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444rockstargf · 7 months

Text

kinktober finale. happy halloween!!

10.31 - GANGBANG!

݁ ˖🕸️.𖥔 ݁ ˖ {tags} @willsdollface @izuoyarmin @auggiethecreator @angelsanarchy @s-al-em @that-one-persons-posts @kashmirclam @areuirish @oliviah-25 @bl1ssfulbaby @danniackerman

previous: 10.29 - BODY WORSHIP!

freeuse!female!reader x charlie + chris + clyde + dan + euronymous + jack + kappa + ollie

word count: 1.6k

contents: gangbang, public sex, cnc, free use, unprotected sex, anal, oversitmulation, oral (both), 69, double penetration, throatfucking, a little blood, sex tape, slight mentions of stalking, and lots of more

a halloween party where you’d gone to drink the night away, but you ended up locked in a bedroom with eight striking figures predatorily staring down at you. the arrangement was as random as could be, from submissive and breedable to brutal and heartless. you knew that you were in for it tonight.

the men had nothing but one thing in common: the raging bulges that were growing in their pants. some were bold enough to palm themselves as they observed with you, others seemed too sheepish to do so. you were laid on the bed, your hips being forced into the air as jack landed a rough slap onto your ass. this starting action sent each one of them to their positions.

in a few quick movements, all your clothing was torn off of you, leaving you completely bare to all these predators. their gazes were swallowing you whole, each one carrying a different intention. you felt a hot sensation in your core, wetness growing in your clit. you were surrounded by them, anticipation travelling through your blood.

jack and euronymous were behind you. jack stuffed your wet little cunt with his cock while euronymous forced his into your asshole. the stimulation already had you seeing stars, but you could feel both of them being so rough with you, forcing themselves in and out of your holes and contorting your body into their toy.

you felt the two pairs of hands digging into the soft skin of your hips and waist, leaving red marks all over you as if you were their territory. their low hums and deep groans forced your body into great submission. euronymous’ balls slapped at the base of your hole while jack’s pounded against your swollen little clit.

clyde had squeezed underneath you, laying down in sixty-nine position and putting you face to face with his erect shaft as he looked up at your dripping pussy. he got his head in the right angle before hungrily connecting his lips with your stuffed cunt, licking up all the sticky liquid that he could.

your parted lips found the bubbling tip of his cock, planting breathless little kisses onto it before taking it all the way down. his cock throbbed in your mouth as he swirled his tongue over your sensitive bud. his technique was so careless yet precise. your hips were bucking into his mouth as the penetration made hot tears flow from your eyes.

kappa and charlie stood in front of you, each holding a knife in their hand. you could easily read kappa’s sinister expression, but charlie’s was masked with his black disguise. their red, angry shafts were pointed right at you like loaded guns, the tips leaking with sticky precum. your mouth was already stuffed, but they figured that you’d be able to take a few more.

kappa pulled your head off of clyde’s cock by your hair, charlie pressing his sharp blade to your neck and drawing a thin line of blood as your throat bulged. all three of their dicks were pressed together, seemingly begging you for pleasure. you sunk your head back down, sloppily managing to take all three at once. spit and tears fell from your face, leaking down your neck and falling all the way down to your cleavage.

jack and euronymous had been holding themselves in this whole time, their rhythm quickly losing composure. their thrusts became sloppier as they treated you like their own personal fleshlight. jack hit that spongy bundle inside of you as euronymous finally reached the most sensitive nerve in your body.

you cried out, sending waves of vibration through the other three men’s rock-hard lengths. you gushed and creamed and squirted all over the place, drenching everything around you. cum and spit dripped from in between your thighs, getting all over clyde’s flushed face. but he loved the feeling of being completely saturated by your liquids more than anything.

chris, dan and ollie watched you taking three dicks into your pretty little throat, they’re minds wandering to all the other things you could do. they weren't getting as much action as the others, but this was more than enough to send them over the edge.

dan sat prettily in front of you, jerking himself and whimpering sweet little nothings. he felt like such a touch-deprived whore and wanted nothing more than to be touched by you. he pumped himself up and down, as he begged for you to give him just one kiss, touch, or anything at all. he was desperate for your attention.

he sat there, moaning as he watched your tiny little holes getting stretched so wide, wishing that he could be in anyone’s position. he wasn’t picky. he wanted to be ruined, overstimulated til he was a sobbing mess, just like you were right now. he envied the touch that you gave and received, squeezing his cock in order to imitate the pleasure.

chris’ big blue irises were swallowed by his dark pupils. he had a video camera set up at the perfect angle, capturing you in all your beauty. he watched you through the camera lens, watching how your bruised holes glistened in the dim light of the room. your sweet little cunt was red and bruised from how many times you had came.

your brain was completely dead, the number of times you’d orgasmed being completely lost on you, but chris would go home and rewatch the footage, counting every time you came and sync his own orgasms with yours. chris hadn’t laid a single hand on his swollen cock, but a large puddle of cum rested underneath him. he didn’t even need any physical pleasure. watching you was more than enough.

ollie had cum too many times to count just from watching the sight in front of him. he’d had his eye on you for longer than you’d ever known, but everyone one of his fantasies was being fulfilled right now. he’d always wondered how you’d look with a cock stuffed down you throat, and now you had three. he only every saw you fingering yourself through your bedroom window and he desperately wanted to see you take a real cock, and now you had two, destroying your guts as they filled you up over and over again.

the lewd noises of skin slapping, your pussy gushing, synchronized moans and slurred curses filled the room, the crescendo of them signalling a final aligned orgasm. jack and euronymous were ready to fill up your guts with their cum, charlie, kappa, and clyde preparing to take care of your mouth as chris, dan and ollie got ready to paint themselves all over your body.

you were completely cockdrunk, your pussy mindlessly leaking everywhere as you passed the point of no return. as the few final thrusts pushed deeper into you than ever before, you felt burning hot, sticky cum shooting in and around you. all three of your holes were filled to the brim, liquids pouring down your legs and onto the stained bedsheets.

every square inch of your body was covered, from your head to your toes. they all pulled out of you simultaneously, leaving you to collapse in a puddle of cum. you coughed up sticky bubbles, the same ones coming out of your pussy and asshole. you heard a slurry of words going around you.

some were telling you what a great job you had done, others throwing degrading terms of endearment at you. you laid there, still reeling over the rounds of stimulation that you had been through. you were surprised that you hadn’t dropped dead right there, but the thrill in your body was greater than anything you’d felt before.

author's note: happy halloween yall!! i just want to thank everyone so much for sticking around this season. i will be taking a short little break for a few days before i start working on requests again. thank you!

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3terna15unshin3 · 7 months

Note

Has there been a phone sex while he’s on tour blurb 👀

Voice

He’s only a call away, right?

1078 words

—

a/n: Oh my god olive there literally hasn’t…….. How have i not written this by now it’s so hot

(Read the main fic here if u want more Matty and Este!!)

cw: 18+, minors DNI, dirty talk (sorry), mutual masturbation, phone sex, sub! matty ish??? a bit??, unedited, (i am posting this now in light of the Phone Eating bit)

—

Este woke up after having dreamt of Matty's face between her legs. The way his tongue pressed strongly at all of the right spots, and his hands gripped around the base of her thighs as she squirmed. Disappointed was an understatement when she peeled her eyes open to see that he wasn't really there.

Tour was long and they were lonely and missing each other, so it was frequent that they thought of the other when getting off alone. But somehow, they had yet to get off alone together; even though they talked on the phone every night (morning for her, per the eight hour difference between the states along the west coast and London).

She was already unbelievably wet, wrapped in her bedsheets with sleep still in her eyes. So, when the first thing she heard was the ring of her phone, a sinful smile crept onto her face.

"Hi darling,"

"Morning," Este answered, voice raspy.

"Shit, have I woken you? I thought 1 would been a safe enough time to call,"

"Oh, don't worry," she insisted, pushing her underwear down her legs and discarding them off the side of her bed. "You're right, I'm usually up by now. Just didn't have the best sleep."

Matty frowned. "Everything alright?"

"Yeah. I was just busy dreaming of you."

He wasn't frowning anymore. Matty gulped the saliva down his throat and his ears perked. He could hear the smirk in Este's voice, and wondered if she somehow knew that he was already semi-hard.

"Oh yeah?" He egged her on, "Tell me about it."

Este bit her lip as she finally put some pressure onto her sensitive clit.

“You were here with me,” she started, eyes closing as she pictured the scene. “And I had your head pinned between my thighs.”

His breath quickened and he grabbed himself over his boxers, quietly hissing at the sudden wave of pleasure.

“Was I making you feel good?” Matty asked with a whine.

She nodded, forgetting he couldn’t see her, then corrected herself by muttering, “So good, baby.” Her fingers circled quickly. “Your tongue was against me,”

Matty took himself out, spitting into his hand and running it over his length a few times. He let out a breathy moan, then heard one back from Este.

“I wish I could taste you now,”

Her fingers collected the wetness surrounding her entrance and pressed even harder on her bundle of nerves. The action made her hips buck upwards and her jaw drop open.

“Me too. My fingers don’t feel as good as your mouth does,” teased Este, “Are you touching yourself too?”

The sound of his hand moving up and down his cock, slathered in his own spit and pre-cum, echoed through his quiet hotel room. She could hear it, so that answered her question, but Matty responded anyway.

“Fuck, yeah I am,” he groaned. “I’m so fucking hard for you, E.”

Este laid her phone on her pillow next to her ear so she could use her other hand to play with her nipples. She grabbed harshly, sucking in her breath at the feeling.

“All for me?” she egged him on, chest heaving up and down. The muscles in her stomach grew tight as pressure built right below her navel. “Your fist must not compare to my tight little cunt.”

Matty thought about the slick and warm feeling of sinking his cock into her pussy. The way she’d clench around him. He tightened his grip on himself and pictured it as Este instead.

“Darling—God—you’re killing me,” he whined. His action sped up, desperate for release. “My fist isn’t good enough, baby. I need you around me,”

“Keep going. I’m right here,” Este said, slipping two fingers into her entrance and curling them. Her mind drifted to the way he pounded into her relentlessly the last night before he left. Este’s ass stuck up in the air and met him halfway with every thrust. His fingertips on one hand dug into her hips as he fucked her deep; while the other was tangled in her hair, pressing her face into their pillows. The thought of it made her speed up her fingers.

“I’m not gonna last much longer if I do,” warned Matty. He ran his thumb over his pink tip, shuddering in the process.

“Wait for me, baby. I’m almost there. Can you do that?” She moaned at the sound of his frustrated groans on the other side of the line.

His hand only stroked faster. “Please, E. I’m so close already, just let me—”

“Matty.” Este sternly interrupted. “Be good and wait for me. You don’t want me to come all by myself, do you?”

He stilled his fist to try and obey, but then found himself fucking up into it instead. “Fuck, no. I don’t,” Matty responded through gritted teeth, voice intense and cutting. His hips buckled messily as the pressure beneath his skin threatened to snap.

The sound of his desperate plea made Este squeeze her eyes tightly with pleasure. She could hear the filthy rhythm his hand carried over his length and tried to match her own with it. Her breathing sped up as she felt her high approach.

“That’s it. Fuck, I bet you miss fucking this pussy. The way it milks all the cum out of you,” Este managed to whisper, so distracted by the euphoria building up and about to explode that she struggled to speak clearly.

“I miss it so much, baby. P-Please, just let me cum. It fucking hurts, E, you’re gonna make me cum so hard—”

“Fuck, Matty—okay—cum with me. Go on, love,”

He finally let go, coming harder than he ever could without her help. “Shit, Este,” Matty cried, opening his eyes to peer at the white strings pulsing out of him onto his stomach. When he thought of Este licking the hot seed off his skin, he threw his head back against his pillow and bit down on his lip, dick continuing to throb.

Then she came—at the same time—groaning in hysteria, lifting her hips off the bed and trapping her hand between her thighs. His name fell out of her lips, repeatedly and almost pornographically, while she slowed her fingers and rode out her high.

After a few laboured breaths, Este giggled with a post-orgasm giddiness. “Well good morning to me, I guess.” She joked.

Matty rolled his eyes with a smile on his face.

“We’re using FaceTime tomorrow. Deal?”

#tbsg #meste blurb #the 1975 #matty healy #matty healy fanfiction #the 1975 fanfiction #matty healy x oc #matty healy fic #ask #matty healy smut #smut #fanfiction

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babydollmarauders · 1 year

Note

what about the first time the devils met el? i think that would be really cute! :)

i gaze down at the bundle in my arms, watching as she sleeps. Jack and i’s parents just left the hospital to go settle into their hotels, so the room is unnaturally quiet. Jack out in the hallway talking on the phone to Quinn.

i relax into my hospital bed, it’s around 11am, approximately fifteen hours since Eleanor was born, and i’ve only slept for two hours in that time. i’m just starting to enjoy the quiet when Jack walks back in.

“look who came to visit!” he exclaims, a wide grin on his face as a large group shuffles through the door, shy smiles on each guys face.

i can’t help but laugh. i should’ve known the team would come to meet El.

Nico, Dawson, John, Yegor, Jesper, Nate, Ryan, Dougie, and Timo all stand awkwardly near the entrance. meanwhile Luke plops down on the small couch in the room, feeling plenty comfortable, having already been here and it being his brothers baby and all.

“well are you just gonna stand there are you gonna come meet her?” i ask them, giggling at the way Nico pushes to the front of the group, quickly coming over to look at the baby in my arms.

“she’s so cute!” he tells us. “what’s her name?”

“Eleanor.” Jack replies.

“Eleanor Elizabeth Hughes.” i inform them. “El for short.”

“like Jack’s mom?” Dawson asks.

“yeah. mom cried like a, well, a baby, when she found out.” Luke says, making Jack smack the back of his head in defense of their mother.

“can we hold her?” Nico asks and i nod.

“yeah, of course!” i gently place the baby in Nico’s arms, making sure she’s positioned correctly. Nico smiles down at her, just enjoying the baby cuddles as the other boys start asking Jack and i questions about how she’s been the past few hours.

“has it been a big adjustment?” Dawson asks as Nico hands him El. Dawson grins as El opens her eyes, looking at him in confusion before closing her eyes again, not at the age yet where she cares enough about who holds her.

“it’s been different, but i think the big adjustment will happen when we take her home.” i explain, and Yegor nods his head, agreeing as the only other parent in the room. Dawson hands the baby to him.

“it’s hard at first, but definitely worth it.” Shara tells Jack and i and we both nod, as that’s what we figured.

“can’t wait for her to visit the rink!” John exclaims, watching her over Yegor’s shoulder. i laugh in response.

“you’ve got quite a while for that!” i chuckle, maneuvering in my bed to sit up more. Jesper makes it to my bedside faster than Jack can, placing an extras pillow behind my back. “thank you, Bratter.”

“well, maybe not that long. right?” Jack asks me and i smile at him.

“okay, maybe not that long.” i give in, rolling my eyes. the boys let out quiet cheers at my response, trying not to wake El.

Dougie holds her now, his finger clutched in her tiny hand.

“you guys made a cute one, i’ll admit that.” he jokes.

“thank you dougs.” i laugh, watching as he passes her off to Timo.

“she’s so tiny.” he observes, and i nod.

“six pounds and eight.” i tell them. “twenty inches long.”

“ha! Jack, she weighs the backwards version of your number!” Ryan exclaims.

“if only she weighed it the right way.” Jack jokingly pouted but i quickly shook my head.

“speak for yourself! you didn’t have to push her out of you!” i tell him, making the guys laugh.

Timo hands her over to Nate as we continue joking, the guys all fawning over my daughter.

“oh, you’re gonna be so cute on little skates.” Nate says, looking down at her.

“welcome to the team, baby girl.” Nico whispers, looking at her from beside Nate.

Jack stands beside my bed, his hand outstretching to grasp mine as we watch our friends look at our daughter in admiration.

“i’m gonna be your favorite uncle.” Dawson speaks to her, all the guys speaking up in defense of themselves.

“let’s be real i’ll be her favorite!” “uncle Nico is gonna buy her anything she wants.” “oh please! i’ll have you all beat!”

“are you guys forgetting about her real uncle? the one that’ll be living with her and helping raise her? i’ll be the favorite.” Luke finally stands from the couch for the first time in the past forty-five minutes, scooping his niece from Jesper’s arms.

#el!hughes au #ask faithlynn ✨#jack hughes x reader

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nerdraging4point0 · 2 months

Text

Power Play // Chapter Four // Hockeyplayer!Noah AU

Tropes and tags: RPF:AU hockey player romance, angsty romance, hidden relationship, forbidden relationship, smutty, MF, multiple POV.

Content Warning: angsty romance, hockey player shenanigans, locker room talk, smutty, aggressive hockey players, PinV, MF relationship, possessive male, protective male.

This work below is fictionalized ideas and stories involving real people but does not directly reflect their thoughts, feelings, or behaviors. Please keep in mind that this is a work of fiction.

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Two days. Forty-eight hours. That's all I get to train before they toss me headfirst into the role of head athletic nurse. Just a couple days shadowing Naomi and then - bam! - she's gone on early maternity leave. And if that's not enough, I can't find a single affordable apartment in this insane city. I was so determined to make it on my own, but after 24 fruitless hours of searching, Dad insisted I take an apartment in the complex where the hockey players live. Move in ready next week, free rent, close to the rink. I should be grateful, right? I mean, it gets me out of Dad's place at least. But now it's game day and I'm nowhere near ready. My head's spinning and my stomach's in knots. I have no idea what I've gotten myself into. This is way too much way too fast. Breathe, girl. Just breathe. You've got this.

My heart pounds as I frantically take stock of my supplies. Tape, ice packs, ace bandages - check. It's not that I don't know how to treat injuries. As a nurse, wounds and fractures are second nature. But this - this is new territory. I didn't sign up for the intensity of trauma care on the sidelines. My expertise is in orthopedics, urology, neurology - slower paced clinic work. Not split second emergency response.

I sit on the sidelines watching warmups, taking in the sights and sounds of the rink. There's a smattering of early bird fans already in the stands, but more are still filing in, arms loaded with popcorn and hot dogs. The boys glide and weave across the ice, firing pucks into the gaping net, muscles coiled as they launch themselves into sharp turns.

McClain and Sanders emerge from the tunnel, bundled in pads and skates. They ease towards the goal, McClain positioning himself between the posts while Sanders hangs back, stick resting casually on his shoulder. The other players start peppering McClain with shots - his glove flashes out, quick as a cat's paw, snagging the pucks from the air. He drops into a butterfly, legs splaying wide to kick away rebounds. I can't take my eyes off him, enthralled by his reflexes and fearless focus.

My stomach is in knots as the warmups wind down. One by one, the players skate over to tap fists with Coach and Jack before heading off the ice. Sanders, Dominick, McClain, Ruffilo - they all make sure to bump fists with me too. I force myself to take some deep breaths as the opening ceremonies begin. I watch anxiously as the puck drops for the first faceoff. The boys look sharp, moving the puck around cleanly, getting some good chances early. My nerves start to settle just a bit seeing them come out strong in these crucial opening minutes. But I'm still on the edge of my seat, ready to jump into action at a moment's notice.

I've got my eyes glued to the ice as the Avalanche roar down the rink with the puck, making a beeline for McClain's net. Sebastian bursts forward, moving in to intercept. Sticks clash and sparks fly as he battles for possession. With a mighty swing, he breaks free and shovels the puck away. But his opponent doesn't take kindly to being shaken off. As Sebastian streaks up the ice, the guy charges after him and slams their bodies together, crushing them both against the boards. The glass shudders from the hit - you can feel the aggression pulsating through the arena.

My eyes are glued to Sebastian as he shakes off that nasty hit. The guy is seeing red, flexing out the arm that just got plastered into the boards. He's back in position now, still fuming, and drives hard to defend the net again. A few more plays and another try for a score but McClain is quick as ever and snags the puck. Sebastian eases up to circle back, but that same goon swoops in and crunches him into the wall again. Suddenly it's mayhem - helmets flying, sticks tossed, bare fists grabbing jerseys, going for faces. The refs dive in to break it all up. My heart's pounding as I take it all in. This game just got heated.

As the whistle blows, Coach bellows for Sebastian to hit the bench and sends in Dominick. My stomach drops. Sebastian's face is as red as his jersey as he skates over, and I shuffle closer, dreading what I'll see. His lip is swollen and split open, a trail of blood oozing down his chin. Coach grabs Sebastian's cheeks and gives him a stern once-over before nodding my way. Our eyes meet briefly before Sebastian clambers over the boards on wobbly skates, weighed down by pads and gear.

My heart races as I rummage through my bag for the gauze and antiseptic. I gently dab the wet gauze on his rugged, battered face, taking care not to hurt him. He winces ever so slightly, pulling back as I tenderly clean the gash on his lip.

"This will need some ice," I murmur, transfixed by his mouth. The wound isn't deep, but it would still hurt if I tried to kiss it. Stop it, Sarah.

"I could just lay on the rink, would that help?" he jokes, flashing me a roguish grin.

I can't help but smile, lost in his sparkling eyes. Even bruised from the game, he makes my stomach do somersaults. As I gently dab the last of the blood from his rugged face, I ask for his hands.

He turns them palm down, rough and shaking. I trace my fingers over the tattoos marking his skin, checking for any hidden injuries. Through my gentle touch, I feel his warmth, his strength. Our eyes meet and my heart flutters. I take his hand in both of mine, lightly pressing each knuckle, thrilled by his closeness. He doesn't flinch. If he's in pain, he doesn't show it. Or maybe it's just the adrenaline.

"Looks good," I say, my eyes lingering a little too long on his handsome face. "Nothing too badly damaged."

He smiles, though it turns into a wince as the wounded side of his lip curves up. "Just my pride," he replies ruefully.

"Ah, pride," I tut, leaning in conspiratorially. "A tricky thing to find once lost. But if I happen to stumble over yours rolling around, I'll be sure to scoop it up and return it to its rightful owner." I give him a playful wink, unable to keep from flirting. Even banged up, he's cute as hell.

NOAH'S POV

As I hop over the boards and back onto the ice, my legs feel a little shaky. I skate slowly back to position, my head still spinning. Man, her smile just melts me every time. So sly and sexy. And that hair... She's such a little fox. I can't stop thinking about her. I've got it bad for this girl. Focus, dude! Gotta keep my head in the game. The way her black and red scrubs hug those round curves of hers. Alright, deep breaths. Back to the action.

I'm back defending our goal after that goon got himself tossed for busting my lip. The blood's dripping down my chin but I've got no time to worry about that. We're up 4-2 with the clock winding down. Karlsson and me, we go together like peanut butter and jelly defending our net. A winger tries to blow past me but I plant him into the boards. I knock the puck loose and pass it off to Karlsson but their center snags it. I shake off the winger clinging to me and slide across the crease to rob the center's shot. I scoop up the puck and send it flying down the ice. I'm throwing hits left and right, keeping their forwards outside our zone. The final horn blares and we've done it again - chalk up another W. My jersey's soaked with sweat but the pain doesn't matter.

I'm beat as we drag our battered bodies back to the locker room. My muscles are screamin' under these pads after the torture session on the ice. That bone-crunchin' check into the boards left my shoulder throbbing with a deep bruise. I grunt and roll my arm, trying to shake out the pain.

The locker room erupts when we stumble in. The boys are hootin' and hollerin', dancing around half-naked and drenched in sweat. I toss my stick and lid in my stall and collapse on the bench, rip off my gloves and gingerly touch my busted lip. The metallic taste of blood fills my mouth as I wince.

I peel off my jersey, wincing as the sweaty fabric sticks to my skin. The pads come next, and I sigh in relief as my shoulders are freed from their restrictive embrace. The locker room falls silent as all eyes turn to me. I run a hand through my damp hair, pushing it back from my forehead.

As I sit on the bench, spent from the game, a shadow falls over me. I glance up to see Little Fox standing there, ice pack in hand, trademark smirk on her lips. She holds out the bag, ice cracking inside, and I take it slowly, letting my fingers brush hers. Her eyes trace over my bare chest and I see her throat tighten as she swallows hard. She wants me. My teammates watch us, eager for the show.

I stand tall in front of her, watching those dark eyes go wide. Her lips part slightly as she takes me in. "F-for your face," she stammers, pressing the ice into my hands before slipping away, a new bounce in her step. I grin as she goes.

Game on, Little Fox.

We roll into Sully's still riding high after crushing Washington 4-zip on the ice tonight.

That game was a brawl, I'm still aching all over. But hey, at least my mug is still pretty this time. The split lip from the last match is finally scabbing up enough that I can wolf down a burger without wincing. The shiner's faded and I clean up alright for a night out. The boys and I threw on our nicest threads, my black slacks and a soft navy shirt with the sleeves rolled up to show off the ink running up my arms.

The second I open the door, this total dive hits me with that sweet stench of stale beer and chicken wings. Road signs and hilarious bar quotes plaster the walls from floor to ceiling. Three monster TVs behind the bar blast sports on full volume - college ball, NFL, and of course our boys lighting up the NHL highlights.

With the game pumping through the speakers and the home team plastered on every screen, Sully's is our scene tonight. Loud, messy, no pretensions - just how we like it after a big win.

We snag the biggest table in the joint and start pounding 'em back, one after another. The energy is through the roof thanks to that W. Jolly's already facedown in his third pint, trying to sweet talk the waitress in his sloppy Swedish. The swedish isn’t working but the way he is batting his eyes at her and has her laughing tells me she is into him.

Sanchez is working his magic on a couple hockey bunnies in the corner, likely wanting to take both of them back to the hotel with him. Meanwhile, Nick and Andy are talking trash and seeing who can balance more empty bottles on their domes. As for me? I'm just taking it all in, boys - the brews, the brotherhood, that sweet taste of victory.

"Check it out, McClain," Nick says, words running together as he balances a third bottle on his head, swaying to keep it steady. "It's all about that balance, bro."

Andy scoffs, clutching his six shot glasses in one hand and snatching one of Nick's to perch on his middle finger. "Balance? I'll show you balance, you little punk," he slurs back.

The dim lights of this hole-in-the-wall bar make it tough to see much of anything. Shadows dance across dark wood as my eyes adjust. The dance floor packed tight with bodies grinding up against each other to the pulsing beat. Through the mass of writhing shapes, I catch a glimpse of foxtail curls swaying in time with the music. She's gorgeous, sipping a cocktail through a black straw, full lips wrapped around it. Hips swaying hypnotically in that little red dress that hugs every curve. She laughs, head thrown back in delight, and her friend with the messy bun joins in.

I'm transfixed as I watch her move across the dance floor. The sway of her hips and bounce of her curls has me hypnotized. I down my drink in one gulp, no longer interested in anything else tonight. Pushing through the crowded club, I keep my eyes locked on her - my prize. A few eager ladies try to divert my attention but I'm relentless, driven by desire. I have to feel her body against mine.

Finally reaching her, I slide my hand across the curve of her hip, fingertips digging into the silky fabric of her dress. Pulling her into me, I bring my lips to her ear and growl, "Dance with me, beautiful."

The bass is pulsing through my body as I sway my hips to the beat. Me and my bestie Marissa hit up Sully's after the Kraken game for some much needed drinks and dancing. She looks bangin' in her tight black dress, fending off guys left and right. "Not worth your time, honey!" she says with a flip of her hair.

I laugh but I'm feeling that itch, you know? It's been too damn long since I've felt those hands on me, those lips on my neck. I wore this sexy red number hoping to lure in a hookup, but with Marissa running cockblock patrol, doesn't look like that's happening tonight.

Then, I feel it. Strong hands grasp my hips from behind and pull me back against a hard chest. Mmm I can't help but melt into him as we sway together. Now this is exactly what I needed after that hockey game. Looks like Marissa can't stop me from having a little fun tonight after all.

"Dance with me, beautiful," he murmurs, his voice low and sultry against my ear. I feel the rumble of it through his chest pressed against my back, sending a shiver down my spine. His hands slide around my waist, pulling me closer as we sway to the music. I'm intoxicated by his presence, melting into his embrace. Our bodies move as one, passion smoldering between us. His breath hot on my neck, his touch electric. This dance is full of promise, an invitation to something more.

I'm swaying to the beat, drink in hand, when Marissa leans in close so I can hear her over the pounding music. "I want details," she says, planting a kiss on my cheek and taking the drink from my hand before disappearing into the crowd.

I close my eyes again, letting this mystery man's hands roam as we move together. When I finally open them, I do a double take - it's Noah! Those intense brown eyes boring into mine with that look of determination he gets on the ice.

His strong hands grip my hips, pulling me flush against him. I know I shouldn’t give in, but the heat radiating from his body thaws my resolve. If Daddy found out his little girl was messing around with a player, he’d blow his whistle for sure. Not that his rules have ever stopped me before. That goalie with the dreamy eyes almost made me forget curfew back in high school. But getting caught now might mean so much more than grounded from prom. Still, a girl’s got needs. And this player’s touch tells me he knows exactly how to satisfy them.

"What's the matter, little fox?" His words are a sensual purr that makes my knees weak. The heady scent of beer, whiskey and woodsy cologne intoxicates me. I'm helpless against him, my body craving his touch despite the risk. My breath catches as his lips graze my neck.

#bad omens #noah sebastian #bad omens cult #noahsebastian fanfic #bad omens band #hockey player noah #hockey #bad omens au #bad omens smut #hockey romance #hockeyomens #hockey player!noah

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thissortofsorcery · 1 year

Text

Steve won’t admit this on pain of death, but he kinda loves it when Billy comes over.

Billy likes to make his entrances dramatic, so he either leans on the doorbell or pounds on the door like the world’s ending, even if Steve can hear the Camaro driving up from a block away and is already on his way to the door. Tonight Billy shows up after eight o’clock, bundled up in his leather jacket and a scarf and carrying a six pack. His shoulders are loose when he takes his jacket off and stamps his boots on the welcome mat, and he’s smiling easy.

“What were your plans for tonight, princess?” Billy grins over his shoulder, toeing his boots off. Steve watches his earring catch the light.

“Uh,” Steve looks pointedly at his socked feet and pajama pants, “watching TV, mostly.”

Billy shoves the six pack on Steve’s chest. “Lame. Your night just got a whole lot better, pretty boy.”

And he walks away in the direction of the living room without looking back.

When Steve gets there, Billy’s shirt is already thrown on the couch, and he’s tugging his socks off. His jeans are undone. The curtains are already open to reveal the backyard, steam rising from the still surface of the pool.

“Billy, no.”

“C’mon, Harrington, don’t be a pussy,” Billy says, pushing his jeans down his thighs with some difficulty. They’re tight. Steve’s not watching the denim catch on the fine golden hairs adorning his skin, his eyes are not tracing the soft skin of his inner thighs.

“You were wearing a scarf when you came here,” Steve says, picking up a discarded sock and throwing it in Billy’s face.

“So we’ll run to the pool.”

“You can run to the pool, I’m staying right here,” Steve flops down on the couch and picks up the remote, sets his jaw to stubborn and stares at the TV.

Then Billy’s crotch is is front on his face. His undone pants, belt hanging on the loops, red underwear peeking from underneath blue denim. Shameless. Entirely unaware of what it does to Steve.

“Come ooooooon,” Billy says, with that look on his face, that glint in his eyes that Steve’s familiar with. He knows how this is going to end before Billy finishes speaking. “Where’s your fire, King Steve? Live a little.”

Steve gets to his feet. Billy sways back, but his feet don’t move. They’re inches apart. Steve can feel his heart beat in his ears, the tip of his fingers. Billy’s eyes are boring into his own, big and blue.

Somehow they always end up here. Standing close enough to touch, but not touching. Always stepping away first.

Billy’s radiating heat, always is, warm and inviting, and Steve’s skin tingles when he touches two fingers to the center of Billy’s chest and pushes.

“Race you,” he says. And he trips Billy.

Billy doesn’t fall, but he catches himself on the arm of the couch, and that’s enough time for Steve to get his sweatshirt off and run halfway to the door.

“Motherfucker,” He hears Billy swear behind him, and barks out a laugh, then Billy’s yanking him back and pulling the door open, running ahead in his underwear.

Steve doesn’t know which one of them jumps in first, it’s more like they push each other in. It’s all elbows on ribs on the way back up, trying to shove each other under for another second, and they both break the surface laughing, water streaming from burning nostrils.

They horse around in the pool for a while, dunking each other and being dumb, until they realize they left the beer in the living room. Billy pulls himself out of the pool, shuddering when the cold air hits his skin.

“Fuck,” He shouts, and Steve laughs, swimming backwards away from the edge.

“Your idea, man.”

“Fuck!” Billy shouts again, running back outside with the six pack, which he dumps beside the pool before cannonballing in.

Billy pushes his wet bangs out of his face when he comes up, and grins at Steve with his tongue out, “Can’t believe you were going to mope in front of the tv all night, man. It’s Friday night.”

“As opposed to what?” Steve laughs, “Is there a party I wasn’t invited to?”

“Nah, that’s tomorrow. But my calendar was open tonight and I thought I’d save you from boring yourself to death.”

“Hot date blew you off or something?” Steve asks, unconsciously moving closer. He and Billy are floating close together, swaying with the water. It feels natural. Feels right. Being this close to Billy, being warm from his proximity, not just from the warm water of the pool, it makes his stomach flutter, makes his breath hitch.

“Or something,” Billy says, and his voice is low. The air feels charged with something, and it’s not the first time Steve’s felt pulled in by Billy, like there’s something buried in their chests tugging them close. They keep coming together, and then somehow falling apart, again and again, like ocean water lapping at the shore.

Billy’s right, though. Steve was bored, flicking through channels, contemplating making food or jerking off just for something to do, until Billy walked through the door. Now he hasn’t stopped smiling since.

Billy’s smiling right back, that wide, toothy smile that Steve gets when they’re alone. He hasn’t pulled away yet.

“Well, I’m flattered to be your second choice,” Steve says, flicking water on Billy’s face.

“Not what I said,” Billy says, splashing him harder.

Steve splutters, laughs, and wipes a hand down his face. When he opens his eyes, Billy’s floated even closer.

“Then what did you say?” Steve asks, licking chlorine off his lips. He watches Billy’s eyes track the movement, sees the hunger in them. Recognizes the way of the water. It’s about to pull back.

Something in him breaks, and he can’t let it. Can’t bear it if Billy cracks a joke and swims away.

Steve’s hand comes up to rest on Billy’s jaw, and Billy’s eyes go wide. He’s looking at Steve like he lost it, like Steve’s brain finally leaked out of his ears and left only stupid behind, but Steve has never been more sure of anything in his life. He’s not mixing his signals, here.

Steve runs his thumb on Billy’s bottom lip, says his name, Billy, in a murmur, and Billy leans back, uncertain. His eyebrows are pulled together in a frown, something almost aggressive if Billy didn’t look so confused. Any other time, Steve could misinterpret this, but his thumb is on Billy’s lip and he can feel the way his breath is shaking.

Steve kisses him.

Billy’s mouth is slack, open in confusion, so Steve only catches Billy’s upper lip between his own, and it’s just like Steve imagined it, soft and supple, tasting like cigarette smoke. Steve pulls back a bit, and he was just going to kiss him again, really, but Billy suddenly surges up, closing his mouth around Steve’s, pressing them together from chest to thigh.

All thoughts are gone from Steve’s mind, then, and he can only focus on Billy, Billy, Billy, and the way his skin feels where they’re touching, slick from the water, and the pull of Billy’s fingers tangled in his hair, and the weight of Billy’s thighs when they come up to bracket his hips underwater.

When they pull away, breathing heavy, Billy’s looking at him with soft wonder, like he can’t quite believe what just happened. So Steve kisses him again, and again, on the lips, on the cheek, on the corner of his mouth.

“Steve,” Billy says. It’s the first thing he’s said in a while.

“Yeah?” Steve pulls back to look at Billy, waits for him to elaborate. But Billy doesn’t say anything, can’t seem to decide on what he wants to say or ask, just keeps chewing on the inside of his cheek and frowning more deeply by the second.

“Hey,” Steve says, bringing them together again, hands on Billy’s chest. “I really like you.”

Billy looks up at him them, “Yeah?”

Steve nods.

“I kinda love it when you come over,” Steve admits, trailing his cold nose along Billy’s wet cheek. He feels Billy shudder under his hands, feels Billy’s fingers squeeze his waist, and rubs his own hands up Billy’s arms to his neck. Cups his face. Kisses him again. “Love it when you’re here.”

Billy opens his eyes with a laugh, a huffy, weak one that feel real nonetheless, “Shut up. You’re a sap.”

Steve watches Billy’s eyes flick to his mouth, wide and round, like he’s thinking of kissing him again. He doesn’t move to do it, though. That just won’t do. Steve places a kiss on the corner of Billy’s mouth, another on the dead center of his lips, and feels the air move when Billy takes a sharp breath, like they’re sharing air.

Then one of Billy’s hands is coming up to fist his hair, yanking a moan out of his mouth along with it when their lips part. Steve can feel it in the way Billy presses his body close, a burning line of heat even under the water, the way Billy holds him tightly, the desperation in his grip, the longing in his teeth where they bite down on his lip.

Billy wants this as much as Steve does. He just won’t let himself believe he can have it, but it’s fine. Steve can convince him, one kiss at a time.

#I FINISHED IT #harringrove #billy x steve #harringrove fanfiction #harringrove ficlet #harringrove fic #billy hargrove #steve harrington #mine #sorcery writes

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hanniluvi · 5 months

Text

( 🌨️ ) THIS IS HOW IT FEELS — PARK SUNGHOON FIC

[ DAY EIGHT ] of the advent calendar !

( 🌨️ ) SYNOPSIS . . Sunghoon hates the winter, but somehow you made it feel a bit more bearable.

( დ ) PAIRING . . friend!sunghoon x gn!reader

( 🌨️ ) GENRE . . fluff, friends 2 … ? 😊

( დ ) WARNINGS . . none that i know of ~~ WC 0.7K+ ( 721 )

( 🌨️ ) NOTE . . happy sunghoon day 🤭 this song somehow reminds me of sunghoon so you know i had to write a fic inspired by “this is how it feels” by d4vd , laufey 🤍

Winter? Sunghoon absolutely despises winter.

The coldness during this season is something he particularly dislikes. He loathes the biting chill that seeps through the layers of clothing, making each step feel like a battle against the frosty air. The winter season, with its harsh temperatures and biting winds, always manages to dampen his spirits.

The snow is another aspect of winter that Sunghoon absolutely detests. Its intrusive nature, clinging to his layers of clothing and making every step a challenge, frustrates him. In his opinion, snow only seemed to be visually appealing when viewed from the cozy warmth of indoors. For Sunghoon, winter has become a time he'd prefer to skip entirely.

So, it wasn't surprising for Sunghoon to grumble about having to exit the warm confines of the school building into the cold. He loathed leaving the heated rooms to brave the harsh winter chill, especially with the slight snow making the situation worse. Slowly dragging his feet towards his locker after the bell rang, he clearly did not want to go home at all, an unusual behavior for him.

It didn't take him long to reach his locker, given that his last class was nearby. As he punched in the code to open it, you appeared with a cheerful smile. "Hey Hoon," you exclaimed, hastily retrieving your coat from the locker. "Did you see the snow? It's so pretty!"

Sunghoon sighed, mustering a half-hearted smile. "Sure did."

"Come on, why aren't you slightly excited?" you nudged, attempting to elicit a more enthusiastic response from."It's the first snow day of the month—what's so bad about that?" you remarked, trying to lighten the mood.

"And it should remain the first and final day," Sunghoon deadpanned, closing his locker. You playfully rolled your eyes, well aware of Sunghoon's dramatic tendencies. "Seriously?"

"I'd much rather stay inside longer because it's snowing—you know me. I don't like snow," Sunghoon shrugged, sliding his arms into his coat.

"Well yeah—wait, I'll help you like the snow!" you declared, a determined spark in your eyes.

"Huh—" Sunghoon barely had his arm in the sleeve of his jacket when you started walking away from the lockers. With a confused expression, he followed after you, still adjusting to the abrupt situation.

"YN!" Sunghoon shouted, watching you instantly take off once you reached the exit of the school. Hesitant but determined, he put his hood over his head, attempting to catch up. The wind carried the snow into his way, getting blown all over the place. He shields his eyes with one of his hands, "Why are you running?"

You turned around, smiling and laughing as Sunghoon tried to catch up while trying to avoid the snow as much as possible. "Why am I running?" you echoed, the wind tousling your hair as you grinned at Sunghoon. "Because, Hoon, sometimes you just have to embrace the unexpected and let loose in the snow!"

Sunghoon rolled his eyes but couldn't help but crack a smile. As he finally caught up, you slowed down, and the two of you found yourselves standing in the gently falling snow.

"See? It's not that bad," you teased, twirling around to catch the snowflakes. Sunghoon gazed at you, bundled in your scarf with white earmuffs. Your rosy cheeks and bright smile created a warmth he hadn't experienced before, not from his own clothing. It marked the first time he felt a different kind of warmth—the kind that made his heart pound slightly faster. “Right?”

“I still don’t know how to feel about this,” he joked, smiling as he held eye contact with you.

“It will grow on you quickly,” As you laughed and turned around to continue walking, Sunghoon couldn't deny the flutter in his chest.

He quickened his pace, matching his footsteps with yours, walking alongside with you. The soft crunch of snow beneath your feet and the delicate fall of snowflakes created a serene backdrop. Sunghoon couldn't help but steal glances at you, realizing that this only made him notice his true feelings.

It was a feeling unfamiliar yet strangely comforting—the warmth of the season mirrored in the connection forming between you two, turning the chilly day into a heartwarming memory.

So this is how it feels to love the cold days.

This is how it feels to fall in love with you.

ENHA PERM TAGLIST (1) — @flwoie @ixomiyu @haruavrse @shinsou-rii @bearseulgs @ilovewonyo @yenqa @dimplewonie @bubblytaetae @wtfhyuck @ineedaherosavemeenow @ml8dy @starikizs @wonioml @chirokookie @xiaoderrrr @neozon3nha @en-chantedtomeetyou @millksea @enhaz1 @eundiarys @hyeosi @ja4hyvn @judeduartewannabe @j-wyoung @thia-aep @vampcharxter @softpia @officiallyjaehyuns @itsactuallylina @hsheart @sweetjaemss @ahnneyong @hanienie @jwnghyuns @kpoplover718 @jiawji @rikizm @haknom @yeokii @wvnkoi @whoschr @teddywonss @shinunoga-iie-wa @isoobie @skzenhalove @misokei @s00buwu @ox1-lovesick @miercerise @litttlestars @enhapocketz

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apomaro-mellow · 6 months

Text

Steve had a puppy au from this ask

Elaine knew that her sister and her husband often left their son alone. And honestly, that just wasn't good for the boy. She had talked to her sister about it, it wasn't like she had to follow Richard around, but Margaret wasn't hearing it. So Elaine put it on herself to give young Steve a companion. In the form of a cavalier spaniel puppy. Twelve year old Steve had been over the moon when he met her for the first time.

Steve named her Lady. And she kept him company when his parents were out of town. Because they were gone so much, they didn't really mind at first. Barely noticed her. Steve wanted to prove himself, so he read a ton of books on caring for dogs. He learned to house train her, keep her from tearing into things, and even not to bark too loud. It helped that Lady was already so prim and proper to begin with.

She was a proper Harrington lass in Steve's eyes. And it was nice to have someone around when the sun went down and he was all alone in this big house. Whenever she laid her head on his leg or chest and gazed up at him, Steve felt like he was really being seen.

Eventually, there came a time when his parents were actually home for a decent stretch. Steve had had Lady for two years and had been using his allowance and birthday money to buy things for her. She had the fluffiest dog bed and a whole basket of toys.

"Lady!", Steve called out by the front door. "Time for a walk!"

Her little feet bounded against the floor, grating on Richard as he thought of a clumsy dog crashing into something in his house.

Lady would follow Steve to go and get the mail, barking happily to the postman, which annoyed Margaret to no end when she heard it day in and day out. Her shedding disgusted them. They didn't like how she roamed the house like she owned it.

Finally, Richard laid down the law. "Get rid of it", he ordered.

"Of what?", Steve asked, in the middle of figuring out some algebra homework. Eight grade was hard but Lady made it easier when she rested by his feet.

"Of the dog. She doesn't belong here."

"She does more than you", Steve glared.

"Watch your tone."

"I'm not getting rid of Lady", Steve said as he stood to his feet. Lady's head perked up.

Richard's hand went for her and Steve smacked it away. Sensing aggression, Lady got to her feet and started to growl. Before Richard could retaliate towards his own son, she lunged and bit into his hand. His scream prompted his wife to come into the room. Margaret stood between her husband and son, keeping Steve from going after his father as he held Lady by her scruff and took her away.

Steve watched from his window as Lady was driven away. Probably to the pound or out on the street, he didn't know which was worse. But he knew he'd never forgive his parents.

He missed Lady every time he thought about her, so he tried not to think that much. It got easier every time Hawkins was under attack. But with the defeat of Vecna, it felt like the closing of the final chapter. All loose ends had been tied. All that was left was healing and rebuilding.

Both physical and mental for one Eddie Munson, who found himself laid up at the hospital for several weeks. Luckily, he wasn't bored. He had a visitor nearly every day, the most surprising of which being Steve Harrington.

"Can't believe I get to hold court with the king nearly every day", Eddie said when Steve came in again.

"Of course you do, you're my court jester. I'm just here ahead of Wayne. He said he had a surprise and wanted me to warn you not to go over the top. Apparently he's sneaking someone in?"

Eddie could hear the apprehension in his voice and smiled to reassure him. "Worry not, Wayne's not breaking anyone out of prison."

True to Steve's word, Wayne came in, something bundled up in his arms. To anyone not paying any mind, especially in a hospital, it might appear to be a baby. But Eddie knew who it was and immediately smiled. Wayne closed the door and then let out a little whistle. The bundle heard the signal and began to move, poking their head out from the blanket wrap.

"Meatball!" Eddie reached his arms out to take the dog. Wayne handed them over and she licked all over his face, tail wagging excitedly.

"Meatball?", Steve's brow raised.

"Yeah, cause she looks like a lil meatball. And that's what I fed her when I first found her", Eddie beamed.

Steve shook his head. "She doesn't look like a meatball, she looks like-Lady?"

"From Lady and the Tramp? Yeah, she looks like that too", Eddie nodded, scratching her behind the ear.

"Lady?", Steve said again. And suddenly he had his own lap full of dog and her wet nose and tongue all over his face. "I can't believe-how long-Were you with Eddie this whole time?"

Lady let out a soft bark and then turned over in his lap for belly rubs.

"How do you know Meatball?", Eddie asked.

"Her name is Lady, and I've known her since she was a puppy", Steve explained while giving his best girl belly rubs. "My dad took her away, I never knew what happened to her."

"Eddie found her out in the woods", Wayne said. "Never seen a stray dog so polite. We could tell she'd been kept well, but she didn't have a collar."

Her being yours explains why she was such a little princess", Eddie teased.

"She's a proper lady, yes she is", Steve cooed.

"So, do we need to go to court for custody?", Eddie asked.

Steve put Lady onto Eddie's lap and petted the top of her head. "I'm sure we can come to an arrangement", Steve said. "We did with Dustin."

#apo writes #stranger things #fanfiction #like a hint of steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #dont let the read more fool you #this is short #it's just baaarely long enough for me to justify putting it under a cut

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greycaelum · 1 year

Note

I'm dying to know suguru reaction meeting baby kou and sai for the first time 🤧

Kaleidoscope Series—Clouds & Mochi Chapters: { Protect }

—Gojo Satoru X Reader

𑁍 Synopsis:

"I'm gonna protect Cat!" Kouki huffed at him.

"Uhuh? Be a good big brother." Suguru ruffled with the long hair this little mochi had begged him to comb into a bun like his Uncle's.

"That's right! You're the one to say when you got Mimiko-chan and Nanako-chan to protect. You'd grow white hairs soon." Satoru stuck his tongue out, rocking a fussy Saika from her father's loudness.

𑁍 Genre: fluff, domesticity

𑁍 CW/TW: (1.5k)— where Suguru didn't stray and stayed.

𑁍 A/N: some hot cocoa and a scarf for Christmas. I'm not taking requests, but I just wanna write this one.

The doorbell rang several times. Your hands stopped making the tempura for lunch and turned the stove off. Washing your hand over the faucet and patting it dry in a confused frown plastered your brow.

The housekeeper your husband hired had her day off and you got all the Sunday time as your family time and you're not expecting any guests today.

Topless and with an eight weeks old Kouki in diapers, cradled in his arms, Satoru strolled out of the nursery with a bright look on his face. Your shoulders slowly relaxed with your husband's ease.

"Hi My Love," you cooed and dropped a feathery kiss over your sweet boy's forehead.

Kouki's tiny nose scrunch up, rubbing it with his curled-up hand and snuggling back to his Papa's chest. Why so adorable Baby?! You inhaled, stopping yourself with all the fluffy emotions to smooch your son awake from his little nappy time.

"I thought I was your Love?" Satoru huffed with a pout but leaned Kouki so you could kiss the lil' mochi more. You look so novel with your messy bunned hair falling over your face and neck, dressed in his oversized shirt, still plump and round in your postpartum stage but dang, you got his heart swelling with all the changes in your body.

"Can you get the door please Honey?" On your tiptoes, you kissed Satoru's cheeks and slowly cradled your sleeping son into your bosom. The little mochi barely fussed and just snuggle to you for warmth.

Satoru pouted, wanting a little more skin-to-skin contact with his Kikufuku. But the insistent doorbell is starting to irk him too. Especially the person ringing it.

"I can hear it loud and clear, stop punching the darn thing Suguru. You're going to wake up my son." Satoru grab the nearby towel and draped it over you before unlocking the front door and spilling Suguru, holding a present.

"Suguru-san! Come in." You invited the man in with a wide smile.

Satoru didn't waste a second to snatch the snack from his friend's hand and took Kouki from you so you could change.

You took one last peek, at the three boys before chuckling and left to change.

"He looks so big from the last picture." Suguru stared in awe at the little thing, so identical to the oversized man holding him. Kouki whined at the sudden shift from his mother's soft bosom but quelled from his father's soft rocking and coos.

"Doesn't he look like me?" Satoru grinned proudly. A grin of genuine joy and pride.

"I hope he'd take off from Y/n-chan." Suguru rubs the chubby milky cheeks. He could smell the creamy scent of milk and almonds. Why do babies smell so comforting? Even his heart and hand can't help but feel that tingling urge to nuzzle the little guy.

"Here, hold him."

"W-what? No, I'm fine!" Suguru withdraws his finger in a millisecond holding it before him in defense.

"C'mon, he's a little chonkier than other babies so hold him like this." Satoru laughed at his hesitance as he position his hand to hold Kouki.

"Like this?" Suguru could feel his arms tighten when the little weight slowly curled up into his biceps. There's something about how fully dependent and safe a tiny little bundle is in his stiff arms that pounds his heart.

"He likes you, see he's nuzzling." Satoru hums, proud of his little mochi being calm despite all the changing of arms.

"D-Does he does this all the time?" Suguru instinctively rocks his arms to lull the little guy.

"Do what?"

"Easily attaching to the one who holds him?"

Satoru shook his head.

"He's quite picky. Only lets Y/n, I, and his babysitter hold him on for a long time."

Suguru is barely listening as he stares at Kouki suckling on his tiny thumb. It's a little hard to wrap his head around that all humans started like this, so vulnerable, so innocent.

"He looks so much like Y/n-san." Suguru chuckled when Kouki nuzzle him at the mention of your name. Seems like the little guy's quite attentive to his momma's name.

"Aww, c'mon! Just wait until he grows up, he's gonna be the spitting image of me." Satoru half-heartedly protested, but cannot hold back the proud smirk.

"You alone are more than enough to handle in this society. Stop spreading your menace bacteria on your son too." Suguru spats in his friend's direction and cooed at Kouki who was growing fussy with the loud banter.

"Oh really? Just wait, we're both gonna throw chaos on you." Satoru stuck his tongue out before rushing to the kitchen at the sound of the microwave's timer.

Suguru on the other hand turned back to Kouki who calmed down easily. Rubbing the chonky cheeks with the back of his finger, a part of Suguru's heart warmed up, slowly spreading to his whole heart. Another reason he found to smile genuinely despite the stain of the world. He kinda understands why Satoru named him his hope and sky.

It's a girl.

The very minute Satoru called him, rubbing on Suguru's face he was gonna have a daughter, Suguru already foreseeing the riot this will make.

"I'd die for my son..." Satoru sighed but his face hardened in split second. "But I would kill for my daughter."

"I see... So?" Suguru sighed as well. He would do the same for his twins. Anything to protect his little girls too. Popping the soda can open that he got from the vending machine while on their little break from work, he drank to quench the thirst of summer while watching the kids in the park nearby a daycare have fun and run around their teacher.

"I need to protect her from danger." Satoru cried.

Suguru can't help but sympathize with the desperation in his friend's voice.

That was when you were still pregnant with the little princess, and now that the little treasure Satoru affectionately named his fortune and moon.

"And what's the danger against women?" Suguru raised his brow.

"Men!" Satoru wailed. "Dammit, Suguru!" The fucker grabbed his collar and shake the life out of him.

"Stop choking me!"

Suguru is starting to offer incense to the boy who will dare to catch the little Gojo Princess's heart, may the heavens spare him from Gojo Satoru's tribulations.

"Su-chan! Look, look! This is my little sister, isn't Saika so pretty?"

Kouki grabs him and leads him to the little princess's crib. And just like that Suguru stared at the bluest of the blue eyes he has ever seen in his whole life. It perfectly stood out in the snow-white hair of the little princess.

She'll be breaking hearts for sure...

"Isn't she so pretty? She got Mama's nose." Kouki grinned, reaching in the gap of the crib to tickle his little sister's cheek, earning a little grunt and flailing of arms from Saika. Suguru ruffled the little mochi's long hair.

He knew this little guy will grow just to have a heart like his mother's but still, he inherited the cheekiness of his father that is always present in those eyes Kouki inherited from you.

"Well, hello there Little Princess, did you know your Papa's gonna grow silver hair in that white mane of his from worrying about you?" Saika blinked and scrunch her tiny nose, reaching her hands out for him. Suguru laughed at her attempt for a 'carry me'.

He swears Satoru's kids have a penchant for wanting a carry from him all the time.

"Up you go," Suguru grunted, carefully supporting the little princess's neck against his arms. A small smile against the pacifier filtered on her cute chubby face. "Grow up like your Mom, 'kay? Don't be a troublemaker like your Dad."

Suguru can't blame Satoru. A part of him knew he would never hesitate to follow Satoru in beating up some punks who dare to lay fingers on this little princess.

"You have to protect her Kou-chan."

"Of course, I would." Kouki vigorously nodded to him.

Suguru saw the twins loitering around Shoko's watch, all happy with the sweet you keep piling on their table.

"Isn't she so pretty?" Satoru smirked proudly, picking up Saika who made grabby hands to her Papa to snuggle much to Kouki's pout with his little tickling session cut off. "She looks just like Y/n with my hair and eyes."

Suguru can't help but soften his eyes at the sight of his friend being surrounded by warmth.

"You've got your hands full in the next decades, fending off those boys."

He laughed when Satoru turned pale in split second, dreading the very same day he dreads when his twins also leave the nest.

"I'm gonna protect Cat!" Kouki huffed at him.

"Uhuh? Be a good big brother." Suguru ruffled with the long hair this little mochi had begged him to comb into a bun like his Uncle's.

"That's right! You're the one to say when you got Mimiko-chan and Nanako-chan to protect. You'd grow white hairs soon." Satoru stuck his tongue out, rocking a fussy Saika from her father's loudness.

Thinking back a few years ago, he'd never imagined the two of them being fathers, much more to be so protective of their daughters.

But one thing's for sure. They'd both raise hell and high waters to protect what they're living for.

—GreyCaelum

[PS: Writing for Suguru is not my forte, but I'd say he's a family man]

PLAGIARISM IS A CRIME

Check out the Masterlist for more

All rights and credits of the Jujutsu Kaisen character(s) mentioned images(s) and songs(s) used, belongs to their respective owner(s)

General/Kaleidoscope Series Taglist: @ice-icebaby @aeanya @gummy-dummy @tender-rosiey

#kaleidoscope series #c&mchapters #gojo kouki #gojo saika #gojo satoru x you #geto suguru #greycaelum #jujutsu kaisen imagines #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x wife #gojo satoru #jjk fluff #gojo satoru fanfic #jujutsu kaisen #gojo x you #jujutsu kaisen satoru #gojo x reader fluff #gojo satoru imagines #gojo satoru fluff

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romanarose · 1 year

Text

Prelude: "This Better not Awaken Anything in me"

Santiago Garcia x fem!reader

Masterlist

Next part: getting started

Summary: While having sex, you and santi find out a mutual fantasy...

WARNINGS: piv, rough sex, finger sucking, anal play, hair pulling, spanking, soft aftercare, after sex check in, talk of group sex, talk of anal and oral.

***************

Santiago was unrelenting today. You’d often heard the term “fuck you into the mattress” and it seems Santi was taking this literally. He had you on your stomach, pillow under your hips, hand pressed down between your shoulder blades that had initially cracked your back as he pressed down, making him break out of character, giggling a bit as he asked if you were okay. When he knew he hadn’t inadvertently hurt you, and kissed the area he cracked, he went back to fucking into you, pressing you down, muffling your moans and cries when his other hand slapped your ass. While he had went down on your generously long, he hadn’t allowed you to come, preferring to build you up tonight.

When he heard you mumbling into the comforter, he let up his weight on your back, allowing you to lift your face up. He always did this if he thought you were trying to say something, Santi always let up to let you talk, in case you wanted to express your needs or use a safeword.

“More” Was all you managed to get out.

A slight chuckle behind you, and although you couldn’t see him, you could imagine the grin on his face. “You need more, pretty girl? Eight inches ain’t enough for you?”

“Need, no, need- fuck!” You were a babbling mess, the thick drag of his cock through your walls and feeling him hit in your stomach making forming a coherent thought impossible.

“What’s wrong baby?” His tone was teasing, each snap of his hips making the thoughts you were gathering shatter and restart. “Am I fucking you stupid?”

You whine out a mhm, and he slows down, eliciting another whine.

You felt Santi’s sweaty body fold over you, encasing you, right arms covering yours and interlacing your fingers together, while his left brushed hair that was stuck to your face, his hips continuing to move himself inside you, slow and tender to allow you to think. “Tell me what you need, baby girl” he pressed kisses into your neck.

“Need your fingers”

He obliged, moving his hand to wrap around you, playing with the bundle of nerves above where he entered you. “Like this?” You shake your head, and feel him smile against your neck. “Ah.”

He leaves you, a shiver of chills as your skin disconnected, and Santi runs his hands up and down your back, easing the transition to the cold air. He slides his hands back down, one resting on your cheek, kneading the soft skin and the other delivering a harsh slap. You yelp and your body jolts.

“Shh, shh” Santiago rubs the spot, still bruised from previous nights. “I’ll give you what you want sweetie, always will, I’ll always take care of you.” Placing a hand on the small of your back, his thumb traced over the tight ring of muscle. “Like this?” His hips never stopping slowly thrusting into you.

You felt him spit on your hole, then push his thumb inside. All you can do is moan, melting back into the bed.

He began to pick up speed again, his thumb matching his growing pace. “You like that baby? You like me filling you up?” He doesn’t need your answer, the wet squelch of your cunt answering for you. Santiago leans around you again, managing to keep his thumb in you as two fingers from his other hand tap at your lips, asking for permission which you gladly granted, accepting him even more into you.

“Fuck baby,” he mumbles in aw. “So fucking desperate, aren’t you? Desperate to please me, to take me everywhere?”

You nod, sucking on his thick fingers.

Santiago pulls back, wet fingers pressed against your lower neck, you turn your face back into the mattress. Fuck he feels good, pounding into you so deep, you were sure if he pressed his hand against your stomach, he’d feel himself in you. Tears pricked at your eyes, he had been edging you for nearly an hour at this point.

“All pretty and submissive for me, you’d do anything for me, wouldn’t you? Like me shoving my cock wherever I wanted?”

The only response out of your mouth was the repetitive ‘uh, uh, uh’ in time with each time his dick hit that perfect spot.

“Or do you just like feeling full? Huh? Like feeling all your holes stuffed up like a greedy fucking whore?” Santi pressed his full upper weight onto you, shoving you into the soft mattress. The room smell of sex and sweat, and you could hear his grunts, working himself up. “You like being filled? My fingers not enough, want me to call one of the guys over? Hm? Want me to have Will fuck your ass while I’m in this tight little pussy?”

The blood drained out of your shit, how did he know that? Had you said something in your sleep during one of those many dreams you had of Will Miller ravaging you?

“You’d like wouldn’t you? Maybe Benny too, shoving his cock down your throat? Both Miller brothers inside you at once?”

Shit, shit fuck he was tapping deeper into your fantasies. You groan as the coil tighten, praying to god he lets you come soon, unsure how long you can hold it.

His thrusts remained powerful and harsh as he traded the thumb in your asshole for two fingers, stretching you, but the pace was faltering. You inch your ass back, eagerly taking what he gives you.

“Or maybe you’d like all of them, taking turns with your fucked out cunt. Frankie’s got the biggest dick I’ve ever seen, I wanna watch you struggle to take him all in” Santiago felt you tight around him at the thought of that, the mattress doing little to block the loud moan that escaped you.

Santi laughed darkly. “Yeah, I’d bet you’d like that, wouldn’t you” he wrapped his large hands around the back of your neck, squeezing in the sides to block the oxygen. “Have the guys sharing you, passing you around, all inside you at once, f-fuck” He groans, the idea of his perfect girl being so good for his friend, taking care of them. “While I watch them fuck you, make sure I know how lucky I am to have you, shit, baby, you want that?”

He couldn’t make out what you said, but you doubts it was comprehensible anyway, the world around you was fading, only his cock existed. That is, until his fist grabbed your hair, yanking you up to where his face was waiting for you. “I asked you a fucking question bitch” Santi spit into your hung-open mouth. “Little slut too fucked out to speak?” his tone condescending. “Answer me and I’ll let you come. Do you want Frankie, Benny and Will to stretch you open?”

You muster every bit of comprehension you have to sputter out “y-es, yes daddy” before your face was thrown back into the soft fabric.

“Then come for me” he grunted, slapping your ass and watching the fat jiggle as you screamed, the floodgates finally opened after an hour of edging. He punctured his words with harsh thrusts as he came, balls slapping against you “Dirty. Fucking. Whore.” He slammed into you one more time, feeling his cum spill inside. You briefly wonder what it would feel like to feel Frankie take over next, but right now you were too tired to carry that fantasy much further.

You come to with a warm rag cleaning both holes, Santi muttering softly about how good you were for him, ‘my perfect girl’ ‘sweet thing’ ‘such a good girl’ He sat on the side of the bed, coaxing your face out towards him again, a gentle adoring smile on his face. “Hey princesa, you feel okay?”

Nodding eagerly, you smile right back at the love of your life. “I’m doing great, you?”

Santi couldn’t help chuckling at that. You always asked how he was, despite the fact it was him inflicting the pain. “Fucking fanstastic. Can I massage you, or would that be overwhelming right now?”

“Massage would be great, Santi”

He happily obliged, getting the lotion he kept on in the draw of the nightstand for the dry patched on your arms, which he rubbed lotion into first, before focusing on your upper back and neck that he pressed so hard into. “Anything hurt?”

“Can you get the right shoulder? It’s a little stiff. Not from you, hurt it carrying a box.”

He gives a small tsk, “Wish you would’ve told me, I would have been more careful. You know you can tell me if theres something to be careful around, or if you don’t want anything rough.” You knew this, of course, but Santi always reiterated this to you, making sure you knew he meant it.

“I know baby, forgot about it until just now, promise. I’ll always tell you if I don’t like something”

“I know you will, Carino. Makes me so proud of you when you trust me.” A pause. “You wanna talk about that now? Or wait on it?”Santi referenced the fact you had both open stated you wanted his friends to fuck you.

“We can talk about it now…” You were nervous. You did find them all attractive, ridiculously so… But you were worried that what Santi said was just dirty talk. Would he think less of you? Would he actually think of you as a whore, and not in the way you had previously discussed for sex? Would he think you’d cheat? Think you’re dirty? Would he-

“Hey sweetheart” Santiago briefly paused his massage to kiss you back to attention. “I can hear you thinking from here. It’s okay, this is why we talk about things, this room is a judgment free zone. Do you actually want- wait no, let me start…” Santi took a breath. “That wasn’t just talk for me” He moved his hands to between your shoulder blades, thumbs working your spine. “That wasn’t just talk for me, I’d love to see that… with one or all of them, whoever. I trust them all with my life, and with you. I know I made you say you wanted it so you could come, but that was my horny brain talking. I want you to be honest with me, baby.”

You could always be honest with Santi. You rolled your shoulders. “I feel much better, can you hold me please?”

“Of course” Santi laid down, pulling your chest to his. “Is that you dodging the question? Because we can discuss it later, I just think we should talk about it eventua-”

“I want that. Do you think… do you think they’d want to?”

Santi shrugged a bit. “I don’t know, good chance they might. I know Frankie and Benny have been with girls together”

“I doubt Will wants to have sex with the same girl his brother is fucking”

“You never know baby, I can ask, see their thoughts, what they may or may not be into?” He He watched your face frown. “Or not! I could just talk to Will, see if he’s interested in you me and him, or we can just pretend this never happened, I don’t want you to be uncomfortable”

You shift a bit. “I don’t want them to think badly of me”

“Oh honey” Santiago kissed the crease between your brows. “They would never. Even if they weren’t interested, no one would judge you.”

You considered for a moment. “Do it” You whispered, breathing out shakily, nervous but excited “All of them”

*****************

Okay y'all this is bc of a convo me and @kittyofalltrades had with @dameronscopilot so uuuuhhhhhhhhh if this fic gets 50 notes I'll go out of my norms and write group sex between reader and all 4 boys which is gonna be HARD but ima try.

so make sure you reblog

tagging the usuals

PART 2 IS HERRREEE

@my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @welcometostayingawake @in-between-the-cafes @lucianadraven32 @milkymoon2483 @ahookedheroespureheart

#santiago garcia #santiago garcia reader #triple frontier reader #triple frontier #tf boys #triple frontier boys #triple frontier fanfiction #santiago garcia fanfiction #santiago garcia smut #triple frontier smut #smut

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dumbslxtclub · 1 year

Text

you’re on your own, kid | e.m - part nine (bonus chapter)

eddie munson x singlemom!reader

summary: set after the events of season four, Steve has disappeared and is presumed dead in the upside down. broken and now left to deal with your pregnancy alone, Eddie takes it upon himself to support you to the best of his abilities in Steve’s absence.

chapter summary: we learn the root of eddie’s longstanding guilt as he navigates the crossroads of your relationship.

content warnings: fem!reader, adult language, adult themes, unplanned pregnancy, angst, hurt/comfort, some canon divergence/au, mentions of death, reader is 19, anxiety, angst, fluff, no use of y/n, slow burn, not beta’d

word count: 2.8K+

a/n: cheeky little bonus chapter for you!! wanted to give eddie his moment in all his angsty glory, big shoutout to my bestie @dickfics69 for beta reading this one and working with me over zoom to flesh out these thoughts. hope you enjoy!

taglist: @lezzy-bennet @harrypotteranna23-blog @reidstea @sashaphantomhive @bexreadstoomuch @audhd-dragonaut @littlepotatobeansworld @ches-86 @tlclick73 @fckyeahlames @gnocchey @astrolockley @sidthedollface2

↳ one / two / three / four / five / six / seven / eight / nine / ten / eleven

Part Nine: You Sunshine, You Temptress

The door swings closed behind Eddie, and shock hits him like a freight train bulldozing through his momentary confidence. The warmth of your skin still lingering on his fingertips, the flushed-pink of your lips practically grazing his still imprinted in his mind. Heart pounding, hands shaking, and the faintest smile playing on his lips. Fuck. He wonders if he should celebrate or criticize his actions, but he’ll have time for that later.

Lucky for him, it’s hard to sift through the onslaught of thoughts flooding his brain over Squid’s vocal crying bouncing off the thin walls of the living room. He flicks on the near-by lamp, illuminating her still bundled-up figure in the crib, squirming around in the confines of swaddle.

“Hey, chunky monkey.” Hands outstretched, he places a hand behind her head to support her neck, worming his other hand to her lower back. Lifting her up and out, he quickly readjusts to rest her into a cradle position. With her head nestled into the crook of his elbow, he begins lightly tapping on her side and bouncing gently. “Shhh, let’s give your mom a quiet night tonight, yeah?”

Sighing, he makes his way to the couch, assuming the same spot the two had spent a majority of their shared night. Once comfortable, he runs a finger delicately along her rosy cheek, mouth wide open to release a plethora of screams at maximum volume. He traces along her chubby cheek, around her eye and across her eyebrow, lightly stroking the bridge of her nose. With this new contact, the tickle must be relaxing to her with the cries slowly weaning off. He’s learning to read her like a book, desperately flicking through the rolodex in his mind searching for what might calm her down. And so, he continues the motion with the corners of his lips still upturned as he studies her tiny face. Up and down, small circles, repeating the motion until her cries morph into coos and soft grunts. Eyes fluttering open, she takes in the faintly lit room around her. Eddie grins as he sees her big brown eyes, gazing up at the plaster ceiling with the occasional babble.

“There she is.” Pulling his feet up onto the coffee table, his knees are faced skywards in a semi-supine position while he relaxes back into the cushions behind him. With a dramatic huff, as if Squid weighs a tonne, he maneuvers her into the groove between his legs. With her head nestled comfortably between his knees, face now eye line with his, he gives her sides a small tickling squeeze. “Couldn’t sleep, huh? Yeah, me neither.”

Although he’s positive she couldn’t identify him at barely six-weeks old, he feels his stomach backflip as her eyes bore into his with a sense of recognition. Familiarity. Safety. Her cheeky face lights up at the sight of him, shooting him a wide and gummy smile, nestling further into the comfort of her swaddle.

And then, it hits him. She was crying because she just wanted to see him.

His heart swells, letting out a soft exhale, pure affection bubbling in his chest and threatening to boil over. God, Eddie wishes he had Jonathan’s camera with him right now, wanting this image immortalized forever. Another picture to add to the pair taped in his locker, getting to see that smile every time he swung open the metal door. But simultaneously, he would not wish for anything to take him out of this moment, no desire to see the perfect image in front of him through a lens. It wouldn’t compare. Wouldn’t even come close. It’s like he’s meeting her for the first time over and over, intently examining her features. He can’t believe something could be so small. So new. So perfect. And, as much as he hates to admit it, he thinks she might be growing into her head. Time to think up new ways to get under your skin.

The two sit there, the faint hum from your fridge the only sound aside from Squid’s gurgling as her eyelids grow heavy, unable to fight off the call of sleep any longer. Her lips contort into an O-shape as she yawns, all the while Eddie runs the back of his forefinger along her chin. And, for the last time, her eyes catch a glimpse of Eddie’s before closing to the world, adequately settled once again. The pair sit in silence, Eddie taking to playing with her mess of hair as he waits for confirmation that he can put her back in the crib without waking her. There’s no doubt she’s Steve’s daughter with the amount of soft, brown hair adorning her head. He takes to mindlessly combing it with his fingers, first brushing it all to one side as a sort of comb-over. Unsatisfied, he brings all of the hair to the middle, smiling giddily as he clasps his hands together in an upward motion. He continues brushing her hair inwards, watching his creation come to life. The mess of hair takes the form of a mohawk, the world’s smallest metalhead sleeping peacefully before him. He chuckles to himself, giving her cheeks one final squeeze before carrying her back to the crib.

There’s a particular chill to the mid March air, the promise of warmer days a luxury not yet granted to the town of Hawkins. Amidst the leaves kicked up by each breeze and the occasional cluttering of a metal can along the gravel, Eddie sits with his knees tucked to his chest. A moment of sheer solitude alone on the steps of your trailer, embers from his cigarette being prematurely carried into the wind. Nestled between his middle and forefinger, Eddie’s lips wrap around the filter, taking in a long drag of tobacco, allowing the haze of smoke to fill his lungs as it has countless times before.

He’s not unfamiliar with the early hours, the eerie loneliness it brings to those few unfortunate enough to experience it. Intimately acquainted with the hues of gray and purple penetrating through the thin covering of lingering cloud forms, the view grounding him numerous times after waking from yet another nightmare depicting red skies and suffering. Images burned into his mind’s eye, inescapable and so tangible he feels he could reach out and touch them if he so desired. Breathe in the dense fog, allow it to coat his lungs with a thick layer of desperation. Wrap his fingers around Steve’s dirt-covered bicep, try helplessly to pull him to his feet. Press firmly into the wound carved deep into his abdomen to stop the waste of blood seeping out. Every night, no reprieve, reminded of what he didn’t do.

Hands shake subconsciously as he once again returns the cigarette to his parted lips. It’s been the same story stuck on repeat like a broken record since the day the group returned without one member. The story that resulted in countless nights of lost sleep. The story no one is more desperate to believe than Eddie.

He couldn’t bring himself to accept any other versions of the events, not with the implications they carry. And yet, day by day, his perfectly crafted web begins to collapse under the weight of new information. Carefully spun silk methodically weaved into a pattern of his choosing, now fracturing and threatening to break apart. How could he begin to explain it to you? And how could he ever expect your forgiveness once you knew the truth?

He wonders some days if it’s possible to be completely consumed by guilt, swallowing him whole and plunging him into a purgatory of his own creation. He should have told you. He should have told you the first night the group returned, at your trailer. Before he knew about Squid. Before he began to care. Before he grew attached.

There are facts, and then there are assumptions, hopes without tangible proof growing more and more likely to be true. Dustin and Robin were as bad as each other when it came to making mountains out of molehills, finding the smallest pattern in their daily lives and deconstructing it until they inevitably arrived at the same conclusion. With each speculation, Eddie grew increasingly more anxious, hoping to keep their conspiracies out of your earshot. But he couldn’t deny the mounting list of strange happenings. Robin’s recollection of the flickering lights in her home, divulged mere hours after Squid was born. Strapping the carrier to Eddie’s chest before running to a strangely familiar van sitting in the Hawkins supermarket parking lot, its occupants spent the day seeking her out. And then tonight, a frantic Dustin peddling his bike all the way to the trailer park, breathless and shaking as he announced the news before whisking Robin away.

Owens found something.

That was all the information Eddie had to work with at the moment, and he would love to say it was all he was privy to. Ignorance is bliss, and he was afflicted with too much knowledge.

He allowed you to feel hopeless.

He encouraged the intimation that Steve was gone.

He did all of this, knowing fully well that Owens had been looking for Steve since day one.

Guilt morphing into pressure, sinking him further into a dark sea of half-truths that should never have been spoken. Haunted by a pact made by the group, covered in the blood of others as they crawled out of the remaining gateway to a life now unfamiliar to them. He knew what he was getting into.

Shaking his head, he stomps his long since burnt-out cigarette butt to the ground. Eddie knew better than to let you in, to grow as attached to the pair of you as he’s become. His miserable existence is a movie, the ending of which he’s seen dozens of times before. A jangling of keys, a slam of a door, a scuffling of rocks under worn tyre. Everyone leaves, eventually. Yet, he can’t shake the feeling that he may be in too deep this time, finding pieces of you in the deepest recesses of his soul. Like children exchanging trading cards to complete their own collection, going out of their way to fulfill what the other lacked. He could have kept the first exchange civil, one acquaintance looking out for another during a time of need. Whose need was greater was something Eddie failed to consider. A burden in his childhood, unwanted by his parents and discarded at the first possible chance. A failure in his adolescence, rebelling against the status-quo and reducing himself to a portrait of what the world expected him to be. And at rock bottom, as he trudged along the gravel driveway of the trailer park he called home, gut heavy with culpability and survivor’s guilt. Plagued by his past, and hopeless for the future, he heard it. Your wails cut through the silence of the park, a physical manifestation of the despair looming in the night air. The kind of anguish that he has seldom vocalized, but is intimately acquainted with. Like a wounded deer on the side of the road, body weak with suffering and begging for mercy, he approached your door with an air of humaneness. Armed with only his innate sense of compassion, he comforted you from a distance, keeping his walls firmly in place.

Walls that were being deconstructed brick-by-brick with every late return overlooked, every firm kick beneath tender skin, every soft exhale as sleep danced across your eyelids. His carefully constructed edifice of detachment now non-existent, uncomfortably open to the uncharted terrain that comes with emotional involvement. And he can’t help but fear that his intentions have turned self-serving, enjoying being at your beckoning call. Willing to crawl to the ends of the earth if it puts a smile on either of your faces.

Selfish.

The week following Squid’s birth, Eddie picked up a shift at the auto-shop after reassurance that his presence wouldn’t be needed around the trailer. He planted his decade-old backpack at his feet before the metal lockers, clicking the combination he was assigned until the access was granted. From the front pocket, he rifled through until his fingers found the glossy paper of the fresh image. Securing adhesive putty to the four corners of the sheet, he mounted it in his locker beside the ultrasound, pressing it down firmly with his thumbs. A scuffle of boots on laminate flooring was followed by his co-worker’s cheery voice.

“Look at that! Your girl had her baby, hm?”

Eddie spun around to the older man beside him, his wide grin openly displaying neglected and yellowing canines.

“Oh, yeah. She did.” Eddie shuffled uncomfortably, wading knee-deep in the waters of the lie he’s created. The man scooted closer, studying the image. “Her name’s officially Audrey, but I’m still rooting for Squid.”

Bob (maybe Ed, who cares), face gruff with deep-set wrinkles in his crow’s feet, chuckles at the image. It’s not hard to imagine the image evokes memories of his own children’s births, kids who have long since moved away and now try to call once a month.

“Congratulations, son. That girl looks like she’s got a good head on her shoulders." His oil-stained forefinger indicates to you, wide grinned in the hospital bed. Eddie smiles.

“Yeah, she sure does.”

“Take good care of ‘em, you’re a lucky fella.”

And with a squeeze on the younger boy’s shoulder, Eddie’s co-worker retrieves his lunch pail from his respective locker and pulls an old baseball cap over his balding head, bidding Eddie farewell. The two innocuously spoken words reverberate through his mind, heating his heart in a way he wasn’t accustomed to.

Your girl.

The dam breaks before Eddie is cognitively aware of it, suppressed emotions boiling over like an unwatched pot on the stove, neglected and unable to be further contained. Hot tears streak down his wind-burnt cheeks, hand quickly finding his mouth to stifle his untrustworthy exhales. He squeezes his sleep-deprived eyes shut, relishing in the burning sensation on his waterline. Every fiber of his body urges him to let out a scream into the quiet trailer park, as if that will absolve the heartache in his body. Instead, he resorts to choking out unsteady gasps of air between his tightly linked fingers, the steady stream cascading from his eyes along the grooves of his cheeks. He validates his greatest fear, allowing his guilt to overwhelm any self-love he granted himself. He didn’t deserve this, he didn’t deserve you. A boy in man’s clothes, playing house with the girl next door, as if that would make him feel whole.

And it did. It made him feel needed.

Wanted.

Loved.

He was quick to shut down your admission earlier, but still endures the aftermath of the shared sentiment. Sometimes, I’m glad he’s gone. What a fucking awful thing to think, let alone speak into existence. Of course, he felt no judgment when the words softly left your lips, understanding completely where you were coming from. But now, he can’t help but think of the implications should Steve return. And all will be right in the world. Squid’s dad will be back in the picture, something he always longed for her to have. A position he was happy to fill in the interim, now surely slipping from his grasp. What could have been, destined to exist as unlived dreams tucked into the bottom drawer of his mind. With all the love he has for the two of you, and he doesn’t know where to put it now. It’s too heavy to carry on his own.

His gaze flickers to the temptation of the unoccupied trailer across from him, his bed empty and awaiting.

Cold. Desolate. Lonely.

The familiar comfort it brings, however solitary it may be. He was used to it. But after all he’s experienced, he’s not sure if he can go back to that way of living. His mind goes to the little girl, snuggled up in her crib, blissfully unaware of the plight around her. And you, wrapped up in cotton sheets and exhaustion, waiting for him to return through your slumber. How easy it would be to lay down next to you on the plush mattress, wrap his arms around you and hold you close to him as he longed to. To inhale the scent of shampoo lingering in your hair, press his lips to the nape of your neck, feel your warmth beneath his undeserving lips But, then again, how could he deserve such an unearned luxury?

Instead, he remains paralytic for a moment longer, occupying the space of limbo between his two comforts. A man destined to fail from the moment he was born, he cannot envision a scenario in which he is absolved of his guilt.

His heartache.

His love.

#eddie x reader #Dad!Eddie #eddie x you #eddie x fem!reader #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson angst #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x you #pregnant!reader #singlemom!reader #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things fic #stranger things x you #stranger things x reader

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findafight · 1 year

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hiii so i just saw a post where you were answering an anon and you said you had a lavender marriage stobin au, one where children break into their house and then get adopted (??), and one where steve has a half sister. if it’s not too much trouble can i have the links for those fics cause they seem rlly interesting and i would love to read all of that? thanks!! - 💜

haha Sure! here are the tags big brother steve au

and Hollywood Studio Era Lavender Marriage Stobin au

but also. I will elaborate under the readmore for Lavender's Blue because I haven't said anything about The Children and I love them so so much haha

They eloped right after Robin graduated, 1936, and end up leaving hawkins in fall of that year, after more than a year has passed since the upside down (in this au, everything is 50 years ealier and it's done after s3 and also hop isn't dead) They get a ground floor apartment in a sketchy part of LA. It's kinda shitty, has all of three rooms (bedroom, livingroom/kitchen, and somehow a private bathroom) Steve is working as a server at a diner and as a sort of gofer/physical labour/just do what we tell you to for the day guy at the same studio Robin rambled her way into being an editing assistant at.

He comes home one day in early 1937 to find a kid, no older than eight, eating a hunk of bread at the table. The child says "you should probably invest in better window locks." Before going back to the bread.

Steve blinks. Huffs. Says "well don't you think it's rather rude to stay for dinner without introducing yourself?"

Which is how Robin finds him with Charmaine, all seven years and 40 pounds of her, eating beans and corn on bread at the table with Steve. She just sighs, because of course he'd acquire another child less than six months away from Hawkins. Of course.

So it becomes routine, Sherry (as Steve has taken to calling her) shows up every few days for a meal or a bath, and slowly they learn that she's an orphan (unsurprising) and is living with a few other street kids who fell through the many wide cracks the Great Depression caused. Robin immediately invites them all to come over, have Steve cook up a nice big pot of chili for them and get them all washed up a bit. Sherry seems weary, but says she'll see.

At this point, it's spring 1937 and Steve's been asked to do a couple walk-on parts, and the studio seems to like his All-America look so is starting to shift him from "guy who does stuff we ask" to "guy who does stuff we ask but in front of the camera this time", which means he's getting a raise and can probably quit the diner job soon, and he and Robin can start looking for a better apartment but don't want to move without letting their newest gremlin know and making sure she's safe.

The next day sees Sherry and the kids she calls her siblings, five altogether, mismatched skin tone and heights and ages, standing outside Steve and Robin's apartment door fumbling with the key Steve gave her in case she needed to get in when they're not there.

One is clearly a toddler being held by a young teenager, another has a visible limp, and they all look dirty and scared. But they came, because Sherry said the Buckleys are actually half decent and invited them all, and Robin said they were welcome to stay whenever and Steve gave her a key, so they obviously won't get in trouble and they can always leave early because she knows their schedules. Steve stumbles home after a double shift at the diner to find them sprawled on the living room floor, bundled in blankets, asleep.

He tucks them in and is sure to make enough eggs in the morning.

After that...they just. Don't leave. Robin and Steve have a lot of talks about what to do about the kids, if they should move, how to ask the kids if they want to move in if they DO move.

Robin is getting more responsibility at work, Steve's being looked at for a role alongside Mae West that isn't a gangster (it's a lead romantic interest), and The Kids are becoming more Their Kids. The tiny shitty apartment is crawling with kids and eventually they sit everyone down and say "Hey. We need to move if you guys want to stay with us. Do you want to stay with us? We could, if you wanted, officially adopt you..."

So they do. Steve gets the part, playing a young sailor who falls in love with older married socialite Mae West, and his career really starts. (it has an infamous scene in which West stands on steps, looking down on Steve, who looks up at her, all big eyes and floppy hair. She says, with that famous Mae West drawl, "I'll devour you, kid." to which he says, breathless, "Please do." which barely gets passed the censors) They get a bigger apartment, the kids officially move in, and everyone at the studio realizes that the buckleys have a couple of tagalong kids now. The fanmags eat. it. up.

#stobin #qpr stobin #robin buckley #steve harrington #stranger things #platonic stobin #stranger things au #lavender's blue au #finda writes stuff #anonasaurus #findaanswers #lavender marriage stobin #the kids are so chaotic too haha

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iliaclwrites · 2 years

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I can honest say that Eddie and librarian reader live rent free in my mind now!thank you so much for this!imagine how their kids will look like!impecable taste with these genes👶💖👶💖

"What the fuck do you mean twins?" Eddie demanded the doctor.

"I signed up for one! One kid! What the fuck?" you shrieked, staring at the ultrasound. Eddie clutched your hand tightly. "This is all your fucking fault, Munson."

"Me?" Eddie squawked. "You were the one who was like, put a baby in me."

"You were the one that did put a baby in me! Two!"

"...Could this wait?" the nurse asked, and you snapped your heads over to her. "I think your little girl is waving at you."

"Oh," Eddie said, and squeezed your hand just once.

"Oh," you agreed.

Wayne Jagger Munson is born seven pounds and eight ounces, after fifteen hours of labour. He's already got a full head of curly hair, just like his daddy, and Eddie cries for a solid half hour once the bundle is in his arms.

Layla Edith Munson is born just after her brother, and immediately wraps her hands around Eddie's ringed fingers. You coo contentedly where your son is resting on your chest, watching as your friends and family file into the room.

It was a warm room, with Uncle Wayne pouring flutes of champagne and trying not to tear up every time someone mentioned his grand-nephew's name. Your parents were stroking your hair. Steve, Robin and Nancy were taking turns holding Layla, Robin staring open-mouthed at the little girl. The kids were gathered at the foot of your bed, watching as your son napped on your chest. You crooked a sleepy, drugged-up finger at Dustin.

"Meet your godfather, melleth nin," you murmured, and Dustin's head snapped up.

"You're kidding," he said, coming over to where you were. You smiled at the kid, and gently handed your son over, Eddie standing proudly next to your brother and showing off how his baby girl already had him wrapped around his fingers. "No, no, you're kidding, right?"

You smiled, and helped Dustin support the baby boy's head. "We didn't want anyone else," you whispered to him, and kissed his forehead. "Our first choice. Your mission, should you choose to accept it."

Dustin started to cry. Eddie's hand clapped down on his shoulder.

"Hey, come on," he said, and smiled down at the boy he considered his brother. "You gotta share responsibility with the Wonder Twins over there."

Steve and Robin choked on their champagne. "What?" they demanded, and Nancy took their glasses from them.

You shrugged. "Between the three of you, you make two functioning adults," you slurred, and Eddie kissed your nose. You grinned, and nuzzled at him. "Look at our family, baby."

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x female character #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson fic #eddie munson #eddie munson x librarian #s: the song of beren and luthien

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envihellbender · 9 months

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Martin washing a barely mobile John

Characters: Martin Blackwood, Jonathon Sims (The Magnus Archives)

Content: hyper fats, extreme weight gain, kink but make it fluffy

—

“Martin, as flattered as I am I’d appreciate it if you stopped leering at me and helped me undress,” John scolded, but when Martin looked up he said it with a fond smile on his adorable fat face. His chubby cheeks almost covered his eyes and his thick, plump lips contorted into a beautiful grin.

“Oops, sorry,” Martin said in response, a mischievous smile saying he wasn’t in the slightest. He helped John pull his black and white striped t-shirt over his head, pulling against his fat as it kept getting caught and swallowing and letting out a sharp breath as he was hit with the smell of John’s sweat from his wet rolls and his damp clothing. The scent made Martin gasp and his cock tightened a little on instinct. John’s chest heaved as he became exhausted from lifting his arms so much.

“Need a minute, babe?” Martin asked. John nodded, his lips parted as he managed to get his breathing under control. Martin waited patiently, the next part required the most exertion from both of them so he didn’t want to go forward until John was completely ready. Luckily, they had safety bars installed for John to put most of his weight on to, but it still required more heavy lifting than Martin was entirely used to. He was getting better, his biceps getting more defined these days than they ever had in his life… but helping to steady his six hundred and fifty eight at last count pound boyfriend was a different matter entirely.

“Okay, I’m ready,” John said taking a deep strained breath. He rested his bloated huge hands on the two reinforced bars and slowly lifted himself up. Martin aided him by resting each hand underneath John’s overgrown biceps. After that Martin got on his knees. He let out as a gasp as he lifted John’s gut and got a mouthful of the heavy sweat, the musk always made Martin’s mind become something akin to a warm, pleasant static. Like a mixture of an old television and a warm fire. He swallowed and tried not to focus on how much he desperately wanted to fuck himself on John’s folds. He went to unbutton John’s trousers and discovered the burton had burst from them anyway, meaning he just had the task of pulling down John’s trousers and underwear. His fingers brushing against his behind, and thighs. When they got to John’s knees, Martin shuffled backwards so he could see John over his stomach.

“Okay you can sit down now.”

“Thank God.” John almost fell backwards onto the bench, there was a loud crash but nothing broke or creaked. The workmen weren’t wrong when they said it would withstand up to three times John’s weight with ease. Martin removed John’s trousers, underwear, and socks. He gathered the circus tent size clothes and bundled them into the washing basket. He couldn’t suppress his grin and his hazel eyes darkening in lust as he took off John’s glasses and saw his naked body. He adored seeing how the fat sagged downwards, a huge pile of adipose all being weighed down by gravity.

“Comfy?” Martin asked, John nodded and closed his eyes as Martin turned on the shower, the water against John’s skin aroused him even further, making Martin’s breath shake and his lips dry. He got closer, washing John’s hair, his fingers brushing against fat bloated cheeks and neck rolls. He gently pushed John’s head backwards as he rinsed his hair, before massaging face scrub and face wash into John’s cheeks. With every roll Martin lifted and scrubbed underneath of, every chunk of adipose he scrubbed into cleanliness, his cock twitched and almost screamed for attention the entire time.

“Mm. Nearly done,” Martin said as he was rinsing off the soap from John’s body. As he did, an adipose ridden hand rested on the small of his back and pulled Martin as close into his wet body as he could.

“You’re getting your clothes wet,” John pointed out. Martin giggled and grinned.

“Tell me about it.”

“I- that’s not- I wasn’t talking about your penis!”

“Penis is not a sexy word,” Martin teased.

“I was- I was just thinking you could… undress maybe,” John replied, his cheeks burning in embarrassment.

“I thought you’d never ask.” Martin pulled his Chainsaw Man t-shirt off over his head and discarded it. He had never felt attractive and small before, but next to his handsome, almost immobile boyfriend he felt like they were the most beautiful couple in the world.

#envi writes #do not archive #John x Martin #hyper fats #ssbhm #fat fiction #weight gain kink #extreme weight gain

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kpforpresident · 2 years

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Since we're talking angst, 3. Bonus points if you mix it with 28 😈

3- goodbye, 28- a lie

Well, as we all know, I’m a hoe for bonus points. I twisted this one a lil, hope you’ll still love me :)

The muted beeping of the monitor quietly provided the background noise to the sterile white room, the heavy sting of antiseptic making Lexa’s nose tingle and her eyes burn. Muted voices hovered outside of the room, fading quietly into the stilted somber mood that hung around them heavily. On a shiny metal pole beside the table, a heavy bag of Lactated Ringer’s slouched, the drip drip drip of fluids wending their way slowly through the clear plastic tubing.

Lexa stifled a small, sad, sigh as she once again wiped her teary eyes on her sweater sleeve, squeezing Clarke’s hand tighter to try and provide some semblance of comfort.

A sob broke out of Clarke at the motion, tears pouring from her as she turned to Lexa, a sad little hiccup following.

“I’m, I’m, so sorry, Lexa,” she cried, her huge wet eyes red-rimmed and puffy. Lexa slung an arm around her, pressing a soft kiss to her hairline as she struggled to breathe through the massive hole that had been punched in her chest a few hours ago. She had been crying since Lexa had sprinted home from work upon receiving the unexpected afternoon call, picking up during a lull in her caseload to hear a completely hysterical Clarke on the other end of the line, sobbing repeated I’m so sorry on a loop. Panicked, Lexa had tried to wring an answer out of her girlfriend as gently, urgently, as possible.

“F-fish got out through the f-front d-d-door when I was taking in groceries,” the high pitched voice had said on the other end of the phone that Lexa gripped in white-tipped fingers, the panic making Clarke sound almost unrecognizable. “Lexa, someone hit him in their car, they didn’t even stop, we are headed to the vet now, but please please come-”

Lexa had already hung up as she was bolting out the door of her law firm, throwing some excuse at her fellow associate as she ran out into the street to fetch the first cab she could.

She had owned Fish since before she had met Clarke, a high school graduation gift from her sister and her father. She had cried so hard she almost choked when they presented the wriggly, good-smelling bundle to her the night of her ceremony. The eight pound golden lab had licked every inch of her salt-coated face that he could reach as his tail wagged madly.

Lexa had named him after the aquatic animal, much to Anya’s dismay. She refused to hear Lexa’s logic that he did look like a goldfish with his orange-yellow coat that shimmered in the light. Fish had squirmed in joy, and that was that.

At seven years old, he had been slowing down recently, their routine Brooklyn morning pre-work jogs more leisurely walks. But Fish had been there with Lexa when she had moved to New York alone, had been the velvety ears that she had petted nervously before picking Clarke up on their first date, had pranced happily with her in her postage-stamp sized kitchen when Lexa ran home, victorious after she had first kissed Clarke in Central Park. He had moved with them into her new apartment, as much a fixture of their lives together as anything could be. Clarke had loved him almost as long as Lexa had.

Lexa had selfishly, secretly hoped that he would be in their wedding someday, decked out in a bowtie, tail wagging so hard that the flowers bowed in his wake.

Lexa furiously swiped away another stream of tears as she sank to her knees in front of her boy, sedated from the cocktail of drugs the vet had pumped into them to buy them time to say goodbye.

“Hi, baby,” she croaked softly, burying her shaking hands in his blood-matted fur. The vet hadn’t offered any treatment options when Lexa had burst into the room to see Clarke sitting with her face buried in his fur, shoulders shaking. Dr. Lisa had bowed out with a sad smile on her face, telling them they could take as much time as they needed, they would keep Fish calm and pain-free for as long as they needed. They had draped a white sheet over his lower half, gently telling Lexa it was best if she didn’t see the extent of the damage. Lexa had trembled as she nodded quietly, hands clasped in front of her.

Lexa wanted to scream that she simply needed more time, that this wasn’t meant to be how they said goodbye. She had pictured it in a far-off, fuzzy sort of way, when he was old, gray spattering his sweet face. A picnic in his favorite park, as many hamburgers as she could convince Clarke to let her give him. A sunlit patch in their living room as they said goodbye.

Not in a sterile, white vet room, Clarke crying quietly beside her. Lexa tried to stifle another sob as Fish’s tail wagged weakly, whites of his eyes rolling as he tried to follow Lexa’s voice.

“It’s ok, baby,” she soothed, nodding at the vet tech that had popped her head through the door, clear syringe in her hand. “It’s going to be ok, everything is going to be fine.”

Clarke pressed against her side, quiet as she dropped her head to Lexa’s shoulder, sniffing quietly. The vet tech came in and quickly, gently, cleaned the hub of his IV port, pressing the liquid through. She pulled out the IV after fluidly, wrapping a blue stretch wrap around his left paw. Lexa pressed one last kiss to Fish’s now-peaceful face, now shaking uncontrollably.

“Bye, my sweet boy,” she whispered, trailing her hand along his ribcage as his breathing slowed, and then stopped.

Clarke and Lexa sat in that little room for close to an hour, crying and talking about their favorite memories of Fish, an occasional watery laugh breaking through on a recount of some of his naughtier antics. Eventually, Lexa stood, offering a hand to Clarke, who slipped her cold fingers into Lexa’s.

They shared a sweet, sad kiss as they slipped out the door, pausing again for a moment as Lexa tucked his collar into her pocket.

Lexa pressed one more kiss to Clarke’s quivering lips as they turned to trudge home, snow now falling thickly through the air. She slung an arm around Clarke’s shoulders, tugging in a bitterly cold breath as tiny snowflakes dappled her flushed cheeks.

“It’s ok, love. It wasn’t your fault.”

#sadboy hours over here #i couldn't do a clexa goodbye so i picked one that somehow managed to be equally painful to me???#kiss prompt #buddy i hope you're HAPPY #butmakeitgay #what do you think the lie is tho #what she told fish or what she told clarke #kpprompts

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blackacre13 · 1 year

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can you please write the right person wrong time trope for debbie and lou? thank youu !! <3

“Piss off, would you? Just give me a bloody fucking second to breathe,” Lou yelled, slamming the door behind her as she barreled into the bathroom, clenching her fists.

The only thing she hated more than a Friday night crowd was her dick of a boss. He seriously had to go. And she’d make sure of it, but she wasn’t quite there yet. It took a while to buy someone out of their bar using their own money without them knowing any better. But she’d make it happen. And she wouldn’t make the staff’s life a living hell like he did.

“Fucking prick,” she growled, shaking her head as she headed towards the sinks to splash water on her face. She was exhausted. And more than a whiskey, she could use a shot or eight of espresso right about now. As much as she wanted to hide in the bathroom forever, she knew the bar would be backed up if she didn’t get back on the floor. The other bartender was shit. Another change she’d make. She just had to have patience.

She pulled at the lever of the paper towels letting out another curse when she found it empty. Figured. Another thing that wasn’t her job that she’d have to pick up the slack on to protect a fellow staffer from that tyrant’s rage.

“Toilet paper?” A voice sniffed, heels clicking across the floor as a brunette emerged from the stall. “I don’t know how well it’ll work on drying up your face, but it worked well enough on tears.”

She was stunning. There was no way around it. And it was true that she had been crying, but it only added a slight blush to her cheeks and made her dark eyelashes more prominent against deep, dark eyes that Lou wanted to get lost in.

“Tears?” Lou asked softly. She never liked to see a woman upset, but when it happened in her bar, she felt even more of a responsibility for it. And whoever had made this woman cry, certainly wasn’t treating her the way she should be. The way Lou would’ve.

She wiped the thought from her mind. A classy woman like that wouldn’t want anything to do with her, even if Lou knew she would do anything she could to give her the world and suddenly wanted to, even though she knew nothing about her. Not even her name.

“A waste of tears,” she shrugged, passing a small bundle of toilet paper over to Lou. “Some asshole I know I shouldn’t be dating. I tend to do that to myself a lot.”

“Been there,” Lou nodded sympathetically. “What are you drinking? I’ll leave a drink for you at the bar. Or—do you need someone to call you a cab or anything? I didn’t even ask if you were okay.”

“I am now,” the brunette smiled, fumbling around in a small clutch. “Just needed a reminder of what else is out there. Who else is out there. I deserve better.”

“You do,” Lou whispered. “I know you do.”

“Thanks,” she murmured, closing her clutch. Lou watched her as she covered her lips in a fresh coat of lipstick, her thighs buzzing as she imagined the imprint of lipstick peppered all over over her neck and chest. “Hey, I didn’t catch—“

“Miller, get your ass back out on the floor!” A voice boomed, pounding on the door. “Big bachelorette party wants a bunch of sissy fruity ass drinks.”

Lou rolled her eyes, but cleared her throat and tried her best to reset her mind, not sure if she was imagining the look of hope that faded to disappointment in the stranger’s eyes.

“I better—“ she motioned to the door as the brunette nodded.

“See you around,” the woman called. “Miller,” she added with a smirk.

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