#yeah it fucking sucks and needs to be addressed but what are you gonna do by bitching on a fascist social media site?

[anarkhebringer]

I woke up to this and am really thinking about this

[sp0o0kylights]

“Dustin isn’t coming.”

“What?” Eddie says, all frantic and jovial movements freezing instantly.

His eyes narrow on Lucas--the bearer of bad news. “Why?” 

“Family emergency.” 

Mike makes a face. “I saw his mom yesterday and she was fine, so is this a…?” 

He makes a gesture that is entirely incomprehensible to anyone who isn’t Sinclair and his terrifying girlfriend.

(At least, Eddie thinks Max is Lucas’s girlfriend this week. It got a little hard to keep up after the third break-up-make-up marathon, and he frankly, stopped bothering to try.

It helped that she barely spoke--The only time notable being when Eddie had mockingly asked Sinclair if he needed a cheerleader when she’d first sat in, upon which she’d asked Eddie if he needed new kneecaps with a look in her eye that said she was serious.)

Wheeler Jr.’s gesture however, made her put her book down.

“You think he’s having migraines again?” She not so much asked as demanded, which had Mike shrugging. 

“Dunno." Lucas says. "Dustin didn’t say.” 

“Gotta be, if he called Dustin.” Mike mutters, Lucas shuffling his papers about as he begins to set up for Hellfire. He was the last in the room, practically late, which Eddie had planned on harassing him for had he not announced Henderson’s absence. 

(Fucking freshmen. They just weren’t terrified of Eddie like they used to be.) 

 “Robin must be sick or something, otherwise he’d call her.”  Lucas finishes as he finally sits down. 

“Didn’t the Marching Band go on some trip?” Mike turns to address the rest of the table, and gets nods from Jeff and Gareth both. 

“Yeah they’re marching in some parade in Indianapolis.” Jeff confirms. 

“So his last resort was Dustin?” Max is getting that tone in her voice, the one that makes everyone at Hellfire very uncomfortable. “Typical.” 

She pushes away from the table, making a show of gathering up her things before rising easily to her feet.

Eddie trades looks with the elder Hellfire members as she makes her exit--the kind that says they’re all going to be talking about this later. 

They knew their freshmen had some weird obsession with the former King, of course, but Mayfield too?

What the hell was up with that guy?

At least Eddie thinks, right before things are once again shot to shit, they can go back to playing the game.

He can make it work this early into things, and if Henderson isn't’ a fan of what he’s about to do to the kid’s character in his absence, well. 

Maybe he shouldn’t be fucking absent then. 

“So what, Max, you're gonna go over there and make it worse?” Mike snorts. 

Fatal mistake.

Eddie almost strangles him for it, if only because it prolongs this entire unnecessary conversation. 

Max performs a military perfect heel turn, coming straight back for Wheeler Jr., which makes him right about fall out of his seat in panic. 

“What was that, Wheeler?” 

“I’m just saying--!” 

“We don’t know Steve’s having migraines.” Lucas reiterates, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Maybe it’s something else.” 

“Does Steve get migraines a lot?” Grant asks, because despite all appearances he’s a terrible gossip and gets sucked in far too easily.

Eddie throws a pencil at him for it. 

“Hel-looo, we have a game!?” He thunders, but unfortunately for him, precious Stevie-Weavies headache now has everyone’s attention. 

“Yeah, though he’s really good at pretending he doesn’t.” Lucas answers with a put upon sigh. 

“There’s a whole pattern--he ignores it until it gets super bad, then he has to call Robin or Dustin to come get him when he inevitably gets stranded at work or the like, grocery store.” 

“Well who else do you think he’d call?” Mike scoffs again. He does a lot of that, when discussing Harrington. “It’s not like his parents are--Ow, Max!” 

“Close your mouth before I close it for you.” She hisses and Mike, shockingly, does just that. 

To Eddie, she says; 

“Your ass isn’t any better, or did you forget I live across from you?” 

Eddie--who had an insult primed and ready--promptly shuts his mouth.

(Fucking! Asshole! Freshmen!) 

“Maybe I should go too.” Lucas says, hedging a look between his girlfriend and his DM. 

“No.” She snaps, pointing a finger at him.

 “If you go, then this idiot,” she flicks her finger to  Mike, “will go and then we really will make it worse. Stay here before your bichon frise has a fit about all his sheep abandoning him.”

Then she’s turning on her heel again, storming out. 

“What the hell’s a bichon frisé?” Gareth asks in the aftermath, frowning. 

“It’s a type of ahhhh--” Jeff clearly thinks better of the explanation, eyes sliding to Eddie.

Who’s scowling.

“I know what a bichon frisé is, Jeff.” He snaps. 

“I don’t.” Grant loudly complains. 

Jeff attempts to both calm Eddie and explain while Mike and Lucas spend far too many minutes looking after Max. 

“Enough!” Eddie howls, temper finally getting the best of him. “Are we playing or do you also need to go sit by the King’s bedside?”  

“Thank you,” Mike says, like he wasn’t a third of the entire problem. “Let’s play!”

They make it about ten entire minutes before getting knocked off track again. 

In fairness, not that Eddie would ever admit it--the second meltdown is his own fault.

xXx

Hellfire is Eddie’s domain. 

It’s one of the few places where he could relax without getting harassed or hounded, and having his freshmen--his!--abandon him for King Fucking Steve had set him off. 

So he’d made a few comments about it.

Maybe introduced an NPC who sounded suspiciously similar to Harrington, only to instantly kill him off. 

Made another couple of nasty comments. 

Who cares? It worked him through his snit rather nicely, and his boys all knew to leave him be.

Except, apparently, for Lucas. 

“Dude, would you lay off?”  The kid finally snaps, pencil slamming down on the table. 

Which is the most backbone-like thing anyone has ever heard Sinclair say, and he gets far more whistles for it than he should.

Eddie pins him in place with a glare. 

“What was that Sinclair?” He snarls, voice as menacing as he can make it.

(It’s pretty terrifying, he’s practiced quite a bit with it.) 

Sinclair flinches, but doesn’t back down. 

“I said lay off. Steve has migraines because of--” He stops, before seeming to come to a decision. “Because of me. He took a hit for me, and I owe him a life debt for it.” 

To Eddie, he says; “You get what those are, right?” 

Mike rolls his eyes. “It wasn’t just for you--”

“That time with Billy was!” Lucas is quick to snarl. “But you know what Mike, you’re right. It wasn’t just for me. He T-boned a car for all of us!” 

Sinclaire is on his feet now, which is the unfortunate moment that Eddie realizes he has once again lost control of the room. 

A situation he firmly blames on Steve Harrington, because he’s petty. 

“Or did you forget that part? That’s you, me, Will, Nancy and Jonathan right there! Nevermind the tunnel. Or the junkyard! 

“We had the junkyard handled--”

Lucas scoffs. 

“We absolutely did not.” 

“I don’t get why you’re all making such a big deal out of this. He’s the fighter. That’s what he does. That’s why we brought him to the tunnel.”

“You recall what happened at Starcourt, right?” Lucas challenges, furious. “You did see him after, right?” 

This, finally, seems to shut Mike up. 

“Shouldn’t you be mad at him for that?” He says after a moment, and the rest of Hellfire has completely put aside all actual gaming to watch this play out with a morbid sort of fascination. 

Eddie allows it, only because he’s trying to breathe the way Wayne taught him to before he loses it entirely and throws both of the idiot kids out of the drama room. 

“He pulled your sister into it.”

“Have you met Erica!? You can’t pull her into shit!” Lucas spits furiously. “That wasn’t D&D, Mike. It was the Upsi--real life.” 

Lucas is quick to correct himself, even in the heat of the moment--as all the kids are, like the entire school hasn’t clocked that they have some weird ass secret they’re terrible at hiding.

“And if we’re playing those games, then who pulled him into the tunnels? Who made him come to the junkyard?”

“Dustin.” Mike says snidely. 

“You don’t get to blame Dustin when Steve was the only person around.” 

“There were people around! They just weren’t people who--weren’t--who couldn’t--”

“Finish that sentence.” Lucas demands 

“Be trusted.” Mike spits out, like it hurts him. 

“Exactly.” 

“El went through way more than Steve ever has! El--”

“El was using her po--doing mage things! And also, she shouldn’t have had to go through all this shit either! We can’t rely on her to save the day every single time, Mike--and look at how hurt she gets!”

“She--”

“She hides it from you, you know. How bad she hurts. Cause she wants to put your feelings first.” 

“I--”

“Will does too.”  Is Lucas’s parting shot. His backpack is in his hands in a blink, papers and character figure shoved wildly into it, before he’s storming out the door in a poor mimicry of Mayfield.

“Harrington T-Boned a car?” Grant says, in the resounding silence. 

“That BMW of his hasn’t had a scratch on it--” Jeff says, with an inquisitive tilt to his head. 

“He didn’t use the Beamer.” Mike interrupts, angry and sulking. “Are we playing or not?”

“I’m gonna say not, given we are down two players.’ Eddie tells him through clenched teeth. 

“I’m going to be so mad if Steve doesn’t have a migraine.” Mike grumbles, as he begins packing up his stuff. 

The rest of Hellfire follow his lead, after one look at Eddie’s face convince the lot of them that it’s best to flee now, before Eddie unleashes all his pent up rage. 

“Not as mad as I’ll be, Wheeler.” Eddie promises darkly.

And it is a promise--because now, he’s going to follow all his stupid (sans Mike, who isn’t in his good graces either but at least stayed) freshmen--and go visit one fallen King.

If Harrington doesn’t have a headache now, he will when Eddie’s done with him.

[sc0tters]

Faking It | Jack Hughes

summary: when Jack learns that his girlfriend faked her response in bed the previous night, it can only ever land up with them back in bed as he gives her a time she couldn’t possibly fake.

request: yes/no

warnings: sexual themes, p in v (unprotected), oral (fem receiving), use of vibrator, bondage, ice play, swearing.

word count: 2.49k

authors note: surprised I got this one out today if I’m being honest. @hischierhaze said I can blame her for my lack of a filter for this and @sweetestdesire just told me to tag her. This is what happens when I am left unattended to do things… with that being said I hope you enjoy what came from this prompt!

The sound of your headboard hitting the wall rang through your ears.

Jack held your legs around his waist “right there baby.” Jack grunted dropping his head so that his lips could kiss at your collar bone.

Even with his lips sucking at the sweet spot of your skin you couldn’t seem to get his cock to hit the spot that you needed him in “fuck Jack.” Your cry was more so out of discomfort as a cramp formed in your thigh officially meaning that you had lost any chance of having a good night with your boyfriend.

The hockey player had come home after a long road trip and he wanted nothing more than you and your bed. But all you wanted to do was sleep after a long day at work “you want to be a good girl and come for me?” Jack asked as you clenched your pussy around his cock.

You knew that he was close by how his cock throbbed from inside of you and you knew that he wouldn’t be able to handle it if you didn’t come tonight “shit yeah.” You forced your breath to go airy as your hands reached up to tease your nipples in the hopes that it would help build some pressure in your stomach.

As Jacks grunts began to grow stuttered you decided that then was your chance to act like you came “oh my god Jack,” you huffed your chest making it sound like you had just ran a marathon.

Jack rode out his orgasm before he flopped onto the bed next to you “you were so good baby.” You couldn’t even remain upset for long as the hockey player hooked his fingers under your jaw so he could pull you into a kiss.

After last nights disappointments you invited some friends over to full up your time before Jack was meant to come up from practice “you okay girl?” Mia asked as she sat next to you sensing your silence “can I tell you girls something?” You sighed watching them all nod.

Jack walked back into the apartment deciding that he wanted to be quiet so that he could hear whatever gossip it was that you were talking about “we had sex last night.” Your voice made him stop dead in your tracks “and he thinks I came but I didn’t.” That confession made his eyes go wide.

It wasn’t that he was sad you told your friends, he was sad that you felt the need to fake it and not address it. Because if Jack knew that you had done that you wouldn’t be sat there today “hey baby!” Jack pretended to shut the door once more again but louder this time before he made his way into the living room.

Your eyes were wide as you looked at your boyfriend “how was practice?” You asked trying to ignore the embarrass looks your friends were sending the Hughes boy “it was good, gonna go have a shower now.” He smiled pressing a kiss on your forehead.

Instead Jack actually walked into your bedroom and began deciding his plot of how to make you pay for faking your orgasm whilst he also tried to give you a night of pleasure to make up for what you missed.

Jack was given plenty of time as you ended up back in your room 90 minutes later once your friends had left “how are they all?” Jack asked sending you a smile as you crawled into his lap “don’t care about them right now.” You mumbled running your fingers along his jaw.

The hockey player smirked “want to be a good girl for me?” He cocked his head pecking your lips.

You nodded “always,” and just like that you had fallen into his plan.

Before you knew it your clothes were all off as you were laying on your bed fully naked whilst Jack was only in some sweatpants “you trust me?” The hockey player grabbed his belt as he held your hands together before he tied them to the headboard making sure that the belt was done tight enough you looked at him with a smile.

That wasn’t going to work for him causing the boy to grab his tie “relax baby,” he encouraged you as Jack held it up to your eyes “I’ll be back in a sec,” was the last thing he said after tying it behind your head.

It all felt foreign to you as Jacks tie blocked out the light from your eyes leaving you in darkness “J-jack?” You called out hearing his footsteps retreat “I’m here baby don’t worry.” He cooed coming back to your bed letting the mattress dip as his knees pressed into it.

You grew wet with anticipation as you waited for him to touch you “remember the safe word is red.” Jack mumbled pressing a kiss to your lips before a buzzing noise between your thighs pulled your attention away from his lips.

That feeling was familiar from anywhere, the vibrating was shared between your clit and your pussy making you realise that it was your red rabbit vibrator. It was a purchase you got when Jack was on a roadtrip and when he came home he caught you laying on your bed in some pretty robe for him but when you got impatient you leaned on your new friend to help you out. Rather than get upset Jack spent that evening learning how to further improve your experience in bed with the help of the red device “shit Jack!” You gasped realising that your boyfriend had gone for the highest speed setting straight off the bat.

Your hips jerked against the device as you felt your high quickly approaching “don’t stop,” you begged desperately tugging at the belt that had your hands up by your headboard “not yet baby.” Jack clicked his tongue turning the speed of the vibrator all the way down to its lowest setting.

It caused you to whimper “don’t be a brat about it.” He warned using his free hand to softly hit your clit “you want to embarrass me like that in front of all your friends?” Jack’s harsh words made your jaw go slack “and think that you won’t get punished for it?” He let out a laugh as he shook his head.

Jack let the speed slowly increase again as it looked like you had fallen enough away from your high “let’s see if you take this one like a good girl this time?” The hockey player increased the speed up one button more as he grabbed an ice cube from the cup next to him.

Your body ached as your toes curled “y-you know?” Your voice trembled, quickly you felt bad at the thought out your boyfriend knowing what you had done “had to hear you telling all of those fucking friends of yours too.” You didn’t have time to think about how his voice sounded mumbled as the boys lips dropped down to your breast “shit!” You groaned almost jumping out of this constraints you jumped so hard.

The cold ice cube served as the perfect contrast to your hot skin “fuck Jackie!” You cried at the sensory overload that you were feeling “breathe baby.” Jack ordered watching in awe as the water dripped from your stiff and sensitive peak.

You huffed trying to hold back a moan desperate for Jack to let you come “‘m so sorr-” you cut yourself off as he moved his attention to your other breast repeating his actions with what was left of the ice cube “think you should beg to come.” Jack had to admit that his cock pulsated in his sweatpants as it felt forgotten and unloved waiting for you to turn your focus to it “please Jack!” You cried trying to form a coherent sentence.

Your thighs shook as you couldn’t keep them planted on the mattress anymore “I’ll never fake an orgasm ever again.” You offered with your voice oozing in pleads “going to need more from you than that.” Jack shook his head again dropped the ice cube onto your stomach causing him to grunt out in pleasure as he watched it glide down your torso finally stopping just above your belly button.

It seemed like as the ice cube stopped so did your vibration causing your high that had built up to quick drop again “think you can go again?” Jack asked massaging the little 86 tattoo that you had on your hip “uh huh,” you whimpered feeling your vibrator slide out of your core.

Jacks weight shifted to the side of your bed before he went back to the centre, his arms wrapped around your thighs as if you could have tried to go anywhere else “shush baby.” Jack cooed as he pursed his lips around the cube of ice bringing his mouth down to your slit.

You cried out in pleasure feeling the cold cube pressed up against your clit as Jack ran the cube down your slit “p-p-please Jack.” You whined tensing up your whole body as he pushed the cube into your soaked cunt.

It made you moan as the ice began to melt in your warm core leaving Jack to suck at your clit “want to touch you,” you complained as tugged as the belt once more now fully aware that it was going to cause a bruise on your wrist’s tomorrow “not yet.” Jacks words could barely be heard as he didn’t pick his head up from your clit as his tongue swirled around the sensitive nub.

It didn’t help that you were still feeling those two previous attempts at orgasm that failed so now all you wanted as for this one to suck you into the bliss that would have been coming around his cock as you saw the stars “Jesus baby you’re soaked.” The hockey player smirked to himself knowing that this was all his work.

He went back to letting his tongue work on your clit as your body began to shiver, thighs driving towards him “all for you.” You stumbled over your words “all real too.” You added desperate to clench around something that wasn’t the quickly melting ice as that was how you liked to come.

Jacks cock stuffing you to the brim as his thumb played on your clit or with your nipples “you know the rules tonight.” He pulled away once more making you huff in annoyance.

The hockey player stared at your body sat there all innocently as he smiled seeing how frustrated you were “you had enough?” Jack asked leaning forward as he pushed the tie off of your head.

It took you a few seconds to adjust before you looked at him “just want you now.” You complained sending him a needy look that he couldn’t say no to.

Jack nodded undoing his belt before he rubbed your wrists “next time, I’m tying you up.” You mumbled cupping his face with your hands so that you could pull him into a kiss.

The boy almost fell onto your bed as you pulled him down “I wanna fuck you.” Jack confessed deciding that the pain in his cock was no longer worth it.

The hockey player smiled as you hooked your fingers in his waistband “no baby, I’m gonna work for you tonight.” Now this was the apology part of the plan.

He let his sweatpants drop to the floor as he kicked the ends off “been so good for me baby.” Jack cooed leaning down to kiss your lips.

Your eyes fluttered feeling his cock run against your clit “please don’t tease me.” You begged not believing that you could handle more of it “just making sure you were ready.” Jack joked not giving you enough time to snap back at him before he thrusted his throbbing cock in your wet cunt.

Jack didn’t even need the time to let you adjust before he hooked your legs over his shoulder “my flexible good girl.” He mumbled hovering his lips over yours as he established a good rhythm that would be aided by your sensitive core “god Jack.” You moaned feeling your breasts bounce with each thrust of his cock.

The sight was hot, no distance between the love drunk couple as the sound of your moans harmonised together “just me baby.” The hockey player grunted feeling your pussy clench around his cock “you want to come already?” His tone was teasing.

Your face grew red as you nodded “making me feel so full your toes curled as pleasure pulsated through your body.

Jack needed just a bit more from you “hold it,” he warned not wanting to ruin a hot night because you couldn’t listen.

His order made tears form in your eyes as he stared down at you, letting his hair down to tickle your face “Jack please,” you begged as the pressure between your thighs threatened to burst at any minute.

His grunts quickly joined a competition with your moans in an effort to drown the other out “keep squeezing my cock like that baby.” Jacks thoughts began to grown foggy as his orgasm approach too.

Your fingers slid between your two bodies “I can’t hold it anymore Jack.” You confessed letting those fingers attach your clit as they rubbed in a circular motion.

Jack let his head drop to your neck in a similar way that he did it the night before “come for me baby.” He ordered replacing your hand in your clit “come so the neighbours can hear who makes you feel like this.” The hockey player let his lips nip at the skin of your neck in order to control himself.

His hips snapped so fast if was like they might have snapped out of place “fucking shit Jack!” You cried out grinding your hips into his as you eyes screwed shut.

His orgasm came shortly after yours with how you came around his naked cock -something you two hadn’t done before- “holy shit baby.” Jack gasped final a final thrust into your cunt before he pulled his cock out “you squirted.” He pointed out looking at the wet patch on his lower torso.

Before you had the chance to grow embarrassed he smiled “that was the hottest thing I think I’ve ever seen.” Jack confessed kissing your cheeks, a habit he had picked up whenever you blushed.

You smiled looking at him “think I should fake some more orgasms if we are gonna have sex like that afterwards.” You joked running your fingers through his hair “next time I’m not going to let you come.” Jack warned making you laugh.

The hockey player had to admit that these small moments after sex with you were some of his favourites “bath or shower?” He proposed knowing that you both desperately needed a clean “bath.”

[solaiced]

CASE 18: HIGURUMA AND NANAMI SAID WHAT?!

!content!: praise, 3some, nanami is SHAMELESS, and so is higuruma, and secret arrangement.

wc: 966

solace: please guys be happy i posted a lot.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

Higuruma and Nanami are

respected lawyers, with a ruthless reputation. So, imagine your

surprise when your boss, Nanami, calls you, his little assistant, in his office, to ask you something so ridiculous and unimaginable, that

you burst out laughing.

Yeah. You, the shy and reserved assistant, who brought coffee to your boss and co-workers in the morning to cheer them up, laughed in Mr. Nanami's face.

"I assume it's a no?" The blond man asks, only a tiny bit embarassed.

"Wait, you meant it for real?" you stop clutching your stomach, the realisation dawning on you.

"Yes. You are useful in a lot of things at the office, so Higuruma and I... figured you wouldn't mind the extra workload. This... isn't a test, by the way. We just wanted to know. You won't be fired if you say yes or no. Nor will we need to speak of this again." His deep, comforting voice calmed you slightly. But, again, why you? Plenty of women at work swooned over them, so why did they choose you?

"W-why me, specifically?" You clear your throat nervously.

"Because, you're my assistant"

Nanami responds clearly, without a single stutter or hint of taking it back.

"So, will you aid us? If not, you're dismissed, but if I hear a single

word about this conversation...”

“No! I'll do it. " You slam your hands on his desk, making him look up in surprise.

“Ah, and you don’t feel coerced, yes? Because you shouldn't be." He glides his hand ever yours, rubbing it comfortingly.

"No, I'll do it.” You repeat, more stern but less aggressive.

"Then," The blond gets up elegantly, taking off his tie. "Let’s get started. Hiromi." He calls out, and something moves behind you, presses. itself against you and places its hands on your hip.

Higuruma. You tilt your head to look but Nanami grabs your chin, making you face him.

"We're starting tonight. Don't make too much noise, though. There might be people working overtime. And God knows how much Nanami hates overtime.

Gargling, you look up at your boss with teary eyes, getting slammed into his cock by your other boss’s cock thrusting into you.

“That’s it, sweetie. You got this.”

Nanami praises you, the effect of it not lost on your gaping pussy.

Higuruma grunts behind you, hands gripping your hips so hard you could already see the bruises forming in the shape of his fingers.

"You can take him," he chuckles as you feel his tip bully your cervix and g-spot simultaneously.

Who knew the respected lawyer of Tokyo, Higuruma Hiromi, had a big dick?

Well, not you. You squirmed, hips

moving when the brown haired man let go off them to push your head into Nanami's girthy dick. You wish they were as disheveled as you.

But their breaths showed they were not as composed as you thought they were. Nanami’s usually gel slicked back hair had fallen to cover his cloudy, lustful and both of their suits had been undone in the rush of undressing to fuck you.

"You feel so good... Fuck, we chose well, didn't we, Hiro?" The man in front of you addresses his equal, fingers weaving through your hair whilst you obediently sucked and jerked him off.

Higuruma taps your ass, rythmically thrusting, dragging his heavy cock in and out of your shutty cunt sucking him in like a siren's sultry song.

It lures him in, deep into your trap,

“Fuck, yes, baby, yes. Our little stress reliever.” A few deep thrusts, slamming into you punishingly and causing your tits to graze the desk painfully, he adds, “I’m gonna cum. You gonna take all of it?”

You try to nod as much as you can, mouth full of cock. Said cock's owner humming, throwing his head back.

"Me too. Don't waste a single drop, okay, sweetheart? "Nanami slides his rough hand to your bulging throat, feeling himself move. Suddenly, he pulls out, pushing your cheek against the desk.

"Open wide, I'm not going easy.

After all, you are my thrust worthy assistant, so you can take it, right?” Is all he says before plunging his dick down your throat, a garbled moan, muted by the meat covering your mouth, escaping.

Higuruma moans, hips slowing ever-so slightly and giving you the least bit of reprieve from the slaps your chit received due to his balls.

“C-Cumming-ngh!" He warns before his hips stop flush to your ass as warmth fills you to the point of overflow.

When the man behind you comes down from his high, he pulls out, kneels and presses his fingers to your fluttering and gaping hole, keeping the semen inside.

"Fuck, that's hot..." Nanami groans, and he shuddered in pleasure. His body spoke for him, his tip kept hiting the back of your throat and made you gag.

He chuckles as his friend fingers you to the point of insanity. You keen, eyes crossing and the image of your superior blurred, your back arches and your noises' volume multiply by ten despite the efforts the men were using to quiet them down.

"Now!" The man holding your head down gasps and shoots his load in your mouth to the brim.

You were so full from both ends, you couldn't think. You swallow as much as you can, some of the cum even dribbling down onto the floor and Nanami sighs in disappointment, you feel somewhat ashamed you disappointed him.

“Make sure to get all of it, next time. I'm—We're counting on you." The blond fixes your ruffled hair and his friend wipes your thighs, putting your skirt back in its place.

Nanami and Higuruma were as ruthless in bed as they were in court, you're recently discovered. But your job is to help them, isn’t it, little assistant?

[therealslimshakespeare]

Kiss it Off Me 💋

A Dear John Installment || John “Bucky” Egan Fanfiction

Summary: Julie Jean is in England for once -and for once, Bucky Egan is too

Warnings: 18+ one long smutty fluff fest

Please note and thank and give a round of applause to my baby and my dear friend and my brilliant co-author Bri! She first requested this series and concept and has become the engine driving this story and the one who infuses it with so much heart. I literally couldn’t have written it without her. This segment is fully co-authored. Love you baby and this was a joy to work on together 💋

Additional thanks: to all of you who waited ages for this to finally lurch its way to competition. Thank you for both your patience and your continued interest. Also to my bestest gal pals Ashley and Christi- to the latter, did you ever think our midnight screaming about Bucky Egan fogging up a phone booth would actually make it in print? What a wild night, what a happy fever dream.

“Bucky, John, JOHN, MAJOR, JOHN EGAN SLOW DOWN!!!”

Distantly, through a ear ringing fog he could hear them calling his name, there were quite a lot of them and many didn’t really know him, not well, and even those he cared for -Buck and Harry and Ev and Jack- their greetings had turned desperate and they called his name in a effort to stall, not welcome.

But holy shit, she was in England, and he was in England, and fucking fate thought it was real cute to yank the string once more and he wasn’t going to play nice anymore. He was gonna show fate where it could shove its little game of marionettes.

He was gonna keep Julie Jean on the damn ground if he had to climb on the wing of her soon departing jet to do it.

And to do that, to get there in time to do it, he needed to kindly disregard the flock of squawking pals behind him.

“John if you go now you’ll only miss her!” Gale’s rising voice warned, beginning to try to physically restrain his friend’s headlong rampage towards the nearest jeep.

“That one’s low on gas.” Ev helped the cause laconically from the back.

“I’m not just sitting here while she goes-“ Egan informed them without a hitch in his stride.

“Let us send a telegram!” Crosby begged, “She told us to alert her, to call or to wire, anything if you were to come back. Going now you’ll just miss her! Sir, sir please! If I get to her a-a-and you’re on the road w-w-what will I-I-I say?”

“Yeah,” Gale agreed, “gonna make us tell her you’re alive but we don’t have you ‘cause you’re broke down on some backroad in East fuckin’ Anglia because you couldn’t wait to call?”

“Yeah, think of it Bucky,” Demarco came in to aid his copilot, “it’s sweet but, it’ll suck if she makes it.”

“How’d you let her go?” John suddenly railed at Buck who took it like his decent, patient self in the face of a half starved, lovelorn maniac he was glad to find alive again, who’d only just touched down on English soil half an hour ago and was taking news of his girl being here and then being gone pretty well, all Buckyisms considered, “How could you, when she was here! HERE, Buck! How-“

“She said she hadta go, John, and after everything she did for us, for all of us-“ Gale sighed, “I wasn’t about to ask her for longer. She was in trouble as is, seems, with her mother.”

That seemed to frazzle Bucky worse, even if it shut him up for five seconds of wordless scoffing before, “Trouble? She’s in trouble, yeah, yeah, wanna know what kinda trouble her mother is? Shitty Fucks!!!” he roared at the sky and it was ferocious and crass enough to scare of some of the gathered newbies.

Croz exchanged a glance with a hunger carved Brady, “Shitty Fucks” he repeated, “-that’s a new one.”

Captain Brady nodded solemnly. “Makes one wonder if it’s metaphorical or literal.”

Croz processed this gravely.

“Like is it -a shit lay? or shitty lay, ya know?”

“Gentleman?” Gale turned to them for backup with blatant and frigid exasperation.

“Major,” Crosby addressed Egan as pacifying as possible, “let me send that cable, hold tight sir, hold tight -”

John didn’t recall much between that and Red Bowman coming down from the old familiar tower, holding a transcript. A “welcome back major” and a “says she’s comin” sent Bucky’s motor into a higher state of being, one thrumming with useless anticipation and bizark energy.

“From Heathrow. That’ll be a couple hours.” Ev cautioned as he started striding towards god know’s where. His bunk was likely long gone. The one he’d written so many letters from. The one across from Brady’s. The one they said she’d laid in when she first got here. Julie. In his bunk. Without him.

Gale overtook him, stood in front of his trajectory down one muddy lane very like the next; Thorpe Abbots was heart achingly familiar and foreign all at once.

“Ya look like shit.” Gale informed, eyes kind and smile less tired than he’d seen it in ages and John tried not to take that to heart, in fact it was easy, he had far more than his feelings to worry about right now. “And Miss Lana likes her men clean. First thing she did with me was feed me and dunk me. You’ve been in a stalag for two years, you’re gonna need every single one of those hours it takes for her to get here to make yourself presentable.”

“Need a shave to spare her the beard burn.” Benny remarked.

“One to talk, Demarco.”

“I’m not the one vowin’ to do all sorts of sordid shit to tender female flesh.”

“Bet you would if you could.”

“Who says I can’t? Huh? Who says I can’t?”

They got to the showers somehow. Someone found a spare change of class A’s. Maybe they were Jack Kidd’s. They looked like they would fit, maybe a tad tight but Bucky had lost weight and the height was right, trousers hit the top of his boots when he held them up.

“Get in, Bucky.” Buck told him from under his own tepid spray; it felt like heaven after the Stalag’s frigid blasts and the complete lack of even a rag and pale in Mooseburg.

He was gonna see her. In a few hours he was gonna see Julie Jean. In the flesh. And after the past year and a half, having nothing but photographs to trace over - sweet photographs with the teasing posture of her mouth-watering curves, the arch of her lower back, but not being enough to sate his need for the real thing.

How many times had Bucky held her photo besides a newspaper clipping to clock the differences? The vulnerability of her eyes, the loose sway in her shoulders, the lack of any rogue or lipstick to match because she never needed any of the Hollywood facade with him. The missing pieces of clothing because she wanted him to see her. The natural curls of her hair falling down her back. How many times had he held a photograph to his face and taken a deep inhale - sure he could smell her Chanel 5 and cherry blossom and something innately Julie Jean and nothing Lana Tierney.

Buck stood beside him in the shower and held the razor to his jaw, scoffing every few seconds when Bucky couldn’t help a nervous twitch from racking his body. He knew he was liberated but he didn’t feel any different from when he was stuck in the Stalag.

Bucky felt trapped and useless, unable to chase after his girl once more and miles away still. He wondered if Julie Jean had felt abandoned by him like she did everyone else in her life. If she’d thought his promise to her had been broken because Gale had returned home first. Did she understand that Bucky had stayed behind because he needed Buck to be alive and safe first and foremost? Would she fault him for that, or would she still hold to what she wrote years ago, saying his dedication to the men, to the cause, to what had to be done was his most attractive trait. Even more attractive than his shoulders, she had said, but perhaps less arousing.

“It’s real, John.” Gale’s voice matches the soothing scratch of the razor against his skin, going through the motions of a wedding morning without the promise of a bride. “Her feelings for you, whatever was written in the letters between you two - it’s all real.”

And Bucky had wished upon a shooting star in Germany and hoped and prayed to a God his mama pleaded to every night and morning but to hear it from Gale Cleven’s lips leaves him with no doubt.

Because Gale would never steer him down a path of pain or delusion. Because Gale Cleven, mighty and loyal and aloof as he may be, wouldn’t waste his time on something that he deemed to be unworthy or a waste of time. The same way he didn’t take any swigs of alcohol or puffs of smoke. The same way in which he never lingered in bed at the camp and made every moment count for their boys.

“What’d she say?” He asks, and he doesn’t even care that he sounds like the gossip session his fifteen year old sister has - or had, she’d be older now - and he doesn’t care that Gale’s gonna make fun of him for it sooner than later.

But because Buck is anything but a mean bastard he retains any teasing comments or laughs and says, “Told me she didn’t want to tell me anything that she didn’t get to tell you first.” He meets Bucky’s eyes for a moment, for two, and in them is reflected the sharing of warmth in a bunk and the playing of pretend for both their sanity. The remembrance of when Buck admitted to proposing to Marge and Bucky confessed he’d dropped the love bomb on Julie in his last letter. “When I, uh - ” he coughs, as whatever he wants to say is hard to get out and lodged in his throat. “When I told ‘em, her and Marge, how you let me go first and there’d been gunshots and I wasn’t sure if you were hit,” the blue in his eyes became mirrors of guilt, “she said something funny. Said me and her - we’d somehow know if you weren’t okay. We’d feel it.”

And Buck was never one for spiritual beliefs but he was a pilot through and through and although many would probably call Julie wacky, Buck would consider her to be a good partner to have up there with that intuition of hers. The girl had a radar and it radiated Bucky Egan. If Buck ever lost Bucky he only needed to follow Julie Jean.

“All done, Major.” He claps Bucky on the shoulder, having spent his most precise devotion on evening up that mustache, “Let’s get you out of the shower before you become all wrinkly like a prune.”

It’s only when he’s dried off his curls and he’s got a towel wrapped around his waist and Buck’s got one foot out the showers that Bucky calls him back.

“I’d do it the same all over again, Buck. Wouldn’t change a damn thing.”

“Even though your girl would still be here if you’d have saved yourself?”

Bucky shrugs, “My girl’s on her way back, Buck. And because of you I don’t gotta worry whether it’s real - I just gotta go work on my big move.”

His big move was gut impulse when, standing in new duds, shiny boots, starched crush cap, glinting oak clusters, with brushed back curls and a trimmed mustache, he saw a Rolls Royce careen through the flimsy barrier gate of the base after a barked clarification from the chauffeur. John Egan saw her coming, it had to be her, and he went a’runnin’ towards her. There was a small throng already getting in their way, servicemen trying to stop the trespassing vehicle and civilians clamoring to see the starlet back, all gathering around as the sexy black car careened past them before screeching to a well considered stop, still yards from Egan’s sprinting figure.

The door opened without the aid of outsiders, a shiny glint of bottle blonde barely shone above the top of the ajar door, face obscured by the top of the tinted window, then it was slammed shut and a diminutive figure, top heavy and bundled with tiny little legs that seemed to wobble upon their foundation of sky high heels, wheeled ‘round to face him -it tripped him up worse than a roadblock.

At his back John sensed more than saw or felt Buck directing, not himself but others, the boys he guessed, the crowd maybe, he didn’t care. There was a ring of others around them but that’s just what they were, others, about as real or important as the ropes around the ring when two boxers collide. No one was between them and she was bundled in his jacket and she was blonde and her legs were tiny and her ankles spindly for such balance and she looked like a woman who was crying or had been and Julie was panting with an open garnet red mouth and eyes so young and wild and wanting that there wasn’t anyone else there.

Just Julie Jean finally come, just like she said she would. And Bucky sure hoped he wasn’t dead right now, he had so many living promises to make up to her. If he could just touch her -his hand twitched at his side and he heard himself grunt, like a racehorse straining at the bit, like some unknown thing was stalling him.

She swam closer, the clip clop of her heels on shitty pock marked pavement the only thing he could hear besides the wild racket of his heart, crowd noise and the hum of engines he knew should be present weren’t even audible. If those footsteps had clopped along the floors of somewhere as unlikely as Stalag Luft III, he’d have known her, without ever meeting her he knew her. He felt close to staggering, it was mercy his feet knew his heart well enough, it brought them closer. Still a few paces away from each other, she’d have to stagger too if they wanted to touch.

Her young sweet face, the one she had shown him alone, it was plain to see here and now as a catalog of betrayals and hopes flitted across its schooled mask, breaking apart the starlet and letting out the heartsick girl. A loud pop jarred them both, a camera going off. A brief flinch. The rest of the world would see this face too, now. It only broke the facade further. Her lips moved wordlessly once, twice before her throat buzzed to life and the warmest voice Bucky had ever known spoke:

“You kept your promise.”

John Egan was alive, brazenly so, still wearing marks along his face of a grapple or ten with death, darling creased face with its prominent cheekbones sallow and looking deprived of any nourishment apart from stubborn hope. But he was alive, he’d promised he’d stay alive for her, try his damndest and here he was, looking at her like she was the reason, half reverence, half accusation. He was alive, this first promise ever made to her that had been kept.

Could he even comprehend what it meant to her? What he meant to her by consequence? He had kept his promise to her and he was so very alive, an absolute mountain of a man, taller than she had ever imagined, and she had imagined him larger than life, built him up to impossible proportions, saddled his shoulders with impossible expectations and he swore he was man enough. She didn’t know they made men like that but it had been nice imagining him being so. He was every inch what he’d reported, soul and body, if anything he had shorted himself and Julie felt her chest growing tight enough to burst as he stood there, surrounded by his friends and her hangers on, a step or two and they’d be proof of life to each other. But he stood and she wondered if he knew she didn’t care, if he didn’t care she didn’t care anymore: the whole world could know it, hear of it, see it in newsprint

—She loved him.

He had said he loved her first. She saw his hand shake by his side.

“You kept your promise.”

Bucky Egan wasn’t likely to forget the way Julie Jean had reprimanded him for his false politeness in his second letter, how she had been the only woman he’d ever known who asked for honesty and meant it, called it honesty when he’d been so used to being told he was only good at vulgarity, at talking shit, running his mouth, saying the things a grown man should know better than to admit he felt. She had called it honesty.

She’d want him to be honest now. That thought, a conviction more than anything, filled his body with power again, his heart kicking up with resolve instead of terror. Gale said she loved him, or likely did, and John had long ago known he’d never have love for anyone the way he did for her. What was the meaning of being here on this spinning globe after all the reasons he shouldn’t be if not to act on it?

He thought of a disapproving mother, a spineless fiancé, and angry producers and the demanding public — all things his girl had to bear alone because he’d been busy doing his bit. Hurt confessions written on crinkled paper where tear tracks lay, sealed inside an envelope that she sent his way with the press of her gorgeous lips every time no matter what she was enduring, crossed his mind. Never once had she asked for anything besides his honesty and him and he vowed in that moment to never put anything before her again — no, he had kept his promise because he had a vision in mind already: Julie Jean with his ring on her finger, his babies in her belly, and glowing with the love he would devote to her.

Julie thought he looked big from afar, up close and in sudden motion he was like a pillar that could float, some strange grace tempering the bulk of him as he rushed her, not a stagger or a stroll, he marched right up to close the final distance and his hands were expectantly reached out to claim her so that when he was to her, they had her right away, grasped her around the waist, impossibly large and impossibly warm, they lifted her up, right beneath the ribs to get her on some level playing field and then, then she felt him kiss her.

He smelled of aftershave and tasted of bubblegum, and once she’d knocked off his cap with a hand needy to cup his head, she felt the tacky traces of pomade and smelt a heady tang of what had to be sweat. She’d never been kissed by so manly a man in all her days of being smooched, and she thought she’d been smooched before but if that’s what all that playacting of her previous life had been, she needed a new word for the way his lips molded to her own, vigorous, joyous, sure as anything, and somehow possessive like she’d never known. Like he was claiming something promised, not conquered. It felt like a kiss she’d been told to film, but never knew how to make real. The scritch of his mustache was real. The burn of her lungs as a firm hand to the back of her neck stole all her air -that was real. The implacable forearm barring her little self to his body, keeping her aloft and snug, that was real.

Bucky Egan was real and that made Julie Jean sure that she was, too.

Miss Lana Turner of Hollywood fame and canteen acclaim weighs next to nothing in Bucky’s arms; it allows him to keep her up with one alone while sparing a hand to rustle under golden curls and bring her forcefully close. He finds no resistance, his issued cover flies off the back of his head and she is carding through his neatly styled hair with crimson talons and he feels like moaning into her mouth right then and there at how sharp and tangible and real it is. She is tiny and she is feral and she is wearing his jacket and she’s the one who wrote him back.

“I love you.” he reminds her desperately instead of breathing when they break apart, a fraction of an instant to stare cross eyed at the closeness of the other before colliding again.

Her hands are soft and small on his cheeks, her thumbs swiping away what might be an errant tear and: “I love you, John Egan.” Julie swears in turn and his world falls into place, peaceful and right and wrapped up in five feet of wickedly tailored rayon and his flight jacket. He went in again and her tongue met his this time, unreservedly; and this was all he wanted to do for eternity.

But then there was, “uhem, Major,” and it was Crosby tapping Bucky’s left shoulder that allowed them a reprieve for some air, even as Julie continued peppering light presses of her lips to the line of Bucky’s jaw and any part of his face she could reach. “Sir, meet Spangles Egan.”

A white fluffy shape, reminiscent of a muff or a stole, was shoved into the crook of his elbow, now holding Julie with one arm and using the lower curve of her pert backside as leverage for sturdiness, and a bunny with a light pink nose in his other.

“Egan, huh?” He turns to Julie.

“The adoption papers aren’t finished yet but Croz took it upon himself to rush the process.”

Crosby beams. “Ain’t he perfect Major?”*

Bucky had gone down having left his heart behind in a letter written to Julie, sick at the thought that he had built most of it in his head, only to come back and see she had made a family for him to return to. His friends and their bunny and all that was left was taking her to his Mama.

“Yeah he is, Croz,” he agrees, accepting the peck that a lovesick Julie Jean gives and only pulling away because he feels scuffing at his ankles. Meatball howls, low, and Bucky raises the arm holding Spangles higher. “Don’t think Meatball’s a fan.”

“Help Bucky out, Croz,” Brady speaks up, “he can’t stand there holding his girl and their bunny and fending Meatball off forever.”

“Who says I can’t? Who says?” And Brady disguises an eye roll at the similarities between all the boys on base. From beside him, Benny bumps his shoulder with a laugh.

As Crosby nears once more, Bucky does find the arm holding Julie tightening to keep her closer to him and extending Spangles back. Paranoid with the thought of her being taken — like if Crosby would opt to take her from his hands to hold instead.

The boys all release a knowing laugh and it finally spurs Buck into action, the handful of cameras that had followed Julie back to base continuing to snap but at least they were so busy trying to eavesdrop and shove their microphones closer that they hadn’t spoken up to ruin the moment.

“How about we take this somewhere more private?” he suggests and Julie can feel with the precision of radar the hovering agreement of Herb somewhere near Major Cleven’s side.

“Yeah let’s.” Herb agrees vocally, and from the elevated height of John Egan’s gently jostling arm as he moves them on, Julie blows kisses to the scarecrow boys who look as underfed as they are happy to be back, and in their midst is Marge, with two local kids who’ve both confiscated one of her smooth hands to hold in Buck’s absence.

On the walk back to -to somewhere, Julie doesn’t know where they’re headed, she relishes the feeling of being a bobbing little weightless cork in his embrace and the feeling of his large hand cupping the ticklish flesh of her under thigh, when she glances back to tease or encourage him, she finds pale blue eyes already locked on her and it makes her belly flip.

“You might trip.” she titters in warning.

John just kisses his teeth playfully and shrugs his eyebrows, she wasn’t sure that was something a person could do until him, but that’s what he does before his low voice rumbles out, cushioned by soft discretion for those nearby, “I ain’t gonna trip.”

There’s nothing salacious about that sentence but his surety and his rebuttal makes her thrum and maybe he sees the way her eyes start glowing because he gives her a dark little smile to match that looks exactly like his letters sounded and she attacks his neck and ears with kisses for lack of a better thing to do as he keeps walking and walking. “I love these so much.” she complains, nibbling at the prominent ridge up top until she hears him laugh, delight that swings incredulous when he realizes she’s in earnest and she likes the damn things that’ve always stuck out too much, being too big for his own damn head. “Where are you taking me, Major Egan.” she asks.

“Gonna take you to my favorite joint, Miss Turner,” he returns, accepting each peck she gifts him between every word. “I’d find it hard to believe these boys did it justice without me here to liven them up.” Bucky doesn’t need to look over to know Buck and Kidd are rolling their eyes.

It’s on the tip of her tongue to protest and let him know she didn’t go anywhere without him there because it would have hurt too much, but someone else speaks first.

“You and Julie must have the same mind, Bucky. she chose to not visit any place you frequented without you here.” Crosby’s walking in pace beside them, cap in his hand, and he chuckles. “Must’ve known we’d be missing you too much to enjoy it truly.”

Bucky’s head swivels in disbelief, wide eyes jumping from where Crosby trails beside them at a demure two paces on the cobbled street to Buck a few feet ahead, who nods in confirmation. Bucky’s eyes return to Julie Jean, sheepish and pink in the face. Her eyes are watery again but still bright and full of light, she finds the hurt of missing him returning as she remembers every time she denied visiting the base again or the pub nearby. He’s going to need to keep squeezing her for that horrible lonely feeling to dim in the slightest, it was too strong to be transient even in his hold.

“It wouldn’t have been right without you.” She’s still bobbing in his arms as he continues taking careful steps. She strokes his cheekbone, trails down and thumbs his mustache. “Didn’t want any of it without you.” She’s whispering now to keep the words secret between them.

Love and devotion pour into her confession making Bucky feel more special than he ever has in his life. She had chosen him since the first letter and had been more loyal than he ever thought anyone capable as she continued choosing him, choosing to believe in his luck and chances to stay alive, a devout belief for him to return home and give her everything he ever wrote and promised. A home, a life, happily ever after.

Bucky has no words. He puckers his lips for another taste of her and this time he has to stop walking to ensure he won’t drop her, finding no resistance or hesitance as she immediately allows his tongue to slide besides her. He was an ocean away still but her mouth meeting his felt like home, warm and loving, a big smile threatening to break both their faces at being together.

His boys whistle and holler again, stopping and creating a crowd once more to join their bubble of happiness. At this rate Bucky thinks the five minutes to the bar was going to be closer to thirty.

He steals one more kiss before pulling back to look at her. He jostles her into one arm only once more to push a stray hair behind her ear, allowing his thumb to trace a blushing cheek.

“Then let’s make sure we do it right, huh?”*

The Kings Head is the quintessential English pub, and Julie finds a gasping commendation of it leave her instantly on sight of it; from its squatty white washed and gabled exterior, with flower boxes and lounging hound on the threshold, to its dark and pungent interior, homey and oak, yeast and hearth soot filling the air, hazy evening light filtering through a thousand dust motes and the rest of their illumination is provided by bare bulbs only recently freed from the shackles of black out curtains. The ceiling is so quaint and low that Major Egan adopts an almost constant stoop upon entering and he deposits her on her feet lest she bonk her head amongst the rafters; it’s gratifying the way he sets her down and frees her to shake hands with the barman and his son and Bucky’s friend -the best dart thrower he knows- and all of it without his own hands leaving her waist a single time.

Julie thinks so long as he keeps touching her, holding her to earth she can keep functioning enough not to ruin it, embarrass him, make someone feel awkward about it all. “My girl Julie Jean” he tells them all, she’s been much talked of and not her movies, the recruits know her otherwise but she’s merely Bucky’s girl to most of the elderly locals gathered round the bar when he plops her on his knee up on a stool, and Julie ponders living in this tucked away little world where she’s never anything special but by association with John Egan.

“Yeah, yeah, Donald, the usual!” Bucky is ordering with gusto that’s properly out of place at dinner time and with cheeks as sallow as his are, but it livens everyone else up and many of his recently returned boys dare the same, ordering gin and ciders and whiskeys like they never left. Martini’s not being in the menuc Julie graciously settles for a rum and coke and sips it while Bucky’s large hand engulfs her glass and they remain that way, staring and silly until she runs out of breath and must let the straw go from between her lips.

It’s a bit like watching dominos fall as the freshly liberated boys throw down their shots, smack their lips with appreciation, slam their glasses down before suddenly going green and very worried. Demarco is the first to bolt, Brady after him and Julie isn’t sure which one is in it for companionship and which for necessity.

“You be careful with that.” Gale murmurs on the other side of Egan and his second shot, “Don’t follow those fools out the door.”

Bucky doesn’t vomit, and he doesn’t intend to get plastered while on his first date with his dream girl, but two shots used to be an easy chaser and he isn’t worried. As is, after feeling the second he doesn’t vomit but he does feel the rush to his head of being distinctly buzzed. After two shots. Well shit, that’s what going teetotaler does to a body’s capacity for a good time. There’s a distinctly new and frankly sickening after effect of the world spinning around too, and that he could do without and he shuts his eyes closed for a minute to regroup. It lends to the heightened sensation of feeling, and what he feels is Julie’s lap beneath his palms, her hair at his cheek, the jostle of her arm as she grabs her drink from the bar, the weight of her on his thigh.

She’s actually real. And he’s a sicker man than he thought. He has to manage this for her, somehow.

“Baby drink a little of this.” There’s a straw poking his lips and when he opens his eyes Julie is tending to him with rum and coke on his tongue, “Little sugar crash, huh?” Her hands are in his hair and he feels like unraveling on this very stool.

The sugar does help, or maybe it’s her doting and Bucky is sure he’s got the dopiest grin on his face when he sways near and pops the straw out just in time to lock lips again. They taste like sweetness together and he licks eagerly into her mouth again, chasing that taste, his hands squeezing at her waist and he can tell she likes that, she shudders and her tongue lolls when he does. The barman is not so enthused: to his credit he gives them a good half a minute before letting out an “oi, more o’tha’ and I’ll be givin ye the keys to yer auld room upstairs and requestin’ ye tae make use o’it.”

Out of desire to indeed do the hangout justice, celebrate their liberation, wait for the mince pies to cool for dinner and avoid being perceived as disgustingly ravenous for each other’s flesh alone, Bucky and Julie abscond further into the pub and take up their places by the dart board- where, to everyone’s delight, it is discovered Miss Tierney has never played.

“Stand like this, baby cakes.” Bucky happily instructs her and his hands move her about like they would his own little doll and a recently recovered Brady and Demarco trade looks that say all too much, enough for Crosby to grin with them in a way Brady didn’t remember him grinning when he last saw him. Knowingly. He’s holding the damn little bunny to his chest again and Brady wonders if he’s ever going to give it back to Lana; Herb being very glad to be free of its keeping as he chats over a pint with one of the farmers.

“Ya know it ain’t yours.” Brady feels compelled to remind, feeling faintly sick still and very drunk despite puking it back up.

Crosby just keeps stroking its blue satin collar. “Someone has to see to him when Bucky and Bucky’s girl go at it later on.”

“If I remember straight, Buck had said that was Marge’s sole job.” Demarco muses, eyes a million miles away and light slightly agape, the cider hit him too before it came back up. “To tend the bunny.”

“The bunny is named Spangles and Marge is no longer a fit companion for him.” Crosby declared and nodded at some scene behind the two men. They wheeled around and when they’re spotting vision cleared, they observed Gale and Marge playing at checkers in one of the booths but the game seemed very secondary to the way they were staring at each other, hands in slow motion and lips parted heavy and freshly licked.

“I gotta get me a woman.” Demarco realized and ordered himself and Brady and Crosby another pint.

As the night waxed on, Bucky found himself and Julie as alone as they’d been all night, a paltry sort of privacy mostly gained by placing his shoulders between the ongoing dart game and the sultry dancing behind him and the small little lady tucked into his side, legs over his and her warm hip half in his lap. There’s nothing but her warm face and his jacket and her halo of hair against the paneling of the pub booth and it's intimate suddenly, like he’s not felt all night. It hits him like a wave, the want and the love. Judging by her darkening eyes, she feels the same.

“Buck, he mentioned some trouble,” Bucky broaches the topic, voice gone gravelly and low for her ears only, his hand rising and gently tucking an errant strand of hair behind her ear, “trouble with your mother?”

It feels odd to say these things aloud, subjects they’ve written each other about a million times and yet saying them, she feels half stranger, half twin, like he should know this entirely and yet -and yet.

Julie’s laugh is short and weak, seemingly too overcome by his nearness, the timbre of his voice, the undivided attention. “Well- well yes she, she was in a state. And now that I’ve not arrived I-“ Julie imagines her mother is in more than a state, indeed a rage seems most likely. She wants to shudder but he’s too warm to allow the gooseflesh to form, she hopes he’ll never let go, he’ll never let her shudder again.

“She’ll have quite the morning with those pictures served alongside her danish and coffee.” Bucky remarks in wry conversation and Julie smiles, watery, unsure where he’s going with this.

“I imagine she will.”

His face sharpens, attentive, commanding and she feels her heart quicken even as the hand on her waist keeps on its loving palming of her flesh, “You alright with that? With what she’ll think?”

She can’t imagine he doesn’t know yet- “I don’t care, Bucky, I really don’t care what, what anyone really, what anyone thinks but you.” she whispers.

Bucky merely nods his head nearer, warm and generous lips pressing to her brow and she feels a thrill at the fatherly caress, down to her very toes, she’s never been sat in a lap and asked about her future. “Don’t need to care what I think right now, Julie Jean,” he gently steers her, “just need to know what ya want, sweet girl.”

She pulls her head away to look him dead in the eye, this man who clawed out of a grave to be here for her, the answer is the same, “You Bucky.” she swears, “That’s all I want, you’re all I’ll ever want.” she’s never been so sure of anything in her life. She delivers her line with more conviction than any script, she means it this time, she can see forever spanning forever ahead and it’s him, it’s just him and she is going to have it.

She loses sight of him again and his mouth claims her, promising and rewarding and she moans into it, yearning too long deferred and the run and the late evening and the talks of forever making her desperate for some consummation to it all. He must feel it too, his kiss is not for the public and her moan makes his hand spasm on her waist, greedy and lewd. He pulls away with a hoarse gasp that is anything but restrained.

“You can have me.” he grants Julie the keys to the kingdom, and only the tiniest edge of caution remains, “But if we’re gonna give ourselves, we need to do it proper.” he tells her softly and wedding bands and sleepy priests and a midnight wedding dances in her mind and her head thuds in mild shock, “You need to cut that lilly livered coward of a fiancé off before I so much as get a finger up your sweet self, you hear me?”

In a daze Julie hears him, and like a child salivating for the proffered candy, she nods, frantic and wanton, she’d do anything to have any part of him tucked inside her. “I’d forgotten him.” she admits sheepishly and he barks out a laugh at that.

“I haven’t.” he replies and something about the gruff jealousy of that sentiment makes her heart soar.

She cranes her neck for a clock.

“Whatcha lookin’ for shorty?”

“The time.”

Bucky flashes his wrist watch toward the light in a move so elegant and well practiced that even that simple gesture is utterly erotic in her mind. The hands of the watch swim in front of her. “Quarter to three.” he pronounces.

That means it’s horribly late here. Lust and sleep deprivation make for strange incentives. “That means it’s morning in New York.” she realizes and Bucky's surprised face is utterly gratifying, “I can catch him before he goes out.”

Her man grins at her with a wild look in his sharp blue eyes, like he’s starting to believe this isn’t at all in theory, he looks mildly crazed and she wants him to take it out on her body. “You could.” he agrees.

“Is there a phone booth nearby?” She asks, loathe to make the call here with all the eavesdroppers and hooting friends, lovely as they are.

“Half a mile.” Bucky informs and he’s already scotting them both out of the booth, “I’ve got a bike. You can ride. Handlebars.”

Julie’s never been more excited to slink out of a party in all her life, she’s never been more excited for a date to pick her up as she is when Bucky and his bicycle that she has no reason to think is indeed his, serves as her noble carriage as he pedals them along the muddy lane in the pitch black of a early summers morning to the tiny, golden beacon of a telephone box.

The war is close to over, she realizes, as the booth’s happy bulb glows unabashed ahead of them in the inky countryside. The war is over and the lights are back on.

Bucky props the bike against the booth, lone wire sentinel on the destroyed landscape and there's a barrenness to these flatlands that give Julie Jean the creeps, like wandering out into the Oklahoma flatness as a child. Brings with it the fear of falling off the edge of the world.

Bucky opens the red and glass paned door for her, ever the gentleman, his expression one so serious she realizes he really needs this.

Julie tugs John into the tiny red phone booth by his tie. It must be done and his presence gives her determination. He’s a warm, solid, looming presence behind her, heating her up as she keeps her truthful cruelty terse and cold.

She dials the number, she endures the switchboard, she cajoles Vincent’s valet to interrupt his breakfast. She tells the man who’s hurt her it’s quite over. Utterly over.

It’s over. She’s cruel about it.

Exactly like Vincent is, exactly like he deserves. Now she knows what warmth is, she cannot possibly go back. She simply tells him it’s over, and when he asks why she says it once again and hangs up on his rebuttal of ownership.

She wonders if Egan has even fully heard what she’s said, she thinks he might think poorly of her if he did but he doesn’t seem to be aware at all. When she hangs up the receiver and turns round to him in the small space, his eyes have gone dark and the most alarming concentration paints his face.

There is a crackle between them that has nothing to do with the fuzzy phone line or the patter of falling rain on the glass panes around them, no lightning in the sky but her finger tips buzz and like magnets; they meet each other. A brutal, awful, needy kiss. Smashing their faces together without much finesse but pouring out an admittance of so much need it’s quite painful. She can feel Bucky tugging at her hair and forcing her face closer when his nose is already shoving aside her own and his lips are working desperately against hers and oh -he’s got such fire in him! He’s thrumming around her and she can hear herself squeaking like a choir girl at the way he helps himself to her body like he saw through her timidity all along, knows she is only shy to take what she wants. She hardly recognizes the crazed creature that meets him at every step with hunger and provocation, when his tongue gently dabs at her lip she swallows him whole, when his hand strays from her waist to her breast she finds herself expanding a breath to fully fill his palm, begging him to take take take.

“I want you so bad.” he hisses like he’s angry at her for being so intoxicating, for robbing him of the ability to breathe. Egan shakes her as he says it, jolts of her neck that fling her hair back with each jerk and her mouth goes dry at his brute strength just barely restrained.

“You’ve waited this long, can’t you be good?”she teases him only to provoke in hopes of being repaid with another snarl and a bonk of her head against the glass as he kisses her again.

Devours more like. She’s not sure why she teased, her nylons are soaked and her own kisses suggest how dire it’s all become for her, having him so near and potent. It’s only she’s not at all sure what she meant by it, what could possibly be finished in this open space. It’s a little fishbowl and the stormy night gives all the ambience to lull her into imagining it’s private but god knows what’s in the jet black night, looking on at the spectacle of the looming Major and his little floozy smashing faces and gripping shirts. She’d let him take her in a hedge at this rate, just not under the bare bulb hanging above them.

But oh, he looks so beautiful in this light.

And if ever anyone spelled need, in its rawest, basest, most flatteringly primal way, it’s John Egan pressing her to the red paned glass of a rural phone booth, an oddly calming smirk on his face and an unarguable thigh beginning to wedge its way between her legs. There could be anyone out there but somehow that doesn’t seem important anymore, not like his large hands do, tenderly cupping her cheeks. Or his belly pressing into hers with his next kiss, the way his lips have grown more insistent while regaining some measured dominance. She finds herself rocking against his strong leg without even thinking, following the instincts his passion raises in her.

She doesn’t know when she grabbed back ahold of his collar. Did she ever let go? She doesn’t know but she fists it all the same, dragging him down to her height as she pants and mewls into his mouth, heels slipping on the rough floor, grit sounding loudly at each scuff.

It’s flattering really, how pathetically wanton she has become under some heavy petting and deep kisses. His suspicions of being wanted are more than confirmed -it’s still a little astounding coming from an Angel like her, wanting a rake like him. But she’s a warm blooded girl with lush tits that seem to expand with each tortured gasp and her little clamshell that’s making a wet spot on his slacks. It’s not the rain, can’t be, there’s no leak.

“I’ll show you good, sweetheart.” He threatens in retaliation for her tease, tweaking a nipple through the soft rayon of her dress, hand wedged beneath her/his jacket once again.

“Don’t, don’t be awful, I can’t breathe.” she begs and he draws away from her lush lips in mild concern.

She splays her hands against his chest to keep them apart as she gulps in air, not phased by the way his hands are groping her. He watches her squint her eyes up at the bulb above them before she shakes her head as if to clear it. When her eyes drift back to his they are startlingly clear and terribly dark. “I’ve got to get out of these nylons.” she whines and suddenly she is reaching under her swishy rayon skirt and yanking at the clips and the hosiery.

His gentlemanly instincts kick in a beat late yet still he offers his hand to balance her -only late due to the prospect of her bare and the possibly imagined musk thats suddenly pervading the air as she shimmies them down her thighs and wobbles on one heel, and then the other, before pulling the nylons out like squid legs between her own. He can see her fingers flutter to drop them.

A tragedy waiting to happen. He’s dreamed about using those for all sorts of-. “No!”

She startles and he hastily snatches them from her pretty hand before she can discard them on the dirty floor. He leans against her before bringing them to his face, closing his eyes and breathing deep. She sounds like a wounded cat and it makes him smirk, some wet smear catching his upper lip and he dares stick out his tongue, dabbing at the traces of her excitement caught in his mustache.

“Your belt.” she doesn’t ask him, she informs, and her hands have gone to his buckle, undoing the flat metal with more ease than he’d like, it nearly makes him jealous of who she’s perfected the movement on, only it’s him she’s pantsing right now and he’s not sure he’s even got condoms with him. He swings the panty hose round his neck and does his best to assist. “I-I-need, I need-“ she’s angrily begging as she wrestles the material down and exposes the pristine white of his briefs and sturdy pale flesh bracketing them. She swings a leg back over his own and suddenly the sweet flowy little skirt is bunched up and Bucky registers a warm, wet quim sliding against his thigh. “I need-this.” she sounds satisfied and begins a grind in earnest, his muscles dragging against her and the tickle of leg hair making her jerk.

“Filthy, you’re goddamn filthy.” he praises, voice gone to hell and raspy as anything. He squeezes her jaw so tight she winces and kisses her again, egging her on with harsh grips on her waist and sweet nips to her lips. “You gonna get off like this? Hmm? Like an alley cat? Rubbin’ on the first fella who bought you a drink over the channel?”

Her look is venomous and she releases her grip on his shoulder to squeeze his face in return. “I just canned my fiancé for you.” she tries to put every bit of what this means into words for him, to remind him how very much even this depravity means to her. “You.” she slurs as a flash of anger crosses his face at the rebuttal, at being made to be serious, even as his grip on her is deathly possessive. “I’m getting off on you, Major.” she leans her head back against the glass and shuts her eyes, the better to concentrate on the thick feel of him against her and the ragged sound of his own breathing. “Please cooperate.” she sighs, lips tugging up in a smirk, already anticipating the temper she’s stoked.

“Call me Bucky.” he asks, a little desperate but he’d never admit that.

“You’re lucky I’m so close, Bucky.” she warns.

“Then let me in you.” he cajoles and she can hear his own smirk in his tone, hot and breathy against her ear.

“No, no this will do just fine.” she gasps, almost there as it is, “Besides, I don’t trust you not to blow.”

“I-don’t have condoms.” he admits, eyes glued to the wet streak visible on his upper thigh every time she slides towards his knee.

“I know.” she laughs, merry and wise.

“How?” he’s outraged but he’s laughing, and her eyes are happy little slits when she opens them to watch him smile.

“I saw you patting your pockets, the minute you saw me across the way at the pub.”

“Well, well that was -shit.” he concedes after a minute of open mouthed deliberation on his next lie but it falls short, her heavy breathing and pinched brows suggesting a crisis at hand. “Lemme rub you though it.“ he begs, wheedling in a strangely attractive way for a grown man and his fingers are dancing over her hips.

“No, this, this is doing it just fine. You just -just be, be all big and strong for me.” She pants, her eyes rolling about the closer she gets and he buries his face into her throat, licking and nibbling at her jaw, letting her rake her nails down his neck as fire shoots along his spine and lodges in an ever growing ache between his legs. He might be dribbling himself at this rate, her breathy mewls so near and her desperation so satisfyingly resonate with his own. “Bucky!” she searches for him desperately as she nears and he pulls his head up from her shoulder and finds a face, one that’s been like a beacon to him this whole long war, staring up at him in adoration as she shakes apart in his arms.

“Tell me some of those nice things again, please Bucky.” she begs him and she can see him wet his lips, his forehead pressed hers, their movements becoming in tandem. “Some of those nice things you used to write me.”

What he’d write to her, before she met him and learned he was about as dangerously volatile as a lit fuse and every bit as addictive as danger.

“Nice things?” he ponders, grinning smile flashing white in the dull light, “Like- what a doll you are? How I’ve spent every night for two years pretending you're mine?”

“Yes, yes.” she chants and he doesn’t know if it’s from the nearness of her climax or in reaction to his words. Maybe it’s all the same for girls, if he was inside her he could no doubt feel the reaction each little praise had on her fiery hole. They were marvels that way.

“And your prissy fiancé’s a fuckin’ idiot under-appreciatin’ you like he does-“ it’s from the heart but he seems to have misfired, she shakes her head and moans,

“No, don’t bring him up right now. Not now.”

Bucky digs his forehead against hers, belligerent of the order, “I think I should talk about him,” he decides, “so I’m gonna. He’s a goddamn pansy if he can’t even get himself a real war job then cuts yours down. He should shut up or man up. Bet he whines about everything you do, doesn’t he?”

“I- mayb- oh, oh gosh!” the rock of his body against hers, wipes her mind of anything except his own brand of niceness, that happens to be tearing down her old beau and cranking his thigh between her legs.

“Bet he was always complainin’,” Bucky surmises she’s close by the gasping, wordless flutter of her eyes, “stupid sunnuvabitch, anybody who’s got you oughta be proud as anythin.”

“You proud of me?” she chokes out, begging for it and she watches as his caddish grin melts into some recognition of her need and he peppers her face with little pecks before taking an earlobe between his teeth, schmoozing her with,

“Course I’m proud of you.” his voice is husky and low this statement is followed by a nip of his sharp teeth, “You know I think you’re the swellest dame that ever walked the earth and all my friends know I think so, too.” he bites his own lip as her movements become frantic and the heat they’ve built up between them has the place steaming, his hair gone jet black and her nose shiny, “I’m proud of all the work you do, all the money you’ve raised and for cannin’ that useless sunnuvabitch and I’m proud of you for havin’ such pretty yams -a bold choice, ya know that, don’t ya Jeanie? Bold choice to carry around knockers this size, can’t order these up and plan on being’ discreet all your life. No sir. You like that? Huh? Yeah? Mm, well I like most how you ain’t ashamed to ride a leg when you need it. And I bet you need it, stupid whiny fucker probably got cramp every time, right as it got good, didn’t he?”

“Oh god Bucky, oh god.” she never expected the spewing of compliments and insults and such prejudiced loyalty to herself to send her flying but it did, his jumbled, idiotic stream of love flying out of his panting mouth the same way it flew from his pen. “Oh God, Bucky!”

She’s not sure she’s ever felt this much want in her life. Satisfaction rips through her white hot to the very tips of her ears and soles of her feet and all the while it’s not enough. His hands are clasping her own and she white knuckles her grip on them. She chomps at his kisses angrily, wanting to eat him alive and thank him all at once. It doesn’t seem to end, the buzzing shocks and he seems to sense it too, how she’s too chicken to make herself mad with the pleasure. She feels Egan’s hands disentangle and descend on her hips, engulfing them in his large palms, fingers dug into her backside, forcefully jerking her against him, his leg moving in an angry tandem until she’s writhing from the overwhelming feel of it.

The phone booth creaks from the force of something besides the gale outside and the horribleness of their animalistic indulgence only makes her clench harder and grin wider at his own ravenous face.

“Bucky!”

Bucky looks down at her with the face of a man well satisfied with himself and utterly enamored with her, “That’s it, scream it, scream my name, sweetheart. This ride ain’t slowin’ till you do.”

“Bucky! Bucky! Bucky!”

At her screams, Egan honest to god laughs, loud and merciless, the laugh of a man who knows how to wring the best out of life. “You don’t want me to use my hands?” he taunts through gritted teeth, “Ok then. Don’t need ‘em. Look at you.”

“Johnny!” once more and the one his mama gave him, higher in pitch and she’s not sure when she stopped being in charge of this endeavor and instead became his little ragdoll.

“That an sos?” he chuckles.

“Yes, gosh yes, I can’t anymore! Don’t make me anymore!”

“Alright, alright, shhh, shh, that’s a good girl, shh.”

He ruffles her hair at the nape of her neck like he’s calming a puppy and, face planted into his chest as she is, shaking and quaking at the residual aftershocks, she doesn’t even think to take offense. He’s warm and solid and loving and she sags against him, the mess she made of his bare thigh not yet cooling.

Finally it lessens, the madness calms only to be filled by heavy intent. And still, Bucky delights in her pleasure and despite the way he handled her to get her over the finish line, his hand is nothing but tender as it pushes her hair out of her eyes and his nose nuzzles her own as she pants the stars out of her vision.

“How’s that feel, huh?”

“Good,” she sighs, hopelessly fond, “just like you promised.”

“Good? Good? Good my ass, you're crosseyed and my leg’s soaked.” he goads her and she’d smack him for being so insufferably arrogant but he’s turned her limbs to putty and after what he’d been through he deserved to be smug after a job well done.

“Did you mean it?” she asks instead, green eyes looking like fragile little ponds apiece, one word of his, no, a lack of word, an expression, a micro expression and they become a whirlpool, tears spilling over and years worth of longing returned to sender.

He takes pains to tuck a falling strand behind her ear, those starched victory rolls of hers beginning to flag, his thumb lingering, caressing her cheek once the job is done. “Every word.” he swears with quiet vehemence and can feel the answering sag of relief from the woman in his arms, “From the very start. Every word.”

“Knew it.” she sighs in relief, a smug look of joy taking the place of wariness and she gloats in his love, a drunken, pacified little thing as she clasps his own face again and kisses him soundly. “I knew you were a good man.” she mumbles into his plush mouth, hands yanking on ebony hair, misted and curling from the drizzle outside. Could he be any more delectable? His hands were large as paws around her waist and the scorching weight of them makes her dizzy with speculation. “Told all my friends you were worth every sleepless night.”

“Can’t believe you cared that much.” he moans in appreciation, the horrid years of incarnation no less dull a memory for all the grand to-do’s and peacetime jubilance of the present. The war was almost over but he wasn’t sure he’d get a full night’s unhaunted sleep for the next decade.

“I’ve never cared about anybody the way I care for you.” Jeanie looks at him then, as earnest as Buck in her devotion and John swallows hard, something alarmingly wet and stinging beginning to collect in his eyes and if he were a crying man he’d very much fear they were tears. “Silly man, couldn’t you tell?” she whispers mournfully.

“I-I guess I hoped.” he acknowledged, biting his savagely until the mist clears from his vision, he cleared his throat loudly to begin afresh, making a racket in the small space and it’s pattering curtain of rain, “But it was just that -a hope.”

“Mmm.” she understands, cocking her head to the side before gently circling one of his wrists with her hand and slowly bringing it off her waist and higher, to the plush swell of those assists that began it all. “Do these feel like hope?” she asks, smile broadening as the hip pressed against him feels a jerk in the inseam of his trousers at the contact.

“Feel like heaven, more like.” he grunts, eyes squinted in a vain attempt to recall the trajectory of the conversation.

“But not ephemeral, intangible, hope?” she presses.

His hand squeezes her just shy of painful and he smirks at her gasp, “I think I’ve got to test ‘em to make sure they stand up, don’t vanish on me, but yeah, I’m inclined to agree, they’re pretty tangible.”

“I’ll give you tangible, Major.” she’s suddenly determined, a foreign and entirely odd desire rising in her as she gives him one last parting kiss and slides to her knees in front of him. Pebbles and grit dig into her poor kneecaps and the squalid little floor provides hardly enough room for this, but the look on his face! Oh it was worth every little discomfort as her hand travels up his inner thigh, bare and sticky from her wantonness earlier, and palms over the large swell of him in the hammock of his white briefs.

“Oh Jeanie,” he breaths as if he couldn’t credit his eyes, “you don’t have to, you really don’t!”

“I want to.” she is surprised to hear herself say it, but here was no movie producer or oil heir or hotel owner, it was just a young man who had gone through hell and back for her and thought himself well repaid by her kisses sent over the phone and a racy photograph or three. She wanted to thank him and she wanted to wipe that ever so maddening smirk off John Egan’s face. So far just being at eye level with his crotch had achieved the latter. “I want to -to suck you.”

-To suck you off.

She couldn’t say the whole of it, and she trailed off on the end of her aborted sentence as it was, yet the sentiment came through as did the darling innocence still lingering under years of man-eating under the pimpish guidance of Metro Goldwyn Meyer.

“Well, ok.” John decides after shaking his head, like trying to make the words rattle a little clearer in his ears. “If you’re sure.”

“I’m sure.”

“Good.” he admits his doubt of walking back the surge of flaming hot need that’s coursing beneath his collar at the sight of her so willing, so fresh, so bundled in his jacket. Ruby red lips blurred by his kisses and the tip of a pink tongue too near to where he’s close to taking matters in his own rough palm. “But stand up a minute, sweetheart.” he tugs her to her feet and it’s a sign of her trust in him that she’s only puzzled and hasn’t stopped grinning all the while.

“What’ve you got planned?” Her voice is hushed as he begins to unbutton his jacket, the cloth falling apart at his chest with each buttonhole slipped, dark shirt and tan tie coming into view and a chest so broad she could float on it at sea.

“Something for yer knees, m’lady.” he jokes with crinkled eyes and the sweetest smile as he squats and lays his jacket on the filthy little square that serves as a floor in this phone booth. “There.” he sniffs, satisfied with his preliminary courtesy and Jeanie just about bursts at the gesture.

“You’re too good to be true, Johnny Egan.” she moans into another kiss she forces on him as he laughs off her praise.

“I can be quite awful if you’ll let me.” he warns, “Ask Buck. Or make me wait any longer for that promised blowjo-“

“Shh, Shh!” she blushes at the threatened vulgarity and slips to her knees as if the act is somehow more elevated than any talk of it.

“There you go.” he pats the top of her shiny hair affectionately as she takes her place kneeling again, her hands tiny and delicate against his strong thighs, enjoying the flex of them beneath her palms as she slides them higher and slips a finger into his waistband.

He’s riled and ready when she lets him out of his constraint, flushed and glistening in the dull light of the single bare bulb, much like his bitten lips above her. Daunted and hungry all at once she finds herself falling back on old Mister Selznick’s corny script language, laughing lightly as she watches the hefty length of him bob against the beautiful plane of his lower belly. “Well, I see the little Major is at attention.”

He snorts above her, heartily amused but he pushes her face away briefly just as she begins to pucker her lips, nothing strong, just a firm little press against her forehead with his fingers.

“Just a minute now,” he stalls her, sounding almost pleading except for the explanatory tone he uses as he flicks the dangling curls at her neck back over her shoulder, out of harm’s way, “if I’m gonna get blown by The Lana Tierney, I wanna do it right. Call me picky, just wanna do it perfect, like -perfect like you.”

“Well,” she smiles indulgently up at him without a clue as to what he means, “show me then. Have at it Major, I’m down here for you, after all.”

“Yeah, yeah you are, aren’t ya?” he marvels, cocky and awed all at once and then she watches him heave in a breath and widen his stance with a calculated shuffle of his feet and his pulled down slacks. It makes her blush furiously to realize he’s getting himself a braced, strong stance so he can move his hips freely. “There we go.” he sounds pleased as he leans over her, his strong arm flung out to brace himself on the glass wall opposite, looming over her like a deity sheltering her under his shadow.

Jeanie wonders what it looks like from the pitch black of outside, this tiny, foggy, glowing haven in the storm with her worshipful pose and his imposing figure inching nearer and nearer until she can duck her chin just that little bit and press her lips to the salty head of him.

John’s loud groan fogs up the glass he has his forehead pressed to and he swallows hard at the initial feel of her timidly breaking her jaw wide apart to fit him further, more, he feeds it into her mouth with one hand at the curly thatched base, down, almost halfway, red painted nails digging into his hip and making him twitch on her tongue. “Yes, yes, hell yes.” it feels so good it breaks his heart and Bucky feels sweat roll down his temple as his blood pounds and his brain begins to fuzz. The fingers of his left hand twitch uselessly at his side before gently resting on her shoulder, squeezing in rhythm as she chokes herself in her eagerness to please. “Shh, shh, it’s perfect, you’re perfect.” he calms her with a voice shot to hell and dipping a full octave below that of the man who’d kissed her knuckles in greeting earlier that evening.

Jeanie wishes she had more expertise, some ability to dislocate her lower jaw from her palette and take him down all the way but she hopes he’ll give her time to learn.

In a hotel room. In the back seat of her car at the drive in theater. On the bench of the gazebo at the Nantucket country club. A million and one places she wants to learn him.

That’s for the future.

For now she loosens her desperate grip on his flexing hips to work the length of him with her hands, that part she can’t lathe with her tongue. That’s a lot of it, she realizes with some discouragement and not a little admiration. He goes on for ages, large enough around it takes both her hands to surround him and it’s a long slide root to tip, the feeling of a large ridge protecting the underside and its vital vein making her thumbs glide along it like a track, tacky and wet from her spit and his dripping excitement. She works what she cannot suck and she can hear him gasp above her in appreciation as he finally gets the friction he needs.

“Julie, oh Julie baby!” he praises so loudly she finds herself aflame at the idea of them being overheard on this quiet country lane.

She peers up at him as he stares her down with brilliant white teeth gritted in delight, his dark hair tumbling in a sweaty cascade of curls into his sharp eyes, his cheeks painted in a high blush as his arousal stampedes away from him. She can’t seem to go fast enough with her mouth too wide, her tongue hampered by the sheer impossible weight of him, the stretch of her lips that gives little room for finesse, and so his hips begin to buck and chase her suction without thought. She ends up sputtering at one disjointed thrust as she goes to breathe.

She pulls off him with an obscene pop and with lips shiny and a chin slick she gives him the sweetest smile he thinks he’s ever seen. “John, don’t hold back.” she gives him permission with hands folded in her lap and her face tilted back for his use.

She can see the relief clear on his face, his thanks too. “I’m close.” he assures and she shrugs, not caring except to make him happy, she hopes it ruins her. His roguish face quickly morphs to a look of faux sympathy followed by a smirk that suggests she should run for her life. Too late, the thrill of his shuffling near again seizes her as he gently cups both her ears, getting himself a nice little swirl of her hair over each of his palms. Her pretty stage-perfect hair is destroyed and when he slides in, deep enough for a flash of panic to widen her big blue eyes, he gives her a quirk of his eyebrow which says all that needs to be said -you did offer, Jeanie.

Frantically she nods in agreement, feeling filthy and wanted as he uses his grip on her hair to pull her back down on him and back to the tip and down and back, a horrible, debauched chorus of wet, slurping, groaning pleasure steaming up the quaint little booth. “Angel face.” Bucky grunts down to her, his thumbs leaving her temples to wipe tears from the corners of her eyes to the hollow of her powdered cheekbones.

When he lets go it’s a combination of rigidity and fluidity, he shakes out a leg like he’s bracing for a punch and slaps repeatedly at the glass by his head, rattling it and cursing as molten pleasure overtakes, a fistful of her hair in his other hand as a lifetime of desire melts out of him and into her warm mouth.

There’s so much of it. She wonders in a breathless, half gagged malaise if it’s a war’s worth of desire flooding her tongue and mouth and down her throat as plentiful as the drinks earlier tonight. When he sees her swallow him without protest his face crumples in the soft afterglow of release and he grinds his hips a last few times, puffy cockhead raking along her palette, grief stricken by how utterly she accepts it. His breathing sounds ragged as a beast, and for those few quiet moments before he regains himself, and after he has spent his ferocity down her throat, Julie basks in her softening mouthful and the heave of his belly above her and the height of his shoulders far ahead of her and the face that’s looking down on her with such adoration as the fog clears that she realizes she never has seen it before in a man after they’ve used her up.

Bucky is more enamored after he’s surrendered his potency to her tongue. Even when the lust clears he is blatantly, unashamedly, gloriously in love. It twitches on her tongue and it floods her nostrils and it scratches her scalp and it beams down at her with watering blue eyes.

She’s never been looked at like this before, not after the sex, not ever, she doesn’t think.

She will wait until he pulls out. She will make him understand this is all she wants to do, as long as they both live, she wants to make him love her. She wants to love on him.

Slightly softened, his girth grants her enough room to finally wiggle her tongue against him, playfully swiping along the thinning underside and he grunts, sensitive and amused. With a grin on his face Bucky takes the hand once snarled in her hair and strokes her still hollowed cheek, petting its calloused way down to her lax lips, the corners of which are collecting with sticky, pink tinged spunk from his release and the residue of her lipstick. He collects all around the ring of it, swiping and nudging his fingers alongside his cock into her mouth, making her suck to bring it further in, and he has to fight to stay on top of the sensitivity that brings him, she can tell, but he seems adamant in keeping himself in the warm haven of her mouth and she copes with his fingers and the salty tang of what he collects and pushes in to be properly discarded into her belly, along with the rest.

No one has ever played with her this long, after the fact. She thinks she might drip all her primarily female organs straight to the floor with wanting him like this. And then Bucky has the sweet gall to say, “What happens next, sweet thing, requires a bed and a half a dozen pillows.”

It takes them a full ten minutes to leave the phone booth, giggling and clutching and kissing, they do their best to straighten each other out but it’s quite useless and when Bucky tells her there’s no other place for a man to know his woman properly except back upstairs at the pub, she gives a hopeless little giggle, pure girlish nervousness coursing through her at the realization she looks quite loved up and will have to wade through all her new friends on her journey upstairs to be further used up.

With love. Suddenly the concept is utterly delightful.

For once the walk of shame excites her. And the throb between her legs and the incessant need to touch him always and the hot smothering heat of his jacket still around her prompts her acquiescence as Bucky lifts her once more into his handlebars and takes off into the chilly night. He stops halfway back, a sudden breaking and a dissatisfied grunt, it almost pitches her headlong into the mud.

“You’re too far away.” he’s reaching forward and patting her hips, making her hop off, backing her round the handle bars, patting his own thighs. “C’mere doll, c’mere, we’ll just have ya close and you’ll hang on.”

It’s everything she was feeling too. It’s terribly precarious and if he were a smaller man it mightn’t work, but that’s the thing -he isn’t. He’s Bucky and all the things that wouldn’t work otherwise, wouldn’t please and wouldn’t captivate her, now do. And so she slings her arms around his neck, spreads her legs achingly wide to anchor around his waist and lays her head on his shoulder so he still has a view of the road. He’s got the smell of her perfumed hair and his stinking sheepskin in his nose as he shoves off the pavement and pushes down again on the pedals. The bike only wobbles a little with its new uneven load but he rights it easy as flying, and she can feel his legs working strong and forceful beneath her own and it’s thrilling, as thrilling as the feeling of his sweaty neck against her lips.

“There we go.” he proclaims it good, once they’ve got the wheels going again, and Julie Jean is drowsy with the safety of his decisions being her own wants.

The atmosphere inside the pub upon their return had only gotten thicker, hazier, chummier; haggard ex-jail birds and fresh flyboys fall over their tables and games and catch themselves on each other’s shoulders like the distinction between the two groups wasn’t a matter worthy of throwing punches just a few hours ago. They’ve got a song going, Bucky doesn’t recall Brady ever playing the piano before but he is now, and it’s passably the best sounding thing amongst the accompanying raucous of all occupants trying out the lyrics to Anything Goes. Gale and Marge aren’t to be found, and Bucky would pursue that very intriguing development if he hadn’t better things to do, tucked into his side, tiny white palm clutched in his, stockings with their soaked gusset in his pocket.

“Donald, I’m gonna need that key, after all.” Bucky leans over the bar and tries his best at a discreet stage whisper over the caterwauling songbirds. Julie shrinks so far behind him her forehead is buried in the sleeve of his jacket, a pressure to the back of his arm, just above his elbow. Like a bunny hiding their face and trusting it’ll make the rest of themselves invisible. She deserves the Ritz and a secret tunnel to get her there but this is all they’ve got. At least everyone didn’t notice when they came back in.

Donald is strangely respectful when he hands over the little golden key and it’s familiar, thick oaken fob. No wink and no rabald comment, Bucky wonders if the camp has made him so obviously pathetic that even moments before getting laid he is still an object of pity. The way Donald’s eyes skitter to the young darling behind Bucky, a respectful little nod of acknowledgement to her, dissuades him.

“Night Major, night miss.”

“Good night Donald.” Julie warbles soft as anything while Bucky tugs her gently towards the stairs.

They have to hedge around the outskirts of the partners gathered in their path. Bucky turns Doug’s shoulder with a gentle hand to get past a table and there ended all their peace, when Doug’s drunken eyes beheld who had returned he vocalized his joy loud and ecstatic. His rambunctious response bringing the attention of all the young soldier boys as they parade their Major and his gal.

Bucky feels Julie’s hold on his arm tighten, the sleeve of his jacket being pulled down. He’s afraid for a moment that the sentimentality of his boys will have her convincing him to stay down here with them — despite the fact that he’s been stuck in a worn down shit hell hole with half these boys for over a year and the tip of his cock weeps with the need of Julie’s tender flesh and warmth. But when he looks down her eyes have grown dark, impatient, and she rubs her thighs together, the only tell tale sign of her desire, urging him to get them out of there.

“Alright, boys,” he adds bass to his voice, the way he would from the cockpit leading a mission or telling them to quiet down when the Colonel was speaking. Julie shivers beside him and he knows their clock is ticking. “Gotta excuse your Major tonight, gonna get my girl somewhere warm and comfortable.”

There’s more whistling and cheers to follow, hands clapping him on his back and shoulder and he moves Julie Jean to walk in front of him and finish leading the way. Suggestive comments and shrewd gesticulation are sent his way and Bucky’s only happy Julie Jean walks ahead and doesn’t look back, unaware of the actions of his boys. If she’d see she would get flush faced and shy and Bucky doesn’t want to take the time to reprimand or punch one of the men for making her uncomfortable.

“Oi, Bucky!” It’s Blakley running to catch up with him again, hand in the air and Bucky extends his own to accept the slap from his friend. “That's all I could scrounge up for you on such short notice. Make it worth it.” And then with a wink he backs off, joining the rest of the boys at the bar.

When Bucky looks down there’s a gold tin foil package in his palm. He coughs, smiles, sliding it into his pocket. Bucky turns back to Julie who waits patiently, squeezing at her tiny waist to slightly lift her from the ground in his sudden haste.

Julie giggles, having only been in his presence for a couple of hours but she’s spent more time in his arms and his embrace than she had on the ground and she loved every second of it. “I love you,” she reminds, because she can and he’s in front of her and not an ocean away. There’s a tug on her heartstrings, her body, mind, and soul used to missing him and uttering the words into empty rooms.

This time Bucky is there and he is quick to respond, “And I love you, doll,” with a kiss to seal his oath.

They finally get inside, tripping over one another’s feet as they refuse to disentangle their limbs. Julie only had two glasses of rum and coke but he’s ninety percent sure she’s drunk on the essence of him. A lightweight when it comes to true love. She can still taste him in her mouth, salty and musky, no sweetness, but it’s delicious and she’s thirsty for more. She wants to see more of the lipstick stains she left on his cock. Wants to see him naked like she promised herself a million times, so that when she tries again, she can watch every little movement he makes.

“You promised me I could try again,” she whines into his mouth, “I can try until I can take all of you in my mouth,” and she’s swiping her tongue against his, licking stripes into his open mouth and a wet saliva string connects the two of them even when she leans away to talk.

And John’s never been so hard in his life, never had an innocent yet sexy gal like Jean Julie Jean be so nasty and so innocent at the same time. Wanting to practice gulping on big cocks and massaging balls when every man in her life before has only used her as disposable.

“They were so big,” she’s still trying to get words in between his kisses, “dark and hanging -“ foggy, he realizes she’s describing his ball sack, or what she was able to make out in the dark of the phone booth.

John shudders, trying to imagine a world where golden haired angels wax poetic about ballsacks the way he does on her tits. I mean, he’s justified- look at them! Actually, that’s an idea, he should ask if he can look at them. Fucking finally.

“Wanna see you.” he mumbles into her mouth, a clack of teeth as they time it wrong, it doesn’t matter, every point of contact makes his body thrum. He runs his hands along her sides, along the sweet cello curve of hips and waist and tits, squeezing emphatically at the fleshy swells that make a good showing in filling his giant palms.

Julie giggles, “I was thinking the same. About you.”

“Agh, nothin’ to see with me.” he dissuades, pulling away far enough to note the sheen of sweat that has broken the barrier of her immaculate powder, rose gold blush in the dim light of the humble room.

She seems to notice the place at the same time, attentive eyes scan and flit, arms still interlocked with his own and he prefers to stare at the sweeping dance of coal dark lashes as she surveys the place than look around at a stuffy old room he’s a little ashamed to admit he’s crashed in one too many nights black out drunk and wishing the old hound that always came in under the sheet at three am was her.

“It’s so quaint.” she murmurs, like someone who doesn’t get laid out in scratchy sheets and lumpy mattresses very often. It fits, he hasn’t got anything to offer besides this anyway, at home or here.

Quaint. God, how long will quaint be enough?

“Bucky?” she asks. The lashes are lifted, fanned out beneath tiny arched brows, spider fringe to guileless baby blues.

Releasing his lip from between his lip he lets out a small scoff that sounds more winded than he hoped. “Hey shorty.” he should take her to bed, he should kiss her again, he should tell her every dream he’s ever had is in his arms and he doesn’t know what do with that, can’t kiss without keeping his eyes open to watch the next shoe drop, save them from it crushing in their skulls.

“I’m -I find I’m a bit -nervous.” she whispers.

Fuck, this is why they work, and with her blushing, looking up at him so hopeful it’s enough for him to close his eyes and let this work. “Was thinkin’ the same.” he rasps, admittance that sinks soothing into her timid heart.

Julie lets out another giggle that John is starting to learn hides the same feeling his scoffs do. “Isn’t that silly of us?”

“Mhmm.” He agrees, fingers trailing to brush her hair back.

“Guess it’s just- just we’ve built this up and all and-“

“It’s gonna be.” he tells her firmly, hands and voice and heart, “Everything we’ve dreamt of. Gonna be that and more. Cause it’s us. S’finally us. Just us..”

“Yeah?” she begs.

Bucky smashes his lips tight and determined. “Yeah.”

Their lips lock again, going somewhere this time, headed towards the cliff, arm in arm, necks craned to get there first. It’s close to flying, it’s such a thrill. He drags his hand up her ribs and to her shoulder, snaking under the stifling weight of his jacket still encompassing her little frame. Bucky’s got a glint in his eye as he takes in the top of her breasts that are so generously popping out of her dress. Thanking God for whoever took her measurements and decided to always go smaller in the brassiere area. He can’t help it when he leans down and sucks on the top of what part of her port breast is available. He reaches to drop the shoulders of the jacket off her again when she finally seems to sober up, lips pouty and eyes hazy, taking in how she’s stained his face and his mustache is glistening with their mixed saliva.

His hand lifts under the collar, lifting, shirking it off her neck, one sleeve down her arm, aiming to get it off her and her dress after and her garters and her-

Julie snatches the jacket back onto her shoulder.

Blink and its back on.

Like Bucky hadn’t just slipped it off very intentionally. No, it’s back on alright and she clutches it instead of him suddenly, chest heaving and eyes a little too wide.

“Baby doll?” he asks, at a loss but feeling wrong.

“This, this is-“ she whispers, vacant and vague and her eyes are scanning the room unseeing, “this jacket is, it’s very special to me, it stays, it belongs to a man who loves me and it- it stays. I won’t take it off. He loves me and it’s all I’ve got -I won’t. Won’t take it off.”

Bucky blinks, grit and film in his bleary eyes adding an exhausted filter to this duty consecutive breakdown of the night. Goddamn it; -about breaks his heart to think his old ratty sheepskin was all she had. “You’ve got me now.” he clasps her cheeks, careful but warm and solid and alive; her eyes focus. “Real deal, I’m here, baby. Better than any jacket, warmer at least.” he cracks a smile and her own wavers into being.

“Daddy?”

“Yeah baby?”

“You’re gonna make love to me?”

“That’s the idea, sugar.”

“Ok.” Julie takes a bracing breath and lets her arms fall, lifts a shoulder and allows one heavy, leather sleeve to slip down. Her heart melts when Bucky helps it fall with a cautious finger, the backs of his roughened knuckles sanding against the ivory her arm as he drags it to her wrist and off, his eyes locked on her own. He has the tenderest expression crinkling around his eyes and it keeps her panic at bay as the other arm slips out and the heavy fall of the jacket gets caught by his deft hand.

John tosses the precious garment on the bed. “You’d like it with ya, maybe?” he offers and she nods violently, eager to smell it and him while at their pleasure.

“Might get messy.” his grin is primal, wolfish.

She presses her lips to his again, hand anchored on his bent neck, “I want it too.” she nibbles along his jaw, “I want it to smell like you. I’ve rubbed myself on it, must’ve been a hundred times. I want it to smell like both of us.”

“Goddamn.” he articulates in appreciation, “Goddamn! Filthy, my baby is filthy.”

His cock aches with need at the imagery fo her pretty pink oussy rubbing itself raw on his sheepskin, it’s pressing against his skivvies, trousers tight and making him uncomfortable but first Bucky’s aware it won’t be right until he is sure Julie has gotten it into her pretty little head that his jacket wasn’t something she had to cling onto anymore. It would be hers for as long as she wanted, forever if she so wished — but he’d be damned if he bed her and continued to let his woman think every single line he had written in every letter had been anything but the truth. She had asked for his honesty and he had taken it seriously, jotting down every thought to send to her no matter how filthy or grand anyone thought it to be.

Bucky takes her small hand in his, noting another size difference between them as her entire hand fits in his palm, his fingers outstretched to cover her tiny fists. He untucks his shirt, the buttons having been ripped open courtesy of his ravenous woman.

“Gimme this,” he grunts, opening her fist to press her palm flat against his chest. Over his heart. A tear falls and Julie lets it, the strong thump of his heart in tandem with the beat of hers. Reminding her that he was real, he was alive, he was breathing. “I’m real, Julie Jean. You got me now, baby, it’s all fucking yours.”

Somehow, John Egan was hers. Life was giving her something good, something pure that loved her for who she truly was, that fought to keep her safe and survived hell to get to her. Millions had posters with her face taped on their walls, waited outside her home and studio for photos, but only one person in the whole world had told her he loves her and meant it.

Bucky’s skin is burning underneath her hand, slick with sweat, and she lets her hand tighten against wiry, chest hairs that clump together against his heat and perspiration.

“I love you,” she swears, words venomous with her truth and passion. “I’ll die if you ever even think of leaving me, John Egan. Or I might just kill you if you attempt it.”

The smile that threatens to split his face is blinding in the dark of their room but Julie vows in that moment to make him smile like that every day. And if being smothered to death with threats from love was what it took, well then good thing Julie had a few more roaming around in her head.

Bucky has no business ripping the buttons off the only dress Julie Jean had up here in this room, but that was tomorrow's problem and he trusts Marge for that. By the way Julie Jean moans at this disrespect for her tailoring -he’d say they’re tracking.

“Off, off, off!” her breathy command is as dainty and insistent as silver bells, little hands tugging open his slacks and pawing off his shirt while forgetting the tie until it half strangles him. “Off, I need you.” she pants.

He throws her to the bed. No great distance, but from the height of his arms it makes her bounce and the creamy jiggle of skin as she lands makes his masculine brain sizzle from the sight. It’s obscene and it’s holy and she is his and he lays himself atop her like he needs to make her a part of him.

Julie spreads her legs to accommodate him and finds it unnecessarily thrilling how wide she must stretch just to cradle his hips, John is broad in every way, and laying on top of her the disparity in size between them is only magnified, and she feels a girlish thrill at how helpless she is. How much of a man is now wanting her, spread on top of her, nestled where she’s most needy and vulnerable. She wonders if he can feel the dribbling mess between her spread thighs. She tilts her hips to chase his own and he groans, loud and appreciative. It sends gooseflesh down her arms. The heat of her jacket is under her arms, soft shearling and a stray zipper digging into her back.

She is surrounded by Bucky. And no one can take this away.

And he is staring down at her, her face and her breasts, what’s started it all. He lets a noise out, in the back of his throat, caught in his lungs, like he got punched, but it's such a monumental moment for him.

“Christ! These.” he grunts as he mouths at her breast, kneading and abusing with his huge hand the one he is not suckling. “Can’t even fit one in m’mouth.” he tries anyway, most valiantly, Julie thinks. Sloppy and worshipful. Just like she imagined when he wrote about them. She feels herself tingle and clench, every nerve alight. The room smells of his sweat and his saliva is coating her boob and his mustache tickles against her skin and he’s a furnace against her and already a soreness is setting in the spread of her hips —

“Bucky I’m almost-“it seems absurd as soon as she voices it but she’s sure of it, she has gone demented with sensation and heat and the earthy smell of him all around, his finger on her ripe nipple and his mouth clamped like a babe at the tit and the sweat of his hair sliding through her fingers “-almost…there.” she melts with it, a coil that’s been alive all evening, that wound tighter in the phone booth even when the pleasure snaps, it melts and pools now and she gasps out her breathless delight.

And Bucky continues on as is, speeding the pad of his pointer finger against the bud of her hard nipple, allowing his teeth to pinch the one in his mouth and suddenly Julie finds her hole clenching around nothing, legs spasming but pinned by the weight of him on top of her. She sighs, content.

That was new. So is his sharp grin when he pulls away to stare up at her, chin pillowed by her glistening breast, his calloused hand snaking down her belly to explore the mess he coaxed into being.

His touch makes her jolt, even though the others pad of his finger swiping through her is a slimed, easy glide. One of his fingers is enough to span the entire breadth of her inner petals. If her poor pussy wasn’t so flutteringly distressed by its current emptiness, Julie might dread the burn of those large digits plunging in. As is, she nods eagerly, “Please, please I’m going mad up here.” she tells him and doesn’t miss the roguish look of satisfaction that flashes across his face.

There is enough of him -everywhere- that she is gifted a kiss on the mouth the same time that she feels his finger circle her pearl, slow and lazy. The combination feels so right, the care and the savoring, the way he licks all the way to her molars while his finger swirls down the slope of her entrance, roughened finger tips sending sparks along her spine.

“I love you.” he tells her again, because he can.

She tightens her fingers around a fistful of curly black hair, longish and sweaty, utterly real: because she can. “I love you.”

Everything is that. Each kiss, each nuzzle and clasping of flesh. He breaches her mid giggle, for even their laughs say the same: I love you, I love you, I’ve loved you so long let me love you.

Bucky bites his lip as he gently sounds her cunt with a single finger, palm upwards, callous tickling inside like he’s searching for the root of her desire along the silky walls. Julie can feel when she clenches around ole thick knuckle.

“Can barely fit a finger in here, Shorty,” Bucky teases her, gravely cautionary yet not meaning it

one bit, “and you’re begging for my whole cock?”

“Yes!” Julie Jean begs back without pause and it makes Bucky’s heart flip again, its been doing that all night but then again, she doesn’t stop wanting him, “You can teach me. You can stretch me please. Johnny- I’ve waited so long.”

Bucky slips his second finger in there, obligingly, and tries to scissor her, an attempt to stretch her out until Jeanie is clamping her thighs together and trapping his arm -he finally finds it, that spongy spot inside her that has her going pale white and screaming, “YES YES — oh Jo-Johnny YES!”

Lovingly cruel he fits a third finger in there right before she comes, “Give it to me, Jeanie, give me all of it.”

Her thighs release his forearm but his torture isn’t over, a raspy groan shaking her belly as he writhes his way down her belly until his face is in between her thighs where he slurps at her like he’s still got that straw of hers he carries around on his tongue.

“I can’t - Johnny please - SWEET MAN HAVE MERCY ON ME - oh - oh, oh, OH!.” the sounds of her ecstasy and the feeling her hands clawing at his shoulders spur him on, drunk off the feline smell of her, the slippery wet feel of her on his cheeks and chin, tongue dipping into the honeywell- nothing could be further from that vile camp and its harsh starkness of human flesh. Here is humanity in all its warm, wet vibrancy, buzzing and twitching beneath him. This he’s good at, he knows, learned it a long time ago and something clicked, the enjoyment of giving and having to hide it as taking somewhere along the way, so that nobody would guess what a goddamn wretch he was for some praise.

The kind that spills from Julie’s lips like it’s the only song she ever wants to sing again, only tune she’s got left.

He feels her pushing at his shoulder to get away but he’s got an iron tight grip around her hips, while Julie knows she's trapped his head between her spanking thighs until she can hear ringing in her ears and sees spots as he sucks on her clit through the orgasm. When she comes to, he’s pressing kisses to her belly, her breasts, her face, smeared with the taste and smell of her but she welcomes them nonetheless.

“Now can I have you? Please.” she is pleased with herself for managing to remain polite despite her jittery quakes and the terrible craving she feels remaining.

And he laughs, Bucky laughs, because she’s still asking for cock, after all that. She’s still asking.

With a mustache sopping wet and teeth that sparkle like a wolf’s, he kisses her, splat on the mouth, smile to smile.

“You’re sticky.” she giggles, breathless

“That’s you, Jeanie.”

She licks his chin because she suspects he’ll like it, being met with unabashed enjoyment of the dirty communion they’re sharing. She was right,it gets him going, something frantic creeping back into his worshipful enjoyment. He tries to get up to get that condom that’s somewhere in his slacks but she refuses to let him get off of her, holding his weight down on top even though he’s twice her size; not that he’s trying to fight her off.

“I- goddamn, i- baby- i, need-“ he gets between bitten lips and clacks of teeth, “need to grab the condom, Shorty.”

Those are the magic words that allow her to release him but not before she says “hurry make it quick!” in so breathless a way he halfway thinks of trusting his rather shit pull out game than chance leaving her bosom. But Ev Blakley didn’t give up his pro-kit for such negligence, so -Bucky tumbles out of bed like a lumbering god out of his element of white crisp sheets and Julie lays back biting her thumb, enjoying the chance to watch him in the lamplight. She watches him as he quickly searches for his slacks, broad white back bending over, large thighs with their shadow of hair stippling, the soft swell of his thigh creases and the dark cleft of his backside where hair grows and spreads to the barely discernible outline of his sack hanging between. He’s shaking out the drab olive; a tiny little plop sounds in the quiet room. He picks it up.

Foil packet between his teeth, Bucky turns back to her, tosses the pants once more, they litter some new space on the floor, and Julie’s heart bounds in her throat at the look of him. This, watching this, watching him, this is what she promised herself. But she never got it quite right, he wasn’t so big in her dreams, not so pale either, with ribs as defined as hia sinews, bruise mottled clavicles and a Lowe belly that has a slight dome. His glittering eyes, those she imagined though, in fevered dreams about actually being wanted by somebody good and brave and willing to give this whole business of loving a real try.

She watches him slip on the condom, enjoying the way his magenta-angry and bulging veined cock is smothered by the thin, clear rubber. It looks painful as she watches him slither it on. Bucky makes sure to pump himself a few times, kneeling in front of her spread legs, grin in place and she mewls, hand coming to her clit as it pulses between her lips with a heartbeat of its own.

“Ready, dearest?” John asks, forehead pressed to hers, a hand beside her cheek and another between her thighs, holding the massive, blunt tip of him to her aching core.

It makes her eyes water: the reference to their many letters and she pulls him down to kiss at him in response, the head at her entrance has her tensing, feeling thick and fat compared to her small hole. He is going to destroy her, change her utterly, there’s only the Lana Turner of before and this Julie Jean after. This is Bucky’s effect, this is Bucky’s creation, this happy, trembling, heartbrokenly happy girl tensing at an act she’s done a hundred times before.

“It’s us,” he whispers lovingly, “relax.” He presses a kiss to the side of her head as he traces the skin of her hip, “You’re in charge here.*

Julie knows if it hurts he’ll stop but she doesn’t want him to, that’s the catch, so she gives him a daring little look, “I want all of you.” because she’s determined, legs locking around his hips to cage him in. “You won’t deny me, will you, Johnny?”

As for Bucky, he’s so fucking in love as he looks in her eyes, “Never, Jeanie. Whatever you want, it's yours.” as he slides another inch in, a groan escaping from deep in his chest while her legs twitch around him “Every part of me is yours, dearest, even the fucked up parts that i don’t want you to see.”

At his confession, she relaxes enough that he’s able to slide more than half of his cock inside her before her body’s tightening and locking him out. Her mouth holds in that sexy shape of an ‘o’ he imagined a million times as she lets out a silent gasp at the intrusion, stopping right before his hips meet the cradle of her thighs, the base of him thick and pulsing with the threat of finality.

Her sounds of joy grow from gasps to genuine little cries, the shock of his size untenable despite the gentleness with which he introduced it.

“-and if this is all you can take, Jeanie,” he declares, sliding an inch out only to slide it back in, like all her panicked thoughts have been a conversation they’ve been sharing all this time, “if this is all, then we can make it work, baby. it’ll be enough.”

He kisses away the tears that are escaping down her cheeks but she still shakes her head, “No, John. I want all of you.”

Yet Bucky is aware of their size difference and even though he wants more than anything to give her whatever she wants, he’d never hurt her. So he refuses her this for now, refuses to move his hips, nuzzling his nose along her tear stained cheeks and pecking at her still parted, mewling lips -as if opening up there will help her down there, it makes him smile. Like showing a baby to how open their mouth for a bite. He runs his obviously along her dampened hairline, platinum strands fanned out in a golden halo. She leans her face into his touch, her belly heaving beneath his in a desperate struggle still, her lips pressing to his wrist.

“I missed you every fucking second,” he’s says into her temple, “every minute of every day was hell without you, Jeanie. And I fought it, I survived, for you - all of it so my dreams with you can come true. I love you. I love you so goddamn much. You’re it for me.”

All his sweet talking has her becoming pliant and relaxed under him until, suddenly, he’s plunged all the way in deep. Her eyes spring wide and her hand flies to her throat, sure she can feel the tip of him there. “oh - OH JO- it hurts, oh yes, oh god, john, john, oh-oh, goodness sweet man -YOU’VE BROKEN ME!”

Bucky’s tender heart lurches in worry at his reckless instinct to thrust, to go far, too far, all the way, as she pushes back against his shoulder in primal defense from the pain. But Julie refuses to unlock her legs or let go of the grip she has on his hair, shaking uncontrollably and stuttering over her screams, like his cock takes up too much space for her to get in a breath.

“Baby, babydoll shh, shh s’alright, it's alright.” He tries to soothe but he isn’t even sure she can hear or see him, her face turned into his wrist by her head, her grip on his neck turning his own into her shoulder.

“Don’t leave me,” she says instead, “don’t leave me, don’t move, don’t leave me.” she repeats as she clutches at him, pain and pleasure mixing like they never have before, he stays still as she shakes and comes apart for an estimated three minutes on his part. Pilot to the last, one eye on the gauge while the rest is pure gut instinct of performance. He feels it though, when suddenly her hips open and she’s releasing a large sigh like her body has finally accepted the intrusion. He lifts his head and her eyes are clear and bright, looking up at him, “Don’t you dare slip out,” she warns with an irrepressible grin, “We’ve worked too hard to lose our progress.”

His Julie Jean is a trooper, a damn brave soldier if he’s ever seen one, eyes crinkling at the corners as he smiles at her, so in love he thinks it’s gonna burst out his chest. The things this woman wouldn’t do for him are nonexistent it appears.

Bucky guffaws, loud in his relief, “You’re so drippin’ wet, I’m liable to slide out with any movement.” he returns, not exactly joking

“Nuhuh, I’ll die.” she warns him again, “Don’t move.” and he kisses her, just to show her he’s teasing and because he can.

“This’ll do, Shorty.” he promises, and there’s no sliding out as he thrusts his hips deeper into her, humping Julie into the mattress to get his friction. “This’ll do for me.”

“Always?” she begs.

“Always.”

“Always.”

“Yeah.”

He humps her like she’s a part of the mattress, the motion nothing like the mechanical, horizontal slide of anatomies she’s used to. Instead she feels him buried somewhere further than her womb while each flix of his solid hips stretches down where she’s most feminine and torn apart to accommodate his manhood. She can feel his coarse pubic hairs against her clit, becoming sticky with the mix of them, her hole becoming fiery with excitement.

“You’re are a dream, John Egan, you are unreal.” she fears she's slurring, eyes rolling back and sensation becoming preeminent, “I’m so lucky. The luckiest woman alive, I'm sure. Oh, I’ve waited my whole life for you, John. You’re perfect. You love me perfectly.”

He keeps it up for a couple more minutes, grunting, muttering how good she is and how brave and that they’ve broken her in. But throughout Julie remains aware it isn’t enough for him, can’t be with such little friction, that he’s gonna need to actually move to get what he needs and be able to come, but he’s a sweet man and he can see she’s in pain and he wouldn’t ever hurt her. She knows that. Not even if she asked. She knows she has to take it into her own hands. She grasps his hip and slightly pushes him away. Then she pulls, the message clear: deeper. Go deeper.

“No,” Bucky is emphatic, “Not if it’s gonna hurt you.”

“It won’t!” It’s an asinine thing to promise with the way she can barely cope with his mild shifts inside her. But she knows she’s got to play this up if she wants to get her way. She pinches a nipple, watches as his eyes fall to it, and uses her free hand to guide his face there. If he’s focused on his precious knockers he won’t focus on her face and the winces she is sure she won’t be able to hide.

Like she assumed, Bucky takes her nipple in between his teeth, humming and creating a vibration she feels right to her core, “Oh John, you’re so wonderful to me.” she tells him and means it, trying to focus on the pleasure his sucking is bringing and not the pain as he slides out “We were made for each other. I'm sure of it. it has to work the way God intended.” and then he’s pushing back in and she’s gasping, loudly, pushing his face deeper into her breast so he stays lost in his pleasure.

“Yes, right there,” she moans, even as tears slip out the side of her eye, this part she is well practiced in, the repetition of a gasping: “more, more please … keep going please, ah, please more!”

The pain is stronger than the pleasure but she doesn’t want him to stop, she wants him to find his release, wants to keep feeling him spread out on top of her, sweat dripping on her, thighs burning from the width of his lower back. He's been so generous with her the entire night, she wants to feel his body shudder inside hers. But Bucky is no blind fool, he isn’t a stupid man, and she never thought him so, so when he pulls away from her breast with a knowing look, eyes accusatory as he takes in her tear stained cheeks, she knows she’s met her match, and failed him all at once.

His voice is terribly low, raspy in a way that shakes her somewhere molten in her belly when he speaks up, “This ain’t good for me if you aren’t creaming around me, Jean.” he tells her, fully sitting back on his haunches while reaching for a pillow and using one arm to lift her and stuff it underneath her. “You want all of me? That's fine but we’ll find our pleasure together.”

The pillow beneath her helps, the angle elevating slightly where it feels more pleasurable than it had before, he teases her hole before reentry. Slow, purposeful. The weight of his heavy cockhead against the easy glide her pussy allows him. She’s so wet that the sounds of him wiggling himself against her sweetness are similar to those of kids jumping in rain puddles. The grin on his face is akin to it as well. He continues at it until she thinks he will go mad, and when he does, every slide deeper skims along a million happy nerves and she forgets the painful bump when he knocks on some inner wall deep inside, as far as he can go, sounding her shallows. “Yeah?” he asks, taking in the way her brow smooths her belly softens from its braced rigidness.

Julie just about beams up at him, stretching beneath him like a well pleased cat, coloring over the notion he has more experience than her. “Oh!-my man works wonders - yes, yes, miracles. Lord Johnny- oh you’re an angel! -a gift! oh! yes right there! yes!”

She meets his thrusts with abandon that can only signify a genuine enjoyment and he feels that at last he’s free to grab at the headboard and pound into her because he knows she’s no longer faking it. Her legs kick up to rest against his chest, sparkly done toes barely reaching his shoulders and he takes it upon himself to take one into his mouth. Sucking on the fat little pad as her mouth goes slack and her eyes roll dangerously. He can see the ripple his cock makes under the pale skin of her naval, it drives him insane to see his intrusion from the outside. The way his rhythm makes her flesh jiggle obscenely and her ever adored breasts go round and round in a hypnotic swirl of feminine allure punctuated by pinpoint dots of pebbled cherry nipples. His orgasm feels like it’s building behind his eyes and at the base of his neck as much as it is at his spine and in his sack.

He powers though the first time she clenches around his cock in a death grip while shrieking his name to the heavens, he does so by biting his cheek so hard he tastes blood. It’s worth it for her shocked terror as he doesn’t stop, pummeling and bully another peak out of her poor pussy by sheer size and will power, finesse gone as his malnourished hulk of a body remembers some nostalgic pride in this pursuit, in making a girl lose her goddamn mind from being throughly and properly fucked.

By the third he loses his own faculties, she is clawing at his back and digging her nails into his ass and her breasts are knocking his chin and he’s got to glaze those things one day but for now he simply feels too much. Feels the tacky softness in the cradle of her thighs, the knuckle of her toe on his tongue, the feel of her tit in his palm, the way her vagina hasn’t stopped milking him for minutes in her state of overstimulated state. It’s all these things but more so the promise of collapsing on a soft pair of homemade jugs that undoes him; he shudders and lurches, driving in harder than he should but he can’t help it, he jams himself deep and squeezes every muscle that can possibly force out another drop of ejaculate- and lets go. Spilling into the condom and feeling the warmth of her plush walls milking him dry.

When he collapses, there is a lush pair beneath his sweaty cheek and the beat of a faithful heart beneath, jackrabbiting in time with his own as she catches her breath from the best damn love making she’s ever known. It’s Julie, and he clings to her after, feeling himself shake apart in something close to weeping but without the tears.

Oddly, he somehow feels his body more in this moment of shaking lethargy than he did during the sex, each muscle tremoring and his heartbeat resounding places it shouldn’t and he knows for certain it wasn’t the drink, as his mind runs a rapid catalogue of his ailments and their possible causes -that is not impaired. Instead he is left with the crude likelihood of his body giving out, not enough food, not enough medicine, bones not put back right, emotions on fucking lockdown, last reserves of grit used up on that march. Now he can’t fuck his girl without shaking like he’s got some real special sorta weakness afterwards.

The only comfort is: he can feel Julie’s thigh still jumping beneath his hip, a mimicry of his shaken self.

Julie Jean can feel the shift. When the ear ringing daydream slowly ebbs into sticky bodies and labored breaths, boneless, sated flesh melded to each other, and for once there is no disgust or yearning for more to be found in her heart. This too, is perfect, just like the feeling of him striking deep inside and fast as violence at the end, just like the feel of his ass clenching beneath her ankle, just like the tickle of his mustache to her cheek as he buzzed her ear with the most gratifying groan she had ever heard. She finds herself wanting this part to last, too. And it does, he goes from boneless climax to shuddering atop her and she finds herself rubbing his broad, slick back on instinct. Like she would any creature needing her comforting, his jacket a soggy softness behind her and his weight a blanket atop. She pets him like she would Spangles, and the thought makes her smile.

“Shh sweet man, you’re alright. We’re going to patch you up just fine.” she whispers, and feels something suspiciously like tears or drool hit her collarbone, “A regimen of eggs and bacon and copious love making. We’ll have to crack a window, this room traps the smell like a cork. That’s the prescription. Doctors orders, don’t even try to wheedle your way out of it.” When she can feel his laugh vibrate her belly where his chest is pressed, she knows she’s winning against whatever dark place he’d gone. It makes her feel triumphant and giddy and- needed, really.

Which is a thrill: being needed after sex. Usually it’s a bundling up and out the door after her hole served its use. Usually it’s a tossed wet cloth if she’s lucky or a reminder that she’s welcome to the guest bed. But her hole has been utilized, has been ripped open and milked every drop her man had to offer her even if spilled into a condom and still he lays over her, face in her tits, and a hold that says he wishes they never have to let go.

Julie tightens her legs around Bucky, freeing her toe from his hold and wiggling it in amusement over his having put it in his mouth. It didn't seem strange at the time, but then again, none of Bucky’s expressions of desire ever did. And that’s why she knew they belonged together. “You’re going to be cooperative, yes?” she probes, a little breathless from his weight and her exertions but managing to poke at his ticklish side.

John for his part does his best to pull his act together. He never meant to lay the full weight of himself over Julie’s petite frame but it’s as if his bones have given in on him this time with his elbows refusing to bend, hips refusing to thrust, nerves that won’t stop their fucking shaking.

He shakes the way he did in the stalag, on that sorry excuse of a mattress with a thin blanket and an even thinner pillow. That one night it was negative degrees; the chattering of all their teeth keeping them up for the whole night until finally Bucky had had enough, ordering the men to heap together in groups of three or even four to increase body temperature. Gale and Bucky forcing a stubborn John Brady in between them because he was a hell of a pilot and a tough son of a bitch but a scrawny one at that.

Bucky thinks of letters he wrote to the luscious gal beneath him, with her glorious blondeness and her lush lips and perky tits now soft beneath his cheek, allowing him the privacy as he sniffles in between them. Thrown back to conversations with Buck, when Bucky had been aware he would never be who he was again and who he was now would be no use to any woman, let alone one as marvelous as Julie Jean who continued to believe the Major John Egan who wrote her existed somewhere in the skeletal remains of what the war had spit back.

“Useless,” is what he mutters into her heated skin instead, his eyes tracing the splotches on her chest. A year ago he would have made sure she was quivering beneath him, legs spasming around his hips and although Julie’s hole was pulsing around him still in aftershocks and every once in a while he felt her clit pulse against his pelvis, he was the one being wrapped around and held to her chest like a mother holding a newborn to her tit. “W‘kind of man am I if I can’t even be well enough to give my woman a good pounding?” He continues on, losing himself in the comparison he continues to draw in between the promises he made in the letters and his actions of the night.

Julie tightens her hold on him, pressing his face further into her bosom in the process and causing one of his nostrils to slide deeper, cutting off air supply but feeling confounded that Bucky thought she hadn’t been absolutely loved on, devoured, and destroyed in the best way under his touch tonight.

“ … will be of no fucking use to you, Jean. No fucking better than that coward of a fiancee you just cut off - ” she means to interject somewhere, to stop this farce and show him how wrong he is about himself but Julie’s been in the pit of these demons before. Knows the beliefs flow deeper than the words of anyone else and she feels her eyes burn as she withholds her tears, remembering how many nights she spent uttering words on how she would be no good, never enough for the likes of a man as brilliant and wonderful as John Egan. Only for him to be here now, his breath hot against her skin, tears drying on her breasts, and his shakes jolting her thinking those same thoughts about himself.

She’s never been more certain he is the one. Has never craved so deeply in her heart than in this moment to have Bucky’s love forever, to be held by him until God deems it to be time for her last breath.

She’s never prayed that she could outlive him before but she does now because she is certain she will never be able to live without him.

John Clarence Egan is her mind, her breath, her soul: for now and all eternity she will be of his belonging.

“To have these gems here, fuck Julie - these,” he runs his tongue alongside the swell of her breast, grunting as he dives his face between them. “ ‘kind of man am I, huh, to not be sliding in between this sweet pair right now? What’d I write to them huh? What did I promise them I’d do?” His hips thrust now but it’s weak and Julie thinks it involuntary but still it works in drawing a whimper from her.

“They’re yours sweet man,” she releases a watery laugh, a tear running down her cheek in protest at being withheld for so long. “Your knockers now, baby. They ain’t going anywhere.”

“They’re so fucking good to me. Been so good for me,” his desire is earnest now, awakening, she feels the swelling and hardening of him inside her. It’s still no easy feat for her body to adjust to the size of him hard again, her thighs spasming around him once more.

“Johnnnn,” she whines, can’t help herself, her body trying to mold itself to adjust to his large self inside her. “Yes, oh - fuck, yes.”

“I can’t, I can’t,” he warns, humping down into the mattress again but with no real tenacity, his body protesting against any and all of it even as his cock pulses and weeps for friction inside its safe, warm new home. “We’ve got tomorrow. We’ve got forever,” he complains, hips twitching even as his mind protests. He’s got to get up and get rid of the condom, he’s got to clean them up and make sure Julie Jean still has mobility but his mind and body protest action even as his penis betrays them and begs for more.

John curses, a fist coming down on the mattress.

“It’s okay, darling,” she consoles, a hand petting his hair back, “it’s - oh - we can rest now, baby.”

“Fuck,” he roars, feeling no more found than he was lost minutes ago. Desire heats his underbelly, hungry, but there’s no will he can find to chase it.

Julie’s at war herself, attempting to calm him even as she flutters and tightens around him. Her body not used to the size or girth but recognizing the love entering inside.

“We got so much time now, Bucky. So much to do.” Her mind races with ideas on how to relax him as he shakes on top of her, hands clenching her waist as his body refuses his need to take, take, take her. “Tell me about your mama, baby, and your sisters. Tell me what it’s going to be like when I meet them.”

“Don’t. Don’t talk about them right now,” he warns, a sweaty, spasming mess on top of this beautiful, voluptuous girl who’s naked beneath him. With the jiggliest, softest pair he’s ever encountered pillowed beneath his head, the tightest hole fluttering around him and the prettiest whimpers filling his ears even as she tries to calm him. “Fuck, they’re gonna love you Julie Jean. Gonna see the way I worship you and thank you for bringing me home to them.”

She moans loudly, unable to help herself with the love and desire he showers her with. At a war between his body and mind because he can’t fathom not taking her, fresh out a prison camp and winning a war.

“I’m going to take you home to them, John. Going to go with you so we can make a home,” she bites her lip as he gives an unexpected hump, knowing her desire only fuels him, “but first, we have much work to do, my darling man. I’m gonna fill your stomach with only the best East Anglia has to offer, even if that means I got to ship it in,” she remembers their letters now, how he’d bow to her wishes and preen at her demands, always in charge but never any less eager to please her. Always willing to give her anything she asked for because that was the man he was and continued to be. “Going to force you to sleep for a month straight and only wake you for meal times and your favorite pastime.“

He moans again, mind straight to the gutter.

“Baseball. Isn’t that right?” She playfully hums, scratching her nails against his clammy skin.

Bucky folds like a kid, lurching and showing his face; which was smiling if beet red, much to her relief. “Course, ma’am.” he tries on a show of respect while still balls deep inside her with an erect penis and a gumming condom he really oughta dispose of. “Orders are orders.”

That made Julie Jean tingle in happiness. “And we both agreed that I’m the boss here. So my orders go.” She phased it like a question and Bucky bit his lip in renewed arousal, concession apparent in his general expression but rebellion brewing in his sharp eyes.

“Sure. You’re the boss then, shorty.” he agreed, dragging a finger along her neck, gentle and contemplative before his eyes flicked up, mirthful and wicked, “But I’m your daddy.”

Julie let out a gasping cry, shock and reprimand on her face and he didn’t need telling why, he felt when her little pussy spasmed around him, as shocking to her as it was to him. “Bucky!” she squealed, winded, “You can’t just- just go saying stuff like that I-i oh, dash it, now I’m horny again. Move please, baby move in me, this is your fault!”

Bucky cackled at her petulant little wiggle beneath him. “Baby I only got the one.” he referred to the condom, propping up to pull out and do some tidying of the scene.

“And yet you got me flustered. Now you won’t fix me. How’s that for taking orders?”

Bucky froze and stared down at her arch expression, her face more Lana at the moment than Julie with her playacting displeasure, but damn if it didn’t get him going all the same. “I- sure doll. Whatever you say doll.” he muttered, “What about-“

“We appreciate your conscientiousness, Major Egan,” she raised one hand to her face and began inspecting her nails, a tactic of dismissiveness he knew, and yet it had his cock swelling back up like it was half its length and belonging to a far healthier man, “and we recommend you continue it. We only need a little maintenance, please be so good as to dispose of that horrid little rubber and wipe yourself and come back. I said I only needed a little movement,” her grin broke wider, “and when that’s satisfactorily met, you can put it between these to finish-“ Julie pressed her milk white tits together and every connection in John’s brain fried and fizzled for a brief moment before reconnecting and he bounced out of the bed to set in action her game plan.

He yanked the condom off, more forcefully than his smarts might suggest -what with the way it snapped on his sensitive and hardening shaft and flung spunk along the wall above the waste basket. The stalag-man in him forgot to care for poor Donald and his housekeeper and ran instead to the small sink in the corner of the room by the closeted privy and grabbed at the hand towel and wet it before scrubbing himself vigorously like his spattered seed was a rash of fire ants. The rough treatment made him hiss but did nothing to dissuade his filling member and when he turned and stalked back towards the bed, it was with a face so darkened and determined that Julie felt a quake of desirable fear shoot through her.

It was magnified when he stopped at the end of the bed and instead of climbing atop her again, reached out and grabbed at her ankle instead, yanking her down the expanse of sheets until her legs dangled off the mattress and their hips collided. He was so tall above her like this, even with their most private places aligned and she shuddered as she realized she’d actually asked for him to take her again after such rough usage and such a desperate first attempt to even get him inside. They’d have to keep at it, keep her open and work to make her used to him. She supposed frequency was key and spread her legs again in defiance of the scared little voice that told her riding telephone poles wasn’t a pastime to over indulge in on the first night.

Damn fear. She spread her legs. Damn fear and damn all thought entirely, when he fucked back into her in practiced, measured pumps that sank him deeper each time and rubbed at the need that had built so suddenly at his words earlier. “You sounded- you sounded like your letters.” she tried to gasp out an explanation as Bucky put his standing leverage into his thrusts and smiled down at her from his height, hair hanging over his forehead, lookin’ like a dreamy novel cover.

“Ya sounded like yours.” he rasped back, the proof of it drilling her into the bed right now as he plunged again and again into her clenching belly and tugged apart her abused little hole.

When she came it was sudden and hard, and lest he torture he through it to another like last time, and lest he forget himself and let himself go inside her, she shoved him back with a foot to his sternum when the satisfaction had been fully wrung out, and this time he staggered back agreeably.

“Now for your reward.” she recalled as Bucky stood there, breathing raggedly himself and with his massive cock drooping in a bobbing wave, untended and without a haven, too heavy to curve up to his belly when standing. God it was impressive looking there in its lonesome glory, as impressive as the owner of the tool looked lost and dazed like a boy who needed to be led back home.

At the sight of her tits pressed together he seemed to recall himself. His face lit up and his eyes regained their sharp intelligence and he took a step forward before pausing and wheeling back to the sink. “Washcloth.” he explained, he hadn’t any intention or anticipation of being able to get back up to clean them both after this round. His body felt like it was operating on borrowed time as is. “Scootch up for daddy.” he tugged gently at her wrist until she was back in her proper spot in the center of the bed. “That’s it, that’s my good lil girl.” he murmured before carefully climbing over her, like a beast from the fairytale where to cherish his beauty in this way, all lumbering tenderness and brute strength restrained for her sake.

John’s thick thighs bracketed either side of her tiny rib cage, the ghost of his weight felt along her sternum as he kept himself off her, the burning heat emitting from the most sheltered place of his body.

“That’s it dearest, push ‘em together, nice and tight f’me. Goddamn, that’s it, baby, jus’like that. Uhuh.”

She had wanted to give him this since he wanted it so dearly, and asked for it so worshipfully, and came up with an entire darling acronym for the act, but she hadn’t expected to enjoy it so much. The crowded, loomed over, helpless little joy of Bucky Egan crouched above her heart, gripping the throbbing base of his cock and poking his length through the tunnel of her breasts.

That she hadn’t anticipated. It made her moan as loudly as he did at the first give of her butter-soft flesh.

When he pushed out the other side of her little tunnel, his goey plum tip tapped her chin and she giggled in delight, feeling the cool wake of his sputter on her chin when he withdrew, then thrust back and there it was again- a tap to her chin. She was ready on the third thrust, when his leaking tip breached through the other side, she dipped her chin and stuck her tongue out, getting a good lick at the salty precum that gushed from his deep slit.

She had been ready but Bucky had not, he had stared at this dream scene when he first slid between them, but then the sight combined with the sensation grew too strong and he threw his head back, eyes screwed shut and lungs close to collapsing, so that he no warning when he felt her clever tongue dip into his sensitive slit and lap at his oozing tip.

It undid him, quicker than even he expected and with a hoarse cry that mingled praise and apology for what was about to occur, Bucky painted her pretty face in ropes of sticky hot ejacuculate, the last reserve of his body, looking like ticker tape streamers of celebration, landing in shiny streaks across her nose and eyes, scrunched in celebratory delight. The puff of pleased shock her shiny lips let out was the final pop of merrymaking, chased by the visual of her eyes tight shut to keep out his salty spend but her wild tongue chased the dripping mess running down on her cheeks, eager for a final taste of him. He wanted to laugh at the thought that she was chasing the last bitter, year old stores of a ill fed prisoner, that he’d have better and sweeter and more fitting cream to give in the morning. But for now…

Welcome Fucking Back, Bucky Egan.

He collapsed to the side and smacked at the bedside table in a blind grab until he found the washcloth, rolling over on his belly and hissing as he did so at the scratch of sheets against his raw cock. “C’mere, lemme clean up my baby doll. Hell Julie, that was-“ he didn’t have words for it, she deserved them but he didn’t, not really. “-have to write you about it sometime.” he realized and she giggled, eyes opening as he wiped away his sticky glaze, and when he did, they met his: blue and dazzling and trusting that he would.

“I’m going to hold you to that, Johnny Egan.” she murmured. “But you won’t need postage. You’ll be right in the other room.”

Bucky squeezed her cheeks together emphatically in one hand, pressing his lips to hers as their worn out bodies fitted together like puzzle pieces in the churned sheets, “No postage,” he agreed soberly, his nose still brushing hers, “cause I’ll write it on your thighs.”

[danandfuckingjonlmao]

me, waking up drenched in sweat, violently sitting up in bed and letting out a gasp: IT'S A METAPHOR FOR BEING A YOUTUBER

idk if someone already thought of this and this is also probably the most obvious reading of it but here i go anyway: i was just walking a dog and listening to potato prints and when phil said "you've come a long way daniel" i was like "huh phil is in the teaching position in all of these just like he was for youtube" like phil just gives editing pro tips the whole time and it all parallels their story as a youtube duo.

and obviously the entertainment industry is rife (not proper usage of that word but it Feels Right so fuck you) with satanic symbolism/imagery/iconography/motifs. being an entertainer is "selling your soul to the devil" etc etc and we know dan hates being a youtuber and does feel that way. you gotta upload twice a day every day in order to be the number one art channel on youtube dot com after all. you gotta make those crafts for satan. bo burnham has a ton of lyrics/songs that i'm thinking about rn like "you used to do comedy when you felt like being funny but now you're contractually obligated so dance you fucking monkeeeey DANCE MONKEY DAAAANCE" and in "repeat stuff" which is a commentary of how mainstream pop love songs and pop stars have to be really superficial and unoriginal because they need to appeal to everyone and at one point he sucks satan off lmao and is like AHFRUEHQFWIIO I AM A VESSEL IDUSHISKA 666 KAJSDFI ILLUMINATI UIGDFSAHIO FREEMASONS. highly recommend looking at the lyrics to that song if you're into that kind of thing.

also the (very rightful) dig at phannies for the "don't cry craft" spamming like "we love all of our crafty audience that spread the message of this channel on all the other videos on the internet! everywhere! everybody enjoyed that!" is how creators who want to keep status have to address their audiences no matter how annoying or harmful they're being. thinking of the ajr line "stay out of politics, stay on the fence / stay out of all of it to keep half your fans" because like,, yeah if a creator ever expresses an opinion that declares their feelings on one side of an issue then they will lose support (smosh is a perfect example of a bunch of people never ever ever expressing an opinion if it could be considered controversial among their audience, like refusing to address the genocide happening right now and just taking their zionist member who the fans are mad at out of some videos to be like "shhhhh nothing to see here we don't know what you're talking about"), ESPECIALLY if that issue is the behaviour of their audience.

obviously the first dapc video was not made with any intended meaning, they just woke up and were like "let's be weird and freak people out" and they did that, and then adding in symbolism and making it all mean something developed with time. but i'm gonna pretend that it has always had consistent meaning because i'm neurodivergent and love overanalysing silly little media.

i am so jhfbvdahfkiufadkhlj right now so if anyone has more theories or things to add lmk and thank you for coming to my ted talk

[mortuarywriting]

Falling into Place

Ao3 Link - [First] - [Next Chapter ->]

All things considered this isn't what you were expecting to wake up to when you went to bed. One minute you're on your phone, trying to pass out, and the next? You're here. You've had some interesting greetings in your life, but dropping about six feet and having twelve guns leveled at your face? That takes the cake

Warnings:

Reader Insert, Plus-Size Reader, The Author Regrets Everything, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Isekai, canon divergence Look we're gonna dig into the implications of omegasverse changing bits and pieces of history as well as addressing whatever the FUCK is happening as CoD's history. Idk man Godzilla is canon and nobody bats an eye at that fact and you think I'm gonna be normal about that? No

You could be having a worse day, you think, as you stare at the interrogation table you're cuffed to. They could've shot you the second you fell the six feet from the sky into a random army base. That's a very real thing that could've happened.

But no, you just had a dozen guns pointed at you in one moment and a slew of questions you didn't have satisfying answers for.

No, you had no idea how you got there. You'd been in bed tooling around on your phone and then you were falling.

They asked who you worked for, and were not impressed by your mundane answer. You didn't work for some pmc or intelligence organization. You asked them to their faces if they thought you could pass a PT test if you tried. Not that they answered or appreciated your point, mind.

It was only after you gave them whatever identifying information you had that things got… spicy.

"I would love to tell you what this designation of yours is if you tell me what you mean. Is it like a classification of civilian versus enlisted? Is it physical? Is it your horoscope? I don't know what I don't know," you explain again for the Nth time. You didn't wanna play twenty questions but here you fuckin were, captive audience and all.

The man asking you questions had lost his charming good cop look. He was getting more and more annoyed on this one, "your designation," a demand, not a question and sure as shit not an answer.

"Again, would love to tell you! I don't know what you mean! Feels like some kinda Star Wars thing," you grumble the last bit to yourself but the man cocks his head.

His eyes narrow, "what are… Star Wars, you said?"

You blink owlishly, "beg pardon?"

"Star War. Clarify."

It's your turn for your brow to furrow, and furrow it does, "Star Wars? As in the multi-billion dollar franchise created by George Lucas and eventually sold to Disney," your tone is questioning, just shy of asking if the guy lived under a rock but his expression didn't let up and the last thing you needed was bad cop, so you continued, "the story of what happened a long time ago in a galaxy far, far away? The political space series of movies versus Star Trek's more scientific and discovery based longstanding TV show? Nine major movies and the Clone Wars before Disney sunk their talons in. Like yeah we got more shows and movies that expanded the universe but they also cut out decades of book contributions in their acquisition and that kinda sucked. But yeah, that Star Wars?"

"Nine movies," his tone is disbelieving, and now it's your turn for your eyebrows to raise, "can you name them?"

You nod, "well yeah. Do you want them in episode order or release?"

His brows furrow, "did they not release in order?"

"In a sense? Three trilogies, 4-5-6 back in the late 70s early 80s, then 1-2-3 in the late 90s early 00s, and 7-8-9 through the teens. So order, yes, just… not a cohesive one."

"Release, then," he leaned back and crossed his arms, a position you'd love to mimic if you weren't cuffed to the table for… an indeterminate period of time now, actually.

"A New Hope, The Empire Strikes Back, and Return of the Jedi-"

"Woah now, empire? What's a jeddy?"

You give him a blank look, trying very hard to mask your disbelief as you look between him and the mirror behind him. You look at your reflection, take a deep breath, and- "sir would it be easier for you to maybe check the internet?"

He seemed to bristle, nose flaring and looking at you expectantly.

You just… kinda sat there. You tapped your fingers together on the desk and kept the eye contact he was intent on. It took a good minute and him getting progressively pissier before you simply ask, "would you like the other movies now?"

You didn't expect an explosion of movement from the man. He downright snarled and slammed his hands on the table as he burst to his feet, the sudden change sending his chair screeching back before falling with a clatter. You leaned as far back as your cuffed hands would allow, eyes wide and a panic rising.

Both of you turned to look at the door when it slammed open with a barked, "Williams!" 

The man who opened it reared back a bit, "Christ, layin' it on a bit thick," he groused, his tone sounding more like someone chastising a teenager for using too much Axe body spray. He smoothed his posture back into something casual as he fanned the air dismissively with a hand, "cap wants you to take a walk."

Your interrogator- Williams, apparently- stares at the man in the door, the two locking eyes before the one in the door straightens from his purposely relaxed posture. You watch the both of them, noting the shoulders tensing as the two just. Staring at each other? Eventually the guy who'd been grilling you looked away and stormed out, the man in the doorway letting him slip out easily enough before turning a charming look back to you.

He took a minute to fan the door a few times to get newer, blissfully cool air in before he entered the room, "sorry 'bout him. He really did a number in here," the new guy tsked before closing the door quietly behind himself.

Your brow furrowed even as you slowly relaxed a bit, had this Williams guy like… farted or something? A nice quirk of ventilation keeping you from smelling something abhorrent? Either way you simply shrug as he walks in and tips the chair back up, sitting and giving another reassuring smile, "how you doing, love?"

You opened and closed your mouth a few times before simply settling on, "I'm a bit… whelmed? This has been," you give as vague a rolling gesture as you can without your cuffs rattling too badly, "a lot? And I have no idea what just set him off either?"

It's the man before you's turn to quirk a brow, "no idea?"

"If I knew the answers to his questions I'd've given 'em by now. I don't, though, and then he just started staring? And hell I just thought it was some kinda macho 'I can stare the truth out of you,'" you pitched your voice lower and pushed your shoulders out for a second to mimic the douchebag behavior before settling, "so I kept eye contact because I'm so out of my depth I have no reason to lie at all and now…" you trail off, gesturing around the room, "all that."

The man nods slowly, "alright love, could you tell me about the last five years?"

Your brows furrow, "oh fuck, 2019 was five years ago wasn't it. God, time is an illusion. Anyway, you want what I was doing leading up to and through the pandemic?"

You think he might've startled for a second but he simply moved to scratch his chin, "mhmm. Just your thoughts on the last five years is all."

So… you ramble. Because he was nice and not prodding or asking weird questions. You talk to him about your job before the pandemic, how people thought covid was just a flu until the death tolls kept climbing, how tons of governments dropped the ball on a local or country-wide level and how that kicked back onto your life, and then the absolute crapshoot of the last election cycle, the shitty 'oh no this is the new normal everything is fine' behavior that has lead to surges and cycles of a fucking plague and so on. He simply nodded, gave some sympathetic hums and winces appropriately at your experiences.

"And did you go back and watch Star Wars through that? Or other things Disney owned?"

And, well, that was a weird way to phrase it but you shrugged, "the mouse is just shy of a monopoly and not one that anybody can take that down so… yeah, I guess? They kept putting shows out and expanding their Star Wars universe so that's been kinda neat to watch but not just them, no. Couple other games and stuff like that to keep me busy, too," you kinda handwave and shut up because panic rambling to MILITARY PERSONNEL is probably not your smartest move in hindsight. Especially when you don't know his name. A+, self.

You tap your fingers against the metal table as he looks at you, "and you said covid has a long term effect of ruining people's senses of smell and taste?"

You nod slowly, "yeah, dude? It's one of the biggest warning signs for most people? Like if everything starts tasting like it was made by a middle class white mom who keeps shoving random letters in her kids names you should swab? That kinda shit?"

What rock has this guy been living under? You were pretty sure the military were supposed to be way more familiar with this shit all things considered, but you've been wrong before.

It was his turn to give you a bit of a wide eyed look before he poorly covers a laugh, "alright, that's fair. I need to go talk with my captain," he hooks a thumb over his shoulder to the window, which didn't surprise you that there had been people back there. He offers a reassuring smile as he stands, humming idly as he pushes the chair back in. He pauses mid-step, "you mentioned that there were cards…?"

You find yourself nodding slowly, "yeah it was important and you couldn't fly or go to certain places if you didn't have one for a while. Should still have a picture of mine buried on my phone," you really didn't wanna get another first-round of covid shots, you REALLY didn't wanna repeat the 24 hours of suck for no reason.

"Cool, thanks," he flashes another charming grin before he slides out of the room.

You lean back in your chair, what an odd guy. Nice though.

-------

"Right," Gaz says as he opens the door to Price and Ghost, "either our mystery guest is off her nut or she's legitimately from somewhere and somewhen else."

Ghost and Price look at each other before turning back to Gaz, this… complicated matters.

Well, it's not like you hadn't given them information to identify yourself. They'd dig up who you were one way or another.

-------

You stare blankly as the nice man from before gives you a sympathetic look, "what do you mean I'm dead?"

Behind him is a guy you're not sure if he's just fuckoff huge or if he's just moderately huge and it's forced perspective.

You don't think it's forced perspective.

You are absolutely trying not to panic spiral.

You are absolutely doing a horrible job at that.

"Well," he opens the file before him and there's a news article, proudly proclaiming "Locals Die in Horrible Freak Accident" like that's not some form of you that was looking like some smear on the pavement, "there's this. Fingerprints match up. Can check for dental if you're really curious."

"Were there even any teeth left after that," you mumble as you take and read the offered article. Seven people were involved, the pictures used are mostly flattering. Hell, you almost don't mind what pic they used for an alternate you but… "that's certainly not the pic I would've wanted. Maybe this me had different tastes?"

You take the time to actually read through the article. It's not helping because for as much as you stare at the page you're not absorbing any information. Some form of detachment, if this was really you? You'd died. A different you but a you nonetheless. You died and you're reading how it happened. There was a lot to unpack in all this and you just needed to put the suitcase away for now. You'd much rather throw it away at this rate.

You were rapidly coming to the understanding that you and Toto were not in Kansas anymore, and there wasn't a convenient yellow brick road to get yourself back home. No easy way to get the hell out of Dodge either. Was it Dodge or the O.K. Corral that was in Kansas? No the O.K. Corral wasn't in Kansas- Dodge was though, that's right. 

This analogy was getting away from you and some part of you figured this was just your brain trying to protect yourself but… wait, wasn't this a metaphor? There wasn't 'like' or 'as' or goddammit not again.

You recognize some names here and there but largely everyone involved were perfect strangers. The article doesn't cover if it would've been slow or quick. You hope for the smear that it was quick. Smears like that don't happen slowly, right? Well, not unless it's like a dramatic slide down a window, but not usually across pavement like that.

Still not sure how you feel about all of it. Bit morbid being confronted with your mortality like that.

Certainly answered a lot of questions about your theoretical passing you never thought about. Like if the obituary for you in what you know to be your own home and world is just as… really kinda just mediocre as this. Have you really done nothing of note for an obituary? Damn.

You kept pouring over the article, each pass bringing new words into focus that help connect the picture a little bit, but… Something repeated in the article made you pause, "two alphas, four betas, and an omega?" 

There was no decent way to ask about that. Any questions invoked from here would border into dangerous territory better kept between yourself and a private browser history. You knew what you were about but there was no fucking way.

"Their designations," the nice man whose name you still hadn't caught explains, "mostly explaining their secondary gender."

You look at him owlishly. You pray to whatever God might be listening that you wake up shortly. Or that the earth below your feet opens up and swallows you. Whichever comes first, the mortification will snipe you otherwise.

"Please tell me this is an elaborate joke at my expense," you are very quiet as you are trying to get really cool with a lot of things really quickly.

"Negative," the big fucker in the back practically growled and you knew that voice would do things to you if you weren't half stepped out of your own body. 

You missed whatever his followup was but your brow furrowed when you checked the date on the article, "I've been dead for months? That…" you let the paper fall from your hands. Everything about this is wild at best and very overwhelming at worst. 

A lot of this qualified as worst.

You look up at the two, missing the odd look they shot at each other as you try to pull yourself back together, "so now what? You've got a not-a-smear of me that fell from the sky onto a secure military base, and where I'm from we didn't have," you paused to gesture between the paper and the two soldiers, "dynamics was it? That was just a fanfiction special."

"Fanfiction."

The way he said it was so carefully neutral you paused, "oh my god without Star Trek to popularize fanfiction and the fan community, how has fandom evolved? Is fanfiction a thing- well, yes, it does fanfics have been a thing since Dante Alighieri wrote the Divine Comedy and even before- well, the question is more if it's still popularized? Are there still the wattpad fics of- I am getting so off track. What exactly is the next step?"

You look from the nice man to the big fucker and back, neither saying anything but looking at you with careful blankness.

You felt like you were being weighed and measured in their eyes.

You hoped to anyone listening that you weren't found wanting at least. Not when you're in the shit situation it looks like you ever so increasingly fell into.

"Considering I'm. Not smear. And very much not from here? Are blanks a thing? Or is that what a beta is I'm," you trail off, brow furrowing, "fuzzy. On the whole thing. The flavor of understanding, dynamics, and population skew tended to be dependant on the author's level of horny."

The did get a bit of a snort from the pretty one before you, the one in the back tilting his head just so as the pretty one spurred you on, "okay please don't take this the wrong way, you have given me nothing to go on but A/B/O and-" a finger was raised in question to that, you quickly explaining, "the fanfic shorthand for the universe without being a mouthful. Anyway- I've seen population numbers being roughly the same across the board, I've seen alphas and omegas at roughly 1% of the population of society on either end, I've seen alphas at about 5% and omegas at 1%- those ones are usually the most horny I swear.

"And it's all over the board, no consistency- sometimes it's betas are infertile, sometimes they're the straightman to the comedy that's an alpha and omega trying to woo each other without being too horny to function. Sometimes it's a sliding scale where being beta just means you're more the more middle-ground regulated hormonally with alphas and omegas being the opposing ends of a spectrum. Can you please say something and give me a fucking break because my panic rambles are probably like. Some kinda prejudiced. I'm still not over the 'I'm supposed to be a smear on the ground we don't even have dental images of to confirm who it is anymore' nugget you dropped on me. I think I'm doing well for this"

You would rather not tell them that as soon as you're out of this box of a room you were gonna be curled up in a ball and unabashedly weeping. That was none of their business.

The pretty one gave you what you're sure was supposed to be a reassuring smile but the quiet stretched just a bit too long. You looked from one to the other before leaning forward, "is this supposed to be soothing in some way? Because it's just a bit of an extended awkward silence and that's uh-"

It was the big one in the back's turn to give an amused snort, the pretty one looking bashful, "right, sorry, we uh-"

You jerk a bit, "wait, was that supposed to be some scent thing," you really didn't wanna say pheromones and potentially dig yourself into a deeper, more awkward hole based on Horny Pseudoscience.

Pretty rubbed the back of his neck, "something like that. You really couldn't smell anything?"

You know the exact Face you're making. It's very much your 'I have told you this and I'm getting tired of having to repeat it' face. You can tell he clocks it but for the record, because to your mortification this has to be recorded, you simply give a succinct, "no, I haven't smelled anything. Not from you, not from him," you jerk your head towards the big fucker, "and not from douchebag from be- Williams! His name was Williams. Nothing. Really had no clue why you were fanning the door when you came in."

You sigh, rubbing the heels of your palms into your eyes, "okay. Assuming I'm not about to be put into past tense a second time. Do we have any idea what popped me out here?"

The sentences are stilted, you know you're getting more rattled the longer you're here but sue you alright it's been the worst six hours of your life here.

They just continue to look at you, pretty keeping a polite almost customer service look as big one just stares unceasingly.

"Right. Okay. Am I going to be reintegrated to society or is this," you gesture around the little room as much as you can, "looking like my home for the foreseeable future."

No change in what you can see of either's expression, and you just sag. Deep breath in, deep breath out, "cool. Alright. Well. I know nothing of how biology is altered here, I'm not sure how that has impacted changes throughout history, and frankly I don't know what your pop culture has done. I'm assuming math and written languages are largely the same but in all fairness I don't know what I don't know."

You just stare quietly at the table for a bit longer before looking back at the two of them, "is there anything else you need because I can feel the freakout creeping up and while I know there's no real privacy, uh…"

The pretty one looked back to the big one, at some point you're sure you'll get some sort of names but for now? Now you watch the big one nod, the pretty one give you a polite smile and some vaguely polite bullshit your brain is swiftly going too far out to hear.

You only hope that whoever is behind the mirror is polite enough to look away as you put your head down on the table and give yourself the opportunity to, just this once, cry. As a treat.

[Next Chapter -> ]

[femme333]

ᡣ𐭩 : zimmer 483 smut - female first person (sounds like a diary entry) , oral stuff , dirty talk , soft , nipple play . also this is kinda long. this is my first smut fic EVER so this is probs rlly weird

i went to a tokio hotel concert in 2008. once the concert ended, i waited outside of the venue, hoping to meet the band members. i was lucky enough to meet tom. i walked up to him as he was walking back to the tour bus and asked for his autograph. “tom, can you sign my cd?” i asked him nicely. “yeah, of course i can,” he replied. words couldn’t explain how much i wanted to scream, but i kept it in figuring he would think i was weird. i decided to pull out my camera because who would believe me if i just got a signature, i thought. “can we please take a picture?” i asked him again. “sure,” he said as i pressed my cheek against his. i noticed the heat in his cheeks; he must be so hot! i snapped the picture and hugged him, when i heard him whisper something to me. “you know, you’re really hot. you should come to my hotel room.” seriously? this felt like something in a dream. “yeah, sure, just write down your number and message me the info.” i replied. a couple minutes after he left the venue, he finally messaged me. i turned on my phone and looked at the message. room 483? i felt like the girl in reden! i drove to the hotels address and walked up the flight of stairs to his hotel room. it was long. i could seriously tell this hotel was luxury. i knocked on his door, and after a couple minutes of waiting; he finally answered. “hey there schatz, come on in,” he said softly. i walked into the room and looked around. there was a faint smell of aerosol deodorant along with the heavy smell of his cologne. “this looks nice,” i said softly. “does it now?” he replied as he hugged me from behind. i swear i could feel the butterflies in my stomach. tom kaulitz, the boy that almost every girl had a crush on, invited me to his hotel room? no way. i rubbed my eyes and looked around again. there he was. “what do you feel like doing? we can take things slow if that’s what you need.” he said sweetly. “can i kiss you?” i asked him softly. this was the moment of truth. he nodded and smiled softly before leaning down to kiss me passionately. i felt so dizzy; no way this was happening to me! i kissed him back just as passionately and wrapped my arms around his neck. he was the best kisser in the world, but his lip piercing was so cold. i moaned softly into the kiss on accident, and he did too. “close your eyes, schatz.” he commanded softly. i did as i was told, and i closed my eyes. i heard him opening the nightstand, rummaging through it, and then finally closing it. “open now,” he said. i looked down at his hands in front of me and saw him holding a condom. even better? it was extra large! i blushed softly and looked up at him. i slowly took off my tank top, revealing my black lace bra and my skull belly button piercing. i looked up at him and smiled as he winked at me. i could feel the blush creeping up on my cheeks. i stood up and hastily unbuttoned my jean shorts, which revealed my smooth, blank panties with dark red lace trim. i bent over the bed, my ass now fully visible to tom. “read it,” i said softly, pointing to the words on the back of my panties.

“ ‘i’m a slut’ “ he read out loud. “good choice of panties… i mean you’re gonna be my slut tonight, right?” he said cheekily. how could someone be so funny yet so seductive? suddenly, i felt his soft fingertips brush my hair away from my back before gently unclasping my bra. no fucking way; i thought. hastily but gently, tom flipped me over onto my back and pulled my bra straps off my shoulders, revealing my perky tits to him. he smiled softly at me before reaching down and squeezing them softly. before i knew it, he was crawling on top of me and sucking my nipples. “mmph..” i moaned softly. “you like that?” he said as he pulled his lips away from my nipple, only to take off his belt and pull it down along with his baggy jeans, revealing his black boxers. this man is seriously so hot, i thought. he pulled off his baggy shirt, which revealed his toned, but slender abs. i immediately sat up and pulled his boxers down. his cock was the biggest i’ve ever seen. i slowly began to suck his cock, also while maintaining eye contact with him. “nngh, y-yes schatz… oh yeah.” he moaned out. it was loud. after a few minutes of sucking him off slowly but surely, he came. in my mouth. i softly gagged but quickly regained my composure and looked up at him. i swallowed it down eagerly as he smiled down at me. “you did really great, you know that? now, time for the main event.” he said huskily. he bent me over the bed, with my ass in the air. i took a deep breath, preparing for what was to come. i heard him rip open the condom wrapper before gasping softly as he slid it onto his rock hard cock. after a moment, he plunged his cock deep inside of me which made me moan loudly. “mmph, that feels so good tom!” i moaned softly. “good girl…” he groaned out with a soft gasp of pleasure. he continued to thrust into me, which made loud squelching wet sounds. i loudly moaned his name over and over again as he increased his pace. i could feel my orgasm coming on. “oh yeah, you’re gonna let me fuck you like a good girl, right?” he moaned out. “yesss…” i groaned out. tom continued moaning and groaning as he thrusted faster into my tight pussy. suddenly, he reached down and began to roughly rub my clit, adding on to the stimulation. i moaned his name loudly as i squirted all over his cock. he groaned and his eyes widened in surprise. that was enough for him, i guess. he came with a loud, husky groan as he came inside of the condom. i collapsed onto my side and looked up at him, only to see him smiling down at me and softly kissing my ass cheek. he pulled off the condom from his cock and threw it in the trash can. “schatz, do you want me to eat your pussy?” he asked softly. holy shit, he just asked if he could eat my pussy. “yes…” i moaned out quietly. he lowered his head down to my dripping wet pussy and gently pushed my thighs apart. i moaned as i felt his soft, wet, warm lips touch my pussy for the first time. he began sucking on my clit while fingering me at the same time. “yeahh…” i moaned out. his lip piercing felt so cold and good on my clit. after a few minutes of him eating and fingering my cunt, i squirted all over his face and also inside his mouth. he let out a soft, muffled moan against my pussy before pulling away and laying down beside me. “sleep with me tonight, okay?” he asked. “sure.” i whispered into his neck. he tied his dreadlocks up into a loose bun at the top of his head before spooning me from behind and turning the lamp off. “you did so good tonight, you know that?” he whispered sweetly into my ear. i nodded softly as he kissed the top of my head, before we both drifted off to sleep. this was the best hookup ever.

[justmeinadaze]

Children of the Night Part 4 (Steddie X You)

Warnings: Vamp Daddy Eddie/Human Sub Steve/ Human Sub Fem Reader, SMUT (I was in a particular mood), Steve breaks a rule and gets punished, spanking, edging, overstimulation, A bit of FLUFF (there is love here especially between Eddie and Steve being that their relationship is more established), ANGST, blood drinking (brief), Steve and reader can feel Eddie's emotions, another vivid dream of Eddie's memories continued from the last chapter, Steve has a bit of a panic attack but Eddie and Y/N got him.

Word Count: 3962

You awoke the next afternoon on your side being a little spoon to the vampire behind you as his steady breath continued to warm your shoulder. The sound of another slightly heavier exhale caused you to open your eyes and land on the beautiful boy in front of you. 

Steve’s eyes were squeezed shut as he tried to control himself from making too much noise, biting his bottom lip as an added measure of protection. The blanket below his waist was moving up and down with not-so-subtle schlick sounds that made it hard to misinterpret what he was doing. 

“Steve.”

“Fuck.”, he grunts at the sound of your voice, turning so his eyes can meet your own. “I’m sorry. I tried to be quiet. I’m…I’m not even really supposed to be… doing this but you two look so beautiful…together…”

Your hand reaches out to caress his face and he sighs in pleasure at the gesture.  

“Do you want some help?”

“Y-You don’t have to…honey. You’re probably still…still sore from last night.”, he pants.

“I can use my mouth.”

“Fuck. I…I should ask Daddy…if it’s…okay.”

“We can be quiet.”, you whisper. “Quieter.”

Once he finally nods, you carefully crawl out of Eddie’s embrace and pull down the covers that were blocking Steve’s actions. Your mouth salivated at the sight as his hand slowed its pace over his red, leaking cock that was fully standing at attention. 

As your tongue darted out to lick his mushroom tip, his eyes rolled back and fluttered closed again. Fully enveloping his length, his jaw went slack as a silent moan pushed through. 

“Fuck, baby, that feels so good.”, Steve murmured as he tried to control his hips from moving too much and shaking the bed. As your head bobbed, your nails ran along his thighs and up his tummy making him groan.

The growl that rumbled low beside you startled you both.

“Y/N, sweetheart, I know you’re new here but Steven knows to ask my permission first when it comes to his pleasure.” The man’s cock twitched in your hand at Eddie’s tone. He liked it. A ring covered palm reached out to grab his boyfriend’s throat. “What? You thought because she’s here my rules changed?”

“N-No. No, Daddy. Please…I’m sorry. I needed to cum.”

“Oh? You need it? So fucking greedy.” Without tearing his eyes from Steve, he addressed you. “Keep doing what you were doing, baby, but don’t hold back this time. You’re both already in trouble. May as well go all in now.”

Taking him into your mouth again, you fully descend his length till your drool was spilling out of your lips and down his shaft. 

“Yes.”

“Feel good?”, Eddie asks condescendingly to Steve’s whimpers. “What feels better? Her mouth or you disobeying me?”

“I’m sorry, Daddy.”

“Yeah, you will be. Didn’t I make you cum last night?”

“Yes, Daddy. I-I just—”

“I don’t want to hear it. I don’t care. What’s our rule?” Steve gets distracted when your hand replaced your lips around him and you stroke him as you suck on his balls. “Focus, little boy! What’s our rule?!”

“Y-You handle my pleasure in here. I-I-I can’t even…pleasure myself. Fuck, Y/N, that’s it!” His palm gripped Eddie’s neck as he brought his lips to his. “Her mouth feels amazing. Shit. I’m gonna cum.”

The vampire placed his forehead on his boyfriends as Steve panted against his face. His body shuddered as his face scrunched and his spend hit the back of your throat. After swallowing everything he gave you, you pulled away, allowing his now softening cock to fall against him. 

“Thank you, Daddy. I love you, baby.”

“I love you to, you idiot.”, Eddie teased. “Your punishment will come in a moment. For you young lady, this is your warning.”

“I’m sorry, Daddy.”

“Y/N, maybe, now would be the time to talk about our relationship. You’ve been calling me Daddy and Steve said he was fine with it but I need to fully hear you agree to it. I have rules for him that would go for you as well.”

“What are the rules?”

“Well, the first one you know now. I control your pleasure; you can’t even touch yourself or have him touch you unless I allow it.”

“Can I kiss him and hold him?”

Steve grins softly at your question, loving that that is something you continuously want to do with him telling him that for you this wasn’t purely sexual. 

“Yeah, of course, sweetheart.”, Eddie smiles as reaches out to touch your cheek. “So adorable. Do you have any don’ts we should avoid?”

“My exes were always…too rough. They always went one step to far every time. They would choke me too hard or, obviously, hit my too hard. Don’t be too rough.”

“That’s a little vague, honey.” Their eyes scan you over as you meekly apologize. “These past few nights…how was that?”, Steve asked. 

“I liked it. I, um, I kind of wish I had all of Eddie last night. Not that I mind the vampire, just…I want to know you.”

“That’s fair. Whenever you’re ready, we can—”

“I’m ready!”, you shout a bit to enthusiastically causing both men to laugh.

“Didn’t I fuck you both? How can you both still be so needy?”, the vampire teases. 

“You’re not sore?”

“I am little but not enough to need a break or anything.”

Eddie squints playfully in your direction before bringing his wrist to his mouth and flinching as he bites down drawing blood.

“Munson, what are you doing?”

“Helping. I figure if my blood can heal her maybe it will help with the pain between her legs.”

“She said she’s fine through.”

“Steven! Calm down, okay? She’s a big girl.” After offering you his arm, you crawl forward and sit on your knees as your lips connect with his flesh. “Fuck me, why does that feel so good?”

The way he cut himself was small enough to allow for trickles to fall on your tongue but to you it wasn’t enough and you desperately wanted more as you tried to suck his wound harder for sustenance.

“O-Okay, baby, that’s enough.” Ignoring him, his eyes rolled as a low rumble left his chest causing Steve to sit up. Forcefully grabbing your hair, you panted as he pulled you back and tilted your head towards his face. “What part of ‘I control your pleasure’ do you not understand, little girl? If I say that’s enough, it’s enough. Am I being clear?”

“Y-Yes.”

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, Daddy. I’m sorry.”

Shoving you away, he glances towards Steve who’s watching you intently. 

“Y/N, honey, if at any point you feel uncomfortable I want you to say the word ‘Red’ ok? If for some reason he doesn’t hear it, I will.”

“Because I’ve never heard it in the past?”, Eddie pouts. 

“Lots of trial and error when you’re dating a vampire.”, the other boy smiles, seeing the question in your eyes when you looked at him. “He’s come a long way though. Eddie and Daddy are diligent… the vampire on the other hand…”

The long-haired man’s jaw tightens as he looks away guiltily. 

“Ok…say ‘red’ if I feel uncomfortable.”, you repeat. 

Steve’s eyes scan you over with careful curiosity. “Does it really taste that good? His blood I mean. I’ve never…”

“Would you like to?”, Eddie asks after you nod your head.

As his boyfriend blinks nervously, the vampire bites himself again and offers his arm out for him to try.

“Wow. You really do heal quickly.”

“Yeah. The smaller the wound, the faster it heals.” His chocolate eyes never leave Steve as he speaks, watching him as he stares at the blood that begins to fall down his forearm. “Baby, you don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

Steve exhales heavily as he leans forward and runs his tongue along his skin, collecting the sweet syrup before attaching his mouth to the bite. Eddie’s eyes close as he grunts, trying to control the vampire within. 

“Ok.” His long brown mane whips across his face as he tilts his head towards your voice. “Ok I accept your rules and I want to be in this relationship with you two. I trust you.”

“Steve…Steve stop.”, Eddie grumbled. Just as he was about to tug him back like he had with you, his eyes opened, following your movements as you crawled towards the other man, and gently began kissing his neck. 

“Steve, Daddy wants you to stop.”, you whispered as your fingers firmly pinched his jaw. As he let Eddie go, his hair fell into his face as he panted almost like he had just come back from a run. Making you straddle his waist, his arms circled tightly around you as his large palm pushed at the back of your head, bringing your lips to his. 

His energy was like a man possessed as he tried to hold you tighter to him, grinding his hips against yours. 

“Let her go, Steve. Don’t forget, you’re in trouble.”

Loudly groaning, his head fell against your chest as you tenderly ran your fingers through his hair. 

“Please. Please, Daddy. I want her.”, he pleaded in a tone you had never heard from him before. Even Eddie’s head tilted at the sound as he tried to remain in control. “I can feel everything. It’s been so long since I felt so… alive.” The man breathily laughed as he shifted his gaze towards him. “I can feel how much you want to fuck her. Oh my god.”

Licking your lips, you clung to him tighter as you felt those feelings heighten inside of you as Eddie got more turned on. 

“I can feel how much you want to fucking ruin me for disobeying you. Do it, Daddy. Please, baby.”

The wind blew as you were both abruptly pulled apart and positioned in different places; you on your back with your legs open and Steve on all fours with Eddie behind him. A couple of pillows were placed behind you so you could lay back and have a good view of the men in front of you.

“Here are the rules of your punishment, greedy boy. I’m going to spank you while you eat this pretty girl’s pussy. If you cum before I get to 10, I start over. Understood?”

“Yes, Daddy.”

“You, baby girl, just lay there and watch how a punishment can be delivered. Once I’m done with him… you’re mine.” Your body shuddered at his sexy smirk as his hand came down hard on his boyfriend’s ass. “Count.”

“One.”

Taking hold of your thighs, Steve’s tongue licked a stripe through your folds eliciting a small whimper from you. As his hand came down again, the other boy counted the number and wrapped his mouth around your clit, sucking the bud before coming off it with a loud smacking noise and repeating the process. The vibrations from his groan sent a shock wave through you as Eddie reached between the boy’s legs to casually stroke his stiffening cock.

“That’s it, Stevie. Get her nice and wet for me.” Licking his palm, he rubbed Steve’s balls as his free hand pushed a finger into his hole. “Tell Daddy how that feels.”

“Fuck.”, you mewled as he spit into your cunt, sliding in two of his long, thick fingers.

“It feels so good, Daddy. Fuck, I can feel you everywhere.”

After spanking him again, your eyes rolled back as Steve’s tongue flicked your bundle of nerves faster as he pumped his digits.

“You both look so sexy like this.” Steve felt his pending orgasm approaching as Eddie felt his cock in his grasp twitch. His palm came down and the boy whined as his boyfriend released him from his hold. “Don’t cum, little boy. We’re only at 4 right now. You should make Y/N cum though. She looks like she’s on the edge.”

Doing what he was told, he pressed his tongue against you, thrusting his fingers till he felt you tremble and your pussy quiver around him as you came while Eddie spanked him again. Starting his rhythm once more, he built Steve up till he was just about to explode before stopping completely till he calmed down. 

It took the human boy a while to catch on but after the fifth spank, he didn’t do it again until after you came. By number eight, he was doing everything he could to get you there faster unsure of how much more he could take. 

“Two more, sweetheart. You can do it. Remember, this is punishment. It’s not supposed to be easy.”

“D-D-Daddy…”, Steve sobbed. “I want to cum. Please…it hurts.”

“What color are we at, babe?”

“Green.”, he whined.

“Good. Good boy. What about you, princess?” Eddie couldn’t help but chuckle as you flashed him a thumbs up sign. “Good girl. My good little beauties. Keep going, Steve.”

Shoving his face between your puffy lips, his fingers dug into your thighs as he devoured you desperately. A burn you had felt before coursed through your veins and you opened your eyes just in time to see Eddie guide his cock into Steve’s entrance. 

“Oh fuck.”, Steve grunted, his tongue lapping faster inside of you. 

“St-Ste-Steve, slow down.”, you whimpered as you softly pet his head. 

“FUCK! Nine!”, the boy screamed as Eddie’s palm came down hard. Tears streaked your face as his head shook between your legs, his tongue flattening and pressing hard against your clit as his hands held you in place. 

An overwhelming feeling of euphoria crashed over as you came and while you were still lost in heaven, the sound of a smack reverberated through the room as well as Steve’s garbled voice as he counted out his final number. His head hung as Eddie thrust into him at a faster pace, building his boyfriend back up. Limply, you slid your body underneath him and placed his head on your shoulder. 

“You can cum now, baby. You did good. I want you to cum on me, Steve.”

Lifting his head, his lips locked with yours, both of you moaning breathily into each other’s mouths as you felt Eddie’s arousal heighten. Pounding roughly into him, the boy underneath him grunt as his jaw went slack and he placed his forehead on yours. Reaching between your bodies, he pumped his cock aggressively till rope after rope of his seed landed on your skin. 

“Ah, shit…”, Steve groaned, wincing as he continued to milk his overstimulated length till he was empty. 

“That’s it, Steve. You did so good. I love you so much.”, you cooed as you ran your nails along his chest and back.

Eddie’s lips softly trailed up his back till they landed on his boyfriends with an encouraging smile. 

“She’s right. You took your punishment like a good boy. Why don’t you lay back and rest while I take care of baby girl here.”

Steve lazily nodded as he collapsed beside you and you moved one of the pillows to place under his head. The vampire smirked and winked at you as he slowly crawled up the length of your body, kissing parts of you along the way. Hovering over Steve’s release, his eyes met yours as his tongue darted out to clean up the mess. 

Your stomach moved underneath him as you pleasantly sighed, petting his head as you watched him below you. 

“This is going to sound so weird but I like feeling you breathe.” When you smile down at him with half lidded eyes, his own grin grows. “I think it’s something I don’t take for granted anymore since I actually stopped breathing for a time. When Steve would sleep, I always kept my hand on his chest as I would watch it rise and fall. I don’t know why but it just made him more handsome to me.”

As his kisses continued to move their path up your sweaty skin, he paused again to lick the valley between your breasts relishing in the sound of your little moans as he wrapped his mouth around one of your nipples. A heavy breath escaped Steve’s lips as he turned his head towards you both, keeping his eyes closed as his hand rubbed along his chest. 

“Are you alright? We can stop if you want to.”, Eddie whispered when he finally reached the shell of your ear. “You have to use your words, sweetheart.”, he lightly scolds when you nod. 

“I’m ok, Daddy. I don’t know if Steve can take anymore though.”, you murmur, throat sore from moaning and screaming. 

Chuckling, he extended his hand out to the man and caressed his cheek as his thumb moved along his bottom lip.

“Babe, can you still feel me?”

“Uh huh.”

This time you both giggle at his exhausted answer causing Steve to smile as well when he feels how warm it makes Eddie feel hearing the sound of your genuine laugh.

“Do you need us to stop?”

“Nu uh. Jus go slow.”

The long-haired boy’s beautiful eyes focus on you again as he grips your thighs and wraps your legs around his waist.

“That’s the plan.”

While delicately kissing your lips, Eddie reaches between you and guides himself into your core. Both men at the same time release a long moan as the vampire gradually thrusts his hips, pumping his cock into you inch by inch. 

“Fuck, sweetheart. Steve really got you ready for me, didn’t he?” As his forehead fell against yours, you clung to his shoulders as your jaw fell and you quietly panted against his mouth. “God, you are so tight.”

His last word came out deep and heavy causing your eyes to open so you could look at his face. Eddie’s mouth open in a silent O and his nose was scrunched in focus as he continued to deliver long, smooth strokes that had your toes curling. 

You and Steve could both feel it within him, the aggressive energy that just wanted to fuck you into the mattress but even he didn’t want that right now. He wanted to take his time and feel every part of you. More than anything, he wanted to maintain control. It really bothered him that Steve mentioned the vampire within him struggled to be reined in sometimes. 

What bothered him most was that he knew it was true. He didn’t want to go overboard and hurt either one of you. He would never mean to if it happened but sometimes the vampire demanded attention. 

“Eddie. Eddie, baby, look at me.”, you whispered softly as you tilted your nose to graze his. When he was finally able to do what you asked, his black irises reflected back. He expected you to be frightened or even disappointed but when you gently smiled back at him, a wave of comfort flowed through him. “It’s ok. Come back to me, Daddy. Come back to us.”

Blinking, his beautiful eyes returned to their normal color as he leaned down to kiss your lips. Both of Eddie’s palms glided along your arms as you lifted them over your head and he took hold of your wrists as his head fell beside yours.

Rolling his hips slowly but firmly, his cock roughly hit that sensitive spot inside of you that had you mewling. 

“Yes. Just like that.”

A second set of lips should have startled you but it didn’t; you welcomed the feeling. Steve sucked and nibbled at your neck as his hand ran along his boyfriend’s back. 

“You feel so good, pretty girl. Your pussy was made us. Fuck, you take me so well. Cum, baby. Cum again on Daddy’s cock so I can fill you up.”

The bed lightly rustled underneath you as he thrust into you faster. The coil that had begun to wind snapped and you cried against his cheek as he continued to murmur praises in your ear.

“I know. I know, baby girl. Daddy’s got you. That’s it, sweetheart. Good girl.”

With a few more rough pumps, his rhythm faltered and you felt him paint your walls with his release. They both continued to kiss your neck, whispering how much they cared about you and how beautiful you were as your eyes closed and you fell asleep. 

############

“Eddie?”

The vampire huffs as he tosses the boy he had been feeding on to the side and grabbed the other to do the same. Something touched his shoulder and he angrily turned, grabbing their throat as he held them back. Steve gasped as he came face to face with the man he loved. 

Silently, Eddie let him go and his thumb grazed along the man’s busted lip. He growled loudly as his palm caressed his cheek just beneath his blackening eye.

“H-How? I…we…we thought you were gone…”

“I was.”

At the sound of his voice, Steve collapsed into his arms and sobbed. He thought he would never hear his boyfriend’s voice again. 

“I tried to bring you back home. Henderson and I tried but we couldn’t. I hated myself for leaving you there.”

Tilting his head back, he cupped the metalhead’s face and pressed his lips to his own. Eddie’s hands slowly lifted to grab his face as well, the fog of his hunger dissipating, and his love for Steve pushing through. 

“I missed you so much, honey. You have no idea how lonely its been without you.” Wiping his eyes, he grabbed the man’s hand and started to tug him towards where his BMW was parked. “We need to get out of here. They still blame you for the murders and I’m not going to let someone take you away from me again.”

“Steve?”

“Yeah, baby?”

“I’m still hungry.”

Your eyes snapped open at the same time as Steve’s except he wakes up panting aggressively. 

“So…Eddie’s greatest hits? How was volume 3?”, Eddie sassed from his spot at the end of the bed where he had been waiting for you two to wake up. 

The other man promptly threw back the covers and chaotically moved around the room, sliding on boxers as he headed for the closet. The metalhead swished to his side and grabbed his wrist right as he was reaching for the suitcase they kept in the corner. 

“Steve, what’s going on?”

“I…we…I need to…pack…we need to leave…”

“Why?”

Moving around him, he threw the suitcase on the bed just as you hastily moved out of the way and grabbed one of his shirts off the floor to put on. 

“Steve, baby, slow down. Talk to me.”

“I can’t…we need to…I’m not…” His eyes searched around the room as if he couldn’t figure out where he was. “We…Eddie…”

“Is it because of your dream? What did you guys see? I felt the hunger again and your grief.”

“Steve realized you weren’t dead and said you needed to run.”, you answered for him causing Eddie to sigh as he tried to get his boyfriend to focus. 

“Sweetheart, look at me. We’re safe, ok? We’re not in Hawkins, you got me out and away. Come back to me, babe.” Steve began to panic, trying to yank his arms out of Eddie’s firm grip. “Everything’s ok, Harrington!” “It’s not okay! I’M NOT GOING TO LET ANYONE TAKE YOU AWAY FROM ME AGAIN!” 

The vampire caught him as his boyfriend’s knees buckled and he fell into his arms, slowly guiding him to the floor as he held him. 

“Everything’s ok, baby. I promise. You’re not alone anymore. I’m right here and so is Y/N.”

Sliding to your knees, you held his hand as he cried and Eddie rocked him against his chest. 

“I’m not going anywhere, Steve.”, you cooed as his fingers intertwined with yours. 

############

@chelebelletx @mandyjo8719 @nailbatanddungeon

[s-4pphics]

a lil meanmechanic!ellie and snobbybitch!reader hc list bc i’m clinically ill and my dark thoughts always win i was gonna write a lil fic but i got tired lol long day 

but hopefully thisll suffice for now😚idk how many imma make for them but the sex gon go crazy

wc;cw: 930 real short n sweet, slutty rude annoying rich!oc, i’m not kidding she’s a bad person, more monologues when will it end, oc is horny and a top letting y’all know rn, imma make this toxic🤭

your shiny brand new pink bentley just stopped working! what the fuck! 

after your dad gifted you your third new car, he instructed you to pull up to the swarovski store and pick up your sparkly limited edition lavender tinted lux chrono watch…. and this happens!

how the fuck were you going to get your new watch without transportation?!

you pulled your phone outta your chanel bag and googled car stopped help…

call a tow truck?!

don’t people just buy new cars when they stop working?! 

you dialed the first number suggested online 

“YELLO!” a friendly gruff voice came through the phone

“ummm, hi, my car stopped working— “

“okay, great! where’s your car located?”

“it’s uh.. near this mall complex.” 

“…okay. i mean…. i mean what’s the address?”

…. you don’t fucking know, you’re stranded!

after spending the next ten minutes asking strangers where the hell you were, you irritatingly whined the address to the man on the phone

why does nothing go your way?!

“okay great! we’ll be there in about an hour to get it!” 

an hour?!

but your swarovski watch—!

“hello?” 

“…yeah, whatever.” you said, hanging up.

this is fucking stupid!

after an hour of angrily pouting in your front seat, you saw a red truck pull up behind you in your rearview 

fucking finally!

you got out your new baby and saw—

oh, fuck

oh fuck!

WEEEEEEWOOOOOOWWEEEEEE—

your brain was sending off red alarms!

behind the man, there was a girl in overalls and a wife-beater, dirty sneakers(yuck!), and a bandana on to keep her sweaty hair outta her face

and your mood immediately got better! 

she’s sexy she’s sexy she’s sexy she’s sexy—

“um, hi! ‘m joel! you called for a tow?” 

oh yeah

“y-yup! that’s me! my cars over there,” you pointed in some random direction as you stared at the girl 

“….okay, uh, we’ll get that loaded and we’ll head over to the repair shop!”

“uh huh,” you were so dazed as you watched her biceps ripple as she got some paperwork outta the car 

“….right!” and he walked away

she’s coming over oh god she’s coming over!

“hey. this your car?”

“mhm!” 

you looked at her name tag 

ellie

hm…wanna fuck?—

“cool. just need you to sign here. we’ll do the diagnosis when we get to the shop—“

you didn’t even care about what the fuck she was saying

you wanna eat her out so bad and buy her whatever she wants 

you work so hard, baby, lemme take the stress away! 

“…are you gonna sign…or?”

you were too busy looking at her freckled face and scarred eyebrows to notice she was holding a clipboard out to you 

how about you sign these damn wedding papers! 

“sorry!”

“it’s cool…yeah, just sign at the bottom.” 

she pointed at the dotted line with her calloused finger and you almost sucked it into your mouth! 

turn her out turn her out!

she finally met your eyes 

you wanted her clit in your mouth—!

“um… you can hop in the truck and we’ll head over, it’s like.. 20 minutes—“

“great! let’s go!”

ride my face!

when you arrived at the dealership, you got…. uncomfortable. 

why was it so loud and… grungy looking?

the nice man that answered the phone—joel— guided you into the garage and ushered you to sit on…. dirty chairs and you wanted god to strike you down now

“we’re gonna take a look at your car! it’s in pretty good condition so it shouldn’t be long!” joel screamed at you from the garage exit

you sat and nodded and 

you looked so outta place in here 

pastel colors, shimmery necklace and bracelets, heels!

you stood out like a sore thumb!

rusted, eggshell walls, dimly lit, dusty floor

you wanna leave so bad what the fuck—

“hey!” 

sike you wanna stay ellie’s so fucking fine—

“your car battery’s connection is loose, we’re gonna replace it—“

“today's my birthday!”

you were biting your lip and looking at her with glossy lust filled eyes and you wanted your head between her thighs—

“….’scuse me?”

“it’s my birthday!”

“happy….. happy birthday?” 

“thank you!” now lemme give you head—

“uh huh….. so, the replacement battery is gonna be $60, i can ring you up right now so you're not waiting when your car’s charged.”

you followed her to the desk and….

her fucking back and her shoulders and her ass—

her back her back! you wanna scratch it and make her scream!—

“cash or card?”

“card. my black card!” she needa know you’ll buy her everything—

“….right. go ‘head and swipe.”

you wanna swipe your tongue on her pussy!

but you swiped your card 

and you also reached in your chanel and grabbed a couple hundreds out

“here you go! for your troubles!” 

“what.”

“you fixed my baby! you should get a huge tip! like a really…. really fat one!

lemme give you this tip!

she must’ve noticed your tone, nastily sweet like honey, because her eyes widened before she let out a shocked scoff

you have her you have her—

“are you kidding me right now?” 

what. 

“hm?”

“i’m askin’ if you’re fucking serious? we don’t accept charity.” and she got up

and she looked mad

what the hell?

“w-what! no, it’s not like that— “

“yeah, whatever, your car will be ready in 20. you can take your money and get the hell out.” 

and she stormed off with a slam of the back door. 

…..

oh my god?

…

you want her even more now! 

[runnning-outof-time]

Better Than the Dream | Tommy Shelby x Reader

Request: yes by anonymous

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x reader

Summary: After meeting in France, (Y/N) (Y/L/N) and Tommy Shelby were certain that they'd never see each other again...until one fateful moment has Tommy dreaming of her, or maybe he's not dreaming at all.

Warnings: language, mentions of drinking, talk of war, injuries, blood, hospitals

Word Count: 3388

A/N: I….I’m not sure how I feel about this one…as I was finishing it, I realized that it was like my other story ‘Called to Serve’, even though there are some differences to the story. I decided to set it after Tommy’s injury in season 2. Enjoy! :)

A/N 2: also I’m sorry this is being posted late…I didn’t have much time to get it edited today.

PLEASE LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU THINK!

Comment/Message me if you’d like to be tagged in future stories similar to this one!

"Would you stop fucking wincing? You're gonna get that bloody thing stuck into me hand as well," Tommy grumbled as he continued to hold down pressure on his fellow soldier's hand so that he wouldn't bleed out anymore than he had already.

"I'm trying me best, Sergeant Major...it really fucking stings though," Donny, the unfortunate one who'd gotten barbed wire stuck in his hand while their company was on overhaul, responded, the second half of his words coming out like a hiss as he winced yet again.

The curtain that was separating the bed and chair these two men were occupying moved before Tommy could say anything else. From behind it came a woman, dressed in a nurse's outfit with a clipboard in her hands. "Donald White?" she asked as she looked up from the papers, a polite smile on her face.

"That'd be me," Donny responded, raising his good hand as he spoke, "me Sergeant Major's come with me...he needed to make sure the bleeding was controlled," he added then, explaining the other man's presence.

"Hi," she sent a nod and a smile in his direction, almost immediately noticing the pair of ocean blue eyes he had. She had to look back at the patient so that she didn't get sucked into them. "What's happened here?" she asked then, focusing on the injury.

"We were doing overhaul and I got this section of barbed wire stuck in me hand. Most of it was able to be removed, but there's still some left inside," Donny explained. Tommy let go of the cloth he'd been applying pressure to so that Donny could unwrap it and show the nurse the extent of the injury.

The woman nodded almost immediately after seeing the damage that had been done. It was pretty obvious that there was at least one barb and some wire still stuck in his palm. "I'm going to get the doctor to come over...he'll be able to extract it," she explained the next steps of treatment as she went about writing some things down on the clipboard.

"You've an English accent," Donny pointed out, a bit of a smile forming on his face. Neither he, nor Tommy, were expecting to hear one in a French run hospital.

"I do," the nurse answered, laughing slightly.

"Where're ya from?" Donny asked.

"Solihull," she answered with a polite smile.

"Ahh, ok," Donny nodded.

"I'm going to get the doctor now so that he can have a look at your hand. My name's (Y/N), if you need anything," she addressed both of the soldiers then, sending them one last smile before she turned and exited the closed off area.

Donny turned to Tommy with a grin seconds after (Y/N) had exited the room they were in. "She's fuckin' gorgeous, ain't she?" he asked, nudging Tommy's arm with his good hand. Tommy finally brought his eyes away from the section of curtain (Y/N) had exited through to look at his comrade. He didn't have to say anything, because the second Donny saw his face, he was speaking again, "yeah, she is...got you too stunned to speak," he ragged on his superior like they were part of the same rank again, and all Tommy could do was roll his eyes.

He wasn't going to deny something that was as obvious as the light of day. Their company had been given a week-long reprieve, and even though they were only one day into it, Tommy knew that he wasn't going to see a woman that was more beautiful than her. So he kept his mouth shut and listened to Donny's goading, allowing him some time to soak it up while he was injured.

——

Tommy returned to the same wing that he'd left his fellow soldier in two days ago, keeping his eyes peeled for the woman who he couldn't seem to get out of his mind since she left the room the other day. He, thankfully, found her, standing at one of the nurse's stations at the end of the hall.

"(Y/N), isn't it?" he asked as he approached her, successfully getting her attention.

"It is," she answered as she turned to smile at him, "what is it, Sergeant Major? Are you looking for Donny?" she asked, her voice sounding like sweet music to his ears.

"I'm not...was looking for you actually," he answered her, not caring how straightforward he sounded.

(Y/N)'s eyes widened slightly out of surprise when she heard his statement. "Me?" she checked to make sure, tilting her head slightly to show her interest in the answer.

"Yeah," Tommy nodded, "I was wondering if you'd want to go out and get a drink after your shift's finished?" he boldly asked her. A more pronounced look of surprise formed on (Y/N)'s face. That immediately made Tommy backtrack, "that might have been a bit too forward of me. I haven't even asked if you have someone, or if you're busy."

"No, it's fine," (Y/N) brushed him off, "I quite like the confidence actually," she added then, flashing a smile and letting out a slight laugh.

"So you'd be willing to join me?" he asked her, allowing a smile to form on his face. Her laugh, much like her voice, was music to his ears.

(Y/N) nodded before giving a verbal answer, "yes. My shift finishes at the top of the hour."

"I'll meet you outside," Tommy suggested, making her nod again. He nodded back, showing that he was happy that the plans had been finalized, before he decided he'd let her get back to work. "Which room was Donny in actually?" he asked her after she'd taken a few steps away from him.

She turned around to smile at him. "So you weren't only here for me?" she decided to tease him slightly.

"No. Just figured I'd see him while I'm here," he grinned, loving her attitude and the fact that she was able to banter with him despite everything going on around them.

"He's four doors down," she told him, pointing past him down the hallway.

"Thank you," he said to her, nodding one last time before he turned and went to his comrade's room.

—

"Are you only here because of Donny?" (Y/N) asked once their laughter caused by a story Tommy had told trailed off. She had her head rested on her arm that was propped up on the bar, and she was giving Tommy her full attention.

"No," he shook his head, looking briefly down at his glass as he let out a soft scoff, "we were granted a week's leave and sent into town instead of home...someone thought it'd be less money to keep us close. Cheap bastards," he explained then, muttering the final two words under his breath.

"Donny's having a terrible week off then," she commented, remembering the man that had come into her ward the other day.

"He managed to do it while we were doing overhaul," he shared another detail about the accident with her.

"Tough luck," (Y/N) stated, shaking her head as a look of sympathy formed on her face.

"That's Donny for you," Tommy responded, chuckling slightly at the thought of his friend.

"So where do they have you staying?" she asked him then, moving their conversation to another topic.

"A boarding house in town," he answered before adding, "it's an absolute shit hole."

(Y/N) sent him a sympathetic smile before looking at the bar. "I don't have anyone," she said out of nowhere, her statement shifting the topic of conversation yet again.

"What?" Tommy asked her, his brows furrowed as he looked at her once more. He was confused by her sudden statement, unsure of how to link it to what they'd been talking about.

"You said before that you hadn't asked if I had someone...I don't," she filled him in, calling back to the statement that he'd made at the hospital. Tommy nodded his head in response to her statement and looked at his glass again. Silence fell between them for a moment before she spoke again: "do you have anyone?" she asked him, her question making his eyes snap to hers in seconds.

He looked her over, his brows slightly furrowed in surprise. He didn't expect her to ask such a question. But he wasn't going to waste time answering it. "No," he told her, shaking his head for extra measure.

(Y/N) felt her throat go dry at his answer. Am I really going to do this? she asked herself, taking a moment to think her choices over. "It might be a bit forward of me to ask this, but..." she trailed off, thinking over it again. Ah, why not? "Would you like to come home with me tonight?" she asked her question, rushing to get in: "it'd give you a chance to sleep in a proper bed," so that her intentions weren't that out there in the open.

Who could blame her though? Almost all of the men around her age living here had gone off to fight as well. There wasn't anyone left, and as much as she hated to admit it...she still had desires too. And the fact that Tommy was a good looking man greatly helped the cause.

Tommy looked her over again after hearing her proposition. A grin ghosted over his lips as he nodded his head slightly before answering, "I would like that."

His answer made the fire that (Y/N) had been feeling in her stomach since the moment he'd found her today begin to burn out of control. She couldn't help but exude a giggle, feeling giddy that her attempt had actually worked.

"Would you...want to get out of here now?" Tommy asked her then, trailing off in the middle of his sentence, but completing it before she could interject with anything.

"Yes," her answer was said in a breathless manner, but he heard her loud and clear, and the two left the bar after paying what they owed.

—

The door to the apartment was barely shut before Tommy had trapped (Y/N) in his arms. It was no secret what the two wanted from each other. The hand holding and shoulder brushing on the walk back made it rather clear. But still, his kiss took (Y/N)'s breath away, and the way that her hands were roaming his body made Tommy feel dizzy; something he hadn't felt with the women he'd been with before.

Every night for the rest of the week ended that way for Tommy and (Y/N). He would come to the hospital to check in on Donny and then would wait around for the rest of (Y/N)'s shift until she could leave. They'd go to the tavern for some drinks before winding up at her apartment again; where they'd end the night wrapped up in each others' arms.

It was a nice arrangement, one that lasted right up until Tommy came to the hospital at the end of the week. Donny was being released after his stay (his hand had thankfully healed without infection) and their unit was due to move onto another station. Which meant that it was time for Tommy and (Y/N) to say goodbye.

The two soldiers were walking down the hallway when (Y/N) exited one of the rooms she was cleaning. Her eyes immediately found Tommy, and they widened visibly. Without thinking, she backed up into the room in hopes that he wouldn't have seen her. But the knock on the door told her otherwise. Of course, she let him in.

"I wanted to say goodbye...before we shipped out to our next station," Tommy started, a solemn look on his face. Spending time with her this past week was the closest to normal he'd gotten in a long time.

"I appreciate that," (Y/N) answered, a sad smile forming on her face as her eyes met his for a moment. She didn't have it in her to hold his gaze for it might have made her start to cry.

"This past week was lovely, (Y/N)," he told her, taking her hands into his. "Thank you."

"I enjoyed it too," she answered, her heart squeezing as she admitted this. It was making the situation all the more real.

"C-can I kiss you one last time?" he asked her then, wanting to kick himself for how juvenile he sounded.

"Please," she breathed quicker than she would have liked, but the timing didn't phase Tommy. Upon hearing her answer, he dropped her hands and grabbed her cheeks, pulling her to him for one last head-spinning kiss. They broke away moments after, their foreheads finding each other. "Goodbye, Tommy," (Y/N) was the first to speak, and she hated that her voice cracked when she said these two words.

"Goodbye, (Y/N)," he repeated her farewell, lifting his head so that he could press his lips to her forehead before he dropped his hands from her completely.

They offered each other a sad smile before he exited the room, leaving her alone once again.

"So that's why you were coming to see me every bloody day, eh?" Donny questioned with a wide grin on his face once Tommy was back by his side.

"Fuck off, Donny," Tommy grumbled, not in the mood for the banter.

"Ahh, I get it. It's hard to leave," Donny commented, picking up the signals that Tommy was putting down.

The two walked out of the hospital then without saying another word to each other. Back inside, (Y/N) had to put a smile back onto her face before she re-entered the hallway, even though she was hurting because she knew she’d never see Tommy Shelby again.

——

—1921—

Tommy was slipping in and out of consciousness as he was carried by stretcher into the hospital. He couldn't remember much from the beating he’d gotten; just that Sabini had been standing over him, grinning, as one of his men aimed a revolver at him. The Italians then scattered after another weapon was fired, and Campbell became visible before he blacked out completely.

He knew he was at a hospital now. The blinding, overhead lights of the operating room easily gave it away. There were doctors working on him. He could just barely feel their prodding as they tried to figure out the extent of his injuries. Every inch of his body hurt. It hurt just to think, and he couldn’t bear it much longer. So he closed his eyes and allowed complete blackness to overtake him.

The room was much darker when Tommy woke again. He looked around as best as he could, trying to get familiar with his surroundings. Things were starting to come together when he felt something touch his cheek. He jerked his face away before quickly turning his head to see (Y/N) (Y/L/N) with a rag in her hands. She looked worried, but not put off by his sudden movement.

"You...you found me again?" Tommy stammered, his voice coming out in a hoarse whisper. It was slowly becoming apparent to him that he was in her apartment in France.

"You were attacked. They brought you here," she explained to him while dipping the rag into a bowl, "I need to get you cleaned up." He nodded and allowed her to continue on with what she was doing.

"Can I hold you again?" he asked after silence had been hanging between them for a few moments.

She looked around the room for a moment, which Tommy found odd. "You can," she then answered, and he wasted no time in opening his arms for her. She smiled before moving into them.

Tommy inhaled her scent as she settled in his arms. He found it odd that he couldn't really feel her, but he didn't think too much into it. He had her again. "Can I stay here with you forever?" he asked after they'd been still for a few minutes.

(Y/N) giggled as she heard his question. "I'm not sure if you'd be allowed to..." she trailed off, her smile a sight for his sore eyes.

"What do you mean?" he furrowed his brows, confused by her response.

"Wake up, Tommy," she said to him, her statement confusing him even more. In what way is that a response to my question? he wondered, but yet he couldn't ask her because she was speaking again, "Tommy..." this time her statement was accompanied with a slight shake.

Things got much brighter in the room then, so bright that it made Tommy squeeze his eyes shut. He couldn't handle the pain that it was causing in his head. When he opened his eyes again, everything was different. He was no longer in (Y/N)'s apartment, instead he was in what looked to be a rather large hospital room. He was laying down instead of sitting, and he didn't have his arms around the woman he couldn't seem to erase from his mind. But she was still in front of him.

"(Y/N)..." he said her name, his voice still groggy. He felt a heaviness in his hand and it made him glance down to find that he was holding hers. "Wha...how are you here?" he asked, his confusion apparent in his words.

"I'm your nurse, Tommy," she answered him, throwing the formalities out the window. She felt that they were past all of that.

"Are we still in France?" he asked her next. This hospital seemed to be in much better condition than the one he remembered meeting her in, but it was the only way he could make this make sense.

"No," she shook her head softly, a gentle smile on her face. This information made Tommy's brow furrowed in confusion. "I think you were having a dream, Tommy," (Y/N) spoke up when she noticed his expression.

"But you're still here..." he trailed off, voicing the part that he was most confused about. He was unsure in saying it though because he didn't want her to disappear when he admitted this observation.

"I moved from Solihull after a position opened up. I work here now," she explained to him, her answer making his confusion dissipate. He simply nodded at this new information, taking a moment to think about what it meant.

Silence fell between them after she finished speaking, and she took that as her go ahead to complete some of the tests that she was required to run.

Tommy was the one to speak after a few minutes had passed, "so you're in Birmingham for good now?" he questioned her, watching intently as she continued checking him.

"I am," she answered, not losing focus on what she was doing. Another period of silence began. (Y/N) waited until she was finished with her tasks before she looked at him again. "So the dream you had..." she started off, unsure of how she'd word the question that had been burning in her mind since he came to, "is me being here better, or worse?"

Tommy chuckled slightly at her question, "oh this is better, love. You being here now is way better than the dream," he told her, a grin tugging the corner of his lips upwards. (Y/N) smiled at his admission. "And this may be a bit straightforward, but I wanted to know if I could take you out for dinner?" he asked her then, not wanting to waste any more time in getting them reacquainted with each other, "if you don't have anyone, that is," he added to the end.

(Y/N) giggled slightly as his final statement made her think back to the first night they shared with each other. "I don't have anyone," she started, a smile forming on her face, "and I'd love to have dinner with you, but..." she trailed off then, biting on her bottom lip. Tommy sat up straighter as he waited intently for what she would say next. (Y/N) noticed this and couldn't help but smile as she delivered the rest of her statement, "we need to make sure you get healthy first."

Tagged: @mgcldydrms @the-anxious-youth @cloudofdisney @look-at-the-soul @elenavampire21 @mrsalwayswrite @julkaamazing @evita-shelby @lilyrachelcassidy @notyour-valentine @shelbydelrey @december16-1991 @onlydeadcells @peakyswritings @just-a-blackhole @watercolorskyy @strayrockette @peakyduchesss @alexxavicry @captivatedbycillianmurphy @yummycastiel @dark-academia-slut @tommystargirl @stevie75 @lyarr24 @signorellisantichrist @zablife @anotherblinder @midnightmagpiemama @cillmequick @rangerelik @dandelionprints @letal-y-poetica @raincoffeeandfandoms @itscheybaby @gypsy-girl-08 @lora21 @insanitybyanothername @depxiety @dragons-are-my-favorite @acewritesfics @forgottenpeakywriter @cilliansangel @cljordan-imperium @areyenotfondofmelobster @little-diable

MASTERLIST

[obetrolncocktails]

Make Me Your Master | Josh Kiszka X Reader

Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI semi-public sex, oral sex (f. Receiving), Male Sub, Fem. Dom, guided masturbation, dirty talk, graphic descriptions of sex, face sitting, pet names, orgasm denial. JOSH SUB. CHAIN HARNESS. Josh titty sucking :)

Word Count: 4.5K

A/N: Whew! It's been a while! This was super fun to write! I wanted this dynamic to seem real, and less like a typically overworked sub/dom relationship. I feel like Josh would express his submission most in his worship of his partner, doing whatever he needs to to please them.

Summary: Damn, damn damn his stylists to hell! Who in their right mind would dress Josh in a harness, let alone one made of chains. Hell, they barely dressed him at all. You couldn't take it. You had to do something about it. Now.

You felt like an exaggerated cartoon character staring at him like you were–like if you dared to look for much longer, everyone would see the drool slipping out from between your lips and down your chin. Coming back to your senses, you cleared your throat and straightened your stance, choosing to lean against the nearest wall as the band’s stylists worked on Josh’s newest outfit for their upcoming music video. They pulled on the already-taut chains that contoured his chest and back so beautifully, adjusting them even tighter so that they would sit securely against his skin. From where you stood, you could see the metal pushing into the softness of his chest, creating noticeable divots. The sight shot blood pumping through your lower body. As a result, heat exploded up your neck and into your cheeks. 

“Are you listening?” You heard someone say distantly, but the words didn’t instantly make sense to you. “Y/n. Babe. Hey.” It was Josh who spoke, stepping forward toward you. 

“Sorry, I just zoned out for a second,” you muttered while running your fingers through your hair, trying your best to casually play it off. 

“What do you think?” He asked, pulling his fingers up to his body, touching the chains and crystals that adorned his chest. ��This shit is so tight.” He looked up at you waiting for your opinion. Fuck-It’s not tight enough, you thought. But I know how to fix that. “Is it too much?” He asked, turning to look in the closest mirror. Josh, you’re barely dressed, it’s not enough…you wanted to laugh. Your words were unusually sparse. “Yeah I think it’s too much,” he said, but you snapped out of your stupor to grab him back by his wrist. 

“No!” You said way too loudly. The stylists glanced up at you as they packed away their items. “I mean, it looks great on you,” you admitted, pulling him against you by his bare waist. You bit at your lip, grinning at him, hoping to God he’d read the room properly. “Possibly too good,” you added in a sultry tone, your fingers dancing upon the chains and gems that dangled just above his nipples. You let your gaze drop to your fingers, then raised it very slowly again, catching Josh watching your lips, his face relaxing, but his eyebrows raising with interest. He cleared his throat, looking around the room at the stylists and then back at you. Luckily, Danny had walked in before anything else had to be said. 

“Josh,” Danielle said, raising her chin as she addressed him. “We’re gonna work on Danny for a few minutes. We’ll call you to make final adjustments and then you can go home,” she said. “But don’t run too far away.” You silently slid your hand off of his chest and down to his hand, squeezing it firmly while she spoke. He squeezed your hand back in response, turning his chin just slightly to acknowledge that he understood your silent demand.

“I won’t, I promise,” he said, stepping closer to exit, but you took initiative and practically yanked him out of the dressing room, smiling at the stylists while they grinned back at you, knowing exactly what they had done to you. 

“They know,” Josh said as you pulled him into the hallway. 

“I don’t care,” you snipped, reaching up to his chest to loop your fingers craftily through the chains of his harness, pulling him in for a needy and lustful kiss. He reciprocated instantly, his hands resting softly on your hips as you took charge of what you wanted. 

“Not in the hallway,” He said, evading your lips momentarily to look further down the hall, watching as crew members drifted between rooms. You let him lead you to a new room, his fingers pawing at every doorknob, cursing when they were locked. He pulled another and it opened, the first successful attempt for privacy. Your eyes flitted behind you for a final moment before slipping into the room. Four walls enclosed around you, tighter than you had expected. As you flipped on the light, you realized that it was one of the stylist’s offices. 

“Fuck–” you cursed, reading name plaque on the desk. Jennifer Margera. “Well, Mrs. Margera, I’m so sorry.” You mumbled, turning to lock the door before pushing a layer of papers off of the table top. You turned Josh’s body so that he could sit on the edge of the desk. 

“Are you though?” Josh asked, getting comfortable in his assigned spot, a swath of flowy, cream-colored silk cloaked his scantily-clad body. You pulled at the softness of the fabric, using the tips of your fingers to delicately remove it. 

“Not in the slightest,” You admitted while you worked. “Arms up,” You commanded, tapping his bicep. He appeased you, lifting his arms above his head. Your eyes fell to the masculine crop of hair that grew under his arms, arousal growing between your legs. Josh had always turned you on. He could do it without uttering a single word, and the worst part was that he knew it. He could be masculine and dominant at times, telling you exactly what he wanted and showing you how he would get it–but at other times, his uniquely-feminine qualities would appear in the most intimate moments, the gentle curves of his body pairing with the strength of his muscles. The most sexually satisfying moments for you were ones when he would helplessly bend to your will, so desperate for your attention and touch that he’d do whatever he had to do to get it. 

“You like what they put me in, don’t you Mama?” He asked, the corners of his lips curling slightly upward. Normally you’d roll your eyes at his use of the nickname, but in the moment, you took it as a signal of submission. 

“You look incredible,” you said, tossing the material to the floor. Stepping in between his legs, your fingertips grazed slowly down his bare midriff. You lowered your eyes to watch his skin erupt all over with goosebumps. “What is it, Josh?” You asked, adding a sensuous quality to your voice. You lowered yourself slowly into a squat, placing your hands on his thighs. “What’s on your mind, baby?” you asked him. 

“My cock,” he said frankly, grinning. He’s proud of himself. 

“Isn’t that unfortunate,” You said, standing up and backing away. “Guess you’ll have to fix that yourself.”

“Y/n come on,” he said, standing up off of the desk. You charged forward. 

“Don’t you dare.” You took him into your grasp by his chains once again, pulling your face just in front of his, your lips hovering just above his. “You want me to fix it? You do what I say, when I say it. Do you understand?” You asked, looking at him intently. “I said,” You repeated once more, reaching your free hand down to firmly grip his cock. “Do you understand me?” 

He nodded enthusiastically. “Yes.” He said, his voice strained. 

“Yes, what?” You asked, skillfully using your thumb to rub along what you could feel of his shaft. 

“Y-Yes ma’am,” he said finally. You released your grip once you were satisfied. 

“Sit back down, I want to look at you.” He moved wordlessly to his previous position, sitting on the edge of the desk. “Now…” You said, stepping forward, your eyes skimming over his body. “Let me help move things along.” You reached for the waistband of the flowy white pants they had dressed him in, peeling them from his body, grateful when they slipped off into a pile on the floor. “Now aren’t these pretty,” you said, pulling at his silken underwear. “Pretty little panties,” you added, gleefully watching crimson flush wash upon his neck and into his face. You let them roll down his thighs and off of his legs, dropping them to the floor. 

“Touch yourself for me, baby boy,” you told him. “You look so pretty.” 

“T- touch myself?” He asked, his eyebrows raising. You weren’t so sure why he was suddenly so tentative. Maybe because you were giving him the direct order. 

“Need something to look at, honey?” You asked, offering a syrupy-sweet tone. You pulled at the hem of your shirt, pulling it up over your head, and let it drop to the floor. “Tell me how you’d touch me, Josh. Tell me while you touch yourself.”

You watched as he took his semi-erect cock in his hand, beginning to stroke it slowly. His expression was beginning to relax as he watched you standing in front of him. He pressed his teeth down into his bottom lip for an extended moment before speaking. “I’d take your tits in my hands, and squeeze them, pinching your nipples between my fingers.” 

You took his cue, lifting your hands to remove your bra, dropping it into the heap on the floor. You wouldn’t tell him, but in this unfamiliar room, you felt more exposed than you usually would. It wouldn’t matter though, because the amount of arousal that flooded your system was far more potent than the distant worry that loomed about. You pulled your hands to your breasts, kneading them just as Josh would, pinching your nipples firmly between the knuckles of your fingers, letting him watch. “What next, baby boy?” You asked. He grinned at the name. You watched him fuck his hand, his thumb working against his rigid shaft, pressing in against his skin to add the right amount of friction. 

“I’d slip my hand down into your pants and finger your clit, just to get you going. Let me watch you do it this time, Mama.” He bit his bottom lip again, adjusting himself on the desk to rest on his inactive hand, his head tilting as he relaxed into pleasuring himself. 

“You want to watch me finger my clit?” You asked, echoing him. “I’d be happy to.” You brought four fingers to your lips, licking them before sliding them into your leggings and underwear, locating your clit easily. “And how would your fingers work, Josh?” You asked, taking a step or two forward closer to him. “How would you finger my pussy?” 

He raised an eyebrow, obviously enthused. “Usually it would be my tongue-fucking your clit, but since I can’t do that–”

You reached for his face, grabbing hold of his chin gruffly. “That’s not what I asked, pretty boy. Are you going to obey or are you going to be a smart ass?” You loved this act–of feeling in control, especially over Josh. At times he possessed such submissive qualities, that it was difficult to get through the day without daydreaming of instances exactly like this. 

“I’ll be good, I promise,” He said, grateful when you released your grip on him. He was still grinning, but that would change later when he’d beg to cum and you would do everything except appease him. 

“So, my little pet–answer the question. How would you finger my clit, hm?” You asked again. 

“I’d spin my fingers in slow circles around it.” He said, letting his mouth drop slightly open from the pleasure of touching himself. “I’d taste you, putting my fingers in my mouth.” You raised your eyebrows, your lips curling upward. You liked what he had to say. “You taste so good, Mama.” 

“What next?” you asked, doing as he had said, rolling spirals around your swelling clit. You pulled your fingertips out of your pants and inserted them into your mouth, tasting your own slick before bringing them back down. 

“Fuck–” he murmured under his breath, watching you with sagging eyelids. 

“You wish it were you, don’t you?” You asked him, chuckling softly. He nodded, licking his lips. 

“I can be nice,” You added, stepping forward and repeating the process again, pulling your fingers to his lips. “Open up.” You tapped his lips, stopping to slide your fingertips onto his tongue as he opened his mouth. “Suck on them.” He closed his lips around your fingers, his tongue working around them to taste you. His voice rumbled against your fingers as he hummed, immersing himself in the moment. You pulled them out of his mouth. 

“I want to see more. Please.” He said, his voice coming out in almost a whimper. 

“More? And how do you get more?” You asked, guiding him further. 

“Please take your pants off. And your panties. I need to see you. All of you.” His eyes sparkled with intensity, his voice pitching upward as he pleaded. 

“Mm, Good answer.” You reached for your leggings and underwear, pulling them down both at once, kicking them to the side with the other discarded clothing. “Let me help you see better.” Stepping around the desk, you pulled the chair out from underneath it and rolled it back around to rest in front of Josh. You lowered yourself upon it, spreading your legs wider for him to see. 

“But first, hands on your thighs.” 

“What?” He asked, confused. 

“Stop touching yourself. Put your hands on your thighs while you watch. If you slip up just once, we stop, get dressed and leave.”

“No, no, Mama. I’ll be a good boy, I swear.”  He gave in to submission, his hands releasing from his cock to rest flat on his thighs. You watched as his hardness throbbed and twitched almost involuntarily. It set you dripping.

“You’re such a good boy,” you said, returning your attention to yourself, smoothing your fingers over your belly and on down. “Speak to me baby. How would you like Mama to touch herself, hm? It’s all here for you.” 

“I would finger fuck you so well, Mama. I’d make sure you’d get whatever you want, especially with that beautiful clit of yours. I wish I was sucking on it right now.” You let your fingers slide back down in between your folds, feeling the increasing amount of slick coating your fingers. You pinched your middle fingers against your clit, squeezing your core muscles against the sensations that arose from the pressure.

“You know how to say exactly the right thing, my little prince. I’m practically dripping.” You spun slow spirals into your clit, biting your bottom lip as you scooched your lower body forward onto the chair, leaning backward so that he could see an unobstructed view of your pussy. 

“Fuck, you’re so beautiful, Mama. Let me touch you, please. I’ll do anything,” He said, his tone turning more insistent and whiny. 

“Anything?” You asked him, moving to insert a finger into your opening, curling upward. It was good, but not nearly as good as Josh would or could be. 

“Anything,” he swallowed. You watched his Adam’s Apple bob up and down. Your eyes traveled along the chains and crystals that adorned his bare chest, and you admired the way they pressed into his soft, supple, but strong physique. You let your gaze fall further until they landed between his legs, watching the tip of his cock drip, momentarily abandoned. 

“Tell me what you’d do.” You said, using your fingers to spread open your pussy, playfully inserting your fingers into your mouth, dripping wet saliva on them and returning them downward to please yourself. 

“I’d eat your pussy so good that I’d forget about my cock, Mama. I just want to make you feel good. I’d cum without touching myself, I just know it.” The way he spoke to you reminded you of a child begging for five extra minutes of playtime. You loved that he was trying to bargain with you in order to touch you. 

“Aw, poor thing,” you said. “You want to eat Mommy’s pussy so badly that you’d give up cumming just for a taste?” He nodded, eyeing you pleadingly, his eyes sparkling with hope that you’d give in. 

“On your knees.” You ordered, standing up, pushing the chair away from you, opening more space on the floor of the office. He moved from the desk quickly, getting in place on the carpet below you. He placed his hands back on his thighs for further instruction. The way he sat reminded you of an eager puppy dog, the way their eyes train on you, following your every move until you pay them the attention they’re owed. 

“I’ll give you a taste,” You told him. “Promise you’ll do a good job?” You asked, stepping forward to hover above him. The way he looked up at you spun your core in knots. 

“I’m only ever here to please you, to serve you,” he said, bringing his hands up to rest on your bare thighs. You let him touch you with no punishment—you’d be half-way conscious in a matter of moments anyway. You knew he’d leave you seizing against his face as he had so many times, and you would never get enough of it. 

“Then show me how well you serve your master,” you spoke, taking the final step forward, his face and neck inclining upward instantly to seamlessly connect with your body.

His tongue was strong but so gentle as he parted your folds for the first time, dragging it along your sensitive skin. You felt his facial hair scratching along the outer edges of your pussy, which only added to the ecstasy of having a man in between your legs—an extremely sexy man, who was submissively under your control, but effortlessly domineering when it came to fucking you. You could both pretend, and it would be fun in the moment, but you were foolish to believe that the man below you couldn’t make you cum in mere minutes. He held the power like a hidden ace, and you were very-well aware of it. He still let you play the game, enjoying the bratty names and power play. 

Josh pressed his face against you as you stood over him, and you grounded yourself, squatting lower so that gravity worked in your favor as he continued to eat your pussy. “Use your tongue,” you ordered. “So many girls watch you while you sing. They know you eat pussy well. Too bad they don’t have you between their legs.” You ground your pussy against his face, feeling his tongue working in wide loops against every surface. He took the risk of teasing your clit, avoiding contact for as long as he dared before flicking the strong tip of his tongue against it in fast spurts. In moments where it felt like you couldn’t take much more without cumming, he’d flee from your clit to lap up the juices that would collect at your entrance. You felt him humming against your skin as if you had prepared him a delicious meal to eat, his hot breath sweeping over your thighs when he’d come up gasping for air. 

“Fuck–” you moaned quietly, licking your lips as you processed the pleasure coursing though your body. “Fuck, that feels amazing.” He looked up at you with an almost innocent smile, his eyes sparkling with fervor as he licked his lips. 

“Am I doing a good job?” He asked you, rubbing his hands up your thighs and sides. You nodded quietly. 

“Keep going, baby. Do your job.” You said, trying your best to regain your authoritative demeanor. He was eager to please, his hands glued to your thighs as he spread them further apart, forcing you further down into the squat. 

“Don’t worry, Mama. Relax,” He told you. “I’ve got you.” He somehow read your mind, knowing that you’d feel self-conscious in this precarious, unbalanced position. Soon enough he’d have you teetering out of balance, the only thing keeping you upright being his strong arms. You breathed in deeply, letting him return to his pace. You felt him slip his tongue into your opening with no hesitation, fucking you with the tip as his fingers beared further into your skin. You let your back arch where you stood, squeezing your muscles against his face. He was an expert at this, and his confidence showed you that he knew it, too. You closed your eyes, reaching down to place your hands on his for a moment, showing him silent satisfaction. He removed one of his hands after a moment and brought it between your legs, inserting them into your opening, and moving his tongue back up to your swollen clit. 

“Jesus–fuck!” You hissed through your teeth, bringing your hands up to your tits, squeezing them in your hands, your nipples hard and erect against your palms. Josh had wrapped his free arm around your body, his hand splayed open against your ass and back as he pulled you firmly against his face. You felt his tongue and lips undulating wildly against your pussy, his fingers curling with abandon against your inner walls. Wet, sloppy noises filled the room, and you knew that they definitely could be heard in the hallway if someone were listening intently. “Oh my god!” You whimpered far too loudly, slamming your palm against your lips as you remembered where you were, the ecstasy flowing through your system far too immense for you to downplay any longer. 

Josh heaved a breath, coming up briefly for air. “Cum for me, Mama. Please cum all over my face. I want to taste you when you finish over my tongue.” His face was red with friction, his lips close to chafing. He didn’t care for an instant. His face would look completely fucked-out by the time he returned to the dressing room, but he didn’t care. He didn’t serve the stylists, only you. He wiped his lips casually before centering himself again underneath you, returning to your pulsing core. This time, he focused solely on your clit, using his agile tongue to flutter skillfully against the bud, sending your body climbing through a mountain-excursion, purposefully releasing his touch from you to pull you back down from the summit so that the very next time it would be even more intense. 

Your body quaked against your will, momentarily stealing with it most of your power over him. Josh was a submissive lover most of the time, but when it came to doing his job, he’d be sure to make you cum in ways you had never experienced with anyone else. He worked your pussy like it was a sacrament–something to be relished and celebrated, and you’d do nothing to stop him from doing exactly that. “Fuck-f–” you sputtered, feeling your hips beginning to buck instinctively, your body barreling toward the apex of climax. Your skin began to prickle with sweat from exertion and you felt your hair beginning to stick limply to your forehead and cheeks. “Josh! Josh–please–” You groaned in skittering gurgles that poured weakly from your throat. Your dominant tone had diminished to nothing, replaced with thin and pathetic whines that snatched away the demanding quality you had previously possessed. You knew that you’d regain power and composure, but you were too far gone in the moment to even consider it. 

Josh’s tongue moved faster and stronger than ever, his lips buzzing against your clit, his hands wrapped around your hips in a silent dare for you to move away from him. Your legs weakened above him, your thighs shuddering and squeezing tightly against his face. You collapsed forward on yourself, grateful for the strength of Josh’s grip on your body. You reached down, pulling and yanking at his hair, in a half hearted attempt for him to pull away from you, but he wouldn’t until he felt you finally cum–and even then, you knew he’d take his time lapping up the product of the orgasm, and you’d let him as a reward for a job well done. When he began to shake his head back and forth, his tongue contorting and flicking wildly, you knew you were done for. You finally let your eyes roll backward and you gave in to the torrent of sexual agony that roared through your entire body, leaving you to quiver pathetically above the one you had supposedly claimed was your subordinate. His tongue slowed, but he did not stop; instead, he moved lower to your entrance, lapping up and savoring the climax that leaked from you, diligent to not waste a single drop. 

“Holy fucking shit,” You said through a heaving sigh, pushing him away from you so that you could regain your breath. You had expected to see it, but you hadn’t prepared for the way he would look when he came up for air himself. The makeup that the stylists had applied was severely smudged–embarrassingly so. His face and lips were rubbed raw, and his hair had been pulled and yanked out of its styled appearance, making it impossible for anyone to not catch on to what had happened behind this closed door. 

“Oh my God, your face,” You chuckled, reaching for him as he rose from the floor. 

“I don’t care,” he said this time. “That was fucking worth it,” he grinned, pressing his lips together. “My lips are numb.” He said, pulling his thumb to swipe along his mouth. 

“Let me show you how much I appreciate you for your amazing work,” You said, walking him back to the desk. “Sit. Let me take care of you, Baby.” He wordlessly did as he was asked, sitting on the edge of the table, waiting for you. To your amazement, he was still hard between his legs. “You loved tasting me, didn’t you, hm?” You asked, reaching forward to hover your lips above his, surprising him by taking his cock in your hand. 

“I loved it so much,” He said lustfully, his gaze fixed on your lips as you increased the pressure of your hand against his cock. “Can I please kiss you?” He asked, his head tilting forward, drawn by some kind of magnetism. You appeased his request, letting him fall into your kiss easily, his head bobbing and tilting as you touched him. You parted from the kiss, lowering yourself in front of him. You were sure he was expecting a blow job, but you evaded that expectation by moving to his chest to suckle on his round, erect nipples. You made a show of flicking your eyes upward through your lashes as you fluttered the tip of your tongue against his hard nipple, eventually closing your mouth around it to suckle upon it. He groaned deeply, the sounds escaping his throat in deep, raspy strains. Josh let his head tip backward as he closed his eyes, his hands moving to rest upon your shoulders. 

“Josh! I know you’re in there,” someone almost shouted on the other side of the door as they knocked forcefully on it, sending you springing away from Josh. It was Danny. “They’ve been trying to call your phone for the last fifteen minutes. Finish up whatever you’re doing and come on.” 

“Fuck,” You whispered dejectedly, reaching for his clothing. 

“It’s okay, Mama. To be continued…” he said, hopping off of the desk. 

“If you act right,” you said, with a wink. “You’ll just have to wait a little longer.” You bit your bottom lip, scheming up ideas for how you’d tease him until you’d finally give him his well-earned reward. 

End of Part 1.

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[polaris-likethestar]

making a part two to a previous post i made where i complained about the whole lesbian representation thing (once again so sorry for the long post, ima put a TLDR at the end) i saw on one of @holyblanchett ‘s asks someone mentioned that a show about middle aged women dealing with their trauma really started to stray away from that storyline, and how the story of sisterhood got pushed aside just to focus on the agatha/billy mentor/student storyline and i couldn’t agree more

also i know that this tackles some controversial as fuck topics and i know i’m gonna have people disagreeing with me and i realize i def could’ve said all of this in a better way but honestly, the anon really got me thinking and now i’m just even more pissed and this needs to be said (and ofc this is js my opinion)

anyways, the ironic thing is, i highly doubt jac and all the other writes and directors went in thinking this way. i do not, at all, believe that this was done on purpose. i just don’t believe that. what i do think that happened is that we, as a society, are so so so used to dealing with misogyny and we’re so used to hearing that younger is better that those sort of things just kind of stuck with us, whether or not we wanted it to.

the whole motherhood storyline with agatha was heartbreaking and should not be considered as just another way of fitting her a stereotypical woman category. motherhood is a beautiful thing and this was such an integral part of agatha’s story. however, we have been so accustomed to hearing that motherhood is a must-have for women that it’s become something that several (not all) people associate with “typical female roles” which is said because plenty of women/afab people enjoy being mothers and are excited to be a mother and motherhood is a beautiful thing (side note: if you are/want to be a mother that is amazing for you and don’t think i’m saying fuck motherhood cs that’s not what this is at all)

so, for me at least, it’s not the focus on agatha’s role as a mom that pisses me off. i love how her relationship with her son shows where some of her anger stems from, i love how well they incorporated that storyline into the show. but for me, it’s the that fact that motherhood is literally one of the biggest female stereotypes and like i said i don’t believe this was intentional what so ever but a story that basically says fuck stereotypes is being so stereotypical. like i said it sucks

and i know they did this to play into the whole maiden mother crone thing which was such a prominent thing in the show but still it doesn’t feel fair

also the whole “lesbian romance getting lowk pushed aside for a gay boy” thing co-insides with the whole “accidental sexist depections of womenhood situation” like i said before, we are so used to hearing that younger is better and billy is just that - young and he’s a boy. (i really really need to specify: no hate towards joe locke what so ever i truly mean it fuck u if ur hating he had nth to do with the writing and he does not deserve any hate)

so, yeah, like i said this probably could’ve been written better and i do believe any of this is one persons fault, no hate to ANY of the creators or cast they’re all amazing people and ultimately this show has been a huge step up when it comes to representation and has progressed so so much from so many other disney projects and shows and movies but still, this is js smth that bugged me sm and i rly felt it needed to be addressed in length cs this is js the same story, different show and i hate how accustomed society has become to stuff like this.

TLDR: people have become so used to gender roles and the idea that younger is better that even in a show that is a huge step up on disneys part when it comes to representation, we still have so far to go and i felt like this needed to be addressed but ultimately no hate to any of the cast or creators

[badasmuse]

“Happy Birthday Simon”

Simon Dominic x Reader

Warnings: 18+ (MDNI), language, sex, oral sex m!receiving, making fun of age (as always)

Summary: it’s simon’s birthday, what better gift to give him than you?

“simon!!!” you yell, running into his studio.

“y/n i’m writing. what do you want.” he says not looking up from his notebook.

“old cranky ass.” you mumble, sitting on the couch in his studio. “your birthday is coming up. what should i give you this year?” you ask leaning towards him.

“space.” he says flicking your forehead.

“ow you asshat.” you rub your forehead, pouting.

simon gets up and locks the door before sitting next to you, “come here.” he says which makes you climb on his lap.

you lean forward kissing his lips gently, “seriously, what do you want?”

“peace and quiet.” he replies kissing you again. “and maybe my dick sucked i haven’t thought it over.”

you slap his chest, “be for real, stupid.”

“i do want my dick sucked. use this pretty mouth for something other than talking and rapping.” simon says, swiping his thumb across your bottom lip.

“stop playing with me i’ll ride you right here.” you say, grinding on his hardening dick.

“not now. let me finish.” he slaps your ass before going back to writing. “oh and i need pens and a new watch if you’re looking to get me a gift.”

you smile and kiss his cheek before leaving his studio.

simon’s birthday came faster than you thought. you’ve been searching high and low for a watch but nothing is good enough for him.

you finally ended up on a website and found the perfect watch for him. “fucking finally. i was gonna throw up.” you say to yourself. the day of his birthday you just bought his present. you quickly buy it, not caring about the price, and wrap it up bringing it with you to his party.

“there she go!” loco says as you walk through the door.

“sorry! i’m sorry. it took too long at the store.” you say sitting in the booth next to simon. “hey.. i’m sorry.” you whisper to him, leaving a kiss on his cheek.

“i thought you stood me up.” simon says side eyeing you.

you flick his forehead. “anyways are we doing gifts now?”

“yes we were waiting for you.”

“good i’m going last.” you say.

you watch every gift that was bought for him, loving the face he makes when he receives a gift that unlocks a core memory.

“bro was this from that time we did that quiet show?” simon asks laughing looking at the used lipstick.

“yeah i kept it!” gray responds laughing.

finally, it ends up on you. you grab your gifts and hand it to him. “this one first.”

he opens it and laughs, “new pens!”

“damn those are nice as fuck.” loco says looking at them.

“here, this too.” you say handing him the last gift.

you watch his jaw drop and look between you and the watch.

“y/n..”

“you said you needed a new watch i wanted you to have the best. plus all you do is talk about damn pateks,” you roll your eyes, “so there you go.”

he pulls you into a hug and you giggle, hugging him back.

“now that gifts are done,” loco interrupts, “shots shots shots!”

and that’s where it starts. shots are brought out then bottles are brought out.

simon grabs a bottle and tilts your head back. you open your mouth letting him pour the liquor in. it drips down your chin onto your neck and he leans down and licks it up.

“i’ll still give you what else you asked for.” you whisper in his ear, the shots you took prior finally catching up with you.

“yeah? let’s leave soon.” he whispers back.

another round of shots is ordered and you’re gone. giggling and rubbing simon’s arm seductively. “let’s go simon.” you giggle.

he downs another shot before getting up and dragging you out the club. he stops a taxi, lets you in, and gives the driver his address.

you rub his leg, inching closer and closer to his dick and he grabs your hand, “behave.”

the taxi pulls you to his place faster than you thought. he pays and helps you out, dragging you up to his apartment and pulling you in.

once the door is shut you’re on him faster than a fly on a stank ass. he presses you against the door kissing you and moving down to your neck as you start to unbutton his shirt.

“careful old man, don’t want you throwing your back out.” you laugh when he picks you up.

“oh that’s funny?” he asks bringing you to the couch. he sets you down and pushes you down on your knees. “use your mouth for something useful.”

you obey, pulling his dick from his pants. you lean back to avoid it hitting you in the face then immediately take him into your mouth. you bob your head slowly, looking up at him through your lashes.

his hand tangles in your hair as he watches you, “just like that.” he groans.

you pull off him slowly, “you can use me, daddy.” you whisper.

simon’s eye (and dick) twitches at your words. “open.” he demands. soon as your mouth is wide enough, he pushes his dick between your lips. you gag when the tip hits the back of your throat but he doesn’t care. he holds your head tightly and thrusts into your mouth at a quick pace.

“that’s my girl. fuck your mouth feels amazing. i knew it was good for something.” he pants, thrusting deeper.

tears fall from your eyes as he repeatedly hits the back of your throat. he groans loudly, choking you with his dick. “don’t move. fuck i’m cumming.” he groans cumming down your throat. you cough and gag when he pulls out. your eyes red and tearful, tears falling down your face, and your lips covered in spit and cum. mascara is running down your face and he moans.

“you look so fucking good.” simon says, grabbing your throat and kissing you roughly.

you kiss back, moaning into his mouth as his hand finds its way into your skirt. he rubs your clit and you gasp. “fuck.”

“strip for me.” simon says slapping your ass.

you giggle and push him onto the couch. you unbutton your skirt and let it slide down your legs to the ground. next you pull off your shirt, revealing your boobs to him since you chose not to wear a bra with your top. lastly, you pull off your panties, showing him your wet cunt.

“ride me.” is all he says and you climb into his lap, sinking on his dick immediately.

he moans at the feeling of your tight, wet cunt, squeezing his dick. “don’t matter how many times i stretch you, you’re always so tight.” he groans.

“i do it on purpose.” you giggle clenching around him as you fully sit on his lap.

“ride.” he says and you nod.

moans leave your lips as you bounce up and down on his lap, the tip of his dick kissing your cervix gently. “oh my god you’re so big.” you gasp out. all you can focus on is him.

“am i? does it feel good?” he grunts in your ear, holding you close.

“s-so good.” you stutter. simon huffs and lays you on your back. he pounds into you roughly making you yelp.

“got tired of waiting.” he mumbles. you push against his lower stomach, the thrusts too hard for you, but he grabs you pinning your hands up by your head. “don’t do that. you take what i give you.”

you’re so far gone, the alcohol and rough fuck sending you to space. simon notices and puts his fingers on your clit, bringing you back to him. “oh fuck!” you scream. your vision goes white as you cum all over him, immediately passing out after.

the next morning, you wake up confused and hungover. “oh fuck what the fuck.” you groan.

simon looks over at you, “you passed out after you came.” he says. “i felt bad and didn’t want to keep using you so i stopped but you might be sore.”

“aren’t you a gentleman?” you say kissing his cheek. “maybe i should make up for that?” you ask, hands trailing down his stomach.

“you definitely should.”

a/n: this was for sure supposed to be posted yesterday for my man’s birthday (march 9th) and i didn’t get around to it-

taglist (simon dominic only, open!): @yngtort @panjakes

[idontplaytrack]

Speak of the devil

Janis ‘Imi’ike x fem! reader(+ big sis Regina & Cady ft. The Plastics & Damian)

Warnings: coarse language, fluff

After a wrong move to stay home in Chicago for the remainder of the summer, the gang is on the road again. To the Big Apple.

Read other parts here!

“Excuse me? You said what? We’re going to New York City?”

“Yep.” Regina shrugs, “Quick, you wanna come with or not? Karen and Gretchen are already there so we might as well join them.”

“I mean, sure. But are you…alright?”

“I have to be, my sister’s crying, her girlfriend is about to commit a fucking crime because— whatever. Make sure she doesn’t leave the house until we’re all ready.”

“What is going on?”

“For one we’re stuck in a lease for another three months, and dear June found out the address and can’t stop sending us letters and shit to butter us up. I cannot stand her fucking boyfriend— he just does not seem like a good person and is always getting suspiciously close to y/n.”

“Screw that bitch.” Damian gasped, “Has she been here?”

“Once.” Regina huffed, zipping up her duffel bag, “We’re picking up Cady on our way.”

“Are we flying there? Because —”

“Could not get tickets so we are gonna drive.”

“Sis, that is twelve hours at least.” Damian narrows his eyes at her.

“We’re gonna make stops along the way and stretch our legs, look at stuff, shop, eat. Whatever.” Regina sighs, “I mean, I’m not gonna spend much on myself but if y/n wants anything, she’s getting it. After this trip, I gotta really work my ass off.”

“Reg, let’s just stay home. Why are we avoiding her, running away from our home? Who the fuck cares what she wants?”

“Honey, we have more than two months of summer left.” Regina sighs, “It’s a break. I don’t want us to be here worrying about whether or not she’ll be over here. Once school starts it’s a different thing, we’ll only be home for like half a day, everyday.”

“I don’t want you to keep spending money. On me.”

“We’re driving. Gretchen’s family has an apartment in the city, she’s agreed to let us stay there.” Regina explains, “Are you packed?”

“Yes, but—”

“Good. Janis?”

“Yeah.” Janis walks out from your room with a backpack slung over her shoulder. “All good, not gonna do anything stupid.”

“I’m ready.” Damian shrugged.

“Alright, let’s go, guys.” Regina urged.

You, Janis and Damian sat in the back of Regina’s Jeep, leaving the front passenger seat open for Cady. Once in the car, you immediately leaned onto Janis and nodded off, you simply couldn’t be bothered to care anymore.

“It’s ridiculous that you guys go no contact and only then she’s so desperate to be in contact. Where was that eagerness when you two were wanting her to do that? Actually be there for y’all?”

“She’s always been doing too little, way too late. Been like this for as long as I can remember.” Regina grumbled, “It was little little things at first, but then we grew up and realised how messed up the family was. Then it was…the divorce. Which was the single event that caused things to go to shit.”

“Well, she sucks. And I’m sorry. But I’m glad y’all have a nice little place of your own now. Though we’ve hit a little bump on the road.”

“Exactly. This will just be a bump on the road. We’re doing so much better now. Granted we have shit we need therapy for but still can’t afford, but we’re not in that environment anymore which helps— a lot.”

“Good, that is great. One step at a time. Also, if y’all ever need to, feel free to come over to mine and stay for however long you guys need to. Need help? I’m there.”

“Appreciate that.”

“Look, I can take care of myself. At her age, she’s been through way more than I’d like her to have. Not-so-good things…I hate that. Maybe that’s why I’m so protective of her, making sure she gets the best possible care and things she wants. I know the family has money, but they neglected her. She was rarely ever listened to, she was too nice. She never pushed back. They made her terrified of them over time.”

Damian nods solemnly, “Janis? You good?”

“Yes.” Janis says, “Didn’t get much sleep last night so I’m tired but good. Angry, obviously but there’s no point in that.”

The drive was relatively quiet until Regina stopped to let all of you get out and walk around. You bought some M&Ms and an iced tea since you were feeling a little peckish. You didn’t talk to any of them, though. Not that they minded or bothered you about it, so that was good. Ten and a half hours to go.

“Anybody else need to pee before we get back on the road?”

“Nope.” You all answered in sync.

“Okay, back in the car.” Regina declared.

You shared your snack with them, not feeling like finishing the whole bag of the chocolates. They appreciated it, but could tell something was off. You were still in a bad mood. Now in between Janis and Damian unlike before this ‘pee break’, you could definitely feel him watching you. “Stop staring at me, will you? I’m fine.”

“Sorry, just worried.” He apologizes.

You bit back a sigh and chose to cling onto Janis instead of just properly staying seated in the middle of the both of them. Janis puts her arm around you then grabbed a few pieces of chocolate from you. “Still nauseous?”

You took a peek at Janis and said, “No.”

You didn’t even tell her, but you guessed she must’ve remembered from previous instances. Whatever it was, you were soon out like a light again, leaving Janis to hold onto and finish the chocolates since you didn’t want them anymore.

“Hey, where’s my phone?” Janis asks to no one in particular.

“Here.” Regina said, “In the cup holder.” Damian reached forward to help her retrieve it since she was holding onto you. “Thanks.”

He just smiled at her a little, then went back to reading on his phone. Janis checked her phone for messages— which she did get a couple of, from her Dad. Replied to them, then put her phone into her pocket before falling asleep herself.

“I’ll drive after the next stop.” She heard Damian offer before succumbing to sleep.

————

The five of you stopped at a random fast food place for dinner that evening, you were in a better mood and you had the nap to thank for it. It made you less cranky and forget whatever the hell it was that pissed you off.

“Almost halfway there, you guys.” Cady mentioned, sipping on her drink, “I’ll drive for the next four hours.”

Regina nods, “Then it’s back to me. Though we will arrive in the city at like one-thirty in the morning so that’s a lil…”

“What part of the city are we going to?” Damian asks.

“Chelsea.”

“We knew Gretchen’s family had money, but damn?”

“Well, people surprise you.” Regina shrugged.

“Oh, they absolutely do. Including you.” Damian stifles a laugh.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Well, I’m just saying— I get it now, your attitude that we hated so much. Has a very valid reason for being there. But also, more importantly, the fact that you and Janis are on good terms.”

“Good’s a stretch.”

“Don’t lie. Y’all spent two weeks on vacation in Hawai’i and neither of y’all burst into flames.”

Regina’s laugh came out as more of a scoff, “What I did, was the dumbest fucking thing ever. But then that had to stop, whether or not their relationship came into the picture. But y/n was even more of a reason for me to get my shit together. It’s been just me and her for a long time now, well— it feels like a long time. And she has a chance to be happy, to be loved the way she is now. So, I, as the big sister am not going to let some middle school beef ruin that for her. But, I’ll have to say, seeing Cady walk in on them was hilarious.”

“Oh, stop that.” Cady sighs dramatically, “That was— why’d you have to bring that up again?”

Regina grins, “We’re not any better, baby. If either of them walk in on us, the neighbourhood will hear it.”

Damian cackled, “Moving on.”

“Wow, these two sleep a lot.”

“As long as they’re fine, who cares what they do.” Regina chimed in.

“Was she really going hunt down—”

“Oh, no doubt about. Janis is more than capable of committing such a crime.” Regina replies as though it was the most normal thing ever. “But she definitely didn’t want to actually do anything because y’know, y/n. Which is good, because going to jail for that woman is not worth it.”

As expected, they arrived in New York City right after 1:30 in the morning. But with you and Janis being the most well-rested among the group, meant chaos. “I knew I should’ve woke you two up.” Regina grumbled.

“Oh, we’re way too late for that now.” Damian snickered.

“Hi, G! Come on in.” Gretchen answered the door in seconds, ushering you all inside, “Hey, guys.”

You were stunned by the size of the townhouse the second you stepped inside. If you weren’t wide awake, you would’ve gotten lightheaded. “Me and Karen are in the bedroom straight ahead over there. There’s three bedrooms left, however you guys split them is up to you. Fridge and pantry? Fully stocked. So are the bathrooms. Make yourselves at home, do whatever you want— just don’t burn down this place.” Gretchen explained.

“Thanks for doing this, Gretchen.”

“Of course! Happy to help and have you guys around.” Gretchen smiled, “It’s getting late and I’m pretty sure you guys drove like so many hours to get here. So, go get some sleep, okay? Good night!”

“Thanks, Gretch. Night.” Damian spoke up.

“Okay. Let’s get settled in.” Regina declared, “Let’s go choose our room, Cads.”

“Lucky me, I get a room all to myself.” Damian jokes.

“G’night, dude.” Janis chuckles, walking past him with you to go to the room opposite of his. You stood beside Janis as she shut the door behind you and herself. “So…this is kinda crazy.” You sigh.

“I know, a fucking townhouse? This place is gorgeous.” Janis says, brows raised slightly in disbelief as she nudged you to sit down.

“Can I say something?” You looked at her, hand on her knee.

“Yeah.”

“I’m worried about Regina overworking herself just to make trips like these happen.”

“I get it, but don’t, please. We were talking just the other day and she has like 4 thousand dollars in savings. I have about 2 thousand, we both have a job, you don’t have to worry.”

You nod, “I guess I just feel a little like I’m freeloading.”

“Honey, I get it but we’ve all talked about this, she’s okay if you want to get a summer job or a part-time job to earn some extra cash, but we don’t want you to do it because you feel bad.”

“I know, but sometimes I just get these moments, y’know?” You admitted, sliding down onto the mattress stomach first, “Shit these sheets are amazing.”

“Silk.” Janis felt them, “Impressed.” Her palm rubs your back soothingly, “Are you tired or just, laying down?”

“Just chilling. I slept like, five…six hours on our way here. That’s almost as much as the rest I get every night.” You hummed.

“Mm, yeah. You hungry? She did say we could do anything we want.”

“I could use a drink.” You shrug. Janis smirked. “Not alcohol.” You warned.

“Have you never been tempted to try it?” She asked, genuinely curious.

“Yes, but it’s late. And I don’t want to puke because I don’t know how much I can actually take. And after dealing with you being drunk, I don’t think I’d be confident that you won’t wake up the rest of them. You’re an emotional drunk.” You teased.

“Emotional? I’m not that emotional.” Janis’ face flushed slightly.

“Yes, you are. You literally cried over a teddy bear you chose to donate ten years ago.”

“Ah.” Janis seethed, “Ya caught me.”

You and Janis eventually made your ways back outside and to the kitchen and opened up the fridge. Janis grabs a ginger ale, you grabbed a bottle of sparkling water. “Ooh, bay window.” You noticed, “Let’s sit there.”

Janis happily trailed after you, sipping on her drink. Once you sat down, she followed suit. “Jan? Where are you planning on going to college?”

“Hm.” Janis hums, “I was thinking about community college, costs less, so I don’t have to rely on my Dad or work my ass off to pay for tuition. Unless, I get a scholarship elsewhere…then I might consider it if it’s my ‘dream school’.”

“NYU?”

“Yeah, you remember that?”

“I do.” You chuckled, tapping your fingers on the drink bottle.

“Have you thought about where you wanna go for college or what you want to pursue?”

You laughed humorlessly, “Nope. Which is bad, but as much as a cliché whatever I’m about to say is…I just know I feel at home here in this city. I hope I can be here, for college, maybe work here too and live here after but I also know how expensive it is. So my dream will just stay a dream. It’s so silly because I last came here with Regina and our parents when I was like 11 and I just fell in love with it.”

“Hey, the heart wants what it wants, honey. Can’t help it all the time.” Janis tilted her head as she spoke.

“You know the last time we travelled as a family? It was to Orlando, went to Disney World. I was 13, Regina was 15. They spent like one hour with us and then they just disappoint. They’d left me under Regina’s care with no warning.”

“Okay, that is so messed up.” Janis scoffs.

You nodded and continued, “We had fun, but it just sucked because they didn’t keep their promise. Seriously, from that day on...my respect for them went away. They didn't explain, they didn't apologize, they didn't give us a heads up. They left us there, assuming Regina and myself knew how to get around, go back to the hotel. Which we did— but, I was so pissed off at them and they could not get why."

"I think...we should go somewhere for a trip when you graduate high school." Janis says, pulling you closer. "But definitely, ignore your Mom. She's not helping with anything— she's been pestering you, if not making plans then canceling on you. She needs to make up her mind and get her shit together. Your sister's not supposed to be your mother, though she's doing a way better job than June."

"I guess I'm holding onto some hope that she actually wants to spend time with me again, but I'm definitely letting that go now. It's hurting me more than it hurts her."

"I'm right behind you on that, y/n. We got your back, we'll be great." "We are doing great, aren't we?"

————

“Any other plans for the trip?” Gretchen asks, looking at you first then everyone else in the group gathered around the table.

“We’ve pretty much did everything touristy, if you will.” Regina shrugs, “Don’t really have a fixed itinerary after two weeks here, honestly.”

“We have kind of seen everything that is a must-see, I hope.” Cady chimed in.

“Reg, can I ask when you’re planning to head back to —”

“Next week, most likely.” Regina smiled at you. Janis narrows her eyes at the blonde, suspicious of the random appearance of a smile. Especially in a setting like this one, in front of everyone.

After a long day of walking around the city, the gang’s decided to get some Chinese takeout and just eat at home, away from the hustle and bustle of the city for a bit.

“Mom keeps texting me. I blocked her but she changed her number, and texted me with the new one.”

“That is so annoying, what’s not to get?” Gretchen exclaimed. “I’m sorry about that.”

“Speak of the devil.” You scoffed when your phone screen lit up. You were going to ignore it when something compelled you to pick your phone up.

“When did that happen?”

“Like, just now.” You groaned, “What— fuck, she’s in New York. She’s coming here— she wants to come here.”

“She doesn’t know where here is, don’t click into the text.” Gretchen urged.

“Does she have any of y’all’s locations?” Damian reminded.

“No, I took myself and y/n off of her Life360 ages ago.” Regina confirmed.

“Then we’re good! Just put your phone aside and finish dinner in peace—”

The landline rings.

“I swear to fucking God if it is who it is, I will take her out myself.” Regina seethed. Damian waltzed over and picked up the receiver.

“Hello? Is this—”

Damian slammed the piece of plastic down. “Holy flying fuck because that is your m—”

Regina quickly stopped him, “Shush.”

“How did she get the fucking number for the landline?!” Janis whisper-yelled, “Is she some sort of crazy psychic?”

“Crazy. Just crazy.” Regina drops her fork, sighing, “y/n, your phone, please?”

You surrendered the device to her. She tapped away and held it to her ear, “You wanna talk? Let’s talk, right now.” After telling June the address, Regina hangs up first.

Dinner was finished in a hurry, and half of you all couldn’t even actually finish eating.

“Guys so what has she been doing that’s like—” Karen started, Gretchen tries to stop her but it was too late.

“Oh lot of things, most memorable ones would be ditching us at Disney World and going drinking. I was 15, y/n was 13. They were lucky we were paying attention and knew our way around.” Regina explained, “But most recently, y/n was sick with a stomach bug. She was so scared and got to the point where she was so uncomfortable and crying for our mom. She left us on read, then her phone was off. The next morning she mysteriously shows up at home but I had enough of her shit— she’d been away from home for a year at that point, leaving y/n under my care.”

“Oh, no.” Karen answered, eyes wide, “That is so terrible.”

“I don’t know what kind of shit she’ll continue to pull so if she winds up contacting any one of y’all, now you know to ignore her. Her very creepy boyfriend needs to be dumped before she can even try to reconcile anything.”

The gang looked at her, expecting her to elaborate on ‘creepy’. You wanted to hide you face in a hole in the ground. But you didn’t want to make things more weird by running away from the table, so you painfully decided to stay anyhow. Janis’ hand squeeze your thigh comfortingly.

“Creepy as in stare at our boobs too long, putting his arm around us and trying to squeeze our sides, trying to kiss us on the cheek even after we said no after the first time he did that.” Regina deadpanned. She then turned to face you completely, “Baby, you wanna go to your room while we settle that shit?”

“That’d be great.” You agreed, taking Janis’ hand and leaving. You avoided eye contact with everyone, even Regina.

You instantly went for the bed while Janis shut the door— French doors, damn.

“I just want this to be over.” You complained.

“Trust me, it will be after today.” Janis promised you. “We’ll be right out there, you just stay in here. I’ll stay in here until she gets here.”

Exhausted from the thought of chaos that was your mother, you sighed loudly. “If you need me call for me. I actually have a lot I wanna yell at her about.”

“Oh, you can count on that. Feel free to interject wherever feels right.” Janis patted your knee.

“But hey, being in New York’s been great, apart from getting cussed out one time the other day for walking on the left instead of the right.”

“Live and let live. We didn’t mean it, sometimes our brains just…glitch. The city can be pretty overstimulating.” Janis shrugs.

You hummed in agreement, “You wanna go back to that bagel place tomorrow morning?”

“Oh, yes.” Janis gasped, “Those were so fucking delicious. The guy working there was funny.”

You chortled at the memory, “He told us, ‘Take your time’, but when those people passing by left because the queue was too long he totally threw shade.”

Janis laughs, “You get what you give, eh?”

Gretchen opened the door and poked her head in, “She’s on her way up.”

“Okay. Honey, relax. Don’t worry that pretty little head of yours.” She got up, leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead. Gretchen went back out with Janis while you hung around the room.

“Oh, great! He’s here too, very good. Let me just say this one time. Stop being so touchy! We don’t like it, we don’t like him. I don’t like that you’re so touchy with my baby sister. I don’t like that you stare at our chests like we’re some kind of object. So, if you think that kind of behaviour is an acceptable one for a partner and a supposed father-figure for your children, we’re continuing our no-contact. And you, you can’t just show up back at home after such a long time and expect all to be forgiven. You haven’t done anything that shows me you’re here to stay, that you actually care. So the next time you try to contact us and want us to readily agree to meet you. Don’t cancel on her, don’t cancel on me. Prove yourself. Earn our trust. Believe us when we tell you that you want to distance ourselves, why we want to distance ourselves. You cannot just fucking claw your way back into our lives as if you haven’t done anything wrong. Because you have, starting from Disney World when you ditched us! Actually while we’re back in this city, you remember what happened when y/n was 11? You left me to look after her again during that broadway show. You went out not even halfway through the show, disrupting people around you, upsetting her. Upsetting me, time after time after time. Always— zero explanation, Mom. I don’t even think I should be calling you that considering I’ve been playing Mom for god knows how long.”

“She’s done so much more for me than you have.” You ran outside, unable to control your anger, “You pay us some money for bills, so? You have the luxury of time to spend time with us but you choose to avoid your responsibilities. Your obligation as a mother to care for us. She has been working her ass off, keeping her grades up while making time for me! Mom, how could you?”

“Okay.” June nodded, “I hear you, I’m sorry. I will not contact any of you until I get my life together. But Carmelo is not a b—”

“Stop.” Regina stepped between you and June. “Leave, we already said what we needed to say. If you still don’t see the problem with him, just fuck off. Don’t even bother trying to two-face us. Ever since you two started dating, we don’t even exist anymore in your life. If you still think he’s a good person, I have nothing to say. I see how he treats you! Like a toy for his pleasure.”

“We’re engaged.” Carmelo declared. You left the space before you heard more of the yelling, feeling your heart slamming in your chest and your breathing going heavy. Damian noticed first, and while Janis was basically cursing her and Carmelo out for every single one of their wrongdoings, she gets stopped by Damian. He nudges her to go check on you.

————

Janis opened the door to see you trying so hard to swallow your tears. You didn’t want to be crying over these two people. They didn’t have your well-being in mind. At all. You promised yourself that you wouldn’t cry, but your emotions still got the best of you. “It’s okay, it’s okay.” Janis instantly pulled you into a tight hug, rubbing your back, “It’s okay, honey. I’m so proud of you.”

Maybe your body needed this release. So you just let it happened anyway, albeit feeling quite embarrassed for sobbing into her shirt like this. Over people that hurt you, over people who didn’t deserve your tears.

After calming down, you were done. Done with crying. Done with crying over your mother and Carmelo. Her apology was so ‘I had to say it so I did’, so hesitant. So insincere.

Regina came into the room next, though she didn’t knock so you got startled and went into even deeper of a panic. “Shit, I’m sorry, baby. I didn’t mean to open the door so quickly.” Regina apologised, crouching down then eventually sitting on the floor.

“Are they gone?”

“Yep.” Regina assured, “Won’t be seeing her again unless she gets her act together.”

You sniffled, sighing as you broke away from the hug. “Okay, I’m don’t crying over all of that. Let’s go out.”

“Go out?” Janis and Regina asked the same thing in different tones.

“It’s seven o’clock.”

“That’s early! And there’s plenty of things to do. This is the city that never sleeps.” You looked at them excitedly, “Please, Reg?”

Regina looked at you and pondered, “Alright, fine. Let’s all go out.”

A few knocks on the open bedroom door caught all of your attentions. “My mom’s here, she got all tickets to see Illinoise.”

“When?” Janis asks, intrigued.

“Tonight, you guys wanna come?” She asks.

“Yes!” You exclaimed, “I’ve always wanted to watch that show.”

“Looks like we’re going.” Regina says, “Let’s get ready and going, quick. We have less than an hour to showtime.”

🏷️Tag list:

@ashecampos @auliisflower @cheesysoup-arlo @frogs00 @ludoesartandstuff @pda128

[grandlinedreams]

hi hi before your requests close, i was wondering if you’d write something super angsty- maybe with a happy ending? i don’t have a prompt, just love angst and hurt/comfort

Hiya papaya! Thinking about the modern au, so have some EMT!Ace

[Heads up!: angst, hurt/comfort, mentions of passing out, CT scans fucking suck]

When he hears the radio clipped to his belt crackle to life, Ace doesn't think much of it as he stirs from the light, sleepy daze he'd been drifting into in the back of the ambulance.

"Gonna have to repeat that," he answers when Sabo's voice is garbled, smacking the radio against his palm. Damn thing has to be at least ten years old ㅡ and no sign of them getting new ones, either. He holds it to his ear, rubbing at his eyes, though he stills as he hears the address.

It's familiar, as is the description of the patient ㅡ and he suddenly feels sick, staring at the radio in his hand. Surely Sabo'd said a digit of the address wrong, or gotten a description eerily similar ㅡ because Ace has a horrible, sinking feeling that the patient they're going to collect is you.

"Ace? You good?" Marco is talking, trying to get his attention, and he shakes his head to snap out of it.

"Yeah, yeah, Iㅡ" He swallows, fishing for his phone. "Sorry, but that call out just now...that's [Name]'s apartment." His fingers are shaking a little as he finds your contact, typing a text to send.

[Is everything okay? Call me when you get this.]

"I'm sure it's nothing," Marco tries to soothe as Ace all but slams the bay doors shut as the garage opens, siren already light and flashing as Marco pulls out and heads down the road.

Ace stares at his phone, willing you to answer. That this isn't for you, it's for a neighbor. A friend. Hell, he'll take a stranger over something happening to you.

He's out of the ambulance before Marco even pulls to a complete stop, heart hammering in his chest as he listens to the cop who's waiting for them at the entrance to the apartment complex.

"Neighbor found them unconscious on the floor, said they were conscious now but didn't want to move them."

"Thanks, man. We'll take it from here." Ace feels like he's underwater as he moves towards the open door, wishing that this apartment wete anything but as familiar to him as it is. He'd been here this morning, tangled up with you and lamenting the fact that he had to leave.

Ace has seen a lot of things in his time as an EMT ㅡ bones jutting out where they shouldn't, exposed viscera, and even an enchanting conversation with a man who seemed wholly unaware of his unintentional diy tracheotomy. None of it makes him feel as untethered and scared as seeing you on the floor does.

You're paler than you should be, and he hurries to stop you when your head turns towards him. "Ace?"

"Hey, sweetheart." He kneels, takes the neckbrace from Marco, sliding it beneath you and into place. "Can't have you moving your head like that until we know what happened. Can you tell me what today is?" He waits to get your answer, then continues. "What year is it?"

You frown. "I'm fine," you protest, "let me get up."

Ace shakes his head. "You passed out, sweetheart. We're taking you to the hospital." He watches as Marco grabs your wrist, eyes flicking to the watch on his wrist. "I'll get the backboard."

He needs something to do, to dispell the nervous jitter as he runs through all the things that could be wrong, running from mildly inconvenient to terminal diagnoses. By the time he makes it back and they load you onto the board, Ace is trying to stay positive for your sake.

"This is unnecessary," you whine as you're loaded into the bay, pouting at Ace. "Really? I passed outㅡ"

"And hit your head," he protests. "You need to be looked at." He shifts to professional mode as he picks up his radio, rattling off your vitals and brief description of what the situation had been.

"Ace?" He turns, finds you watching him.

"I'm sorry," you say and his chest aches as he brushes hair out of your face.

"Don't be," he murmurs, "you'll be fine, okay? We'll get you checked out, figure out what happened, then get you home."

"For cuddles?" You sound hopeful, and Ace grins.

"Of course."

Ace doesn't get to see you much further than your admission, and by the time he finishes his shift, you're already in a room that he's pointed to by the night shift nurse at the desk.

You're sitting up when he enters, cup of jello in hand, though you light up as you see him. "There's my baby," he coos, grinning as you roll your eyes. "What'd they say?"

"They ran a CT to make sure I didn't have anything abnormal going on," you report, "and it came back clear. My blood sugar was just really low, so I guess I passed out because of it. They're sending me home with a modified diet."

"Good," Ace says, tucking himself into the bed beside you despite your protest. "You scared me, babe."

"I'm sorry," you say as you let him tug you down, arms wrapped around you. "They'll be mad if they come in and you're asleep in this bed with me."

Ace presses his face to your chest. "Let them," he mumbles. "Don't care, I'm gonna nap with you."

"Brat," you tease, and he sighs.

"I'm your brat."

You hum, kissing the top of his head. "That you are."