begging him to attend. 

And maybe that was his mistake. He never asked Sirius what this event was, mostly because it was usually easier to not be an accomplice in his crimes—even by knowledge. But that was clearly the regrettable choice when Sirius dragged him away from the school, using the map to guide them through the secret passages until they were beyond the wards before apparating to merlin-knows-where. 

Because of fucking course Sirius Black would drag him to a punk rock grunge bar in a part of London he wasn’t familiar with.

“Pads,” he murmured in a warning voice, hands tucked into the pocket on his jacket as he followed his friend towards the door. 

“Just chill, Moony,” Sirius called out as the sound of music thumped beyond the closed doors. “Who knows, maybe you’ll have fun.” 

“In a muggle bar?” 

Sirius turned to look at him over his shoulder, eyes gleaming with mischief. “Who said it was a muggle bar?”

Remus held back his own wince the second the atmosphere of the bar hit him: the loud music, the throng of dancing bodies, the smell of alcohol and sweat and the taste of tobacco and marijuana thick in the clouded air. 

No wonder the little prick ran out before Remus could interrogate him on where they were going. 

To his credit, Sirius had stuck to his side for a total twenty minutes before the boy disappeared into the crowd of dancing partygoers, drink in one hand and a half-smoked cigarette in the other. Remus could only laugh and shake his head as he watched his friend go. 

He knew there was nothing stopping him from walking out the pub and heading back. Despite his dramatics, Sirius would understand and wouldn’t hold it against him. But he knew the kind of mood his friend was in, and nine times out of ten, Remus would be needed to intervene before Sirius got his ass kicked. 

Might as well sit around until that moment inevitably came. 

He had tucked himself at the back of the pub where the bar was situated, taking a stool at the very end of the bar where he could sip on his drink and observe. He recognised most of the songs considering Sirius had played them in the dorm more times than he could remember, and he couldn’t deny he enjoyed some of them. But it was difficult to fit in when everybody there was in various pieces of leather clothing, chunky boots and more pieces of jewellry than he could ever imagine.

It was a pub full of Sirius Black’s and that thought was concerning enough for him to order another drink soon after.

He was fiddling with a napkin when a body slid between his stool and the one next to him, arms pressed against the sticky counter and the scent of vanilla overbearing his senses from the smell of the pub. It felt almost instinctive to keep his eyes on the napkin, watching the way the paper shredded with each piece he ripped off until he had a small pile lying beside his glass. It felt instinctive to keep his eyes anywhere but on the pair of eyes he could feel burning into his side. 

“You look like you’ve just been dropped here after your shift at the library.”

But something about the voice was magnetic and he couldn’t help himself from turning his head to peek at you through the mess of brown curls on his head and—fuck, it felt like someone had hit him right in the centre of his chest.

Remus had met many attractive people in his life. Pretty ones and handsome ones and gorgeous ones and ones that took your breath. Everyone had a side of beauty in them that could make them shine and stand out in a crowd, but fuck had he ever seen someone like you. 

His mind went completely blank when he looked at you, almost as though his brain was trying to process the fact you existed and were not just a perfect figment of his imagination. Your skin was covered with a thin layer of sweat, your hair was messy and wild from dancing and the makeup around your eyes looked a little more smudged than usual—but it was fucking mesmirising and he couldn’t find it within himself to look away.  

He opened his mouth to say something—anything—to you. Hell, even just to say hello but the boy found himself speechless as he openly gaped at you. 

“It’s cute though,” you reassured him, painted lips curving up in a smirk and it took him a few seconds to tear his eyes away from them. “Hot librarian is really in these days.” 

“I’m not a librarian!” he blurted out, his cheeks instantly heating up when he realised how loud he had him.

But you laughed and the embarrassment swelling in his chest eased up a little at the sound. 

“Of course not, silly,” you said with an amused tone in your voice. “You’re missing the glasses.” 

Remus could only let out a shaky breath, hand clenching around his glass a little too hard that he was honestly surprised it didn’t shatter in his hold but he couldn’t quite find the words to reply just yet. 

“So, how did you find yourself dragged out here?” you asked, seeming to take it upon yourself to continue the conversation even when the bartender dropped your drink in front of you. But you remained in your spot, tucked between the stools as you took a leisurely sip from the bottle you had just ordered. “Got a girlfriend who dragged you out?” 

His eyes widened a little. “No!” 

“No?” you questioned, not even bothering to bite back your smile. “Boyfriend then?” 

“No, no, I–” Remus paused for a moment, clearing his throat as he tried to string together a coherent sentence. “I came with my friend, Sirius. He didn’t have anyone to go with so…I came.”

You raised your brows. “Do I get to know your name or do I have to keep referring to you as Sirius’ cute friend?”

Remus only hoped the lights of the pub didn’t pick up on his burning cheeks, or the way the tips of his ears matched his blush. “I, uh, Remus. My name is Remus.” 

“Well, Remus, it’s a pleasure to meet you,” you said as you introduced yourself, extending your hand to the boy. You watched the way his eyes dropped to your hand, eyeing it carefully and you couldn’t help but laugh a little. “I promise I don’t bite.” 

His eyes widened. “No, I–” 

 “Unless you want me to,” you added and watched in delight the way his lips parted in surprise. 

Remus was different from every other witch and wizard in this establishment. From the tattered jeans and knitted sweater he wore to the worn trainers and dishevelled hair, he stood out like a sore thumb in a place like this. And yet, you loved it. 

You loved it when you spotted him from across the pub. You loved it when you pushed your way through the crowd and made your way to the bar to get closer to him. You loved it when you could see the way his eyes fought to not glance over as you settled beside him. 

You fucking loved how flustered he got around you. It wasn’t the first time you made a man feel that way and you doubt it would be the last, but there was something different—something more satisfying—when it came to Remus.

“I mean, I just—” he gulped a little when you stepped closer to him, his body seeming to have a mind of its own as his legs parted to accommodate you standing between them. “Yeah…” 

“Yeah? You’d like that?” you teased, head tilted to the side as you raised a hand to his face. Your finger traced down the line of his jaw, watching the way it clenched under your touch before he let out a shaky breath. “Maybe I can add to those wicked scars you have.” 

His heart was thundering in his chest. “Wicked?” 

“Wicked hot,” you murmured absentmindedly as you traced along the scars slashed across his face. They weren’t obvious, the pale marks almost invisible against his skin in the pub lighting but you noticed them the second you stepped between his legs. And fuck, you loved the way they looked. 

“T-Thanks,” he stuttered out, hooded eyes focused on how close you were to him. How fucking easy it would be for him to just lean down and—

“Do I make you nervous, Remus?” you asked innocently. 

His eyes snapped back up to meet yours, a small crease forming between his brows. “I–no, why would you think that?”

“You’re really hot and you’re breathing funny,” you told him, though the gleam in your eyes told him this was beyond concern. You knew you made him nervous and he knew you loved. Fuck, he loved it. You were the kind of girl people would tell him to run for the hills if he ever came across you, but he didn’t want to run. He wanted to stay right where he was even if it was his own ruination. 

“Crowds make me nervous,” he blurted out, smart enough to know you were teasing him but not quite brave enough to admit it. It seems like the Gryffindor within him couldn’t compete with the pretty girl standing between his legs.

Your smile made his breath catch in his throat. “Yeah?” 

“Yeah,” he rasped as your hand fell to his chest, feeling his pounding heart beneath your palm before your hand slid down to intertwine with his.

“You wanna go somewhere a little more quiet?” 

And before he could even process the question, the words left his lips.

“Lead the way.” 

His drink was left abandoned on the bar counter as he let you pull him through the crowd of dancing witches and wizards. His eyes never strayed away from you, his attention completely locked on you as you led him down a dimly lit corridor before you reached a fire exit door and quickly pushed it open, leading him outside before the door closed behind you. 

He glanced around, picking up on the small space as the light chill brushed against his heated cheeks. It seemed like it was a back alley, blocked off from the main street. The space was decorated with some old, battered sofas and chairs but there was an odd sense of comradery in the air.

“Are we allowed to be back here?” he asked, taking a few steps deeper into the back alley. 

“Legally? No,” you stated simply, grinning at the way his head swivelled around to meet your gaze. “But that’s why it’s so fun.” 

“You’re confident we won’t get caught?” 

“Also no.” 

Remus huffed out a little laugh. It was almost like you were reading out the marauders motto and he found his chest tightening a little at the idea. 

He watched as you sauntered across the space, falling back onto one of the cracked leather sofas and grinned up at him. You patted the spot next to you, eyebrows raising a little in your offer and he couldn’t find it within himself to deny you. 

Remus settled into the spot next to you, his thigh pressed against your thigh and his shoulder pressed against your shoulder. He could feel his body tensing at the touch, his hands laying on his lap in tight fists as he cleared his throat a little to distract him from the way his stomach twisted in delight at the lack of space between you. 

“Relax, Remus,” you spoke softly, arm stretching out along the back of the sofa as your hand rested on his shoulder.

“You got something to help me relax?” he joked, though it came off a little flat with his shaky voice but you laughed regardless.

“Is that all you need to let me see the real Remus?” you questioned, bottom lip tucked between your teeth. 

His eyes caught the movement, body working on autopilot when his brain went blank with an array of thoughts that made him want to squirm in his seat. “Maybe so.”

“You should’ve told me earlier,” you grinned at him, watching as his eyes went comically wide as you reached into your bra, only to pull out a joint a few seconds later. “Got a light?” 

“Uh, no,” he murmured as he watched you place the joint between your lips. You raised your brows and Remus leaned forwards slightly, whispering a charm under his breath until the end of the joint lit up in a soft orange.

“Guess the nerd aesthetic isn’t for show,” you teased, taking a deep inhale before softly blowing out the smoke. “Good to see you got the looks and the brains, Remus.” 

But the boy could barely reply, just simply content to lay his head back on the back of the sofa and watch you. The way your body was twisted, turned towards him with your legs tucked underneath you. The way your painted lips wrapped around the joint, staining the rolling paper with the colour of your lipstick but it drove him even more mad to see the marks. Even the way your hair fell across your face, a mind of his own as the light breeze softly grazed your skin, goosebumps raised on your arms but you only grinned when he offered to charm a heating spell over you.

He was completely and utterly enamoured about you, and he couldn’t bring himself to even care or bother hiding it.

“You think you can handle a hit, big boy?” you asked, a dangerous look on your face that told Remus you could’ve asked him anything and he would’ve agreed to it. 

He nodded his head, eyes dipping down to your lipstick-stained joint before he lifted his hand to take it from you, but you acted quicker than the werewolf. 

Before he could even process it, you had swung your legs over him and planted yourself on his lap. Your smile widened when you saw the way his cheeks flushed, his hands instantly dropping to your waist and holding onto you, almost like he was scared you were going to jump off his lap. 

“Be a good boy f’me, okay?” you murmured before bringing the joint to your lips, taking a deep inhale and keeping the smoke in your mouth. 

Your eyes never looked away from him as you gripped his chin, watching his lips part just enough for you to lean down and slowly blow the smoke into his mouth. 

The boy beneath you let out a soft groan, your lips brushing against his and his grip on your waist tightening as he pulled you a little closer. 

“Keep it there,” you ordered him softly, nose nudging against his as you watched his face. As you watched the way his eyes started to water slightly and his lips trembled and only then did you whisper again. “Let it out.”

His breaths were a little shaky as he stared up at you, eyes a little hooded and hazy as your hand still gripped his chin. You murmured a soft praise under your breath, thumb fanning over his pouty lips but it wasn’t enough. 

“Please,” he let out, his voice low and guttural and fuck, you couldn’t lie at the way your stomach clenched a little at the sound. 

“Such a gentleman, Remus,” you murmured before you threw the joint somewhere behind you on the ground, both hands grabbing his face before you pressed your lips against his. 

The boy shamelessly moaned against your lips, squeezing your hips as his lips began to move against yours. It was slow and lazy at first, no rush as your tongue teased him before you deepened the kiss. And then the pace started picking up and your hands were running up and down his chest, along his neck and through his hair and Remus felt like he was going to fucking explode. 

The way your fingers tangled in his messy brown hair, tugging his head to the side before your head dipped down to kiss along the expanse of his neck and jaw, nibbling on the skin softly just to hear the way he whimpered into your ear when your teeth bit down on the spot just below his ear. 

But no matter how passionately you kissed him and no matter how much he moaned, his hands never swayed away your hips. They stayed firmly planted at your sides, squeezing whenever you did anything that made his head fucking spin but they never moved. 

He didn’t want to push your boundaries or cross a line you didn’t want. The boy could barely comprehend the super hot witch grinding against his lap and kissing him until he couldn’t breathe, he wasn’t about to ruin it with wandering hands. 

But then you pulled away, lips red and swollen, and gave him a look that made his jeans feel tight around his cock. 

“Do you want to fuck or not?” you asked bluntly, eyes darkened by desire and lust for the werewolf beneath you. 

“I’ve never wanted anyone to fuck me this badly,” he blurted out, cheeks tinted pink by his confession but it was the least of his problem when a smirk split across your face. 

“Then touch me like you mean it,” you said as you slid your hands over his, guiding them along your sides and up your stomach until both hands rested over your tits. “Get it?” 

“Got it,” he confirmed with a nod of his head, hooded eyes stuck on your chest as he gave your tits an experimental squeeze. 

“C’mon, Remus,” you murmured as you leaned down to kiss along his jaw and towards his ear, lips brushing against him as your warm breath fanned over his skin. “Show me your wild side.”

Remus couldn’t get enough of you from that point on. Maybe it was the liquid courage. Maybe it was the weed that finally relaxed him. Or maybe it was that Gryffindor courage that finally made him get his head out of his ass and take what he wanted. 

Because he wanted you. Fuck, he wanted you badly. He wanted you the second he first laid his eyes on you and now here you were, sitting on his lap and practically ordering him to touch you, and he honestly thought he was seconds away from waking up from the best dream in his life but this was real. 

You were real. 

And Merlin, did Remus want to bask in every fucking moment of attention you gave him.

“Fuck,” you whispered between kisses, your fingers tugging the fabric of his knitted sweater over his head. “You taste like chocolate.” 

He lifted his hands, letting you chuck the sweater to the side before his hands were all over you again. The way he wrapped his arms around you, tugging you closer to him as your head dipped down to press kisses along his scars. The way his hands grabbed your ass, groaning at the way your jeans fitted you because it was just another thing added to your list of many perfections. 

“Are you particularly attached to this top?” he asked breathlessly, fingers digging into your thighs as he impatiently tugged on the denim fabric. 

Your hands moved to the button of your jeans, your belt already long gone and your jeans soon following. “Not really—” 

You hadn’t even finished talking before the sound of fabric ripping echoed against the brick walls of the back alley, your top now in shred and abandoned to the side before Remus’ face was nuzzled between your tits, his hands groping any inch of skin his lips couldn’t kiss. 

“Fucking knew it,” you moaned as your head fell back, nails digging into his shoulders as he began to leave pretty purple marks along the swells of your tits. “Wild side.” 

“Just wanna make you feel good,” he muttered as a pathetic defence, but defending his honour was the last thing on his mind when he could feel the fabric of your soaked panties pressed against the bulge of his jeans. 

Remus whined when you pulled away, even if it was for a short few moments to shed the remainder of the pieces of clothing keeping you away from each other. But then you were grabbing his face once again, fingers pressing into his cheeks as he stared up at you with wide eyes. 

“You gonna let me fuck you, baby?” 

He nodded. 

“You gonna make me feel good?” 

He nodded again. 

“Good,” you murmured before kissing him senseless, letting your moans be muffled by his lips against yours as you reached down to stroke his cock. He whined and bucked against your touch, letting out a pathetic whimper when you squeezed his tip before you slowly sunk down on him, eyes falling shut and curse words leaving your parted lips. 

“Shit,” he hissed, squeezing your hips as he watched himself disappear inside you. “You feel…so fucking good, sweetheart.” 

“Fuck, Remus,” you breathed out, nails digging into his shoulders but he couldn’t even bring himself to care about the sting of pain. Not when you were squeezing around his cock, making the werewolf whine in response. “That’s it, baby, let me hear it.”

The idea of silencing charms and spells were the last thing on either of your minds. It wouldn’t take long to do, maybe less than thirty seconds. But you would be lying if he didn’t fucking love the idea that anybody could walk through that fire door and catch you both. That anybody could come out here and see the flustered, needy boy beneath you. That anybody could see the way he begged for your touch, your kisses, your filthy words whispered in his ear.

“Remus,” you moaned, your words seeming to get choked up in your throat as you bounced up and down on his cock, as you listened to the way he whined about how good you felt. “Fuck, that’s it, baby, just like that.” 

He could feel the way you were clenching around him. He could see the way your eyes were fluttering shut, breathless remarks made as you tried to catch your breath but he knew you were struggling. Your legs starting to shake and your nails digging further into skin and you were close, so fucking close but you just—” 

“Shit!”

You could barely comprehend the wizard below you as he lifted you, his hips bucking up into you at a relentless speed that made it difficult to fight the orgasm washing over you. You whined as he kept going, kept fucking you as stars started to dance in your vision and your muscles tensed but he never stopped. Never stopped fucking you until you were whining his name. 

Your hands laid on his chest, your own lungs heaving for air as you rolled your hips against his, biting back the whimpers of pleasure that wanted to escape. “You didn’t—”

“Wanted to make you feel good,” he whispered as he kissed you, soft and chaste kisses that were pressed along your neck and chest as he continued to speak. “Wanna see you come again. You look so pretty when you come.” 

“Fuck,” you murmured as his hands on your hips started to move you on his cock again. “Remus, I can’t—”

“Shhh, relax,” he whispered between kisses. “Let me make you feel so fucking good, sweetheart.” 

And you didn’t have it within you to argue when he shifted you with unreasonably ease, picking you up like you weighed nothing until your back was pressed against the tattered leather sofa and he was crawling above you, kissing up your stomach and between your tits before he met your lips once again. 

Your legs wrapped around his waist like instinct, ankles locked behind his back as he slowly guided his cock back inside you with a guttural groan, his face nuzzled into the crook of your neck as he slowly began to thrust. 

“Right there, baby, right there,” the words left your lips in breathless praises, seeming to spur the boy on as he gripped your hips, his tempo speeding up shit. “Shit, yes!” 

“Fuck,” Remus whined, his cock hard and desperate for release. He didn’t know how much longer he could last inside you, last with your nails raking down his back and face scrunched up as your second orgasm was so close. He couldn’t help himself as a hand disappeared between your bodies, pressing his thumb against your swollen clit and watching as your lips parted in a silent scream as you came, him following you seconds after. 

It took you a few minutes to ground yourself. To catch your breath and open your eyes, taking in your surroundings before you glanced down at the boy laying on your chest, his arms wrapped around you and soft kisses pressed on your skin that made your heart swell. 

“Did you really throw your joint on the floor?” 

The question caught you off guard before you laughed, your fingers running through his hair before he lifted his head up to look at you. “Want another hit?” 

“No, I just—” Remus flashed you a sheepish smile. “I felt bad, don’t want you to waste it.” 

“You’re quite adorable, aren’t you?” you commented casually, and despite the fact this boy had just given you two of the best orgasms of your life, he still had the audacity to blush at the simple compliment. 

“Thank you,” he murmured before pausing. “I think.”

“It was a compliment, Remus,” you hummed as you pushed some of his hair away from his face, eyes scanning the small details you hadn’t noticed before. The small scars you couldn’t see unless you were up close, or the freckles sprinkled along the bridge of his nose or apples of his cheeks. “More people oughta tell you how pretty you are.” 

He let out a slightly nervous laugh. “I don’t think anyone has ever called me pretty before.” 

“Tragic,” you muttered before smiling at him. “I guess I gotta change that.” 

His mood seemed to perk up a little. “You mean like…you’d wanna do this again?” 

“You don’t?” you teased.

“No, I do!” he blurted out before clearing his throat. “I-I would love to see you again.” 

“Good, because I wanna see how many other pretty ways I can make you blush, baby.”

And fuck, there were many ways a girl as pretty as you could make Remus Lupin blush.

.

[roe-and-memory]

every time someone says cars 3 is the worst cars movie another angel punches me in the stomach and pulls my hair.

this is probably just my intense special interest in the origins of nascar, but that movie feels like such a nice send-off for the main “trilogy”, and yes people can have their own opinions but i NEED to talk about how much this movie means to me

first of all, a major misconception is that lightning quit racing - he DIDNT! this is proven by both the end of the movie (where he says hes obviously going to keep racing) and cars on the road where, in the final episode, cruz and lightning wish each other “goodbye” and say they’ll see each other on the racetrack. he was only cruz’s crew chief for that one season, presumably healing from the trauma of the crash (because lets be real his ass did not mentally recover from that in FOUR MONTHS) and also waiting for a permanent crew chief to take his place.

second.. the sheer amount of detail put into that movie is INSANE. the racing center being shaped like grandstands at a track? fireball beach being both a direct reference to the daytona beach race course and also “fireball roberts”, a 1950s racer (he was actually the reason that firesuits were mandated in the sport), we meet a bunch of 1950s racers as well and just augh.. so good. also, the detail of thomasville being in north carolina is brilliant - N.C is the “racing state”, and thomasville speedway is based off of north wilkesboro, a track that was opened in 1949, and last used in 1996 (aside from the series of races in 2010), and it fell into disrepair. (fun fact, north wilkesboro is reopening in 2024 for the nascar all star race!! they fixed my bbg)

third. cars three brings so much more lore than the first movie did. yes, we knew doc raced in the 50s when the sport was getting its start, but in cars 3? they brought in characters based off of real 1950s racers (doc is based off of herb thomas, smokey is smokey yunick, lou is louise smith, junior is junior johnson, river is wendell scott, and leroy hemming is tim flock) (another reference in the movie is “jocko flockos party supplies” as macks disguise - jocko flocko was tim flocks pet monkey that was the FIRST and only co-driver in the history of the sport. he won a race with his monkey in the car with him :) )

as i was saying, the lore we learn is insane. we learn that lou and river had to fight for their place in the sport, which is similar to what both louise smith and wendell scott experienced in the 50s, they show us accurately how racing worked back then too - they didnt have fancy pits, they had a fence and a pit member with a sign that would tell them to come in the next lap for service. all of these cars are gen 1 nascar, which means that they were strictly stock - they had much more intense pit sessions than any of the other “built for racing” generations have ever needed. i recall watching a race wherein smokey yunick had to change the radiator of one of his racers vehicles mid-race due to a crash.

this isnt everything, but seriously for an animated movie about talking cars, they discuss grief and hardships and handle them so well its insane. i know cruz isnt everyones cup of tea, but (in reference to the flip scene at the end of the movie) watching cruz get shoved into the sport must’ve been insane for lou to watch. she saw herself in that girl. it wasnt some movie about lightning giving up, it was him sharing the torch with another kid who lost their way just like he had.

also i dont cry at movies but i literally bawl my fucking eyes out at the letters scene every time. its PATHETIC (its not im literally tearing up just thinking about it)

[gremlintheslut]

Kinktober

Day 3 sextape and honeymoon

Nikki sixx

Sex tape and honeymoon

Nikki sixx

Summary: a tape from the 80s was recently found and posted onto the Internet. The tape is of you and Nikki sixx getting it on while on your honeymoon.

Warning: bondage (with rope), recording sex, sex tape getting leaked, masterbation, oral sex (m receiving), nipple clamps, blindfold (cloth), ball gag (unspecified).

Master list (main pinned)

(Written from the pov of a fan)

I turn on my phone and go onto tiktok. I scroll past the advertisement I'm shown when I first open the app and the next video catches my eye. A girl with wide eyes has her hand over her mouth and the text on the screen reads "omg I just watched the Nikki sixx honeymoon video those bitches are kinky". I'm filled with confusion and curiosity. My favorite band is motley Crue and I've never heard of this before.

I click one of the tags on the video that reads "Nikki sixx honeymoon video". I scroll through a bunch of videos and comments trying to figure out where to find it. I eventually find out that the only place where it has been posted and not taken down almost immediately after is Twitter (I fucking hate X). I put my phone down and sit up on my bed leaning against the headboard. I take my laptop off of the my nightstand where it is charging and place it on my lap.

I open it and go to Twitter. I search "Nikki sixx honeymoon video" and find what I assume is the honeymoon video. I click on it. Nikki is messing around with the camera trying to get a good angle. "Is it on?" his wife y/n says from across the room. "Yeah just trying to get it to stay still" he says continuing to move the camera around. "Is there any extra rope in the box?" Y/n says and Nikki laughs.

He lets go of the camera keeping his hands close to it in case it fell. The camera stays and he moves back allowing the camera to capture the full scene. Y/n is kneeling on the floor and she is tied up whilst completely naked. Her arms are stacked on top of each other behind her back and her hands holding her elbows. The rope on her arms is attached to her legs and her waist so she can't move at all. Her legs are spread as wide as they can go. My jaw drops. All the videos and comments said kinky but damn.

Nikki's shirt is already off. Nikki walks over to her and takes something off of the nightstand which is in frame by a sliver. The first thing he grabs is a blind fold. Y/n has a smile on her face the whole time while he ties it around her head so she can't see. My jaw drops further when he grabs nipple clamps with a third clamp attached to the chain. I'm confused as he attaches the top two clamp to her nipples. Y/n makes a small whimper of discomfort but she's clearly used to it.

Then he take the bottom clamp and attaches it to her clit. Y/n hisses in pain as he tugs on the chain to make sure they wouldn't come off. He then stands up to his full height. He unbuttons and unzips his pants pulling them down along with his boxers. He steps out of them and moves so he's right in front of y/n and you can see everything. holy fuck. Y/n is a lucky bitch. y/n had opened her mouth and stuck her tongue out the second she heard the zipper. He pushes the tip against her tongue and she kitten licks him. Her tongue swipes up and down his piss slit before swirling it around the head.

She moves her head forward a little as her tongue follows one of the veins on his cock from just below the tip to the base. She swirls her tongue around the base before following the same vein back up. She licks a stripe up his piss slit and doesn't get the chance to go down again before Nikki pulls on the chain. She moans in response. She moves her lips in front of her teeth and closes them around his tip. She sucks on the tip for a few seconds and I assume she moves her tongue as well.

She takes more of him into her mouth. Nikki thrusts his hips a little the action clearly being involuntary.

She moves all the way down his shaft not stopping or showing any sign of discomfort. Nikki's mouth forms and O shape and he leans forward a little. Again my jaw drops as her lips hit the base and you can see the bulge in her throat. She sits like this for a few seconds while Nikki has his head tilted back pleasure. "Holy shit" he moans out after tugging on the chain again telling Y/n to begin to move up and down. She starts off somewhat slow before picking up the speed. He full on moans while pulling on her hair. Her head game is clearly unmatchable.

She goes up and down at the same fast speed until sixx grabs the back of her head. He forces her to speed up and she lets him take full control. She still isn't gagging at all and seems fine. This bitch is a pro. I'm pulled out of my thoughts when Nikki lets out a particularly loud groan. "Fuck baby" he almost whimpers out, his eyes squeezed shut. He's clearly having the time of his life. I look at the time thing on the video and see it is 4 hours long. I'm shocked, it can't just be one round.

My eyes are dragged back to the scene playing on my screen after Nikki moans loudly. The look on his face is complete bliss and he stopped moving y/n head. He's Leaned forward more and his mouth is still in an O shape and his jaw is twitching a little. Just a couple seconds later he lets out a sigh. I've been watching for almost 30 minutes now. He pulls out of her mouth. Y/n swallows and licks her lips. He puts his finger and his thumb on her chin. "Open" he says and I can't tell if she does or if he makes her. She sticks her tongue out and then lifts it up to show she has swallowed everything.

He then leaves his spot in front of her.

He goes to the nightstand to get something. It's a ball gag and at this point I'm not surprised. He walks back over to her and puts it on her. He walks behind her and untied her arms before retying the ropes so only one arm is free. He grabs her by the wrist and places her hand on her pussy. She doesn't move and muscle and he walks towards the camera. He grabs it and walks back to her making sure he has the best angle of her possible.

He removes the clamp that's on her clit and continues to hold onto the longest part of the chain. "Go" Nikki says and she begins rubbing her clit in slow circles. Her muffled moans ring out from my computers speaker. He wraps the chain around his knuckles and pulls hard. She cries against the gag and tears roll down her face. Her fingers move from her clit to her entrance. She slowly pushes them in and then an error message pops up onto my screen. "We are sorry but this video has been removed" it reads. I let out a disappointed sigh and close the app before closing my laptop.

Words-1319

Thanks for reading 💋-gremlin

I'm really proud of this and I'm probably gonna write the full honeymoon video

[ask-pjo-hoo-toa]

ᴡᴏɴᴅᴇʀʟᴀɴᴅ ~ ᴘ. ᴊᴀᴄᴋsᴏɴ

req. hiii can i please request a percy jackson x fem!reader? daughter of aphrodite, loving sunshine kind of girl, plot based off ‘wonderland’ by taylor swift?

summary. you and percy got lost in wonderland and life was never better.

warnings. use of (y/n), cussing, kinda short??

eeli0r's notes. this one was, i'll admit, a little tricky lol, but super fun! (y/n) and percy are both 17-ish. thanks @riordanness for the ask! also some parts are inspired by 6 times we almost kissed (and one time we did) by tess sharpe

june twenty-third

you and percy were best friends. you did (almost) everything together and you'd defend each other no matter the cost.

you were sitting around the campfire, having a grand ol' time. you were laughing and singing and you and percy could barely breathe because you were laughing so hard.

you know how aphrodite is with seeing people who don't know they're in love. and you know how she is when it's her daughter.

so she looked at you for a long moment before smiling down from olympus, waving a hand, and sitting back to watch the scene.

suddenly percy stopped laughing. he stared at you for a long moment, simply gawking in awe of your practically sparkling appearance, and gradually the sounds around you came to an eerie silence.

gasps from the audience. you blinked before looking up, and fluttering above your head was the hologram of a white dove.

"aphrodite," breathed percy.

chiron cleared his throat. "all hail (y/n), the daughter of the goddess of love and beauty!"

"holy shit, (n/n)," percy said, and chiron sent him a warning glance but no way in hell was his attention diverted like that. "you're...wow. wow. you're...stunning."

and he was right. you were stunning. suddenly the most beautiful person at the campfire, though percy would argue you were that already.

july seventh

percy didn't know how to tell you. you were the daughter of aphrodite, for fuck's sake, and he wasn't sure you could ever retaliate feelings for him.

there was something about you. you were so incredibly caring, so bright and smiley whenever he was around, it was hard not to catch feelings.

he asked his friends for advice, and the main thing they could give him was "don't rush into things."

as percy walked up to you, alone in the archery range, his eyes flashed with something you couldn't quite place.

he took a deep breath. "hey," he said, putting on a casual tone and a smile.

you smiled back. and fuck, you had a smile that could light up tartarus. "hi!" you greeted him.

little did he know you'd liked him since you'd met him. and when he didn't notice, you looked at him like he was the one that put the stars in the sky.

percy's stomach flipped as it sunk in what he was about to say. "soo," he started, trying to play it cool though he knew he was probably red in the face. "i just wanted to say....um....i think you're really beautiful," he blurted out. "i mean, um, i mean --- "

you cut him off. "do you mean 'you're my friend and i think you're really beautiful' or 'you're beautiful and i kinda wanna date you?'"

percy blinked. "...the latter?" he said.

your brain took a moment to process this. percy jackson. liked. you back.

you didn't see yourself as beautiful. so how could he?... he was the popular, hot son of poseidon.

and you were...what?

as if reading your mind, percy said, "you're gorgeous. loving. happy. what is there not to like?"

you opened your mouth to speak, but he spoke first. "can i be your boyfriend?" he asked.

you fidgeted. "what if i do something wrong?"

percy grinned, something like that of the cheshire cat. (we love a poet without knowing it) "then we'll talk about it, (y/n)." he threw one arm to the left side, the grin slowly fading. "wait for a second while i make a point. that is the tension that's always been there." he threw his other arm to the right side. "that is what we could be. see? that's, like, big progress.

his arms are wide; beckoning.

you took a quick glance to the left, right, behind, and close the gap. "big progress?" you say teasingly. "big grammar."

percy pokes you in the forehead. "you're not a daughter of athena. shhh."

after a long moment of gazing, percy is the one that breaks first.

his lips press against yours and you know it's always been this, this kairos, the fleeting rightness of the moment that it would happen.

the atmosphere around you seemed to change as you kissed. first a dark scene, then a cabin-like room, then a vine-covered undergrowth with a small door that might've been big enough for a rabbit.

in that moment, you decided you wanted to be like silena.

minus the dying part. that would not be fun.

the last thing --- hell, it didn't even make the list --- you wanted to do was break percy's heart. that would be just horrible; you loved him.

september eleventh

you and percy had been dating for two, three-ish months now, and it had been basically wonderland.

if there were a hundred people who loved percy jackson, you were one of those people, and vice versa.

if there was one person who loved you, it was percy jackson, and vice versa.

if no one loved either of you, both of you never existed and never would exist.

you went to the same school and made sure of that. and as your pinky hooked around percy's, followed by your whole hand, your boyfriend marvelled at the touch.

you can do this now, he reminded himself. you can reach out and touch her and she'll kiss you and you won't have to run away from her or yourself or any feelings.

life was never better in wonderland, and it could never be better when you had each other by your side.

[on-a-lucky-tide]

Want my prompt to shake the table a bit, see a pairing that I almost never see alone:

Ghost/Gaz. Something sweet, something feral; a nice mixture. Your call but I trust your judgment.

Gaz tries to give Ghost what he asked for but it's too much.

cw: failed scene, Dom drop.

"You sick bastard, by the time I'm done with you, you'll be wanting to tell me everything," Gaz murmured close to Ghost's mask, circling the end of the riding crop around one pale nipple. It pebbled eagerly, a flurry of goosebumps running over Ghost's shoulders as he watched Gaz sneer. "I'll need a gag to shut you up."

Ghost hummed low in his throat and spread his knees out, testing the rope cuffs securing his wrists behind the chair. His cock strained against the confines of his keks and he wanted nothing more than to feed it between those pretty lips. Gaz was in control through, which set Ghost's fuckin' blood on fire.

The first strike stung. A firm lash across his chest that caught a nipple. His head fell back and he grunted, eyes fluttering as the welt prickled and throbbed in the aftermath. A second fell right next to the first, precise, measured, and Ghost's mouth fell open under the mask; the third punched a low groan, his shoulders rolling, wrists straining against the rope.

There wasn't a fourth.

Ghost looked up, examining Gaz through lidded eyes. It took him a moment to surface through the fog in his head created by sting of the riding crop, but when he did, the pinched expression on Gaz's face set his teeth on edge.

"Sir," Ghost tried. Nothing. He kicked his boot against the floor to get Gaz's attention before the pit opening in his head swallowed him whole. "Kyle, colour."

Gaz blinked. "Huh?" He looked washed out, hollow, his eyes distant. The crop dangled in one hand, his shoulders hunched.

"'m red, we're done," Ghost said.

"Shit, was it... Did I do something wrong? Si, I'm sorry, I..."

"Ya gonna untie me before I pop my bleedin' thumbs to get out?"

"Don't do that, you crazy arsehole," Gaz cast the crop aside and ran around the back, picking the knot open until it fell away. Ghost heard him hiss, and then in the next moment his fingertips were stroking the friction burns around Ghost's wrists. "Fuck, shit, look at... I'll get the... I'll get the stuff."

Ghost watched him scuttle over to the chest of drawers at the far wall and find the Savlon. It was a nice chest of drawers. Not like the IKEA shit in Ghost's gaff, but one of those oak numbers from Oak Furnitureland. Ghost had half expected Gaz to still live at home, to have to shove a t-shirt in his mouth as they fumbled in his childhood bed with Thomas the Tank Engine bedsheets.

But, like in many things, Gaz had surprised him. The flat was tidy. Nice little bolt hole in northern Kent where he was just close enough to visit his parents in London, but just far outside enough to be able to afford to eat when he was on leave. Ghost didn't miss the sergeant's salary.

Gaz approached tentatively. "Give me your wrists," he said, trying for the commanding tone he has used in the scene, that he used so effortlessly in the field, but missing the mark. His voice wavered and that pinched expression was still on his face.

Ghost patted two hands on his lap, drawing his knees together enough to create a platform, and then opened his hands. Gaz didn't need a second invite and sank gratefully onto Ghost's thighs, his own either side. "Wrists," he insisted, and Ghost lifted them up for inspection.

"Gonna tell me what happened?"

"It's nothing," Gaz said, squeezing out a little bit of cream onto his forefinger and then carefully rubbing it against the burn. Ghost knew this part of it was important. Gaz cared. He cared a lot, fuck knows why. Ghost didn't pretend to understand how his mind worked; Gaz was good, you know, proper, and rather than try to dissect that and risk driving it off, Ghost has decided to throw himself heart first into earning it.

"We won't be goin' anywhere 'til you do."

"Oh yeah? What if I kick you out on your arse?"

"I'd climb back in the window."

'We're on the seventh floor."

"Yeah."

"Fuckin' nutcase," Gaz breathed through a chuckle, and then moved to Ghost's second wrist. "I'm sorry, alright? I'm sorry I couldn't... I couldn't give you what you needed."

"What did I need?"

Gaz fixed him with a quizzical look and Ghost gazed back placidly. "You needed me to beat you, right? Like I would in a fucking interrogation." There it was. Ghost could feel the sharp edge of it, like running his fingers over a soft blanket and finding a razor sticking out of it; the hurt biting into Gaz's skin.

"Ya didn't hurt me, Kyle."

"Yeah? Wos all this then?" He gestured at Ghost's wrists, his chest, pressing his lips together.

"Pleasure."

"What?"

"Told ya when we started. I like it, makes me feel good, makes the next part when I fuck ya even better."

Gaz got that sheepish look on his face and Ghost knew if he kissed him, Gaz's cheeks would be warm beneath his lips.

"I'm sorry, it... It was too much like... Look, I can do better next time, I can get my head on right, and.."

Ghost hummed, hooking a thumb beneath his bally to pull it off. Gaz's pupils blew wide. Ghost liked that, the way Gaz looked at his unmasked face; with want and affection. He took Gaz's chin and pulled him down for a kiss, teasing his lips open, keeping it gentle. He scooped a hand behind Kyle's arse and scooted him forward until the warm seat of his sweats sat over the hard bulge in the front of Ghost's belted combats. He needed to feel; to be grounded in the reality, rather than the fiction he'd created in his head, of what he'd done.

Gaz moaned softly into Ghost's mouth, a muffled 'Simon' tried to slip out, his hands splaying on Ghost's chest, trapping the cold tin of the tube against his skin. When Ghost drew away, still with one arm to keep Gaz against him, he tilted his head. "There are plenty more ways ya can make me beg."

Gaz rolled his lower lip between his teeth, one eyebrow raised. "I thought you liked the pain..."

"I like to be pushed to my limits. Pain's the easiest way."

"Yeah, looks it..." Gaz said dryly, eyeing the reddened stripes on Ghost's pale chest. He stroked down the edge of one with his fingertips, grimacing. "Alright. What are the other ways? Not gonna lie, Si. It wasn't doing much for me."

"Ya could shove a big vibrator up my arse and edge me 'til I cry."

Gaz choked on air. "What?"

He liked it though. The sound of it. His hips gave a little twitch, the first squirm of arousal.

"Ya could make me do push ups until I can't, then punish me by not letting me cum 'til I beg you."

Oh, he really liked that. Ghost's eyes dropped to Gaz's lap, head tilted, to admire the curve of his cock pushing through the grey flannel. "What else?" Gaz asked, his voice low.

"I could warm ya prick while ya watch footie. Cuff me so I can't touch myself, maybe put a remote control vibrator in my arse."

Gaz licked his lips. "Yeah, I... I like these ones better."

"Soft touch."

"Ah, fuck off, mate. I..." Gaz sighed, running a hand through Ghost's scruff of blonde hair. "I want to make you feel good, I do, but the whip just feels like I'm bringing work into our bedroom. Makes me feel sick, you know?"

"Thanks," Ghost said, "for tellin' me. I wouldn't have been as brave."

Gaz studied him for a long moment, his thumb brushing over the faint lines at the corner of his eye, then down the knife scarring over his jaw and lip. "You sure it's not the pain you want, Si? Don't lie to me."

Ghost considered his answer carefully. "I like it. But I don't need it. I need you," he said. "No point in it if ya in your head when we fuck after. I ain't selfish, Kyle. Not with shit like this."

He was selfish in other ways. Hoarding Kyle's time on leave for one. He knew, realistically, he had to go and see his mum tomorrow or face her wrath, but that didn't stop Ghost resenting the absence slightly. Their time was precious, finite. Ghost didn't like sharing.

His answer appeared to appease Gaz, who sat back to smooth some more Savlon over the welts on Ghost's chest. While he worked, Ghost's hands wandered, the one behind slid into the crease between his legs to find the heavy, warm weight of his balls, while the other caressed over his abdomen, backs of his fingers playing in the soft trail of hair down the middle. "Oi, let me finish before you get handsy," Gaz grunted.

"No." Ghost went to Gaz's chest and thumbed over a nipple, savouring the gasp like the first sip of bourbon after a long op. It didn't take him long to get Gaz hard, ignoring his protests when he stood and carried him to the bed, pushing those sweats off to the floor so he was gloriously naked against his crisp sheets.

Ghost sat up, spreading his knees open between Gaz's legs, leaving him on display to be admired. Gaz knew how good looking he was, with his sculpted arms above his head, his body chiselled from bloody marble, his Hollywood good looks, his perfect cock arched up from groomed pubic hair, and the perfect furl of his hole. He writhed, twitching his hips up in needy little thrusts as he basked in his arousal. "Hng, Si," Gaz moaned, lower lip rolling between his teeth.

"You fockin' tease," Ghost growled, undoing his belt with one hand and whipping it out as he popped his fly with the other. He got his keks halfway down his thighs before he leaned forward and sank into a kiss, hands stroking up Gaz's biceps to lace their fingers together.

They'd fuck all afternoon, like they always did in the first few days of leave; hot, heavy, frantic, sometimes tender. They would emerge later to eat and play FIFA on Gaz's PS4 with some beers, before falling asleep in a heap on the sofa. In the morning, it would be the gym, then some bedroom cardio, before mooching about a local town, back to the bedroom, rinse and repeat. Boring for some, maybe. It was the first time in Ghost's life he'd ever looked forward to his annual leave.

[pascalsbby]

Hot Single Dad of The Neighborhood

Summary: It used to be benzos to take off the sharp pain of the day, this life- now it’s Joel fucking Miller.

Warnings: mdni, 18+, eventual smut (c’mon…wouldn’t be a celebration without it)

This is satire. Kinda. It’s me laughing at myself & my love for this fictional man. But you’re laughing along, because you get it. Let me know what you think!!

This is a part of my 700 follower’s celebration. Read the detailed description here 🩷

It all started with this:

Let me set the scene:

It’s 9:45pm on a Friday, and this is better than having the house to yourself. This is the time of week where we tuck our children (and husbands) in, and we gather around this shitty glass table as the tales are whispered through. It starts off with your usual: sugar-salted peach margaritas turned to two, a joint, and then the riveting conversation of, “now who would leave that dick?”

We call ourselves ‘Joel Miller’s Neighborhood Wives’. It’s a mouthful. But we like a mouthful. So- sit down, have a smoke, a wee little drink, and listen to the goss.

The neighborhood wives (Kat, Kali, Chloe on the right of you, Kit, Vic, Bug & Angela to the left) are all cuddled around Kat’s patio, enacting a dramatic retelling of ‘who the fuck is Joel Miller?’ Himself, somewhere across the street, wondering why every now and then he hears a chorus of squeals. Then, he smiles to himself and wishes he had the guts to grace y’all with his presence. He’s not invited though.

This is the first time you’ve hung out with them, and maybe the last, tbh. No way this Miller guy is worth all this fuss.

And, action.

It used to be benzos to take off the sharp pain of the day, this life- now it’s Joel fucking Miller. We take whatever we can get from him, between when we hear his truck two streets over, lightly running across the hollow wooden floors to put on our slippers. The low growl from his truck pipes (or yours) grows louder as he turns the corner onto the street. We watch as he drops out of the truck and thuds against the concrete, slamming that damn door closed. Probably how he lets all his ladies know he’s home. Our eyes follow his form, tapping all the way up to his front door before he takes those goddamn cowboy boots off. We stumble out of the front door and check the mail. Well, only for the third time that morning. What? We are all always expecting something, alright? You catch what you can before his shoulders disappear through the blue-chipped front door, right back into his house. We close the mailboxes simultaneously and sadly drip back to our front doors. No hello’s today.

Sometimes later in the night before supper, you’ll see the door shaped hole widen in the darkness, warmth boasting from behind as Joel’s form takes up the light, smiling as he pats Tommy on his way inside. Tommy usually drinks too much and stays the night, so we sit back and tend to the family. We ride our delusions in the meantime. Then, the cycle continues. It’s like… the cycle of life. You know?

He seems like your typical gentleman, Joel. A Southern-raised man, one who would let you be his nuclear-family sweetheart. Cook for him, clean for him, spread *it open for him, let his massive fucking hands feel any part of you they wanted. Especially if that meant they were to explore more under the stiff shirtwaist dresses. Or in. We would all rather him in.

Spread, what, exactly? Oh yeah dude, sorry. I meant: *Cunt, asshole, any part of you he wanted to look down the middle of and split open, really. We aren’t shy about it when it comes to talking to each other. Obviously.

The aforementioned Tommy?

That’s his brother, probably about seven or eight years younger. He is a beau too, but he doesn’t seem the type to really fuck it out of ya. I mean sure, he has done his fair share of fucking around with the moms’ of the neighborhood, too. Bug even whispered a tale of Tommy going after those mom’s college daughters, swooping in to help clean the pool before setting them gently on the concrete and swiping their panties to the side as he buried his face in them. He always made sure they were at least 22. This is only moments after the pretty younger girls make their way back into the pretty, white iron gates afront their parents' houses.

Fair enough, he has the same curls wrapping down the base of his neck, kissing the skin beneath them. He has the ‘Miller Smirk’ - what the town wives call it. The Miller brothers are known throughout the neighborhood for their distinct brand of charm. Both possess an effortless charisma that begs you to get on your knees. But they never let us. Sad. Their shared features aren’t few, but none are as similar and charming as their half-smiles. Grins always slightly tilted, as if they were sharing an inside joke with each other but not the rest of the world.

So of course Tommy is desired to an extent, physically, of course. Emotionally? Probably not. But shit, you’d have both if you could. Paris looks great this time of year. Anyways.

He wasn’t the Miller we all grappled over and wanted so deeply, despite a metal band around our fingers (or not). His competency and willingness. They way he looks at his daughter. Oh yeah…girl dad. The way he looks in the Texas heat. His back, flexed and sweating through his too-tight shirt. “The day that man wears a white shirt and it’s over 90 degrees- I will drop fucking dead. Someone take care of the kid for me,” Kat.

There’s been one story about Joel that is retold over and over like it’s fuckin’ Genesis Chapter 3, creation and all. The story on how, why, we all got here to begin with. No one can agree who first told it. Angela or Bug, shit…was it Chloe? Okay, okay, it really doesn’t matter at the moment. Just listen.

It was late August, three years ago. Hot and dripping with the dead-end heat of summer. Almost as if it was giving all it could before the last of it sputtered out and away, knowing Fall was right around the corner to take its place- happy to finally have a rest. A for sale sign that had been smiling at you for months was suddenly gone, the dirt still fresh from where it had been happily ripped. Joel Miller, Mr. Texas cowboy himself showed up one day as the crickets started singing, he kissed the cicadas goodbye for the season, unloaded the Miller Construction van and then he never left. A few weeks later after he and his brother fixed up the place, a little girl was running up the concrete to the front door. But there was no wife.

When he moved into the neighborhood, a new era dawned. It was one where the wives would rather mow the lawn, take the trash cans out on Wednesday nights, and tend to the long-forgotten garden. No really, all of our gardens are pristine now. Because somewhere not too far away there was a beautiful, muscular man with a mustache you wanted to wet, and God, his nose. A nose that was prominent even a few houses down, sun setting behind as it sat there strong and just uh- you knew a nose like that would be tickling your clit while he used his tongue other places. Or the other way around, whichever way you were sitting. Whatever way he wanted you to sit.

It was something about that deep navy cotton shirt his chest and shoulders grace about once or twice a week. The other is some form of a Lakers’ tee, yellow or purple, love-worn but scrunched up and stretched in the right places. You’ll see. Maybe that in itself, how it wraps around his sun-bathed/loved/kissed skin is the reason for everyone’s fever induced fluster. Maybe it’s the drawl, and the fact he absolutely drips of sex.

Most interactions end with deep breaths leaning against the door, knocking on your chest. Or texting the group message (we’ll add you in a minute, it’s called JMW)((Joel Miller’s Whores)). He always has something to say, something to coo at you while you in turn try not to purr back… at least with your mouth. Although no, because you would purr around him with your mouth if he’d only ask for it.

But you? Metaphorically, denoting us all. No, he would never look down upon you, between his eyelashes and brooding smile, dark, tanned skin smelling of the day- “want you to pull the pretty dress up and get on your knees. I’m tired from the day, workin’ so hard for this family. Leas’ you could do is suck my cock, no?” And he didn’t know it, but he was right. He did work so hard for this family. He was your maladaptive daydreaming, he’s what you giggle at during fake conversations, he was the cock slipping between your hungry folds at night.

Instead, it was half-baked smiles and short waves in the drop off line in the morning. He walks Sarah in, every single day. She’s getting to the age where she seems like she’d deter the sweet action, but she doesn’t- she loves him that much. We never see him in the afternoon, his barely-present wife (he has to have a wife, right? Like Bug says, “I mean look at him”), was probably the one picking up Sarah. Probably taking her to some even bigger house on the richer side of town because it's her turn to watch her. How the hell could you leave someone like Joel?

But regardless, we never see her. Never have the entire time we’ve peeked out of our blinds, running to turn off the lamp so no one can see the strip of light coming from the window.

He has never brought a woman inside of that house, let alone has anyone left it. Once, Tommy brought a girl to their Thanksgiving dinner and Vic told Kit she had come alone, first, and hugged Joel. That “Joel was extra smiley to her.” Moral of the story, we don’t know for sure if he’s still married or he’s just somehow keeping that dick to himself.

Jesus, Kat retold that story for three fucking weeks. But, we don’t really blame her. It was how it all began.

Don’t get me wrong, Joel Miller is available- if that pesky little wasp hive directly atop your living room window is getting out of hand, and you just happen to be a single mom who so desperately needs a man’s touch. Not like that. Well, yeah like that. Then, you could count on Joel Miller to back up his old blue truck bed into your driveway, set up his ladder, and allow you to spend the next hour watching through the window as his shirt pulls up his stomach as he does his diligent work.

His v-lines kissed by veins and tufted black hair towards his middle, peeking up and saying hello every time his jeans got a little too low. Musta forgot his usual belt. Or maybe his work belt was a tad too heavy today. Uh, to take that pressure off of his back for him, and into your hands.

-

But him owing you? That’s a different kind of available. It was a week later, the morning before the mom gathering, and you had only seen Joel once. Yes… peaking through your blinds. Then you heard his voice.

“Hi ma’am,” he waved, turning your attention from where you were setting your bags in the car. “Sarah, ask the pretty lady what you wanted, don’t make her wait any longer in this heat.” He was loading his work tools into the bed of his pickup. Another bed of his you’d like to grace.

Shit. Maybe this Miller was worth the fuss.

-

Part 2 later this week babes <3 It will be an actual fic, hehe.

@justagalwhowrites @cool-iguana @strang3lov3 @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin @netherfeildren @chloeangelic

[lyrenminth]

Can I put in a request for something like you take Justin to a party in your hometown to meet up with some of your friends and you all bump into your ex, Justin gets jealous which surprises you so you want to leave to cheer Justin up because this is the first time you’ve seen him act like this

Similar request: I can you maybe write something about Justin being jealous and protective??

Jealous Justin

The fairy lights strung across the patio cast a warm glow on Y/N's face as she laughed, her head thrown back. Justin, drinking a beer a next to her, couldn't stop staring the very handsome guy who was making her laugh, he watched the scene unfold with a growing knot in his stomach. If he remembered correcty that was Demian, one of her exes, so why in the fucking hell she was laughing with him? And why he was standing like a damn idiot without saying anything?

Demian gaze lingered on him in acknowledgment. "She's that funny, uh?" Demian said. Justin wanted to push him so damn hard, instead he forced a smile. "Yeah, she is." The words felt hollow. He hated the way Demian leaned in, invading their personal space.

Justin's arm grabbed Y/N's waist and pulled her closer. She only smiled at him, oblivious of the intentions of the other man. But he knew, Demian wasn't being friendly, he didn't want to remember the good times. He wanted to bring them back.

"How is your wife anyway?" Y/n asked lookig behind Demian, at the crowd maybe looking for his wife. So the bastard was married and flirting with HER? A muscle in Justin's jaw flicked. "Oh, we are divorced. Two years ago actually" Demian informed. Y/N frowned, confused. "But you got along pretty well" he shrugged, like it was nothing. Justin felt her arm around his waist. "Oh, I guess it was for the best" she said, sadly.

"Do you get along?" Demian asked, at Justin. "Yes, he's my best friend" Y/N said instead, and completely unlike him, he leaned in to kiss her softly in her smooth lips. It shock him as much as her, but it was a brief moment. "She's my rock" he simply said, not wanting to prolong the conversation.

Later, while they eat dinner in a table full of people, she nudged him with ther knee. "Are you okay?" she mouthed, feeling something was off with him. His green eyes were stormy, and since he was so angry and jelous he could only nod.

Seeing her with her ex, laughing and making conversation didn't sit him well. It felt...disrespectful. And there was this weird feeling he has never felt before that made his stomach uneasy. Demian was handsome and carried the conversation with others very well. There wasn't any bone of introversion in him. And Justin...he sighed for the third time.

Y/N picking up his mood, and not wanting to stay anymore in the party said her farewells, Justin acting as polite as always too. In their way to the car, she held his hand. "Tell me what is annoying you" she request. Why she could read him so well? He stopped on his tracks and turned to face her. Her beautiful face was enough to damp his temper. This was Y/N, she was clueless most of the time and she was innately friendly even with the assholes and yet. "I didn't like you were talking with your ex who clearly still has something for you" Justin couldn't hide his bitter tone. She furrowed her eyebrows. "I—I don't think he has something for me, but I understand why are you mad. However, you have nothing to worry" she stood on her tip toes and cupped his face. Justin loved when she did that. "I love you Justin, only you" her tone was so ardent he felt it down there. He held her hips, and squeeze her a bit. "I trust you" he said, she beamed, kissing him once again. Justin's neurons melted, and the only thing he could think of was to remind her who he was.

Her husband, her friend, her partner.

Friendly reminder that requests are still OPEN.

[forwhump]

a/n; sorry !!!!!!!!!!!!! (either for the delay or the fact that I’m posting again depending on how you feel about me)(I’m from mountains, canada and I drove to prairies, canada & at one point completely out of nowhere my friend was like “you could hide a military base out here so easy” I was like 👀)(silas could literally be in flatlands, manitoba we don’t even know)

anyway LOL this is for the anon that asked for more outside pov !! I was actually looking for smth hal ‘cause I have a lot more lighthearted stuff & sort of caretaking healing things from hal’s pov BUT !!! I felt partway through june needed more screen time & I went back and wrote a lot of early stuff from her pov & this is some of that & it is TOO GOOD not to post !! more wren backstory 😏 but nothing good has happened to wren in his life so y’know

tw/cw: sexual violence, rape, noncon, transphobia, misgendering, graphic depictions of violence, serious bodily harm, forced imprisonment, captivity, mentions of kidnapping, sexual slavery, medical torture

outside pov, military whump, mentions of super soldiers

June has been in the unit for about two years — she thinks — when Point comes to escort her from the common room, and it isn’t unusual. Not at first.

She safely assumes it’s for combat or field training, which are two of the only three things she ever gets escorted from the unit for. The third is medical. She’s never seen anything else, she’s never been taken to any other part of the district, and the hair on the back of her neck starts to rise as Point leads her deeper and deeper into the labyrinth, farther and farther from familiarity.

“Sir?” She tries, and he doesn’t even look at her.

He leads her to a door at the end of a long, empty hallway. He stands with his back to it, finally looking at June. Something in his jaw twitches. “Against my better judgment,” he says, and has to stop, to calm himself, closing his eyes, breathing in slowly through his nose. When he opens his eyes again, he looks at her and says, “if I had another choice, you would not be here. You are about to become privy to information only my most trusted men have been entitled to. It is contraband. If, for any reason, my superiors find out, and she is taken from me, I will not be happy. And if I’m not happy, your employment with me will be terminated by means of your life. Do I make myself clear?”

June had never seen any farther into the district than the arenas, even further underground. This is a single, armoured door, at the end of a long, empty hallway, at the junction of more long, empty hallways. “She?” June asks.

“Do I make myself clear?” Point repeats, and June’s body nods with no help from her brain.

“Sir,” she says.

Point clicks his tongue, irritated, before he unlocks and unarms the door.

It opens to the worst thing June has ever seen in her life.

“Fuck!” She says, and she doesn’t mean to, taking a quick step back. She can see Point watching her, blank, from the corner of her eye, but she can’t look at him. She doesn’t want to look anymore but she can’t pull her eyes off the body laid flat on its back on the concrete.

The costume dress is ripped and stained, tulle and gingham soaked through with blood. The body is so emaciated that June can clearly make out every bone in its leg beneath its waxy, bruised skin.

She fixates on the long, white hair. Robin has the same hair.

“Oh my fucking god,” she says.

Robin speaks of him, still, but he hasn’t been the same since this place got to him. None of them are. He isn’t frantic in the same way, but he still talks about him. When Robin talks, it’s most of what he talks about.

When he’d been taken, escorted here, his brother had been with him. The artist. They’d taken him, too. The soldiers all staunchly denied him ever even having a brother with him, so June had always assumed he’d been killed at the scene. Robin had insisted as long as he’d been there — they’d taken his brother, too. He was here somewhere.

He was right.

June feels cold all over.

“I think her pelvis is broken,” Point explains, and she has never experienced the rush of emotion she feels now, wet and hot, like a tide that breaks in her chest.

“You think her —“ she starts, and it almost makes her gag. She has to take a long breath in through her nose. She still can’t look away. “You think his pelvis is broken?”

“No,” Point admits. “Her pelvis is definitely broken.”

“Oh my fucking god,” June says again, and her voice sounds really far away. Robin’s brother has been real this whole time and Point’s been keeping him as a pet. “Oh my fucking god. You raped him to death.”

“She’s still alive,” Point says, and he says it like she’s dumb. He steps closer to nudge him in the side with the toe of his boot and Robin’s brother makes a quiet, wet sound June has only ever heard from dying men.

She reacts without thinking, shoving Point away from him. He moves, but he sneers as he looks down at her. “Stand down, January.”

“Get the fuck away from him!”

One of his eyebrows lifts, menacing. She doesn’t like Point, and she’s never liked Point, but one of the things she’s growing to loathe is his almost cartoonish villany. His mood swings are goofy and violent and it sets her teeth on edge. “I own her,” he says, low and dangerous. He leans in close. June is a big girl — Point is a massive fucking man. She doesn’t want to be intimidated by him but he speaks like a threat and his breath is hot against her face. “I can do whatever I want to her. That’s not why I brought you here.”

June would be shivering if she let herself, which is interesting because she’s actually as hot as if she’s running a fever. The sweat is cold as it trickles down her spine. “Why did you bring me here?”

Point looks down at the blood dried on the concrete, at Robin’s bleeding, broken brother, and says, “I don’t know what to do.” He looks at June slowly and his face is completely void of any emotion that June knows or recognizes.

“What?” She says.

He looks down again, back up, and she still can’t read his face at all. “I don’t want her to die,” he finally admits.

“Oh my fucking god,” June says, and she doesn’t mean to. She doesn’t know what else to say. She knew Point was a mean bastard but she never would’ve thought he would’ve been capable of this. “You should’ve thought about that before you raped him to death.”

“She doesn’t have to die,” he says.

“What do you want me to do?” June cries.

He looks at her like she’s a little stupid, which is just mind blowing, and motions to Robin’s brother with one arm. The other is held at his back, at ease.

Wren.

The name comes to her out of nowhere.

Robin’s brother is Wren.

“You’re also female,” Point explains, and kind of tilts his head, “I think.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” June says. “So?”

He motions at Wren again.

June looks at him, too, and it’s so much more horrible now that he has a name. He’d had family before, loved ones, somebody who was worried about him, and that was bad enough, but now this small, bleeding thing, broken down the middle, has a name.

Wren.

What was their last name? Some other kind of bird, wasn’t it? Was it Heron?

“I don’t know why you think I can help him,” June says.

Point’s eyebrows lift. “I figured you would’ve dealt with your share of female hysteria.”

“Female hysteria?” June repeats. “He was raped to death!”

“She isn’t fuckin’ dead!” Point snaps.

“He’s dying right now!” June cries. “You know that or you wouldn’t have come for help. What the fuck do you expect me to do? Really?”

Rage simmers in Point’s face for only a second. It’s gone just as quickly, replaced by something shier, almost more bashful. “Word is,” he says tightly, “you were a big…female advocate during your time. I thought you might’ve —“ and he cuts himself, exhaling sharply. “I thought you might’ve known somebody who’d been…hurt like her before. I thought you might know what to do.”

“They died,” June says.

“No,” Point says.

“Yes,” June corrects. “I worked around a lot of men like you. They were always civilians, always young, and they always died. Always.”

“You just let them die?” Point says, like he’s horrified by that.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” June says. “He needs a doctor. Have Medic —“

“No.” When he’s not speaking with too much emotion, Point doesn’t speak with a lot. Still, this is the flattest June’s ever heard his voice.

“Oh my god,” she says. “I know what to do and that’s what I know. If those girls in the field had been allowed access to a doctor they might not have died. They would’ve had a fucking chance, at least. What do you think is —“

“No,” he says.

“You’re really just gonna let him die here?” She protests.

“She’s contraband,” Point says, flat. “I thought I made myself clear.”

“So?”

Point looks her up and down once, lip curling disdainfully. “On paper,” he says, “she was terminated on site.”

Something shivers in June’s chest and makes her breath rattle. “Oh my god.”

“She is an unsanctioned pet,” Point says, “and —“

“Oh my fucking god,” she says. She takes a step away from him and she isn’t sure when she had gotten so deep into this room. She doesn’t like it, but she’s standing between Point and Wren and she can’t bring herself to stand anywhere else.

He kind of rolls his eyes at her. “And —“

“So he was always going to die here!” June cries, and the spike of hysteria in her voice surprises even her but this is fucking unbelievable. This is unreal. This place was a hellscape when these men were just working guard detail at a fucked up mad science program making super soldiers.

She should’ve known better. She was in the military, and she knew what those men were like. Point was right, kind of; she didn’t really work as an advocate, she just got a nickname. She used to fight, physically fight stationed doctors to try and get them to help the girls the soldiers always left behind. But they were always locals, civilians; the military’s doctors weren’t authorized to help them.

She should’ve known they’d never just be working guard detail.

She just never would’ve thought they’d be keeping a fucking sex slave in the basement.

What the fuck?

“What the fuck!”

Point exhales through his nose. “Yes,” he agrees.

June puts a hand to her chest and her heartbeat is like gunfire. Robin had been so hysterical about his brother when he’d gotten here, but he’d been going through withdrawals. June had never doubted that he was real, like Hal had, but she really thought they’d killed him, and that Robin had probably just blocked it out. That he’d completely forgotten it after the lobotomy, or whatever the hell they did to him.

He’d been real this whole time and Point had been keeping him as a pet.

“Oh my fucking god.”

“I don’t want her to die,” Point admits again, and June can feel it under her hand, the way that makes her chest constrict.

“At this point it’s probably the least you can do,” she spits, and her head is spinning.

“No,” Point says, and she hates that she agrees with him, but he’s right.

She can’t let him die down here. Not like this. “He needs a doctor,” she says.

“No.”

“That’s all you can do!” she protests. “There’s no other way to help him! You broke his fucking pelvis. He probably needed a doctor six months ago but if he doesn’t get one now he’s going to die. If you don’t want him to, tell Medic.”

“They’ll take her from me,” Point says.

June throws her arms up. “Then he’ll just be dead!”

Point looks down at her for a long time and she looks right back. She thinks he’s probably trying to intimidate some hidden medical prowess out of her, but she’s serious, and at some point he sees it in her face. His lip curls back from his teeth and he leaves. Without a word, he leaves, and he locks the armoured door behind him.

“Fuck,” June says out loud, and she doesn’t mean to. Her voice breaks.

But they’re alone. At least they’re alone.

Slowly, she turns to Wren, and slowly, she sits beside him. “Hi, Wren,” she whispers. He doesn’t respond and she doesn’t really expect him to. Slowly, she reaches out to him, brushing bits of crusted hair out of his face. He looks like he’s probably really beautiful, and he looks young. He looks so young that it makes June nauseous and she has to do everything in her power to keep her voice soft and calm and sweet. She wants to scream for him. She wants to cry.

She starts to push his hair out of his face and his eyes don’t open but he flinches with his whole body. “It’s okay,” June whispers. “It’s okay. I’m not gonna hurt you. My name’s June. I’m a friend of your brother.”

It stirs something in him. His head turns slowly against the concrete and his hair is so white the parts dried with blood look like they’re rusting. Blinking open his eyes, he looks up at her, and he has eyes so much darker than June was expecting. He has really, really dark, really wide eyes, bloodshot and bruised underneath, and he looks up at June from beneath wet eyelashes and it makes him look even younger and she cries with him, then. She can’t help herself.

“Robin?” He asks, but just barely. His voice is really small, but when June strains to hear it, she can hear Robin’s accent, softer and sweeter. “He’s alive?”

“Yeah,” June agrees, smiling wetly, “and he’s clean. He’s all big now, looks like a real cowboy. They fixed his teeth, too. He’s got a great smile.”

He chokes out a wet sound that June only realizes is a sob when a tear clears a track in the grime on his face.

“I know,” she agrees softly. “Really seems like you got the shitty end of the deal here.”

He makes another choked sound and June likes to imagine that in another life, he got to laugh towards the end. “I’m gonna die,” he says, and June can hear it in how thin, how wet his voice is, that yeah, he probably is, “aren’t I?”

“I think so,” June whispers. “I hope not.”

He chokes out another sound, another sob. “I think I want to,” he whispers, and his brittle voice breaks. “I don’t wanna do this anymore.”

“I know,” she agrees. “I think I would, too.” He moves his head, tips his face up towards the ceiling, and strips of flesh have been peeled from the side of his throat. She takes his hand so carefully, and she doesn’t look at the bruising around his wrist or every one of his broken fingernails. “I don’t think I’d want to be alone,” she explains.

He makes a choked sort of sound. “I’m never alone.”

“I’m sorry,” she says softly. “Do you want to be alone now?” His fingers tighten around June’s, almost frantic, and she says, “it’s okay. I’m not going anywhere.” She squeezes his fingers as much as she’s comfortable, which is just barely. “Couldn’t get very far if I wanted to.”

She’s crying, but that feels rude. What does she have to cry about? She tries to wipe her eyes with the back of her other hand and says, “I’m really sorry this happened to you.”

He doesn’t say anything but his fingers are still shaking so June knows he’s still alive. He’s so cold she thinks it would be hard to tell, otherwise. She doesn’t think she’d let go of his hand either way.

They sit there for such a long time that June thinks that Point’s left them both to die. She holds Wren’s hand and cries for him when he isn’t conscious to hear it. When the door is finally opened again, she jumps so hard it feels like it throws something out in her back.

Jumping to her feet, she keeps Wren safely behind her as Point filters back in, face blank. Close at his back is Medic and June sobs out loud.

She would go as far as to say she likes Medic. A trauma surgeon, Medic is a good doctor and he’s kind to them. He’s a prisoner, too. He doesn’t want to be there, either. Him and the entire rest of his team are fitted with collars, flickering at all times with dangerous red light. Insubordination will lead to electrocution which will lead to death.

Medic is a prisoner and he’s one of if not the only person down here with any sort of humanity left. He reacts to Wren like any normal person would — with horror.

He recoils so hard it makes him take a step back, and he bumps into June. Neither of them acknowledge it. “What the fuck?”

Point opens his arms, dismissive. “Fix her.”

“Who is this?”

“Who cares?” Point says. “Can you fix her?”

“What the fuck?” Medic repeats, ragged. “What did you do to her? Who is this?”

“Robin’s brother,” June says, and Medic looks at her with eyes blown wide with horror.

They blow even wider with realization. He looks at Point slowly. “What the fuck?”

“You’re wasting time,” Point says. “She’s dying.”

“His pelvis is broken,” June tells him quietly, and Medic sucks in a sharp breath through his teeth.

“Fuck me,” he says. He rubs his face slowly, but if there’s one thing June likes best about Medic, it’s that she respects him. When he lowers his hands, he looks at Point. He says, “get the fuck out. Take June back to the unit, and stay the fuck away. If you try to see him at any point while he’s in my care, I will fucking kill you. You understand?”

Point’s lip curls back from his teeth. “You’re in no position to tell me what to do, doc.”

“Then maybe we’ll have Weaver come down here and take a look at him instead,” Medic says.

Point snarls, actually snarls, like some kind of fucked up beast, and the way the sound reverberates through the room is deeply unsettling. But he takes June by the arm, and he turns.

June turns to look over her shoulder, but Medic closes the door between them. As she turns back around, she sees it’s because Point tried to look back, too.

She doesn’t say anything to Robin. Maybe that’s the wrong choice, she isn’t sure. What would the right choice be? Would she wanna know, if it was her? What if she’d been lobotomized?

She doesn’t say anything and she doesn’t see Medic for months. When she does she’s sitting in a bed in the medical bay, trying to peer around for any sign of him. The medical bay, unfortunately, was designed for privacy; the size of a large airplane hanger, there are enough beds for a small army but spaced out far enough that June can’t peer end to end.

When the door is pushed open and Medic lifts the corner of his mouth at her, she has a bullet in her arm but she forgets that it hurts and blurts, “is he okay?”

Medic smiles a little more properly and the relief that crests in June’s chest almost makes her start crying out of nowhere. “No,” he says, “but he’s getting there. He’s alive.”

“Oh my fucking god,” she says, and he laughs. “Can I see him?”

“Let’s get this bullet out of you,” he says, “and we’ll see.”

A few months after that, somebody new is introduced to their unit. Like every other time, they don’t know until the guards show up with them. The new guy, this time, has long white hair, the same colour as Robin’s.

June cries pretty uncontrollably.

Robin doesn’t cry — can’t, maybe? — but June cries enough for him, too.

[pedrito-friskito]

happy summer babes!!! 🍉🦀🏄‍♀️ thank you for the amazing sleepover fun!! I'm going with 🎲 ROLL FOR FIC 🎲 because it just sounds so fun and I hope I do it right lmaodvdf rose gold sparkles set PP character list and ofc smutty (are we surprised??? no ofc not)

love u to the moon and back!!!

MY DARLING SWEET SIL 🤍

yes yes yes roll for fic ROLL FOR FICCCCCC - we landed on: Frankie Morales and “You better watch your fucking mouth.”

love you MORE 🥰

done for - frankie morales x fem!reader

word count: 3.4k

warnings: drinking, brief violence (frankie punches a guy), unwanted advances from a third party (nothing explicit), car sex, dirty talk, I love frankie morales this was way too much fun to write

You’re the only reason Frankie comes to this bar.

It’s not his usual scene. Will dragged him in a few months back — despite his protests, but the eldest Miller brother was always stronger than Frankie, so he was left with little choice. But then he stepped through the doorway, spotted you behind the bar, and it didn’t matter that the music was too loud and every other person in the place looked to be at least ten years younger than him.

“What can I get ya?” you’d shouted over the music when he and Will approached the bar, leaning forward and giving him a healthy eyeful of your cleavage. Will shouted back his order and had to elbow Frankie in the ribs to get him to spit it out.

He called out the first beer logo he saw on the taps to your right, and you winked at him as you fished a glass out from beneath the bar and started filling it.

The pair of them lingered at the edge of the bar a while, Will combing the crowd for his fiancé, who had said she’d meet them there, and Benny, who was never one to say no to a night on the town. Will eventually spotted her, and after polishing off his drink, headed into the throng of people on the dance floor, leaving Frankie alone..

“Your friend abandoned you?” you called, and Frankie turned so fast he nearly fell off his stool. “That wasn’t very nice of him.”

“Nah, his girl’s here,” he responded, finishing his beer. 

You took his empty glass and refilled it without asking, and when he opened his mouth to protest, you waved a hand at him. “It’s on the house.”

He shouted his thanks and you winked again.

The bar became an almost weekly occurrence, every Friday night like clockwork, either or both of the Millers in tow, and Frankie knew he was getting a little too hung up on the way your eyes lit up when he walked up to the bar. A few times, you finished your shift while they were still there, and finished your night on the other side of the bar top, drinking Benny under the table and talking to all three of them.

Before Frankie knew it, you were…friends, for lack of a better word.

“I don’t know why you don’t just ask her on a date, Fish,” Benny drawled, turning and walking backward in front of Frankie and Will, putting his arms out wide. “She’s into you, I know she is.”

“Yeah, cuz you’re the great expert on women,” Will jabbed, grinning at his little brother.

Frankie shook his head, lifted his shoulder. “I dunno. I don’t wanna screw it up.”

“Can’t do that if you don’t give it a shot,” Benny threw back, dodging Will’s fake punch. “What’s the worst that’s gonna happen? She says no?”

Both the Millers looked at him and Frankie felt his cheeks flush. “Well, yeah.”

“Then onto the next one, my guy!” Benny shouted, grinning broad. “That’s how it goes!”

Will rolled his eyes, shoving at his brother until he nearly stumbled backward. “Ignore him. You know I hate admitting when Benny is right, but I agree with him. She does seem into you, Fish. Gets all smiley when you show up.”

It just became a matter of finding the courage.

Tonight’s the night, he’s decided. It’s been a few weeks of hyping himself up, fake conversations in the bathroom mirror until he gets sick of staring at his own pathetic reflection. He’s seen you a couple times since Benny and Will’s pressing, and he’d be lying if he said he hadn’t noticed your being a little more attentive to him than the Millers, leaning a little closer on the bar, your shoulders pressed together when you’re off shift and flagging down another bartender to order.

It’s late. He had a long day to say the least. He’s tense, his whole back a twisted knot of muscle from the moment he woke up. You seem a little off too, your smile tighter than usual when you greet him, something strange in your eyes when you slide his beer across the bar top. When you bring him a second, nearly an hour and a half since he arrived, he sees it again, and catches your wrist lightly.

“You okay?”

“Yeah,” you answer, too quickly, eyes darting down the bar before meeting his. “Fine. No Millers tonight?”

“Nah, just me,” he replies, “sorry.”

“Don’t be,” you shoot back and your face softens, the tightness receding. “Always happy for your company, Frankie.”

The corner of his mouth lifts. “The feeling is mutual. What time are you done?”

You flick your wrist, glancing at your watch. “Another hour. Why?”

“You wanna go somewhere after? Get something to eat?”

He’s shocked at himself. The words roll so smoothly off his tongue, but when your eyes widen just slightly, embarrassment makes a home in his gut, his ears scorching and for once, he’s grateful for the dim lighting in the bar.

But then your face splits in a smile, and that strange look in your eyes is gone. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

You tap your fingers against his on the bar as someone calls your name and he nods as you step away, grinning to himself as he sips his beer.

An hour later, and you’re cashing out for the night, talking quietly to one of the other bartenders. You’ve stopped by a few times to check on him now, getting him a glass of water and confirming you’ll still be out on time. The second time you came by, the strange look in your eye had returned, your gaze darting around as you spoke to him, and the tightness wasn’t just in your voice, in your mouth, but your whole body. It makes him uneasy.

He watches as you disappear through the doors that lead to the rear of the bar, and five minutes later, you reappear at the far end, changed out of your work uniform, your purse over your shoulder and a sweater slung over your arm. Frankie keeps his eyes on you as you try to close the distance between you and him, but halfway, something stops you.

Someone stops you.

It’s a hand on your arm first, halting you, and then the man rises from his stool, towering over you, and Frankie knows what that strange look in your eye is.

It’s fear.

His gut twists as he pushes himself off his stool, tossing a bill on the bar top as he steps away. He’s far enough that he can’t hear what the guy is saying to you, but judging by the look on your face — your eyes not only fearful, but watery too — it’s nothing good.

“Hey, is this guy bothering you?” he says, trying to sound as smoothly as possible as he steps around the man, offering you his hand. Your eyes go wide when you see him, and Frankie slides himself between you and the guy, turning to face him. They’re about the same height, and Frankie squares his shoulders.

Behind his back, he flexes his fingers wide, and you slip your hand into his, squeezing tight.

“Move, asshole,” the guy spits, and Frankie raises his brows.

“Well, since you asked so nicely,” he quips, “no.”

“We were having a conversation,” the guy continues, and makes the most comical looking angry face that Frankie has to stifle his laugh, “and you interrupted it.”

“Didn’t look like a conversation,” Frankie replies and pushes you another step back, trying to angle you towards the door that leads outside. “Looked like you grabbed her without her permission and were trying to scare her. Not a good look, my guy.”

“I’m not your guy, fucker. Now let me finish my conversation; you don’t wanna get your lights punched out for a dumb bitch like this one.”

Over his shoulder, he hears your sharp inhale, and the hand not wrapped in yours clenches into a fist. “You better watch your fucking mouth.”

“Do you even know her? Clearly you’re just as dumb as you look if you think she’s worth this sort of trouble. You don’t—”

Frankie decks him.

His knuckles explode in pain as his fist connects with the guy’s jaw. When was the last time he even threw a punch? He’s honestly not sure, but he releases your hand to hold his hurt one, and you cling to his arm.

“Frankie.”

It’s a good shot, cuz the guy drops. He falters back against the bar, spilling his glass, and it pours over the edge of the bar and onto him as he falls to the ground beneath the bar. His mouth is full of blood, and he moves like he’s trying to get up, but Frankie steps forward, you still half-wrapped around his arm, and steps on the guy’s chest.

“I said, watch your fucking mouth,” he spits, and pushes his boot down hard before turning away. Your eyes are wide, shining in the dim light, and you grab his bad hand gently, inspecting it.

“You…” you trail off, shake your head. “Why did you…”

“You still wanna get out of here?” Frankie asks, and he swallows hard, waiting for your answer. Did he scare you off? Fuck, did he—

“Yes.”

The moment the night air hits his face, Frankie feels like he just ran a marathon. He’s never been the guy to go punching other guys in bars. That’s been Benny’s MO, most of the time, Will a few times. Santi only gets testy when he drinks tequila, but that’s almost every time they go out.

But…he put his hands on you. And it was obvious you didn’t want him to.

He offers you his good hand as you step off the sidewalk, crossing the street to where his truck is parked. He walks you around to the passenger’s side, opens the door for you, and you clamber inside, dropping your purse to the floor of the truck, but then you turn back, grabbing his shoulder.

“I should explain,” you start, fingers curling in the fabric of his t-shirt. “He’s…he was a mistake.”

“You don’t have to explain anything,” he tells you, and your eyes soften again, your hand tugging at his t-shirt now. “I don’t make it a habit to go around punching people, but anyone could see he was making you uncomfortable, and I…I’m sorry, if it freaked you out.” His gaze drops, staring at his boots on the curb, your feet resting on the truck’s sidebar.

You cock a brow. “You’re apologizing? You just defended my honour in front of a bar full of people and you’re apologizing? Frankie.” You slip two fingers under his chin, lift his eyes back to yours. “I might have some explaining to do when I go in for my next shift, but you don’t have to apologize, Frankie. I should be thanking you.” Your hand curves to cup his jaw, and your thumb fits perfectly into the sparse patch in his beard, stroking light at his skin. “I am thanking you.”

He doesn’t know who leans forward first. He feels like he’s falling, for a moment, until his palm hits the leather of the seat, and your other hand moves up, knocking the hat from his head before your fingers lock into the curls at the back of his head. Your mouth tastes like mint and he hopes he doesn’t taste too much like beer as your teeth graze his bottom lip.

It’s a heavy kiss. He can feel it seeping down his throat, spreading through his limbs, spiking his bloodstream. He’d be a liar if he said he hadn’t thought about kissing you from the moment he first laid eyes on you, but something in the way you’re kissing him now, something like desperation in your movements, tells him he’s not alone in that.

The noises you make have him half-hard in his jeans. He goes to plant his other hand beside your hip, but you let go of his jaw to grab his wrist, redirecting it so his palm lands on your thigh instead, feeling how warm you are through the soft fabric of your leggings. His thumb digs into your muscle, finding you hotter towards the seam, and his breathing comes faster. “You still wanna go get something to eat?” he asks, the question more of a gasp than anything as you first try to chase his lips, but then instead let your mouth glance across his jaw, down his neck and over his pulse.

“No,” you answer, kissing your way back up. “I want you to take me home, Frankie.”

He makes it halfway.

Halfway before the hand you’d curled around his bicep slides further and further down, cupping his cock through his jeans, your body leaning across the centre console and your breath hot on his ear: “Pull over.”

He does as you ask, coasting the truck along the dirt shoulder. The road is empty; you’ve only been passing cars once every few minutes thus far. As soon as he shifts into park, your belt clicks open, and you’re shuffling across the seats, swinging one leg over his waist to settle into his lap.

You kiss him hard, licking into his mouth, hands roaming his hair, tugging at the strands. It steals his breaths, pulls low moans from his chest, and you drop your hips, grinding down on him. He palms your hips, tilting his head back against the headrest as all his blood flows south, cock now straining against the zipper of his jeans.

“Would you fuck me right here?” you ask, your mouth sliding across his jaw, to the sensitive spot beneath his ear. “Right now?”

You’re wearing a skirt, and as Frankie opens his mouth to answer you, you grab his wrist, leading his hand right up under the edge of the fabric, between the juncture of your thighs. He hisses when you press his fingers against your underwear, nearly soaked through.

“You feel that?” you murmur, and Frankie feels like he’s drunk, desperate to press his fingers into you, hear more of those noises you’d made when he first kissed you, see what other sounds he can pull from you.

“You’re sure…?” he asks, the words trailing off, one brow arching, and the hand not curled around his wrist moves from his hair to cup his cheek, thumb stretching up to trace his eyebrow.

“I’m sure,” you answer, “if you are.”

It’s a mad shuffle of fabric and hands, you reaching for his belt as he shifts you back slightly, both hands diving beneath your skirt. You moan as he runs his hands over you, unabashedly reaching beneath the elastic of his boxers to pull his cock free. Frankie groans  when you lean forward and spit, saliva dripping off the end of your tongue and bullseyeing the tip of his cock. Your palm covers him a second later and his hips lift off the seat, chasing your warmth.

He gets his fingers beneath the band of your underwear, smirks when he strokes you clit and you mewl, your hand stuttering on his cock. “So wet,” he remarks, leaning forward to bury his face in your neck, licking at your pulse. “Wanna spread you out and eat you for days.”

You say his name like a prayer, and Frankie can’t help himself. His fingers pinch the fabric of your underwear and he tugs. The lace rips easily, the soft tearing sound mixing with your breathing and moans.

“I’ll buy you new ones,” he tells you, and you shake your head, sinking down deeper onto his lap, guiding his cock to rut along your soaked pussy. “Fuck.”

“I’m on the pill,” you breathe out, and he nods, “and I’m clean.”

“Same,” he replies, but the word snaps when the tip of his cock catches where you’re the wettest. All you’d have to do is angle your hips and—

You slide onto him in one fell swoop, his cock filling you to the brim. It’s your turn to toss your head back, and your hands move to his shoulders, fingers curling in the fabric of his t-shirt while his return to your hips.

There’s something desperate in the way you move, and Frankie hopes his movements echo yours. He’s never had his cock ridden this hard, and when you grab his chin in one hand, force his eyes up to yours, he knows he’s done for.

“You feel so goddamned good,” he manages to grit out, and the face-splitting grin you give him makes his heart ricochet in his chest.

You tilt your upper body back slightly, and Frankie takes it as an opportunity. He grabs the hem of your shirt and shoves it upward, exposing your bra. Your eyes follow his movements, and you open your mouth, letting him press the hem between your teeth, you keeping it held up while he curls his finger in the cup of your bra and pulls. Your back arches when your nipple becomes exposed, and he moves quickly, latching his mouth around it, scraping his teeth against the sensitive skin.

It’s hard to meet your thrusts, bodies bent in the truck cab as they are, but he does what he can, both hands roving your back as you keep moving, pulling yourself up and slamming back down. A few more thrusts, and he finds your clit with his thumb, fingers curling around your thigh as he strokes it.

“Frankie,” you nearly wheeze, head tilting back on your shoulders, lips parted in the most perfect o-shape. “Oh fuck, god, fuck, I’m gonna—”

“Do it,” he commands, head snapping up to stare you in the face again. Your features are bathed in moonlight, shadowed and illuminated, and he’s struck by how beautiful you are. “Cum for me.”

It ripples through you like a tidal wave, and Frankie feels every single moment. The way you go impossibly tight, every muscle in your body bearing down on him, but your hips still snapping. The way you flood his cock, the way your face screws up with pleasure, hands clawing at his shoulders as you ride him through it. It’s a miracle he doesn’t follow quickly, forcing his body to savour your orgasm before trying to find his own.

You drape yourself over him as you come down, your chest heaving as your hips slow, but don’t stop. He turns his head as you rest yours on his shoulder, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead.

“You look so pretty like this.”

The corner of your mouth quirks. “Fucked out?”

He grins back, hums in approval. “Can’t wait to see what you look like once we actually get home.”

“You didn’t cum yet,” you nearly pout, and he opens his mouth to protest, to tell you he can wait, but you shake your head, a finger over his lips that has his cock twitching inside you. “I wanna see you cum.”

It doesn’t take much. You’re so warm around him, doubly wet from your orgasm, and you ride him impossibly harder. The whole time, your hand cups his jaw, lips near his ear, whispering the dirtiest things that have sparks of pleasure shooting down his spine.

He tries to stifle his shout as he cums, painting your insides, and you swallow the noise, lips covering his, tongue poking past his teeth. He leans his forehead into your chest, tries to catch his breath. “If we were closer to my place, I’d drive the rest of the way just like this.”

You grin like the devil as you slowly disentangle yourself from him, both of you groaning as he slips out of you. He mourns the loss of your weight against him as you shuffle back into your seat, the scent of sex now permeating the air in the truck. It’s intoxicating.

You don’t settle back completely, however, still leaning halfway across the console, your thighs pressed tightly together as you lay your palm on his thigh, resting your head on his shoulder. “I have other ideas as to how we can spend the rest of the drive,” you say, lifting your jaw to kiss his. “How long’s your refractory period?”Oh yes, Frankie thinks to himself, he’s done for. He had a hunch the first time he saw you behind that bar, but now, as he shifts the truck back into drive and feels his cock twitch with attention as your hands roam, he knows it for certain.

[ilovefoodandslasherswithmasks]

Yall can listen to: X from Lexxe

While you read this, I promise you, this song is so Billy coded. I'm always like 😩

TW: no minors yall shoo, suggestive language, etc, it's spicey but not burning hot spicey yet, part two is coming in a few days, touching, mentioning pet names and fem reader, suggestive gestures but not detailed iykyk

Cause I need more than my imagination

~ part 2

Going to Hawkins was boring as shit, the high school sucked, everyone was so..small towny? People were either extremely religious, judgy, or complete popular kids.

'Like Steve Harrington, guy had girls drolling if not also boys, I mean I get it he's attractive but not like ATTRACTIVE.'

So going to school and seeing no one fitting your type was exhausting, but there was Billy, he came to Hawkins a few years ago, with his Step sister and all.

Really there wasn't much to him at first but then, there was rumors, about him, how he was like in the bedroom. He wasn't very alluring at first, his snarky, flirty personality not really your thing. But when you went to a party, playing Pool and absolutely obliterating the other team, you caught a glimpse of him staring at you as you bend down to hit the white ball against the last colored billiard ball, absolutely missing when a blush slammed itself on your cheeks. Giving the other team the win. Huffing you drop a comment to the other team that was being a sore winner, "I would've won if I hadn't had more to drink dipshits, yall are sober assholes!" You snap at them, groaning as you go get yourself some more heavily alcohol infused punch. It didn't taste good but fuck did it do the job.

You sit down outside by the pool, as you watch a group of guys gather around a beer keg, Billy, as you knew him, is doing the weird drinking over head thing. Staring at the scene unfolding, while sipping your drink, when he was done you watch the way the drink slips down his bare chest, vanishing under his flannel somewhere, when you look back up at his face he was already staring at you, all smug and shit. God you would've been embarrassed but you had so much alcohol you found it incredibly hot. So you smile before walking away. Deciding to leave the party early, you walk down the street, turning around one last time to see him standing on the street watching you go.

That was about a week ago, but the stares didn't stop, you'd catch him staring at you chewing on his toothpick in the hall, the classrooms he was in with you, the cafeteria, parking lot shit even when you passed him on the way to the toilet.

Honestly it was a bit much, you didn't forget what happened, how could you, but now you weren't drunk, you were you. And you avoided all his stares, he was basically undressing you with his eyes, and he didn't try to hide it. He'd lock eyes and lick the toothpick, or he'd adjust his pants, which you weren't sure was just habit because hsi belt seemed annoying to you, or for other reasons.

But you always did you best to avoid his gaze, you'd occupy yourself when he stared at you, opening the book you had no intend to read, or whatever else was closest. And he definitely knew you were just shy, embarrassed and definitely not used to this attention.

The second week you got a bit more confident, you'd hold his gaze a little longer until he would wink at you with his smile, which imidiatly caused you to blush and again, occupy yourself with something else. That's how the second week passed.

Third week he was visibly closer, sitting at the same table, behind you in class, or standing next to your locker. Hell avoiding him was hard, but you tried less and less to avoid him. His eyes still flustered you as did his slowly more suggestive gestures. But you tried so hard to be more comfortable, and slowly it came naturally to stare back at him. Imagining the things he would do to you if you finally had the courage to say more than hi back to him.

Fourth week, he would gently slide his hand over you shoulders as he whispered a sweet hi in your ear, in the crowded hallway. Which he only received a flustered hello or a broken good morning. In class he'd play with your hair, or draw random patterns on your back.

Fifth week, those patterns weren't just random, slowly you made out words, like "pretty today" or "I like those pants" or "smelling good" really it wasn't much but the last Friday that week he wrote "you look incredibly hot today, wonder if it can get even hotter". Which left you a mess all weekend.

Sixth week he sat next to you at the cafeteria, he never really ate, but he got the food you enjoyed and shared it with you, staring at you as you drank the chocolate milk, or took a bite out of the snacks he got. He would feed you if you would talk to him a bit more. You still barely said anything but small talk, that's all he got, he flirted? You shut down and stayed quiet while blushing.

Seventh week, you got a lot more comfortable, one or two flirts back to him a day, that was it, that was all you managed. And it humbled you when you stuttered it out instead of saying it normal. Shit it was real humbling. But he took it all, he basked in it, he chewed his bottom lip when it was a good line or he'd nudge your thigh with his knuckles when he started to lose himself in your eyes.

Eighth week, you finally found yourself in the position of openly flirting, less shy, a lot more bold and profound suggestive. He loved it, he'd laugh, or actually get a slight tint on his freckled covered cheeks. Shit he had the prettiest smile and laugh. In class he now sat next to you and the stares were more obvious, in the last row, no one really noticed. But you wear skirts and the slight cross your legs, moving so the skirt rode up a bit. He couldn't help but smile and grip the table when he looked at you, his eyes traveling up to yours holding them. Getting regularly scolded by the teacher for being all love doves.

Ninth week, you finally let him drive you home, sitting in the passenger seat as he'd blast his favorite music, but keeping it low enough to talk to you, his fingers flickering against your thigh. He'd shift gears and his hand would fall to you leg. Eventually he let his hand rest on your thigh, and you let him it was nice. Gentle, careful, kind of sweet. He never went to far.

Tenth week both of you reached the limit. He had his hand between your thighs when he was driving you home, your hand gripping his wrist and slightly squeezing as he stared ahead at the road.

"Billy" you said over the music,

"Yeah hot stuff?" He asked puffing out the smoke of his Marlboro red.

"Uh..did you ever like, imagine things when you stared at me? Like before we talked..."

He glances at you, a smirk slowly coming to play on his face,

"Yeha but I doubt you can handle it Doll"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It's supposed to mean that I don't think you're able to handle my nasty thoughts yet sweets"

"That's bullshit!"

"Oh yeah? You know why I wanted to call you candy cane at first?"

"No?"

"Cause I love to suck on candy cane"

"Uh oh"

"Yeah, so don't worry, I'll eventually call you that too when you let me taste you as well."

"Oh....uh wow okay uhm"

"See? You can't handle it, and Doll, there's more of that waiting to be exposed to your sweet, innocent mind"

You just laugh a bit, the heat in your abdomen settling and your cheeks match it.

Well there was a lot he kept from you so far, the both of you have just started dating and it was obvious he desired you so deeply, but he was nice enough to wait and keep it to himself. Mostly. He'd call you sweet tit's and stuff when you looked very tempting, but he only said that when it was you too.

In school he'd been basically eye fucking you, you definitely didn't miss it. You're not idiotic enough to miss the way he'd lick his lips when he was forced to sit away from you. Or when you guys had PE and he'd purposely wipe his face with the hem of his shirt, and pull yours up when the teacher told the next exercise, to place his hand in the lower part of your back. Keeping it there, letting his finger nails gently scratch your skin.

It flustered you to hell, you'd have to hurry to the changing room to take a cold shower, or the bathroom if it was during class, to catch a break from his need. To be honest you had to sit down sometimes just to stop yourself from getting rid of that annoying wet feeling that he always caused. He didn't even know how bad you had it for him.

The way his hands wrapped around the steering wheel or how he'd lick his lips after puffing out smoke, or the way his cologne clung to your clothes at the end of the day with his cigarette smell. Drove you insane, so when you were at his place that day, you, in his bed room alone, checking his perfumes to see which is the one he always uses. When you found it, you memorize the name and how it looks and spray some on your sleeve.

Playing dumb when he came back with drinks as he smelled the air.

"Did you use my perfum?"

"Uh no that's probably just you"

He wasn't idiotic to miss what you've been doing either, sneaking away when he tempted you, smelling his jacket when he had you wear it, or the way you looked at his hand when he touched you. Or how you flinched in PE when he touched your bare skin. Well whenever he touched you to be honest. He did it on purpose, to see how long you'd last.

(I didn't read over it, but part two will be here soonnnn I'm so excited yall, but also so stressed cause this is the first time sharing spicey writing and basically my thoughts and own fantasies. 😔 Anywayssss enjoy)

PART TWO IS COMING TODAY YALL, the explicit version, but you can skip it, I'll make sure to write the less spicey version for those who don't enjoy this!!!