#// and he mostly did this to himself :T | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

junovrsmp4 · 8 months ago

Text

three is not a crowd

5 times Chris walks in on you and Matt fucking + 1 time he gets to join in on the fun

pairing: established!matt x reader, chris x reader, matt x reader x chris

summary: what it says on the tin basically

warnings: THREESOME, PURE FILTH, dick riding, oral (female & male receiving), teasing, edging, over-stimulation, multiple orgasms, squirting, p in v, slight degradation/praising, slight angst, happy ending yay

word count: 6.9K

author’s note: im a whore for both of them. that is all. (also this has plot, and is mostly beta read but i havent slept in hrs so if some mistakes did slip thru my bad

“Hey Matt, have you seen my-” Chris begins to ask as he pushes Matt’s bedroom door open, expecting his brother to either be lazing around in bed or be at his desk, gaming.

What he doesn't expect is the sight he is instead greeted by, of you, Matt’s girlfriend of the last year and a half, astride Matt’s lap, riding his dick while he leans against his headboard, head thrown back and hands grabbing your hips, guiding you, slowly.

Chris is shocked, understandably, and he should just turn around and book it. Instead, he stands frozen, watching the way your head is nestled into the crook of Matt’s neck, your shoulders shaking. If Chris ignores the sound of his own pounding heart, he can almost hear the soft whimpers you’re letting out at each downward thrust of your hips.

At the sound of a soft, deep groan, Chris’ attention shifts to Matt, who has his eyes shut, and his bottom lip pinched between his teeth. There’s something surreal about this scene, seeing Matt, who looks nothing like Chris, but also looks the most like him, fucking this beautiful girl who’s been on his mind for months now.

“Matt…,” he hears you whine loudly against his brother’s neck, and Chris has to grit his teeth, fight against the urge to shove his hands into his pants and fist his growing erection. This shouldn't turn him on so much, hell, he shouldn't even be here right now. He should have run in the opposite direction as soon as he realized what he’d walked in on, but he’s mesmerized by the way you move, your back arching as your hips move back and forth. The slow, sensual, almost hypnotic, movements of your body as you ride Matt’s dick has him clenching his fists, nails digging into his palms and it’s easy to imagine him in Matt’s place as he gets this view of what it might look like to fuck you. Your moans grow louder, and Chris thinks it might be because you’re getting close, and god, he feels so hot underneath his skin.

“Shh baby, didn't you say we needed to be quiet?” Matt whispers against the side of your head. “Can’t have Chris hearing us, can we?”

At the sound of his name, Chris’ heart hammers faster, and he looks up at Matt’s face, only to see that his brother’s gaze was already on him, watching him with a slight smirk before thrusting his hips up, presumably driving his cock deeper into you, making you moan even louder than you already were.

Breaking out of his stupor, Chris stumbles backwards before hightailing it to his room, slamming the door behind him. It takes all of five seconds for him to get his cock out of his sweatpants, furiously jerking off as he leans against his door, biting into the hem of his t-shirt that he’d pulled up over his chest, and only another five seconds before he shoots his cum all over himself.

Chris knows its wrong, wanting his brother's girl. This was never a problem before, because any time he found out Matt liked someone, Chris immediately lost interest. It was the brothers’ code; they never fought over girls, and besides, they always just liked different ones.

You, though…it was hard not to like you, even after he found out Matt had his eyes on you.

Chris remembers the first time he met you, how nice you’d been to him and his brothers, how easily you’d fit into their lives. He’s not going to lie and say he’d wanted you right from the start. It was a gradual thing, slowly creeping up on him before he realized what had gotten him.

You just made him feel so comfortable, and surprisingly, the two of you had a lot in common. But then again, you had a lot in common with Matt, and Nick. And yet, you were so different. You were smart, playful, and so, so kind. You were just the right amount of goofy and serious, and you just, fit well into the dynamic Chris and his brothers shared.

It shouldn't have surprised him when Matt eventually told him and Nick that he was into you and planned to ask you out. It all happened so quickly after that. You and Matt had gotten together and, now you weren't just the new friend that Chris and his brothers were always hanging out with, but his brother's (his brother who was also his best friend, really) girlfriend.

Which is why Chris knows it’s fucked up. Wanting you. And he knows it’s even more fucked up that he wishes he could have a repeat of what happened a few weeks ago when he accidentally walked in on you and Matt. The amount of times he’s jacked off to that memory alone the past few nights is insane, his mind supplying images to create his own version of events where he doesn't run away.

Especially fucked up is the fact that Matt had seen him, had looked cocky that he’d caught Chris watching them, and even that fact hadn’t deterred Chris from chasing orgasm after orgasm to the thought of fucking you, imagining how tight and wet your pussy might be, what it might taste like.

Speaking of the fucker who seemed totally unfazed by recent events, Matt sat across Chris, scrolling through his phone, while Nick sat beside him, editing their latest video. Chris was trying his hardest not to flip the fuck out, but his whole nervous system seemed like it was fried. Nick had already yelled at him twice to stop moving so much because he was apparently jostling the table too much, and Matt had just let out a bemused chuckle without lifting his eyes from his phone the entire time.

Just as Chris was about to get up and retreat to him room, the doorbell rings, before Matt gets a series of texts.

“Oh, she’s here-” Matt says, before shooting out of his chair and rushing to great you at the front door.

“Hey, hey, hey!” your cheery voice rings through the hallway, as you and Matt make your way into the kitchen, and Chris almost chokes on the sip of Pepsi he’d just taken because holy fuck-

You were wearing a short, tight black dress that hugged the lines and curves of your body just right, the square neckline barely covering your chest. His eyes slipped further down to the way the fabric of the dress cinched at your waist, and to the slit at the side of the dress that came up to mid-thigh. That and the combination of tall strappy heels you had on made your legs look…really good. So good that Chris wishes he was between those legs, licking a path up your calf to your inner thighs, leaving bruising kisses to mar the smooth, unblemished skin of your legs, before finally, finally-

Nick hoots just then, exclaiming about how hot your fit looks, pulling Chris out of his daze. He watches as you bask in the compliments being showered onto you by both Nick and Matt now, and can't help but smile at the way you try to hide your blushing face.

So, it’s completely out of left field when he sees you again later that night, sitting on the couch with your hands covering your face but this time it’s to hide the loud moans that threaten to slip from your mouth as you watch Matt kneel in front of you, his mouth pressing kisses into your inner thighs…just like Chris had imagined doing earlier.

It’s ridiculous really, how Chris had been feeling slightly normal after dinner with you and his brothers, because as awkward as he may have been feeling about you and Matt, being around you and his brothers, having good food and just laughing about random shit made him feel really fucking good. Like everything was normal and he wasn't fantasizing about fucking his brother’s girlfriend. Like he hadn't accidentally walked in on them fucking.

Of course it’s just his fucking luck that as soon he’s feeling just that slightest bit of normalcy, he’d decided to go to the kitchen and grab a Pepsi from the fridge at 3 AM, only to find his brother about to eat you out on the couch.

“Matt-” you whine, as your back arches off the couch, one of your hands moving to grab Matt’s hair, the other trying and failing to hold back your moans. “Matt, please- nnggh- stop teasing.”

Chris feels all his blood rush down south and it leaves him lightheaded. The low lighting in the room accentuates the shadows of your body and he can see the muscles in your legs flex as your thighs clench around Matt’s head, trying to get him to move his mouth closer to where you want him. You’re not in the tight black dress he’d seen you in earlier, but in a blue baby tee and black lace-trimmed hipster briefs. There’s an almost imperceptible quiver that wracks through your entire body in anticipation for what’s to come.

Matt doesn't keep you waiting for long. Chris' breathing grows even more jagged as he watches Matt’s fingers push your panties to the side before he runs his tongue flat up your pussy. Chris can't see as much as he’d like to, but his overactive imagination does the job for him, imagining how wet you must be.

Chris feels like such a sick perv for still standing there, watching with wide eyes as Matt (his literal brother) enthusiastically licks and kisses your pussy, and he almost wonders how neither of you haven't noticed him yet. Then again, you and Matt seem so lost in each other, and now there’s another ugly thought circling Chris’ brain, one that makes his chest hurt a little.

He forgoes his Pepsi for the night and quietly returns back to his room, cock half-hard, and his heart just the slightest bit heavy.

“Alright, what’s going on with you?” Nick asks him, while his eyes are still fixed on his phone.

He and Chris were sitting on the couch (Chris had been avoiding the section that you and Matt had used during your late night rendezvous), and Chris was idly flipping through his Netflix watch list.

“I don't know what you're talking about,” Chris says with a heavy sigh, slumping further into the couch.

It’s quiet, and the silence makes Chris look up at Nick, who was already looking at him with a curious frown.

“Seriously, what the fuck is up with you?” Nick asks, and he actually looks concerned, which throws Chris off a bit. “You’re usually bouncing off the walls and annoying the shit out of everyone in your nearest vicinity, but lately you've just been, I don't know- I’m like actually worried, did something happen? Is everything okay?”

Chris swallows around the lump that had formed in his throat and takes a minute. To do what, he doesn't know. It’s not like he’s going to prepare himself to tell Nick what he’d witnessed, twice, and how he was feeling about it. Really, how does one go about telling their triplet brother that they’d accidentally witnessed their other brother in an intimate situation with said brother’s partner, not once, but twice, and had enjoyed it, to the point of having nightly fantasies about it?

There were more complicated feelings lurking just under the surface, more than just Chris wanting to fuck you, but he did not have the mental bandwidth to unpack all that, so that was that. It’s not like he had honest to god feelings-

“See, at this point, you would’ve been yapping away-” Nick says, interrupting his train of thought, “-but instead, you’re just sitting there, looking all sad and miserable.”

“Okay, I don't look sad and miserable,” Chris says with a roll of his eyes. At least, he hopes he doesn't. “I’m just tired dude. Haven't been sleeping well lately.”

“Right.”

“What? It’s the truth.”

“Didn't say you were lying,” Nick says, matter-of-factually, in that signature Nick tone that lets everyone know when he isn't buying their bullshit.

“I’m fine,” Chris says slowly, waiting for Nick to stop looking at him so intensely.

“Sure,” Nick drawls out. “You’re also a shitty liar.”

“Fuck you,” Chris grumbles, chucking the TV remote at Nick, who flails to try and dodge it, letting out an indignant squawk when it bounces off his shoulder and falls to the ground.

This, of course, results in Nick throwing whatever was closest to him at Chris, which happens to be an empty water bottle, and eventually they're just chucking it back and forth, cursing at each other in between laughter.

It’s the most relaxed Chris has felt in weeks.

Too bad you had to walk in at that exact moment.

“Hey guys!” you say cheerily, plopping down on the couch, next to Chris. You’d stayed over for a couple of nights now, as you usually do, and Chris should be extremely used to your presence, except he feels his skin prickle as soon as your close to him, close enough for him to feel the warmth radiating off of your skin.

“God, how are you so chipper every morning?” Nick asks, shaking his head with a poorly hidden smile.

You twirl a strand of your hair around your finger, and bit the corner of your bottom lip. “It helps that I wake up to one of the hottest guys ever, and then get to hang out with his hot as fuck brothers,” you say with a smirk, waggling your eyebrows at Nick.

Chris wishes you hadn't just said that because now his mind wanders (more like sprints) to the memory of this morning, when he��d walked past Matt’s open bedroom. He’d heard the telltale sounds of skin slapping against skin, and your voice, whining Matt’s name over and over, which had him stopping right before Matt’s door, eyes wide, mouth agape. This couldn't be happening right? There was no way he’d walked into this situation for a third time.

Chris debates on whether he should just turn back around, go downstairs, out the front door, and bash his head against a tree, or if he should soldier on and just walk past to get to his room.

The sounds were getting to him. His cock strained against his grey sweatpants, creating a very obvious tent. His clothes suddenly felt a size too small, the air around him too thick, and he felt sweat break out on his forehead. He should leave, run far, far away from his house probably, but a sick part of him wants more than anything to see what’s got you moaning this time.

He rounds the corner and is met with a sight that almost has him falling to his knees.

It’s unfair, how incredibly gorgeous you look straddling Matt’s thighs, bouncing on his dick rhythmically, your head thrown back. You’re leaning back on your hands, supported on Matt’s knees, and Chris watches the way your body undulates as you swivel your hips, ribs flaring as your chest heaves. Every gasp you let out is a punch to Chris’ gut, leaving him feeling winded.

You’re so lost in the throes of pleasure that you don't hear when Chris groans out loud, but he knows exactly when Matt hears him, because his head rolls lazily towards him, his hands that had been grabbing your hips tightening, and there’s little to no warning before Matt’s flipping you over and thrusting into you with vigor.

“Does that feel good baby?” Chris hears Matt ask, his voice rough and low. “Tell me how good my dick makes you feel.”

“Fuck, so good, Matt- please, please, please-” your moans turning into whimpers as Matt’s thrust pick up in pace. Chris can tell exactly when Matt hits the bundle of nerves inside you that has you seeing stars because your back arches off his bed, hands scrambling to find purchase. Your fingers clench into the pillow above your head, as you beg Matt to go harder, faster.

Chris’ eyes bounce back to Matt, who’s watching you in awe, and he’s seen that look on his face numerous times before, like Matt can't get enough of you. Chris’ breath hitches, because he wishes it was him, in Matt’s place. Him, worshiping you, making you feel good. He wishes he was the one that was ripping those sounds out of you.

He catches Matt’s eyes just then, and Chris has never wanted to punch him in the face more than he does in that moment, because it almost feels like he’s mocking Chris.

See what I have, what you so desperately want…

Chris holds up a middle finger, directed at Matt and whatever god was up there who’d clearly forsaken him. He had half the mind to just yell but the last thing he wanted to do was embarrass you. So with a scathing look at Matt, and a mouthed fuck you, he walks to his room, the sound of Matt’s laughter the last thing he hears before Chris angrily slams the door and sheds his clothes, pumping his cock to the memory of your voice.

It’s the hardest he’s cum all week.

Chris walks in on Matt pounding you against the wall leading to the garage. At this point, it had to be on purpose. The two of you had to be planning this, because how was it always Chris that ended up walking in on them, and not Nick? Knowing his brother, Nick would’ve gone around voicing his disgust at having caught you and Matt fucking, any chance he got.

So, it had to be on purpose.

Matt’s whispering dirty things in your ear, loud enough for Chris to hear every word.

“You’re so fucking pretty baby-”

“I want to ruin you, want you to feel me for days-”

“You’re such a dirty little slut, aren’t you?” and that has you letting out a particularly loud whine. The next bit Matt whispers into your ear is too inaudible for Chris to comprehend but he can tell how much it affects you, because you absolutely lose it just then.

Fuck this. Fuck all of this.

“Can y’all stick to fucking in Matt’s bed?”

At the sound of Chris’ voice, you look up at him, startled, and it’s electrifying, your stare. Chris sees your eyebrows furrow, your lips, plump from being bitten (by yourself, or Matt, who cares at this point), fall open. Matt’s shoulders stiffen for a second, so Chris knows he’s aware that Chris is right behind them, but the asshole just keeps fucking going. And you, you’re still staring.

“Chris-” you gasp, your nails digging into Matt’s shoulder. Chris thinks you’re going to push him away, scramble to pull yourself together.

You surprise him by pushing back down onto Matt’s cock with even more fervor, your hands moving up Matt’s neck to grab onto his hair, pulling hard.

Chris watches you cum on Matt’s cock for the first time that night, all while your eyes were locked on his.

Chris doesn't like being angry. He very rarely is. And usually, he gets over it really quick.

Which is why it’s shocking to everyone when he gets cold and hostile towards Matt seemingly out of nowhere, and the anger doesn't subside.

It gets in the way of their work. Filming becomes exhausting, and it leaves all three brothers feeling frustrated and annoyed at each other.

It’s in the middle of filming a new car video when it all goes to head. Nick and Matt had attempted to film a video, but Chris couldn’t hold back the jabs at Matt, interrupting him every time he spoke, insulting him for no reason whatsoever, which only made Matt retaliate just as hard.

“That’s it-” Nick yells, his hands pushing his hair out of his face in frustration. “I’ve fucking had it with you two. I’m getting the fuck out of this car and the two of you are going to stay in here and talk. Don’t even bother coming back in until you sort out whatever-” he gestures wildly between Matt and Chris, “-is going on with you two!”

And with that, Nick storms back into their house.

Chris stares out of the window with his arms crossed, seething. He can tell Matt is looking at him, can see part of his reflection on the window, but Chris isn’t going to give him the satisfaction of breaking first.

Matt, much to Chris’ annoyance, was completely calm and collected.

“Chris-” Matt begins to say, but Chris just chucks his empty Pepsi can at him without looking. He hears it clatter against something (the steering wheel, he thinks), before dropping down onto the car floor with a dull thud.

Matt sighs, and Chris wants to yell, because Chris is the one that should be huffing and sighing, he’s the one that’s tired of all this bullshit.

“Are you trying to prove something?” Chris asks, because he never could stay quiet for too long. “Is that it? What the actual fuck Matt?”

Chris had fully turned to face Matt, who at least had the decency to look somewhat abashed now. His face was tinged pinked, and he was fiddling with his rings.

Chris continues. “I don’t know what’s going on in your head, but if you’re just trying to get me to see she’s your girl, I fucking get it, okay? You’ve made that really fucking clear. Did I say or do something to warrant this shit, because if you think I’m out to get her, I’m not, okay? Jesus- do you know how fucking insane-”

“She wants you bro.”

Chris blinks. He opens his mouth, and then shuts it.

“I used to catch her staring at you sometimes, and there were times she’d just keep scrolling through pictures of the two of us together- you and me, I mean- and…I don’t know, she’d have this look on her face.” Matt trails off. He looks at Chris, trying to gauge his reaction so far, but truth be told, Chris was still trying to process what Matt had initially said.

“What…?”

“Look, the two of us are happy together. I love her, she loves me, but I think she…” Matt coughs out, and it’s the first time since this whole thing has started that Chris has seen Matt this awkward. “She’s into you too. She never really told me, but it got pretty obvious after a while. And eventually, I- I started bringing you up, when we- um, yeah. She wants us both.”

Chris starts laughing. Because he doesn’t know what else to do.

“Alright, good prank dude- I’m still so fucking mad at you but-”

“I’m not kidding, Chris.”

Right. Because why would Matt joke about something like this?

“Um…”

“Yeah…”

And that’s how Chris finds himself back in Matt’s room. You and Matt were sitting on his bed, albeit a little far apart, meanwhile Chris had taken a seat in Matt’s gaming chair. Chris almost wants to call the two of you out on the pure torture you’d put him through the past few weeks, but one look at your face has him abandoning that train of thought.

You look so…remorseful. You’re slightly curled in on yourself, like you’re bracing for some sort of attack, and Chris’ heart melts. The last thing he wants is for you to feel upset, so he tries to lighten the mood.

“So, do you just wanna see which one of us has the better dick or-?”

He smiles as you sputter, eyes wide as you finally look up at him.

“There we go,” Chris whispers. “You’re finally looking at me.”

“Chris…I’m so sorry,” you whisper, lips trembling. “God, this is so stupid, why did we decide to tell him-”

“Hey, hey-” Chris chides. “I think I’ve been kept in the dark long enough, actually. I just wish y’all hadn’t used such a weird ass fucking way to tell me.”

“Well, to be fair, she didn’t even know you’d seen us that first couple of times,”

“Oh, god-”

“-And, we kinda assumed you’d take the fucking hint or something.”

“Yeah, I thought the hint was ‘I know you wanna fuck my girl, so I’m gonna make sure you catch us fucking every chance we get so you stay the fuck away’,” Chris says with a raised brow, staring deadpan at Matt.

“Wait, what-” you start, but you’re interrupted by Matt.

“Yeah, he’s wanted to fuck you for a while too.”

And that's how Chris finds himself with a front row view of Matt fucking you, up close and personal. Matt has you on all fours, facing Chris, while he pounds into you from behind, hard and deep. Each thrust punches a high-pitched moan out of you, and Chris watches, enraptured by the way you take it.

Chris watches to his heart's content that night, no longer worried about getting caught, no longer stressed about wanting to fuck you.

Chris watches you fall apart in Matt's hands over and over, and all he can think about is when he can finally have his turn.

+ 1

They’d had to wait for the perfect moment, a night they could be sure none of them would be interrupted.

They'd been planning for this night for a few days now, and it was finally here.

Chris and Matt stand side-by-side in front of Matt’s bed, arms crossed over their chest as they watch you squirm in his bed, their combined attention making you nervous. They’re both barely dressed, Chris in a black tank top and grey sweatpants, the front of which were already tented from his hard dick, while Matt was just in his black boxers. The low lighting of the room made Matt’s rings glisten as he rubbed at the stubble that he’d slowly allowed to grow on his face.

“How are we feeling, baby?” Matt asks you, smirking at the way you visibly gulp. “You ready for us?”

You sink your teeth into your bottom lip, looking up at Chris through your lashes before nodding.

That’s all the cue he needs.

Chris stalks over to you, slowly, climbing over the bed and crawling over you, his hands landing on either side of your head as he holds himself above you. You lay back, your hair fanning around your head on the pillow, your eyes wide as you wait for Chris’ next move.

“Can I kiss you?” Chris asks, wetting his lips, and he doesn’t have to wait long for his answer. Your fingers thread through his hair, pulling at the strands close to his nape, bringing his lips onto yours. The kiss is heady, a wild mess of tongue and teeth, because you’d both been waiting for this, dying for it, and here it was, finally happening.

“Chris-” you gasp, open mouth sliding over the hot skin of his cheek as he lowers his head to the crook of your neck, biting harsh kisses into the skin there, before tracing his tongue across your jaw.

“Fuck, fuck- you smell so good, I need you so bad ma-” Chris blabbers, his brain-to-mouth filter long gone. He vaguely registers Matt settling onto the bed, leaning against the headboard, as Chris kisses a path down your body, laving every inch of skin he can access with nips and kisses. You arch your back as Chris circles one of your nipples with his tongue, sucking on it as he flicks the other. He alternates between kissing and nipping your nipples, all the while, you have an almost painful grip on his hair, pushing your chest harder into his face.

Matt watches your face intently, seeing the way your features scrunch up in pleasure, mouth wide open as you gasp and whine. There’s a small part of him that knows he shouldn’t be so okay with his own brother having his way with his girlfriend, but it’s almost like he gets a 4K view of what it might usually look like when Matt’s the one doing these things to you.

Chris continues his path downwards, fingers hooking into the sides of your panties and slowly, agonizingly slowly, pulling them off of you. Your legs instinctively squeeze shut when the cold air hits your wet core, but Chris’s hands gently pry them open, staring at you in wonder.

“You’re so fucking wet, fuck-” Chris groans, before licking a stripe up the seam where your thigh meets your crotch, so close to where you actually want his tongue.

“Please, please-” you whimper, pushing your hips up closer to his lips, feeling his hot breath fan over you pussy. You hear both him and Matt chuckle, before Chris has his mouth on you, licking the wetness gathered in your folds. All you can hear is the blood rushing in your ears and the obscene sounds of Chris’s mouth as he eats you out like a man starving.

It’s almost too much, the way he’s sucking on your clit, before pushing his tongue into you, his face pushed deep, you’re sure he can’t breath. The pleasure builds, heat pooling low in your stomach. You feel Matt’s fingers brush against your forehead, pushing the hair that was starting to stick to it from all the sweat.

“You feel good baby?” Matt asks, tone soft, but his eyes glint dangerously. “One of us wasn’t enough for you, was it? You’re such a dirty girl, wanting me and my brother.”

You whine, head pushing against his thigh closest to your head. Chris laughs, pulling his head back to chime in.

“Greedy little slut, that’s what she is,” he says, cheeks rosy and face glistening from the nose down, his chin absolutely soaking wet. “You gonna cum soon ma?”

You don’t even know what you respond with, just that Chris goes back to eating you out, this time, bringing his fingers to your entrance, sliding one finger, then two, into your sopping wet cunt as he licks random paths across your folds, occasionally circling your clit and sucking on it harshly, all while thrusting his fingers in and out of you, causing you to buck your hips up wildly. Your orgasm, only the first one of the night, is fast approaching, and your thighs clench around Chris’ head. The only warning he gets is a sudden yell of his name before you gush all over his face.

“Did you just- did she just squirt?” Chris asks, eyes wide as he takes in the mess that you’d made. His face and neck were now fully wet, and there was a perfectly round wet spot right underneath you. His fingers flutter over your now slightly puffy pussy, watching your folds quiver.

“Fuck, it’s too much- Chris, wait,” you whine, hands moving to grab Chris’ wrist. He doesn’t stop with his ministrations though, fingers pumping in and out of you, prodding at the bundle of nerves inside you that caused your vision to white out. It was fast, intense, and Chris manages to pull a second orgasm out of you before you’d even managed to catch your breath from the first one.

Chris sits up on his knees, reaching his arms behind him and pulling his tank top off, throwing it behind him. He hooks his arms around your thighs before pulling you down the bed, closer to him, allowing Matt to slot himself behind you.

“Can you turn over for me ma?” Chris asks with a gentle pat against your hip. It takes some effort, your limbs feel loose and languid, but you manage to flip onto your stomach. Hands grab your face, tipping your head up, and you see your boyfriend looking at you with a smirk, tongue peeking out to run across his teeth.

“Enjoying yourself, sweetheart?” he asks, voice like dripping honey with a hint of something razor-sharp. “This everything you imagined?”

“Yes- oh god, Matt- I need you, please-”

“You have me baby,” he coos. “You have me and Chris. That’s what you wanted, right? ‘Cause one dick was never enough to keep you satisfied.”

“Ngghh- please, please, I-” you whimper, mouthing at Matt’s dick through his boxers, startled when you feel a sudden smack against your ass, pain blossoming across your skin.

“If she’s already this cock dumb, I wonder how she’s gonna get when we actually get our dicks in her,” Chris wonders out loud with an amused huff, palming at your ass cheeks as he rubs his clothed dick against it.

You continue begging, your pussy soaking wet and clenching around nothing in anticipation for what’s to come, hips arching off the bed while your back dips low, shoulders tucked between Matt’s spread thighs as you lick him through the only piece of fabric that is keeping you from tasting him, from having his cock fill your mouth.

Chris smooths his palm down your back, making you arch your back even further, before he spreads your cheeks, seeing the way you twitch at being put on display.

“I think she’s waited long enough, hasn’t she?” Matt asks Chris, nodding his head slightly as if to tell Chris to get on with it. Chris doesn’t waste any time pushing his sweats down his thighs, freeing his cock. You turn your head back to try and peek at it from over your shoulder, but Matt has a firm hand on your head pushing you towards his crotch while he pulls his dick out of his boxers. With one hand holding the back of your head, and the other around his dick, Matt slaps it against your cheek, amused at the way you so desperately try and get him to guide his cock into your mouth instead.

Simultaneously, Chris is behind you, rubbing the tip of his dick through your folds, gathering the wetness there. Above you, you feel Matt lean towards his dresser, before rifling through the top drawer and chucking something at Chris. There’s a sound of a bottle cap clicking open, and lube being squeezed out, before you hear the squelch of it as Chris spreads it over his dick.

Later, you’ll think they must have planned this head of time, but both Matt and Chris decide to push their dicks into you at the same time, Matt feeding you his cock, pushing past your lips, applying gentle pressure to the back of your head, while Chris spreads your folds apart and drives his dick into you, the tip catching inside you for a moment, before he thrusts his hips and pushes his dick deeper into you.

“Look at that,” Chris says, smacking the palms of both his hands onto your cheeks at the same time, before kneading at them. “She takes dick really fucking well.”

“It’s like she’s made for it, isn’t she?”

Chris fucks you like he has all the time in the world, savoring the feeling of your pussy clenching around him, fascinated by the sight of his dick disappearing in you at every thrust. You stretch around him so beautifully, and you’re so fucking tight, he wonders how he managed to fit it all in you in one go.

At the other end, Matt watches you with soft affection as you suck on his cock, tears streaming down your face from the exertion on your body and minimal air supply. At every thrust of Chris’ hips, you would get pushed closer to Matt, which would push his dick deeper into your mouth, making you almost gag on it.

You have no concept of time anymore, or where your body starts and Chris’ and Matt’s end. You feel like one big mess of limbs, moving fluidly, with the common purpose of chasing your orgasm. You hear Matt’s groans getting louder above you, and you know he’s getting close. You’re not far behind yourself, but Chris still seems like he’s nowhere close to being done.

Pulling your mouth off of Matt’s cock, you circle your hand around the base of it, before stroking your hand up and down, twisting it around the head. You swipe your thumb across the slit at the top while you tongue at the underside of the head, all while looking up at Matt through hooded eyes.

“Cum on my face, Matt, please-” you beg, mouth slightly open, a line of spit connecting your tongue to his dick. Chris' thrusts are picking up, but you keep your elbows planted firmly on the bed below to keep yourself steady for Matt. There’s a tingle building low in your spine, but you focus on Matt, the way he looks at you with his eyebrows furrowed, bottom lip pulled between his teeth. His hair is a mess, and his body is flushed. The hand he has on your head grips your hair tight, and the other joins your hand in pumping his dick. It only takes a few more seconds of that before Matt lets out a loud groan of your name, spurts of thick, hot cum landing across your face, and you close your eyes as it drips down your face, some of it landing on your tongue.

Matt leans back heavily against the headboard, and before you can register anything, you’re being flipped onto your back, face still covered in Matt’s cum. Your shoulders hit Matt’s chest as Chris crowds against you on the bed, his hands now on the back of your knees, pushing your legs back against your chest, before thrusting his dick back into you.

The sudden shift has you blinking back stars, and this new angle has Chris’ dick brushing against your sweet spot on every thrust, and all you can do is sob at the immense pleasure you feel. Matt circles his arms around you, one hand playing with one of your nipples, while the other moves down your stomach and edges closer to your clit. The tingling sensation grows, and grows, your hands scrambling to find purchase on Chris’ shoulders as he thrusts particularly deep into you before you finally snap, screaming as your third orgasm is ripped from you, the force of it pushing Chris’ cock out of you as you squirt all over him, yourself, and the bed, legs shaking uncontrollably.

You’re fully gasping and sobbing now, the intensity of your orgasm wracking through your whole body. You watch through hooded, teary eyes, as Chris leans over you, furiously stroking his cock as he soaks in the view of you, hot and messy, ruined because of him, before he too eventually reaches his orgasm, cum pulsing out of him and landing high on your chest, across your nipples, one spurt even hitting your chin.

The three of you are a heaping mess of limbs after, all basking in the afterglow of a night well spent, tired, but satiated. Matt and Chris lay on either side of you, stroking whatever part of your skin they can reach, occasionally batting each other’s hands away and pulling you closer to either side, like you’re not all squished together already.

“We should do that again sometime,” you say after a long beat of silence. Matt snorts, eyes closed, but the corners of his lips are quirked up in a small smile.

“Y’all are crazy if you think I’m never fucking you again after I just got a taste,” Chris states. “Besides, I think there’s a lot of lost time I need to make up for, hm?”

After that night, Chris gets to have his turn with you, over and over. Sometimes, Matt is present, and the brothers somehow always turn things into a competition of who can make you cum the quickest, who can make you cum multiple times, who can make you absolutely incoherent by the end of the night.

Now Chris had his own reason for always being so chipper in the morning. It helps that he finally gets to fuck the hottest girl he’s seen, who just happens to also be fucking his brother.

author’s note: i put too much fucking effort into an idea that essentially started as a joke, its gonna be so funny if this flops because i literally stayed up till 4 am twice in a row to write this lmao- anyways, let me know what you think! my inbox is open and waiting for your thoughts (: likes, comments and reblogs r much appreciated <3

taglist 🩵 (comment on my pinned post to be added or removed):

@luverboychris @bigbeefybitch @liz-stxrn @slut4chriss @sturniolosgirl @coochiedestroyer1 @kvtie444 @vschrissturn @hercigaretteblush @fwskullz @m4rriii @anabanana28 @sturniolosange1 @webbersturn @odeezier @johnniesrealwife @freshsturns @marlenafortuna @carolineheartsmatthew @incndescentglow @starniolosposts @urfavgirllyyyyy @mattsturniolosworld @lilyloveschris @sturniozo @lookingformyromeo @heartss4matthewq @lanasturniolo @ezziewinchester @s-s-842 @sturnlova @55sturn @chrisopeningabag

#junovrs writes #matt sturniolo #chris sturniolo #matt sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo x reader #sturniolo x reader

6K notes · View notes

lostfracturess · 8 days ago

Text

words you couldn't hear — satoru gojo

satoru's been hopelessly in love with you for years, but can only confess when you can't hear him. but someday—maybe someday soon—he'll tell you for real.

"How do these look?" you ask, slipping on a pair of noise-canceling headphones and striking a pose. "Be honest."

Satoru, who's been trailing behind you in the electronics store for the past hour without complaining like the best friend he's always been, looks up from the speaker he's been fiddling with. "You look good in anything."

"No, for real." You turn to check your reflection in a nearby screen. "Do they make my head look bigger? I feel like they make my head look bigger."

He snorts, reaching over to adjust the headband. His fingers brush against your temple, and you try not to think about how many times those same hands have absentmindedly played with your hair during movie nights, or how he still unconsciously reaches for you whenever he laughs too hard, just like he did when you were kids.

"That's what you're concerned about? The size of your head?"

"It's a valid concern."

"Your head is perfectly normal-sized," he assures you, his fingers lingering perhaps a moment too long as he fixes the fit. "Though I suppose all that overthinking has to go somewhere—"

You shoot him a look, but there's no heat behind it. Fifteen years of friendship has made you immune to his teasing — well, mostly immune.

You're not quite immune to the way your pulse quickens when he's standing this close, or how he still smells like that same cologne he's worn since high school, the one you helped him pick out for his first date with someone else while ignoring the weird ache in your chest.

"I really need good ones for studying," you say, checking the price tag. "My roommate talks way too much."

Satoru winces at the price. "Expensive. But they're supposedly the best."

"Worth every penny if they can block out her ramblings." You adjust the fit, immediately noticing how they muffle the noise of the shop. "Oh wow, these are actually incredible. Say something so I can test them properly."

"What should I say?"

You arch an eyebrow at him. "Anything. Just need to check if they work."

His expression shifts then, melting into something tender as his lips move. Even though you can't hear the words, something about the gentle way he's looking at you makes your heart flutter strangely in your chest.

"These are perfect!" you say, pulling them off, trying to ignore the way your pulse has picked up. "I couldn't hear you at all. What did you say?"

Satoru leans against the display counter, chin propped in his hand as he watches you fiddle with the headphone cord, a fond smile playing at his lips. "Nothing really," he murmurs, but there's something soft in his expression, something unguarded that makes your heart skip.

You pause, catching the way he's looking at you — like you're something precious, something more than just his best friend of fifteen years. "Satoru?" you say softly.

He seems to catch himself then, straightening abruptly as a flush creeps up his neck. "Ah, yes. Should we, uh." His voice comes out slightly strangled. "Should we get these paid for? Before they close?"

"The store closes in two hours."

"Better safe than sorry." He's already heading for the checkout, nearly tripping over his own feet in his haste.

What you don't know — what you couldn't hear through those noise-canceling headphones — were three words he's been trying to say for years. Three words that slipped out so easily when he knew you couldn't hear them, when the safety of silence gave him the courage he's never had before.

"I love you."

Simple. Honest. Everything he's wanted to tell you since he was seventeen and realized his best friend was the love of his life. Everything he's been too afraid to say, too afraid to risk losing you.

But for now, those words remain caught in the space between silence and sound, in the safety of a moment you couldn't hear. Maybe one day he'll find the courage to say them again, when you can actually hear him.

Maybe one day soon.

#jjk x reader #jjk x y/n #jjk x you #jjk headcanons #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen #gojo x you #gojo satoru x you #gojo x reader #jjk fluff #gojo satoru x y/n #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x y/n #gojo fluff #jujutsu kaisen fluff #gojo headcanons #soft satoru gojo #satoru gojo fluff

2K notes · View notes

r4di0h3ad · 1 month ago

Text

3 times jj kissed you + 1 time you kissed him

parings! bsf!jj x reader

warnings! . smoking. fluff. angst if you squint. not proof read.

the first time, you were 14.

you had moved to the outerbanks at the beginning of your 7th grade year, terrified out of your mind. you didn’t know a soul, you didn’t know how people in a beach town behaved, what they wore, how they talked.

but on your very first day at kildare county middle school, you met your people.

jj was the first to talk to you, telling you he liked your t shirt you got from a popular surf shop that you had agonized over, wondering if people would like it. he was the first to make you feel comfortable.

gradually, you started sitting with him in science class, and then you started sitting with him and his friends at lunch. you met john b, kiara, and pope and you were inseparable since.

now it was the middle of your 8th grade year. kiara was throwing her birthday party where half of the middle school seemed to be invited. her circle of friends was much larger at that time due to her being considered in between a pogue and a kook.

the girls had decided to play the classic party game, spin the bottle and mostly everyone at the party gathered around in a crowded circle. it seemed like everybody playing wasn’t the least bit nervous about kissing someone else, but you were picking at the skin of you fingers because you had never been kissed.

you anxiously awaited your turn, watching the bottle intently in case it landed on you, but thankfully, it never did.

and then your turn came around. you nervously spun the bottle, hoping it wouldn’t land on some guy or girl you hardly knew. it did a few rotations, everyone eager to know who you were going to kiss.

the bottle settled on jj directly across from you.

you immediately felt better, knowing that it was one of your friends who would steal your first kiss, but then you chided yourself for even thinking about kissing one of your friends.

jj came across the circle to where you were sitting and grabbed your hands, pulling you to your feet. he didn’t seem nervous at all, but that was just how jj was.

you noticed some of the kook girls staring at the two of you, jealous that it wasn’t them who got to kiss him.

“you can skip me if you don’t wanna kiss me, y’know?” he said, but not in a way that was telling you he didn’t want this. he spoke with a quiet and sweet tone, making sure you were okay. he was always making sure you were okay. he knew this was your first kiss and he didn’t want to take that from you if you weren’t alright with it.

“no, it’s okay.” you shook your head, smiling nervously.

he nodded and then gently placed his hands on both sides of your face before he leaned in.

you closed your eyes and waited for his lips to touch yours.

you always thought you would be clueless during your first kiss, but he made it feel natural.

his lips gently pecked yours, lingering for a few seconds before he pulled away.

you heard ooo’s and ahh’s from the teenagers around you and you couldn’t help the redness that rushed to your face. you were glad it was him.

that night you also kissed two others. one random kook boy who you hardly knew and one girl who was in your english class. the girls never skipped each other because they knew the kisses were meaningless, and those last two kisses were definitely meaningless. but the one with jj felt different. you tried to make yourself think it was because it was your first one. you had also watched jj kiss a few more girls that night. you scolded yourself for feeling a tinge of jealousy.

what you didn’t know was that jj placed himself directly across from you to have a better chance of your spin landing on him.

the second time, you were 16.

you had just discovered the golden cross in a dilapidated church. pope was hacking away at the wood encasing the treasure, pieces of it crashing to the ground.

when you saw the gold shimmer through the wood, your eyes lit up. you couldn’t believe that everything you had gone through had brought you to this moment. you couldn’t believe you actually found what you were looking for.

everyone celebrated with shouts, with cheers saying “we’re gonna be rich!” and with hugs.

your adrenaline was so high, you felt like you were dreaming.

jj took your face in his hands and planted a kiss right on your lips. it happened so fast you could barely comprehend what was happening and when he pulled away, your eyes met his and you saw the excitement on his face. you knew he only kissed you because there was so much to celebrate about that he didn’t know what to do with it.

you watched him hug john b as kie and sarah hugged you. he didn’t have that same look in his eyes when he celebrated with them.

you never mentioned it afterwards.

john b was the only one who saw him kiss you. a few days later, he told jj to just ask you out already.

“everyone knows it j.” john b said.

“knows what?”

“that you’re in love with her.” he said it like it was the most obvious thing ever. “you’ve been crazy about that girl since you were 13, it’s almost embarrassing that you’ve never done anything about it.” they were the only ones in the twinkie together, waiting for the 3 girls to get in the van for another daily adventure.

“she’s like- i don’t know, man.” jj shook his head. “she’d never say yes. i’d rather not fuck our whole relationship up, y’know?” he said with a hint of sarcasm.

john b scoffed.

“you’re saying she’d never say yes but you don’t see the way she looks at you?” he said. “either you’re choosing to ignore it or you’re just flat out stupid.”

the third time, you were 17

jj had shown up at your house in the pouring rain with a bruise forming on his cheek and a cut on his lower lip. the second you saw his face, you knew it was his dad.

“can i stay here tonight?” he asked, as you were already pulling him inside.

you took him to your bathroom and he rolled a joint while you found some rubbing alcohol for the cuts on his face.

he sat on the wall of the bathtub and you sat on the toilet, turning yourself to face him. he lit his joint before you dabbed a cotton pad doused in alcohol on his injuries. he flinched slightly from the pain before he took a hit from his joint, instantly soothing it.

you could’ve killed his dad for what he did. you noticed jj’s eyes were red, probably from tears. he didn’t deserve any of what his dad had put him through.

you fixed him up in silence, not wanting to touch on the subject of what happened between him and his dad.

“you’re making the house smell like weed.” you said, half-jokingly.

“shit, are your parents home?” he asked, getting ready to stub out the joint on the bathtub, but you took it from his fingers and held it to your mouth, taking a long drag and exhaling.

“they never are.” you replied.

you notice his eyes trail down to your lips as you smoked, his breath hitching. it was silent, but there was a tension that was speaking volumes between you two. the fact that he came to your house instead of john b’s was proof enough for how much he felt for you, and anyone with half a brain could see it. but you always wrote it off, not truly believing that he could have any feelings that weren’t strictly platonic towards you.

almost unconsciously, he leaned in. you let him.

his lips touched yours, his hand supporting himself on your knee. he tasted of weed and your cherry rolling papers. he tasted good.

when he pulled away, you were almost frozen, the joint still resting between your fingers, burning away. his eyes were wide with a look of regret and your heart sank.

“im- im sorry, i shouldn’t have-“ he started, realizing his hand was touching your bare leg and immediately taking it off like it was burning him.

“it’s okay,” you handed him the joint. “you’re just- you’re high.”

he cleared his throat.

“i’m sorry.” he uttered again.

later, when you went to bed that night, you wished you had kissed him again, and again. the only thing that played in your mind for the next week was the taste of his lips. but friends couldn’t think of each other like that, right?

you kissed him about a month later.

he asked you to go on a boat ride with him since you two were the only ones in the chateau at the time. you agreed, of course.

you were a little far out from the shore, seemingly being the only two people out at the moment. he had stopped the boat and began rolling a joint as you watched, seated across from him. he was so focused on crafting the joint that he didn’t even notice you staring at him.

you thought about every time he had kissed you, and every time you just shrugged it off. and you thought about the fact that every time you were near him, you wanted him to do it again. but why wouldn’t you just do it? what was the harm?

he looked up only to lick the paper, his eyes meeting yours and a smile playing on his lips.

so you did it.

you leaned in and connected your lips to his. he kissed you back almost immediately and moved his mouth in sync with yours. his hands went to your waist and yours went to his hair.

it was minutes later when you finally pulled away, both out of breath.

“i’ve wanted to kiss you like that since the day i met you.” he said, his hands still on your waist.

“don’t know what was stopping you.” you giggled.

his hand went up to your flushed cheek.

“well i really don’t want anything to stop me again.” he kissed you again.

you came back late at night to find your friends. your cheeks were still read, your hair was a little messy and a barely visible hickey was left on your collar.

everyone knew immediately. and everyone was glad they would never have to witness the mutual pining between you two again.

taglist! (comment or message to be added or removed!) @ifilwtmfc @xcallmetaniax @moondustedlily

#jj maybank #jj obx #jj obx fic #jj obx imagine #jj x reader #jj x you #obx #obx4 #outer banks #jj maybank outer banks #jj maybank imagine #jj maybank obx #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank x y/n #outerbanks 4

1K notes · View notes

peppermint-toads · 10 months ago

Text

thinking about the night simon riley decides to retire.

well, not retire retire. but retire from fieldwork.

you’re in his bed, cheek pressed into his pillow and facing him while you slept.

you were wearing his t shirt, of course, like he always insisted. your skin was still a little flush from riding the ever loving soul out of him earlier, but you looked peaceful.

he steadied his hand as much as possible and stroked your hair from your face. he mostly just liked touching you in any capacity at all times. liked to think you could feel it even when you were asleep.

he felt something new in his stomach that night though, as he allowed his thoughts of you to drift into a more serious territory.

he’d figured out a couple months ago that he did, in fact, love you. and now he was ready to show you.

the more time he spent away from you, the more he realized how done he was with constantly being on the brink of death. he finally had something to live for and come home to.

he’d call price first thing in the morning.

little did price know, he’d been waiting for that call. he had a sneaking suspicion that simon had met someone. especially when he came to the pub smelling like miss dior.

that perfume was a gift from simon himself, thank you very much.

and simon was well off, set for life after years of being in the military and nothing to do with the money. price insisted simon could just quit for good, but simon still wanted to work in some capacity.

they settled on simon taking some time off, seeing how the life suits him. then they would discuss a position on base.

price knew simon would never return to the task force, and was damn glad he wouldn’t.

#simon ghost riley fluff #simon ghost riley smut #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley

8K notes · View notes

cherienymphe · 2 months ago

Text

A Family Affair

Rafe Cameron x Reader

Warnings: NON-CON/DUB-CON, STEPCEST, age gap, plus size!reader, infidelity

➥ banner by @vase-of-lilies | ➥ divider by @firefly-graphics

summary: It's no secret that Rafe doesn't care for his stepmother, so when he suddenly starts being nice to you following his father's neglect, you're relieved to think that you can finally start acting like a family.

⭑

You sighed to yourself as the sound of Ward’s light snores faded behind you, your feet carrying you down the hall as you sought something to drink. It was late, and while you should’ve been asleep alongside the rest of the house, you were wide awake. Your thoughts strayed to your husband, and a familiar pang made your chest ache. Per usual, you attempted to ignore it, but the late hour and solitude prevented you from doing so.

Ward was so busy with business as of late, and while you knew what you were getting into when you married him, you hadn’t anticipated just how often you’d find yourself alone and without him. It wasn’t so bad the first few times you found yourself scarcely seeing him for weeks on end—business eventually letting up and allowing him to spend more time with you before the cycle repeated—but it started to get old after a while. The constant back and forth and ebb and flow of your relationship…

“Don’t you like the nice house? The fancy cars? The semi-annual trips?” was what he’d asked you one day when you brought it up.

At your reluctant nod, he’d merely given you a soft smile and a kiss on the cheek.

“You know it’s never temporary,” he’d murmured against your skin, trailing his fingers down your arm. “Work just pulls me away, sometimes.”

That was almost a year ago, and you were even less used to it, now.

The lifestyle made up for it in some ways, the sex in others, but you never thought you’d find yourself thinking that it was your stepchildren who really brought you so much joy on those days where you wondered if this relationship was fulfilling enough. You smiled into your glass at the thought of them, shaking your head as you remembered something Sarah had said the day before. They were far from perfect—one more so than the other two—but it was in a way that was almost endearing. Most of the time…

You swallowed down a sigh along with your drink as you thought of a familiar dirty blond.

Rafe Cameron was Ward’s only son, and such a title brought along lots of expectations that Rafe ever failed to live up to. You still couldn’t quite tell if Ward expected so much of him or if Rafe just refused to apply himself. You settled on something in between, a little bit of both of that from both of them. It made you sad, sometimes, and over the past few years you’d done your best to help and be there for Rafe, but all of your effort seemed to be in vain.

The twenty year old just didn’t like you…and you wondered if he ever would.

He was never shy about his feelings regarding you and on some level you appreciated the transparency, but on another it did sting a bit. There were moments where you wondered if he simply thought you weren’t good enough for Ward. You quickly learned how shallow Rafe could be, and it wasn’t like you were the thinnest woman out there—far from it, in fact. It definitely wouldn’t surprise you to learn he felt his father could do better in that department, but for some reason, you just didn’t buy that excuse.

The looks he gave you and the cold manner in which he talked to you sometimes made you feel like it was something far more personal than something as mundane as weight. It was moments like these where you realized just how much Rafe’s behavior got to you, and not because it hurt particularly bad, but mostly because you didn’t understand it.

You found yourself entertaining the same kind of thoughts a few nights later when face to face with Rafe, declining his ‘suggestion’ of throwing a little ‘get together’.

The younger man wasn’t happy with the discussion, pressing his tongue to the inside of his cheek—a tell-tale sign of his annoyance you’d come to learn— as he eyed you like you were something he’d find on the bottom of his shoe. With a soft scoff, he folded his arms over his chest and leaned against the back of the couch. You didn’t appreciate the small curve of his lips.

“You realize I'm an adult, right…? And that I technically don’t have to ask you permission for anything…right…?”

You licked your own lips, briefly glancing away with a sigh.

“Is that why you brought it up to me instead of just telling your father what you’re going to do?”

His expression shifted, the smile dropping from his lips, and you watched the way his jaw ticked.

“Ward would flat out tell you no, and you know it. I’m simply telling you no more than ten people. The last ‘get together’ you had here is still a little fresh in all of our minds, and you’re lucky I’m compromising at all after Wheezie found a condom in her room,” you reminded him. “There’s a reason you’re having this conversation with me and not Ward.”

Rafe’s nostrils flared, but he otherwise said nothing.

His silence gave you the opportunity to let out a sigh, stepping towards him. You didn’t miss the way his eyes closely followed the movement, used to him watching your every move. It was like Rafe didn’t trust your very presence, something you were sure he’d be over by now, but time had yet to prove you right.

“I’m on your side, Rafe. You understand that, right?”

He merely looked away from you, and you continued.

“I don’t enjoy you and Ward being at odds. You and I are a whole other conversation, but you and your father? I’m trying to help you help yourself, and you just seem to fight me every step of the way-.”

“You’re not my mother,” the blond coldly interrupted, making you swallow.

It wasn’t his sentiments that surprised you, but that he was actually saying it aloud. You long knew and accepted that Rafe didn’t—and probably wouldn’t ever—see you as such, but you were taken aback by him saying it and also saying it to your face.

“You’re just some thick thirty something piece of ass my dad married because hey…it’s not socially acceptable for a fifty-year old man to marry some twenty-five year old, so a thirty-eight year old is the next best thing he can get without being called a weirdo.”

He said all of this with a casual shrug, throwing his hands up, and you blinked.

You watched him as he straightened himself, slowly approaching you as he sniffed, eyeing you in a way that—for the first time ever—actually made you want to hide away from the world.

“Don’t worry about the party. I’ll just have it somewhere else…”

Rafe didn’t give you time to respond, brushing by you and leaving you to mull over his harsh words alone.

“Oh!”

You clutched your water bottle to you, eyes wide as they landed on Kelce of all people in your kitchen. The dark skinned young man was merely getting a snack, nothing that caused for any kind of alarm, but you simply hadn’t even known he was here. His presence surprised you, and clearly yours surprised him by the way he also looked at you with wide eyes. Although you didn’t understand why.

This was your house, after all…

“How long have you been in the house?” you wondered, moving to the sink to refill your bottle.

“Uh…only about twenty minutes,” was his answer.

You nodded at that, understanding why you hadn’t been privy to his presence. You’d been lounging by the pool for at least forty-five, and when you turned back around, Kelce’s dark eyes met yours, the look on his face unreadable. The silence between you felt awkward for some reason, and you hesitantly took a sip of water, eyeing him with a frown.

“Is Topper here too? Do I need to make extra pasta tonight?”

“Uh, yeah. I mean…yes to the Topper question, and no to the other. We’re not staying,” he said with a shrug just as you heard loud footsteps on the stairs. “I actually think Rafe is chilling at my place tonight.”

“Okay,” you slowly responded with an even slower nod, still unsure about the look on his face.

You were going to ask him if he was alright when another familiar face joined you both, Topper stopping just at the entrance of the kitchen. His brows rose a tad when his gaze landed on you, and whatever look passed over his features had come and gone too fast for you to name.

“Hey, Mrs. Cameron,” he greeted. “Going for a swim?”

You briefly glanced down at your bathing suit, fixing him with a look that had him nodding.

“Right, stupid question…”

You looked between the both of them, curiously and suspiciously, mind running wild with the possibilities of just what could be going on with them.

You settled on weed.

“If you three are smoking up there…”

They both rushed to deny that, frantically correcting you.

“No, no, we’re just…you look very pretty today,” Topper politely said.

The compliment—even if a little backhanded—took you by surprise, having not expected that, at all. You looked between them again, recognizing the appreciative look in Kelce’s gaze at last, and you let out a small snort. It was flattering in the way a compliment from a child was, and you shook your head.

“Thank you, Topper,” you finally replied, moving to leave the kitchen. “I’ll be outside if any of you need anything.”

You hoped that they wouldn’t. Aside from the three of them, the house was empty, and you’d been taking advantage of such all day. A nice glass of lemon water, an engaging book, and a beautiful sky was all the company you needed to relax poolside. You really didn’t want that to be disturbed by college sophomores burning down the kitchen.

As you made your way towards the backdoor, you briefly caught sight of Rafe standing at the top of the stairs, one hand on the railing and the other occupied with his phone. His gaze broke away from the device just as you looked up, and your gazes only connected for a second or two before you were looking away, but not before throwing him a small smile.

You knew he wouldn’t return it.

The rest of your day was spent as peacefully as you hoped, Kelce’s words ringing true when Rafe did eventually leave the house with no intention of returning it seemed. You were done cooking just as Sarah and Wheezie came home, and although Ward partook in supper, he did have to leave early and retire to his study. You got the feeling that he’d be coming to bed late again, and as much as you tried, you couldn’t ignore that annoying tickle in your chest.

A small voice in your head told you there was a fine line between work and spousal neglect, and you’d shaken your head, cursing yourself for being so dramatic. Besides, even if Ward was neglecting you a tad, a million women would kill to be in your position. A few months without proper affection and alone time with your husband was nothing when you considered the lifestyle you were living.

Especially for someone who looked like you.

Your life could be a whole lot worse, and you promptly told yourself to stop acting so spoiled. It was just another rough work patch, something you should be more than used to. Granted, this time seemed to be dragging on longer than the others, but you knew that Ward would be able to step back some time soon and take you on dates and spend time with you and make love to you like he normally did.

You just needed to be patient.

“You really don’t have to help clean up, Rafe.”

That was what you told the younger man as he grabbed the leftover casserole, searching for a tupperware to put it in. You eyed him but not in a way that was thankful or curious but instead in a way that was…perplexed. You’d been eyeing him that way for weeks, now, and you couldn’t find it in you to care if you were being subtle or not.

Gradually—almost too gradually for you to notice in the beginning—Rafe had softened towards you. That might’ve been the wrong word to use, but he was noticeably more agreeable—not necessarily kind—and it had thrown you for a loop from the first moment you noticed it. It was something so small—putting gas back in your car after he’d borrowed it to be exact—but it was also so out of the ordinary for Rafe that you couldn’t help but to linger on it. You’d stood by the door for what felt like minutes, still holding the keys he’d dropped in your hand.

It would’ve been easy to write it off as a one time uncharacteristic display of behavior but then he was asking if you wanted anything before he headed out and was helping you clean up after dinner and was replacing that one thing you were about to run out of before you even had the chance to. You weren’t complaining in the slightest, but you had gone to Ward to ask what he’d said to the younger Cameron to get him to treat you better.

“Nothing, I swear,” Ward had said to you, pulling you into his lap at his desk. “Maybe he’s just realizing how lucky he is to have you.”

You’d resisted the urge to roll your eyes at that, positive that Ward had found a way to put the fear of God into your stepson.

“I helped make the mess, didn’t I?” Rafe drawled, responding to you. “Besides, it’s not like I’ve got plans tonight.”

You frowned at his back at that, finding that incredibly hard to believe. If Rafe wasn’t with his friends, then he was spending his free time with his girlfriend. You’d never officially met her, but you heard him mention her in passing sometimes, and you were positive she was who you’d seen him at The Wreck with once. She was blonde and thin and as stereotypically Kook as one could get. She seemed just Rafe’s type, and wondering if she was out of town or something, you asked him.

He didn’t respond right away, and you almost assumed that you’d overstepped, tried to force this relationship too far too fast, and you'd be confronted with the Rafe you were used to at any moment now. However, the younger man only shrugged, putting the casserole in the fridge.

“She just has other plans tonight…”

The response was vague, but you left it alone, simply nodding.

When Rafe needed to get by you to put the empty dish in the dishwasher, his hand briefly touched the small of your back, and you gave it no mind but you did eye him again as he put more dishes in the dishwasher. Ward may have sworn up and down that he didn’t say anything to Rafe, but you surely didn’t believe him. You supposed that it didn’t matter either way, not particularly picky about whatever forced Rafe to start respecting you.

The other man wasn’t rolling his eyes at you and insulting you and giving you looks that could chill ice. That was all that mattered, and so pleased with Rafe’s forced change of heart, there were moments that you forgot about how tied up Ward was with work. After all, you’d long noted that it was your stepchildren that were the biggest pleasant surprises in your marriage, and now that that included Rafe, you almost didn’t mind that a month turned into two and then into three and eventually four of hardly any affection from your husband.

Your mind was off of it…until Rafe was mentioning it.

“If I wasn’t so sure that he’s obsessed with you, I’d think he was soft launching a divorce or something…”

You frowned at Rafe’s words, giving him a look that he clearly felt because he looked up from his phone. The look in your eyes must have portrayed your thoughts well because Rafe rolled his eyes, reaching over and touching your shoulder.

“It’s called a joke,” he drawled. “I know how hectic work has been lately. Trust if he could be up under you all the time, he would.”

The way Rafe said that gave you pause, thrown by the slight bitterness you swore you heard there. You’d always had the brief thought that maybe Rafe was just jealous of your relationship with Ward, his desire for the other man’s approval no secret. It wouldn’t be unheard of for a child to envy the part of their parent that couldn’t be shared with them but with a lover or friend instead. Rafe was continuing before you could linger on that thought though.

“I’m just pointing out that work hasn’t ever been this bad before…”

He only just dropped his hand from your shoulder.

“I know he probably hates it as much as you do, but unlike you, he can’t distract himself with Wheezie or Sarah or shopping or days spent by the pool…”

Rafe trailed off, a glint in his eyes that came and went, and you watched as he pulled his lip between his teeth before fixing you with a haughty smile.

“It’ll pass,” he shrugged.

You had never worried that it wouldn’t, but if even Rafe had noticed, you started to wonder if maybe you should.

“Uh…yeah, Rafe’s just upstairs.”

You moved out of the way to let the younger girl in, the ire on her face as clear as day. You watched her as she stomped up the stairs, and you worriedly wondered if you’d done the right thing. What if Rafe wasn’t expecting her? Even worse…what if they were in some kind of fight and she chose to hash it out here? Closing the front door, you quickly made your way to the bottom of the stairs, surprised to hear their voices so clearly.

It was clear to you that he hadn’t let her in his room.

“The whole nonchalant boyfriend thing is getting old, Rafe.”

You blinked at that.

“Every time I want to see you, it’s excuses. You cancel half the plans we make, and when you are with me, your mind is a million miles away,” the blonde girl practically spat. “So, you either don’t have the balls to dump me or there’s someone else.”

Her tone got particularly nasty near the end there.

“...and God knows I would love to see who you’d dare to cheat on me with.”

This conversation felt too personal—too raw—and you slowly backed away just as Rafe let out a cold chuckle. You made your way to the kitchen to finish cooking dinner, the task having been interrupted by the ringing of the doorbell. Your frown deepened as you chopped onions, unsure of what was going on between Rafe and his girlfriend but hoping he had the decency to treat her right.

You mulled over her words, confusion filling you as they played in your mind. Rafe had been spending so much time at home the past few months that you found it hard to believe he’d been putting an ounce of effort into anyone else. The only woman you were sure he was spending a considerable amount of time with was…well…you. The thought made you snort, but it was the truth. It was funny because you were sure that you’d seen more of Rafe than you had your own husband as of late..

So many times you were already asleep when he came to bed, and when you woke up, his side of the bed was empty. There had been quite a few days when Rafe was the only other person at the breakfast table and some days where he was wading in the same pool you were lounging by or just scrolling on his phone while you read on the couch. Ward had long told you he hadn’t said a thing to Rafe about treating you better, and at the time you hadn’t believed him, but you also felt like you knew Rafe well, and you knew he wasn’t the type to do what he didn’t want to do for long—if at all.

You were pulled from your thoughts by the sound of their hushed voices traveling into the kitchen as they moved through the house, tones angry.

“Do not talk about her like that,” Rafe suddenly spat, those words as clear as day, and you paused in what you were doing.

A few more hushed words were angrily exchanged, and it wasn’t long before you heard the door slam.

“Rafe…”

Your disappointed tone was all that met him when he stepped into the kitchen, and he eyed you, a hand in his pocket.

“It’s not what you think,” was all he said. “She’s full of herself, alright? If I’m not in the mood to be around her then I must be cheating.”

You pressed your lips together as he neared the island.

“I don’t know… It sounded like she has every reason to suspect to me.”

Rafe fixed you with a look you couldn’t name, a smirk dancing along his lips.

“Eavesdropping…?”

Now, you rolled your eyes, giving him a pointed look.

“Not on purpose, no, but… Whoever this other girl is, defending her like that to your girlfriend surely won’t earn you any points.”

His laugh took you by surprise, and you looked at him as he leaned his forearms on the island top, looking up at you from beneath his lashes. His hair kissed his forehead.

“I wasn’t defending some ‘other girl’,” he chuckled, shaking his head. “I was defending you.”

You faltered at that, blinking with parted lips.

“She said something about having to talk to you just to see me and…” he shrugged. “I didn’t like it.”

You didn’t know what to say to that, simply settling for ‘oh’.

“Trust me there is no other girl…just you, and it’s not your fault that my stepmom is more interesting to be around than that stuck up bimbo.”

You didn’t like the way he talked about her, but he was patting your hand and leaving the kitchen before you could reprimand him on it.

You weren’t all that surprised to find your living room occupied by familiar faces—more than used to it—but you were taken aback when one of those familiar faces greeted you with a charming grin.

“Hey, Mrs. Cameron…”

Kelce’s tone made you roll your eyes, and you didn’t miss the way Topper lightly hit his arm.

“Afternoon,” you said, a comment about the weather on your lips when the dark skinned boy was suddenly on his feet.

“Let me help you with those,” he hurried to say, taking half of the grocery bags before you had a chance to protest. “They look kind of heavy for you.”

“Oh, it’s not that bad,” you lightly told him.

You supposed that Kelce found himself with a bit of a crush on you—you weren’t stupid—but it was harmless. After all, it manifested in ways such as him complimenting you when he saw you and helping you put groceries away. It was hardly anything to find fault in and complain about. At least, that was how you saw it, but evidently others didn’t agree.

“What the hell are you doing?”

The cold voice had you both pausing, and for a brief moment, you could’ve sworn it was Ward, but no one was more surprised than you to come face to face with Rafe. You blinked in confusion at him, but the blond only had eyes for his friend, those baby blues narrowed in a way you hadn’t seen in some time. He looked at Kelce like he wasn't a friend, and you took a few steps towards him.

“Kelce was just-.”

“I know what Kelce was doing,” was all Rafe said, his tone and few words enough to make the young man in question slink away.

You watched him disappear with a scoff, slowly looking at Rafe again.

“He’s your friend, Rafe. No need to be rude,” you lightly scolded.

The blond rolled his eyes, slowly rolling his head to look at you with a gleam in his eyes that made you freeze for half a second. He’d been so nice to you lately that you sometimes forgot how mean he could be—how mean he could look—but that glint in his gaze was gone just as fast as it came. A smirk ghosted over his lips, and there was nothing humorous about it.

“I need to be rude because he’s my friend,” he said, finally moving to help finish putting up the groceries. “He’s been sniffing around you for months, and you’re just lapping it up.”

You frowned at Rafe, prepared to say something against that when his next words forced you to swallow your words.

“I know my dad’s kind of been…” he slowly ran his gaze over you. “...dropping the ball lately…”

You reared back at that, completely aware of what he meant.

“...but don’t encourage Kelce. You might find it sweet, but he’d fuck you in a heartbeat if he could.”

“Rafe!”

He ignored your outburst, slowly brushing by you as he put some spices up in the cabinet. When you looked over your shoulder, he was nearing you again, and he chuckled when his hand rested on your back.

“He’s my friend,” he softly said, his voice sounding like it was right at your ear. “No one knows what he’s thinking more than me.”

You didn’t doubt that—and you surely didn’t deny it—but you still didn’t appreciate his callous tone and words. You wrapped your arms around yourself as he left the kitchen, taking slow steps to stand at the entrance as he rejoined his friends. You couldn’t see them, but you could hear them, and you pressed your lips together at the sound of Kelce’s apologies.

“You know he doesn’t mean anything by it,” Topper’s voice echoed.

You chose to tune them out, turning away to gather the empty bags.

Rafe’s words—and the look he gave you—took up your thoughts, and there was a bitter taste in your mouth that you swallowed down. You didn’t appreciate his commentary on your romantic relationship with his father, both because it was embarrassing and wholly inappropriate. Was it that obvious to everyone else how isolated you and Ward had become from one another? You hated the idea of Rafe and his friends sitting around and talking about it.

While your relationship with the blond had improved, there were times where he definitely talked to you like less of a stepson and more like a friend. You preferred if there were some boundaries, but you reminded yourself that this was Rafe and maybe this was the best you’d ever get. You asked yourself if you really preferred how things used to be over whatever this was?

Rafe only chuckled at you a few weeks later when you brought it up.

“Come on, you know it’s mostly just teasing,” he said with a shrug. “Besides, I see how much my dad’s work bothers you when it pulls him away.”

He shrugged again.

“Sue me for trying to make you laugh about it…”

He was helping you put up clothes that you’d washed, and your gaze traveled to the dresser, eyes landing on a picture of the man in question. Rafe had always been observant, that had never been one of the issues with him. It was always getting him to do something with what he’d observed that was the problem. If someone had told you a year ago that you would be discussing your marriage with Rafe of all people—even just casually—you probably would have laughed.

You weren’t laughing today though.

“I appreciate the gesture…sort of but…that’s not your place, Rafe,” you sighed. “You’re supposed to illegally drink and get high and do stupid things with your friends. You are not supposed to concern yourself with how my marriage to your father is going.”

You paused.

“...even if it is just a joke.”

You heard Rafe make a noise you didn't recognize, and when you looked at him, his gaze was already on you. He’d long stop folding Ward’s shirts it seemed, content to lean against the nightstand and watch you. His expression was even—unreadable—and when he tilted his head to the side, he hummed.

“Why not?”

You hadn’t expected that response.

“He’s my father, and you’re married to him, and that does affect me in some ways. It affects all of us actually…”

You frowned at him.

“You think Sarah and Wheezie haven’t noticed?”

You deflated a bit at that, eyes widening a tad.

“You don’t think they talk about how different things are between you lately and if you’re getting a divorce?”

You slowly shook your head, lips parting, but Rafe continued before you could say anything.

“Who do you think has to reassure them? Because they’re definitely not going to talk to either of you,” he scoffed. “I think I should be allowed to comment on your relationship because if it goes south…well…we lose another mom.”

You looked away at that, entirely unprepared for the turn this conversation had taken. Rafe had a point, you had to admit, and you almost felt silly for expecting Rafe to have no opinions on a relationship that he was correct in saying affected him. Attempting to lighten the mood, you let out a soft chuckle.

“Well, let’s be honest. You never thought of me as much of a mom, anyway,” you folded a shirt. “Ward and I are not getting divorced anytime soon, but if we did, I have a feeling you wouldn’t be too bent out of shape over it.”

The other man didn’t respond right away, and when you glanced at him again you realized why. He’d moved closer—you hadn’t even heard him do so—and you watched him take the shirt out of your hand. His fingers brushed yours as he did so, and Rafe pursed his lips, eyeing the shirt in his hands.

“That might’ve been true some time ago, but… I’ve come to appreciate you a lot more than I have before.”

He continued before you could even smile at that.

“The potential our relationship has and…what we can do for each other…”

He looked between your eyes as he said this, and the longer he stared at you, the more off the silence felt.

“Right,” you slowly said, and Rafe only smirked.

“My dad hasn’t really been doing his part to keep you happy in this family,” you shook your head at him, but he ignored it. “...and I get it. Work and all that, but I actually like having you around now. Especially when you walk around in those tight little one pieces…”

You stumbled back at his words, heart dropping to your stomach.

“Rafe-.”

“I mean, I doubt you’d ever leave…but you would be a lot less likely too I think if someone else was picking up his slack.”

You were acutely aware of how quiet the rest of the house was—because it was empty. Wheezie and Sarah were both with friends, and Ward was out, leaving just you and Rafe. That fact had you blinking, and while some part of you wanted to write Rafe’s words off to a sick joke, something deep down knew that he wasn’t anything less than serious.

“What…? Kelce of all people can flirt with you, and you eat it up, but here I am telling you I’m going to do what my dad can’t, and you look like you’re ready to crawl out of your skin,” he chuckled with a shake of his head.

“I’m not married to Kelce’s father,” you breathed. “...and he’s like a horny teenager. He’s of no consequence—Rafe…you’re in your father’s bedroom…telling his wife that…”

You couldn’t even get the words out, and Rafe grabbed your arm, pulling you closer.

“That what? That I don’t understand how my dad can have a wife like you and still prioritize work?”

You attempted to move away, but Rafe’s strength took you by surprise, gasping when he held you against him, one hand finding a home on the curve of your waist.

“That I get why Kelce keeps seeing if you’ll give him an ‘in’ because I feel the exact same way? Except, unlike Kelce, I don’t really care about getting permission?”

That angered you, and you were sure it was all over your face.

“Rafe-.”

He swallowed what you were about to say with a kiss, effectively shutting you up. If his strength before had surprised you, it was nothing in comparison to the feeling of Rafe lifting you and depositing you on Ward’s bed. It shook under your combined weight, and he was moving at a pace that was hard to keep up with. Rafe’s mouth was all over you, and so much was happening that it made it hard to think straight.

“Rafe…stop,” you gasped.

“Why?” he wondered against the skin of your stomach as he pushed your dress up. “How long has it been? How many months? You can’t tell me that you won’t enjoy this.”

You pushed at his head, but it was of no use. When his mouth attached to your cunt, you reached out to clutch at the bed, thighs almost crushing his head as you tensed beneath him. The feel of his tongue sliding between your folds had your eyes rolling, and deep in the back of your mind you hoped and prayed that no one would walk through that door.

You didn’t even want to imagine what this would look like should someone come up the stairs.

With his arms hooked around your thighs, he rolled you both until you were sitting on his face, and once again his strength had your head spinning. It seemed that in this position you;d surely have more of an upper hand now, but Rafe’s grip was strong on your legs. To your dismay, you couldn’t lift yourself off of him, and you had no choice but to press your hand into the mattress as he ate you out. His head moved beneath you, moving from side to side as he lapped at you, panties harshly pulled to the side.

As you felt how wetter you were becoming under his ministrations, you thought about his words—about how he said you’d enjoy this.

You didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of being right, but the way he hummed told you that your body was doing that for him. You cried out when he slipped two fingers into you, stretching you out in time with tasting you, and the only sound in the room was that of your harsh pants and the wet sound of his tongue and mouth between your legs. He only allowed you to roll off of him when you came—hard and mind shattering and everything that you hadn’t felt in months.

You were a panting and overheated mess as you laid there, eyes wide and unblinking as you tried to process what had just happened. As you did, you could hear Rafe moving behind you, and only then did you attempt to gather your thoughts and sit up. You were embarrassingly wet, and the fact that Rafe was the cause had your head spinning and stomach turning. Before you could turn around and ask him what the hell was wrong with him, his hand was in your hair.

You’d only just gotten it done, and he twisted the braids around his fist.

He shushed you when you cried out, using that same strength to push you back down. His other hand was in between your legs—stroking you and fondling you and sinking his fingers into you again and again. With your dress around your waist, you could feel his bare skin against your thigh. You could feel the length of him and how hard he was, and while half of you feared what was to come, the other half couldn’t help but to make you clench around his fingers at the thought of Rafe sinking his cock into you.

“You’re so fucking tight, you know that?”

He pulled his fingers out before pulling at your panties, the fabric stretching painfully before they tore completely.

“My dad must only fuck you once a month,” he chuckled to himself.

“Rafe,” you scolded, attempting to push against him, but your movements faltered when the head of him pushed into you.

It made you sharply inhale, and you squeezed your eyes shut as he slowly sank into you inch by inch. His hand was still tight in your hair, pressing your head down to the mattress while he forced you to arch your back. You heard him cursing the more he filled you, and when his hips were flush with yours, he wasted no time in pulling out before swiftly sliding back inside of you.

You couldn’t swallow down your moan.

“That’s it,” you heard him breathe. “You missed this, huh?”

He wasn’t wrong, but Rafe was also…longer than his father. Thicker too, and the stretch was something you weren’t used to. The feel of his cock made your toes curl, and you clawed at the expensive bedding, hating the way you started to meet his thrusts. Your brain felt like it was taken over by a fog, only able to focus on Rafe fucking you and chasing your high by using his cock. The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room, and you were so grateful the house was empty.

You were embarrassingly loud.

You felt unable to control yourself, crying out as you clenched around him and words tumbling from your lips that you didn’t recognize. Had you begged him to fuck you harder? Stretch your pussy? Come inside of you? It was possible, to be honest. You hadn’t realized just how much you missed this feeling until it was your stepson of all people giving it to you.

When you eventually found yourself on your back—and face to face with Rafe once again—you were lifting your hips to make him sink into you faster every time. Your dress had long been discarded, underwear hanging off of your hips in tatters, and your nails were pressed into his back. If Rafe was bothered by the feel of that, he didn’t say anything, but you doubted that was the case. He was too occupied with connecting his hips with yours and plunging into your soaking cunt. The sound of your coupling was loud—the squelch of your core reaching your ears with every thrust—and you absentmindedly noted that you’d never been this wet in your life.

Was it the way he’d just taken what he wanted? You’d never been the kind of woman into stuff like that. Perhaps it was the obvious though—the forbidden nature of it all. Rafe was your husband’s son, and he was fucking you—on Ward’s bed no less. You’d never been into stuff like that either though. Everything about this was nothing at all like you, and when Rafe’s phone lit up on the bed—a familiar name popping up on the screen—your heart sank.

His girlfriend.

You’d forgotten all about her too although you weren’t so sure she and Rafe were even together anymore. You hadn’t seen her or heard about her in some time, not since that day she came by the house, and his words and demeanor that day suddenly made more sense to you. He had been consuming so much of his time with you, but you hadn’t thought anything of it. Now, though…

You had no choice but to acknowledge what had been right in front of you all along.

You threw your head back as Rafe thrust into you slow, your legs parted as he rested on his knees, his gaze focused on where his cock disappeared into you. You looked down too, growing wetter at the sight of your juices on him. You were literally dripping around the length of him, making a mess of your thighs and the bedding, and when Rafe spoke to you the first time, you didn’t hear him.

“What…?” you breathed, looking at him through hooded eyes.

“I want to come inside of you so bad,” he purred, leaning down and pressing a kiss to your jaw. “Want to fill you up on his sheets and let it drip out.”

You didn’t say anything to that, but the way you clenched around him made Rafe chuckle.

“Does that turn you on? Hmm? Does my dad know what a whore he married?”

His thrusts grew rougher, making you gasp.

“I should probably be grateful though. Anything less, and you would’ve fought harder to stop me,” he murmured. “...but you didn’t because you knew you’d enjoy this. You knew you’d like fucking me.”

You could feel how close you were—and you were sure Rafe could too—and you dug your nails into his arms. You did want him to come inside of you, you wanted to feel him twitch as he spilled into you—filling you up and coating your walls—and you wanted to push it out after he pulled out of you. Ward always used condoms, and you understood it. He didn’t want any more children, and you were so far from menopause, but you couldn't even care about that right now as Rafe pushed you towards both of your highs.

When he came, he came with a loud grunt, and you couldn’t stop moaning as the feel pushed you over the edge. You swore that you felt him deep in your gut, his hips roughly slapping against yours as he forced you to milk him dry. Your legs shook and your vision blurred, and you were disappointed when Rafe didn’t stay in you long enough. Your heart was going a mile a minute, and you couldn’t move.

You just laid there with your legs strewn about, Rafe’s cum between your folds and sweat clinging to your skin. When you finally looked at him, he was running his hand through his hair, but it did no good. It was so damp with sweat. He looked like he didn’t have a care in the world, like he hadn’t just fucked his father’s wife, and when his gaze met yours, there was a haughty smile on his lips.

“He’ll probably be working late tonight…”

You swallowed at that, hating the way your heart jumped.

“...so you’ll have to be quiet while he’s in his study.”

#rafe cameron x reader #dark!rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron #dark!rafe cameron #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron fanfiction #obi #outer banks #obx imagine #obx fanfiction #outer banks imagine #outer banks fanfiction

1K notes · View notes

rin-may-1103 · 10 days ago

Text

The Eyes of Death.

This story is mostly inspired by Jaybirbie's prompt | Master post | Next?

"Hey, sweetheart?" Danny called, quickly jotting down the last sentence for his paper. He'd have to remember to go back and reread it and make sure he didn't trail off into another tangent. He swears he wasn't this bad at managing his ADHD back in Amity...

"Yes, Danny?" Damian asked, turning back from the door to face him as he scrolled further down the story he was reading. The familiar font of Gotham City's gazette blurred as a picture of Mr. Freeze and Penguin finally loaded. So that's what was going on. Danny should have known; the bats already dealt with the other usual rouges, and these two were next on the list.

"Can you walk with me? I just know Nancy and her boyfriend are out there, waiting. I really don't want to deal with them again... We could spend more time at my place? Tucker sent me another movie, and I'm unsure if I should watch it alone after last time." Danny pleaded, quickly shoving all of his papers into his bag. He'd deal with straightening them out later, it wasn't like his professors weren't used to his wrinkled essays at this point.

However, he should probably redo the blueprints for Workshop. Mr. Anthlow was a hardass, but nothing could compare to his anger when a student handed in wrinkled blueprints; he claimed he wasn't going to have another 'Tanner' incident on his watch, whatever the heck that meant.

He was not looking forward to whatever Nancy wanted to talk to him about, she looked excited. Which could only mean bad things for him; considering the last time she was excited, he ended up spending time with Bane of all people. And there was no way her boyfriend was just going to let Danny get away again.

Damian grimaces, finally looking up and away from his phone. "I'm sorry beloved..." he held up the device just in time to show an incoming text from his Father, "I promised Father I'd be home a while ago. And with what's happening down on-"

"It's ok, I'll just head out the back door," Danny cut in, seeing the start of guilt on his boyfriend's face. He knew how much Danny hated having to deal with those two, and the fact Damian hasn't been able to even introduce himself to them hasn't helped. With a smile, Danny scooped up his textbooks and made his way to stand in front of Damian, "They can't bother me if they don't see me!"

Unsurprisingly, Danny could feel the guilt grow and start to float around Damian as the boy glanced at his phone, the message tone sounding out again in warning.

Danny only met Damian's father once; it was just a simple shake of hands and sharing names before the man ran off, but it did leave an impression. The man felt tired and paranoid; like, to the point Danny kind of wanted to drag Jazz over and lock the two of them in a room, paranoid. (Danny wants to say he's never seen someone that paranoid, but he'd be lying. He looks in the mirror after all.)

The point is; Danny's only met the man once, but that was enough for him to know that the man would tear down the world if he thought for even a second that one of his kids was in danger. This meant, that if Damian didn't go and reassure his father that he was alive and safe within the next sixty or so seconds, then there was a possibility that there wouldn't be another date for at least another week.

And considering this "study date" was supposed to make up for the last one Damian had missed because of his Father? Yeah, Danny wasn't going to be happy if Damian got grounded or dragged into another 'surprise' family road trip because his father was convinced his children would be dead before the 'yearly' planned get-together in November.

They had a trip to the zoo planned for tomorrow, and Delilah was supposed to be allowed out with her kids. This would be Delilah's first public outing since her kids' birth. There's no way Danny was going to allow Damian to miss that. (he swears to the ancients, if there was a rouge attack he was going to kill someone, Dark Dan's future be damned.)

Lifting his heels off the ground so he could stand on his tiptoes, Danny snagged Damian's arm and pulled him down so he could kiss his cheek. "I'll get home safe, just focus on keeping your dad from going insane. We've got a date at the zoo tomorrow and we're not missing it even if your father becomes the next city rogue."

Damian wrapped his arms around Danny, trapping him in a hug as he sighed in fond frustration. "I promise I won't miss it, ok? I'll be there."

Danny rolled his eyes and pushed Damian back, dropping back to stand on the ground, "You better, 'cause hell hath no fury like a gorilla denied the chance to meet her human best friend's boyfriend."

Damian snorted, before looking away and pretending to cough. Danny moved his textbooks to rest more securely in one of his arms, so he could point at his boyfriend. "I'm not kidding, if I show up tomorrow and tell her all about my life and you're not there, she will break out and track you down. I won't stop her either, you'd deserve whatever she does to you."

"Alright, alright. I get it, and I already promised I'd be there didn't I?" Damian chuckled, raising his hands up in surrender. Which would have been cute if it wasn't for the fact that his phone went off again, this time in an insistent buzzing. His eldest brother's ringtone; which meant Damian was going to be busy for a while.

Cursing, Damian turned and answered, "I'm in the middle of something, this better be important Grayson," glancing back at Danny, he mouthed for him to wait a moment as his brother started talking.

Smiling, Danny shook his head, snatched Damian's jacket, and started making his way out the door. There was no way Damian would finish this phone call any time soon. Danny's learned not to wait after the last four times this happened. Damian turned back with betrayed eyes, but the urgent voice of his brother buzzing even louder held him back. Waving goodbye with a smile, Danny shut the door and started making his way down the hall.

He'd have to ask Damian what happened tomorrow, Grayson didn't usually call him, especially when he knew Damian was spending time with Danny. He said it had something to do with how it was sacrilege to interrupt time spent with a significant other. Danny had wanted to ask him more about it but hadn't gotten the chance when The Riddler crashed their spontaneous meeting.

Speaking of The Riddler, Danny's social science paper wasn't looking too hot right now. He'd have to block out a time for him to work on that at some point this week. He wasn't doing anything on Friday, well, besides his early morning classes. That should work...

"Hey, Danny!" someone called, pulling him out of his musing. Glancing up, Danny internally groaned when he noticed Nancy waving at him in sheer delight. Giving her a half-hearted wave, Danny sped up and continued making his way to the back of the library. If he was quick enough maybe he could-

To his dismay, Nancy's boyfriend stepped out from behind one of the shelves and latched onto his arm. Tightly.

Just great, this is exactly what he wanted to avoid. Curse his inability to pay attention when he got lost in thought. Damn ADHD. Blasted non-existent spatial awareness. This was what he got for relying on his ghost sense, he just knows it.

"She said hi, kind of rude of you to just keep walking, Kid." Wyatt huffed, roughly dragging Danny back and towards his girlfriend. Nancy smiled brightly as Wyatt let him go, allowing Nancy to weave her arm with Danny's and practically drag him toward the front of the building.

"There's this big party going on tonight, some Jr invited us. He said it was going to be a night to remember! You should totally come with us, Danny! My friend Shela said she was bringing her nerdy freshmen too! I just know you'd fit right in with them!" Nancy squealed excitedly, shaking Danny as they finally made it to the front doors.

One of the desk attendants rolled their eyes at them as Danny glanced over, hoping that Barbara might intervene. No such luck, she was nowhere in sight, probably off somewhere shelving books. So much for that plan.

"uh, thanks, but I already-" Danny tried, stopping when Nancy scoffed and yanked him out the door and into the frosty night. "Damn, it's cold!" Wyatt cursed, taking his jacket off and quickly handing it over to Nancy. She let go of Danny and pulled it on, then stared at Danny for a moment, "Put your coat on Danny, no way in hell am I letting my kid catch a cold!"

Rolling his eyes, Danny wrapped Damian's coat over his shoulders. He was too lazy to actually put it on, not when that meant handing his textbooks over. The last time he did that, Nancy got bored and started doodling all over them. (how she had managed to do that in the little time it took to put a hoodie on, Danny wasn't sure.)

"I just want to go home, Nancy. I'm not really a party person." Danny sighed, allowing Nancy to drag him down the dark streets. His apartment was in this general direction anyway. Nancy turned to her boyfriend with a huff, "Wyatt! make him come with us!"

"Let the nerd do what he wants, it's not like it affects us if he kicks the bucket all alone," Wyatt grumbled, rolling his eyes.

Ouch, but true. Please listen to your grumpy boyfriend, please listen to your grumpy boyfriend, please listen-

"But Shela said she was bringing Carly!" Nancy turned back to Danny, a pout clear on her face, "You two would be so cute together! she's nerdy just like you! And she's totally into all those murder mystery shows you watch!"

Damn it. Not this crap again.

"That's nice, Nancy, but I'm not interested. I already told you guys, I have a boyfriend," Danny sighed, trying to gently extract his arm from hers; for a human, Nancy sure had one heck of a grip.

"Yeah, right," Wyatt snorted, patting Danny's back, completely ignoring the fact that Danny was literally wearing someone else's jacket. "We'll believe you when you introduce us, until then. You're a virgin loser."

And there we go, people; the reason Danny wanted to crawl into the sewer and die whenever he saw these two. They were nice, don't get him wrong, but they were also stubborn idiots.

"Being a virgin has nothing to do with my relationship status, Wyatt. I'm ace. you've known this since the first time we talked." Danny grumbled, allowing Nancy to drag him down another street. He wasn't sure exactly where they were going now, but he was too tired to care at this point.

If these self-claimed 'Parents' of his wanted to drag him to this stupid party, then fine. Whatever. It's not like Danny had any other plans tonight anyway.

"Asexuality isn't a thing man," Wyatt huffed, speeding up so he could guide them in the right direction now that they were heading into a rougher patch of buildings. Danny could see the man was shivering, though trying to act tough in front of Nancy. Smirking, Danny sent a cold breeze his way. The man scowled up at the sky, cursing quietly.

"Yeah!" Nancy agreed, smiling brightly down at Danny without a care in the world. Like they didn't have this conversation every other week. "You just haven't met the right person yet, Danny! And I know how awkward it is to admit that you're staying celibate until marriage, but you don't have to hide it behind being ace."

Taking a deep breath, Danny closed his eyes and focused on not shouting out of frustration. The celibate comment was new, the acephobia, not so much. "Ok, first of all; Asexuality is a thing, which many people ARE. Literally, 1% of the world is ace. That's over 70 million people. Second of all, I'm not celibate, and I'm not sure if you even know what that means, considering you know I was raised Atheist."

"What does being an Atheist have to do with celibacy?" Nancy asked, tilting her head to look at him. Danny groaned, smacking his forehead against his textbooks. He was NOT going to explain this to them tonight.

"You know what, Nancy? It doesn't matter." Danny huffed, trying again to gently pry her hands off. He wanted to go home. He wanted to cuddle with his boyfriend. He wanted to go back to Amity. Maybe go to the realms and play with Cujo. He did NOT want to deal with these idiots.

Wyatt stopped walking and turned to face them, rolling his eyes as Nancy pouted at Danny. "Come on babe, let the loser go. He obviously doesn't appreciate your efforts."

"but who else is going to convince him to live a little? He's just going to go back to his apartment and sulk by himself!" Nancy cried, tightening her grip again.

"Who cares what the kid does, Nancy? let the dude die a virgin loser. Now let's go, we're already late as is."

"But I really want him to-," Nancy tried, cutting herself off, as both she and Danny spotted a cloaked person appear out of the shadows behind Wyatt.

Wyatt lifted his brow before slowly turning to see what the two of them were staring at. The cloaked figure suddenly whacked him over the head with a metal pole before he could fully turn around. Wyatt's body dropped to the ground with a heavy thump, making Nancy scream, "Wyatt!"

Shit, Danny stepped back, trying to pull Nancy with him as the cloak dude tossed the metal pole to the side with a loud clank. Which was confusing, why would he through away his weapon?

"Shut her up!" the cloak dude cried, bending down to grab Wyatt's arms. He better not be telling Danny to do that, because that would just be stupid and- Suddenly, a dozen more cloaked people flooded out of the darkness and surrounded them. That answered Danny's questions at least.

Danny tensed up as a couple of the people tried to grab onto him. Quickly pulling Nancy back, successfully this time, Danny glanced around to try and find an exit. He couldn't do anything crazy right now, not unless he wanted to give away his secret, but some self-defense should be fine.

Nancy suddenly let go of his arm and smacked one of the cloaked people in the face, "Don't you fucking dare touch me! Wyatt! Kid, get out of here!"

Danny turned to her in alarm, eyes wide in horror as she quickly disappeared into the cloaked crowd. Another cloaked person managed to latch onto Danny's shoulder, reminding him to focus on his situation. Quickly stepping back, he slammed into the man grabbing him, knocking his grip loose. Ducking under another attempt, Danny swung out his leg and tripped the dude into two others.

Twisting to try and make his way over to where he figured Nancy was, Danny dropped his textbooks and punched someone in the face. Damian's jacket was yanked off his shoulders, making him turn with a growl. Punching another person in the face, Danny lunged at the group.

"Hurry! before the bats find us!" the supposed leader cried, making even more cloaked people surround Danny. There was no way a normal civilian would be able to fight their way out of this, so Danny would have to allow himself to be caught soon. Only after biting and scratching the fuck out of them though. Just because he had to let them catch him, doesn't mean he has to make it easy.

~30 min later

Danny stared at the leader as the man droned on and on about needing the right sacrifice for the ritual to work. Nancy and Wyatt grumbled behind him, agreements from the other kidnapped victims filling Danny's ears like bees.

"The sacrifice shall be the one who treads the veil between life and death, the one who's beloved by the spirits as their own! He shall be pale as a corpse, his body kissed by death many times throughout his life. His hair as black as the sky on a moonless night, cradled by the moon since birth." Mr. totally-read-one-fake-ritual-book-when-he-was-a-teen-and-now-has-to-make-it-everyone's-problem droned on dramatically, reverently dragging his finger down the old dusty tome's page,

"so Mr. Wayne?" Nancy huffed, pressing her back into Danny's side. Wyatt chuckled, shoving his foot into Danny's knee, "No, it's totally Mr. Drake he's talking about. Have you seen that dude's eyebags? they make him look like a ghost."

One of the strangers leaned over, rolling their eyes, "No, it's got to be Mr. Dent. The dude's literally half living half not."

"No, Two-Face is half insane, half burnt chicken. Ain't nothing about him going to please ghosts. He was a fucking lawyer, for Christ shake." another guy added.

"the dude said 'he' which crossed out half of y'all," Danny added, glancing at the group around him. The women blinked and then rolled their eyes; only in Gotham would they get kidnapped and not actually be needed.

"Assholes," Nancy huffed, she glanced over her shoulder and down at him, her face set into a frown, "You good, kid? you're like freezing cold."

"I'm fine," Danny huffed, focusing back on the leader. He could just feel the old magic rolling off the book; this was something dangerous, especially in this dipshit's hands. Ancients, he was going to have to do everything he could to keep the man from actually doing the ritual or mess it up if the bats didn't get here in time.

One of the cloaked people suddenly dragged a camera out from a side room, grumbling about networks and livestreams being shit. Huh, well that would definitely help provide their location to the bats. They must be really inexperienced cultists then...

"The sacrifice shall fall into our hands by fate's design. The sacrifice is here and waiting for what his whole life was meant for. Now-"

"Elder!" one of the other cloaked figures cried, waving their phone in the air in excitement. Dread quickly filled Danny's stomach.

"All the bats and birds are busy dealing with those scoundrels they call rouges! If we hurry, we can complete the ritual before they can interfere!"

"Perfect!" Mr. 'Elder', cheered, slamming the tome closed and handing it off to one of the others. "So?" Mr. Elder started, turning to face them with a sharp grin, "Who's it going to be?"

Danny glanced at the group behind him, all of them having gone silent as the cloaked group started pulling out their ritual things, one of which was a very blood-stained knife.

Mr. Elder started circling them, humming and hawing as he studied each one of them. He stopped next to Wyatt, studying him intently.

Quickly weighing his options, Danny straightened up and glared at the man, "I'll be your sacrifice."

Immediately Nancy leaned away from him with a gasp, Wyatt's foot dropping to the floor with a thud. "Danny, no!" Nancy hissed, turning her body so she could face him. Danny didn't glance at her, just continued glaring at the cultist. The cult leader laughed, "Well then. So it shall be! You heard the sacrifice, tie him to the chair!"

With everyone watching, all Danny could do was tense as four of the followers walked over and pulled him up. "No!" Nancy shouted, leaning over and grabbing onto him. Wyatt reached out to Nancy, wanting to pull her back. The men tensed up, ready to interfere. Quickly pulling back, Danny frowned at Nancy and Wyatt, "I'll be ok, just don't do anything stupid!"

They harshly pulled him up and away again, before Nancy could reply. And because he was already pissed off, he made it as difficult for them as possible as they dragged him to the wooden chair. The camera person focused the lens on them, recording it as they shoved him down to sit and wrapped a bloody rope around his limbs.

So much for thinking they were inexperienced... They've done this before, he knows now. How many times? He wasn't sure, but if he had any say in it after tonight, they'd never do it again.

Once he was securely tied to the chair and gagged, because Danny couldn't help himself but insult them, the cultist started preparing the ritual. Why they hadn't done so beforehand, Danny wasn't sure; that is until one of them sliced a deep gash into his right arm and collected his blood into a bowl.

With a grimace, Danny watched as they mixed his blood with black paint and started drawing a circle around him. The camera dude stepped closer and practically shoved the camera into his face. leaning back, Danny glanced between the camera and the people drawing with his blood.

Suddenly, his arm tingled with ectoplasm, making him panic for a second. he can't heal the wound! not with all the people around him and being recorded! Shit, what had Vlad done last time?? Uh, right! core smothering. He could just smother his core to stop his body from healing. Man, acting like a civilian was a pain in the ass.

Glaring up at the camera now that he wasn't as panicked, Danny watched as the dude stepped back, pulled out a paper, and started reading out loud. "GOTHAM! tonight you shall join us as we summon the most powerful being in the world!"

Did he seriously need the paper just to remember that?

The leader stepped forward when the circle was complete, "Now!" His voice echoed around the silent warehouse, startling the other kidnapped victims. The cameraman turned and focused on him, stepping out of the circle altogether. Danny watched the kidnapped people out of the corner of his eye, wanting to make sure they weren't hurt during this whole fiasco.

"Let us begin!" the leader cheered, suddenly gripping Danny's shoulders tightly. "Join me as we summon our lord and savior! The great tyrant of the dead! The embodiment of war and bloodshed! The one named PARIAH DARK! THE HORRIFIC GHOST KING!!!!"

Immediately, Danny was both completely terrified and amused. He had been worried that they were going to try and summon some great evil demon, not the fucking old tyrant. He could fight Pariah any day of the week.

No, what terrified him was the fact that because Danny won the right to the crown by defeating Pariah the first time, he had no idea what this summoning was going to do. Was it going to work like they wanted and summon Pariah? cool, great even. He can deal with that, might have to reveal his ghost powers if the fight got dirty, but nothing too bad.

or was it going to summon him because he was the king, and if so? how? Would that even work considering he's the sacrifice? would he just disappear and reappear? This could lead to a lot of questions Danny was NOT ready to answer. Gaslighting everyone here into believing he could fight Pariah as a 'meta' human would be easy, convincing everyone that he's not the ghost king or a ghost AFTER getting summoned; not so easy.

The leader released Danny from his grip as he walked over and snatched the tome from one of his followers. Snapping the book open, the man started chanting without warning, pointing at random people to notify them when it was their turn to start.

It was like watching a school play; all the student's doing as they were taught as their teacher directed from the side. Cultist A slammed the bowl of leftover blood on the ground, splattering the black remnants all over Danny and the circle. Which was gross, Danny was going to have to burn this shirt, because there was no way he was going to get this stain out. Cultist B tossed salt at Danny a few minutes later, smacking him in the face with the small white crystals. Shaking his head, Danny glared at him. Cultist B threw the salt again.

The leader's smile grew as he continued chanting.

Seven other cultists joined in the chanting, waving their hands up and down as their voices echoed around them. Danny glanced nervously around the warehouse, hoping he'd spot one of the bats. This was being broadcast, they should be on their way at the very least.

After another minute of looking, Danny glanced back at the other kidnapped victims. Nancy was balling her eyes out, burying herself into her boyfriend's chest. Wyatt was staring at him with wide eyes, clearly unsure about what to do. Probably feeling guilty because they both knew the leader was going to choose him. A few others were looking away, clearly fearing for his life. The rest watched on, trying to show him through their actions that they were there with him till the end. (whether he 'died' or not)

It was weird, but Danny had to give it to them; Gothmites were badass. He doubted anyone in Amity besides his friends would have been brave enough to watch what was happening. Even if they didn't know if he would live or not.

His core crackled, making him choke a little as he finally felt the pull of the summoning. Well, that's just great. Shaking his head, Danny tried to clear his throat. The summoning was making him feel weird and he did not appreciate it.

The chanting got louder as one of the people walked up to him, holding the knife in a white-knuckled grasp. Danny eyed it wearily, glancing between it and the rafters above. Where the hell were the bats when he needed them???

The cultist kneeled before him and raised the blade, slamming it down into his chest right as the leader stopped chanting; Danny gasped, more out of surprise than pain as he stared at the knife. The dude gave him no warning that he was going to stab him. Usually, cultists slit people's throats, right? What the fuck was up with stabbing him???

His blood slowly bubbled up and around the knife, slowly staining his shirt red. Yeah, there was no way in the realms he was going to be able to save this shirt now. Man, he had liked this one too.

He could hear Nancy's sobs turn to wails as the cultist yanked out the knife and handed it to the leader, who Danny just now noticed had joined them in the circle. His blood started gushing down his chest with every beat of his heart, again he held back his core. (what does he do now??? faint? scream? how do normal people react to getting stabbed?????)

"Take this lowly sacrifice as a sign of our eternal loyalty, and grace us with your presence! Your humble servants plead that your godly ears hear our prayers! Join us in this mortal realm and bequeath us your power and name to rectify the sins of our brethren!"

Ok, first of all Danny was no where near lowly you piece of fuck-

Danny's core pulsed, sending out nauseating pain up and down his spine. Gasping, Danny leaned as far forward as he could, trying in vain to grasp at his chest without using his powers. His core crackled, striking a blinding flash through his brain. The echoes of his death crawled up his left arm, waking the old dead nerves into firing signals at his brain.

Danny couldn't help himself, he screamed as the pain grew worse and worse. His thoughts turned hazy, his body cold as his core pulsed again. His heart stuttered and then froze, his core flooding his body with freezing ecto not a moment later. Absently, he could feel the wash of ectoplasm crawl over his body, changing his body minutely. He didn't transform, but he definitely looked more ghostly than human.

All the pain disappeared a moment later, allowing Danny to slump forward, his head hanging low and blocking his face from view. His chest did not rise in ragged breaths, nor did his fingers twitch with life. His mind was still sluggish and clouded with something, making it nearly impossible to think. Squeezing his eyes shut, Danny tried to focus.

"Your Highness?" someone asked, their voice too loud as it rang in Danny's ears. His core pulsed, another flood of ectoplasm flooding his body. His eyes slid open again, allowing him to see the green glow lighting up his chest and lap as he stared down at them.

Slowly, Danny lifted his head, his bright green gaze locking with the man in front of him.

Next?

882 notes · View notes

marvelwitchergilmore · 4 months ago

Text

Surprise Marriage

Summary: Logan x Fe!Reader -> When you and Logan receive some...surprising news, it leads to a lot of unanswered questions.

Disclaimer: One or two swear words here and there. Mostly fluff, chaos, little angst, yearning, kissing and a happy ending. Not Proof Read.

The morning, so far, had been slow for Logan.

Which, thankfully, due to the last couple of years, wasn’t out of the ordinary. Sure, a kid or two might forget to have done their homework or the coffee filter hadn’t been changed. But other than the small, common, everyday mishaps, everything had been pretty normal.

But somehow, when Logan woke up, something felt off.

Maybe it was the quiet hallways, maybe it was the fact he hadn’t seen any other professors in the break room or around the school, or maybe it was the fact that when he walked into the Professor's office, everyone looked at him with…worry.

“What is it? What’s going on?”

“Logan, I think it’s best if you sit down.”

Logan looked around everybody and they all looked worried, too. Not “someone’s dead” worried, but worried enough to make him feel uneasy.

“What’s going on?”

“Have you seen Y/n today?”

Logan shook his head. “She had a late night. She’s probably still sleeping.”

Professor X looked at Storm. “Go and get her for me, please.”

Storm nodded and made her way out of the door and towards your bedroom. Meanwhile, Logan was still confused.

“Charles, what’s going on?”

The man took a small sigh and looked at the papers on his desk before looking back up to Logan.

“Come on, clearly everyone else knows. What is it?”

The Professor went back and forth with himself for a minute before finally looking back up. “I suppose I should tell you. You’re married, Logan.”

Logan laughed. “Excuse me?”

“I received these papers this morning from a law firm in Oklahoma. It seems it took them a while to find an address for you both.”

“Both? What?”

“Here, take a look for yourself.” The Professor pushed the papers to the edge of his desk where Logan took them with caution and a lot of confusion.

“What the hell? When were these even..drawn up? Better yet, who’s my wife?”

“Well, that would be the other question except-”

Just as the Professor was about to finish his sentence, the door to his office opened and Storm walked in with you not far behind. Everyone looked at you…worriedly. Like they knew something you didn’t.

Logan looked annoyed as he flipped through a couple sheets of paper but when he saw you, he held the same expression but only for a minute then it turned into…into something else. Something you couldn’t quite put your finger on.

Then you remembered.

It had been laundry day.

And you wore one of his shirts to bed.

Standing in his t-shirt and some plaid pyjama shorts that you found in the back of your wardrobe, your hair down and slightly messy from having only just woken up, you looked around everyone.

“What’s going on?”

“Well, Y/n-”

“Take a look at this.” Logan handed you the pile of paper he had been reading, and with a slightly tired and confused look, you read through it.

What was it meant to be? A news article? A government contract? A kid’s essay who’s handwriting they couldn’t read…again?

But no.

It was anything but.

Well, maybe a government contract…of sorts.

“This is a marriage licence.” You spoke aloud. “Logan, why am I looking at a marriage licence at eight in the morning? Oh my god, are Jean and Scott finally getting hitched. About time.”

“No,” Logan said. “It’s ours.”

“What?”

“It’s ours. We’re married.”

You stopped reading. Even if you had pretended to do so, all the words on the page suddenly became blocks of ink that you couldn’t make out.

“What?”

Then the Professor started to explain. “We were hoping one of you could explain this to us, though if neither of you wish to, that’s completely fine. What happens between a husband and wife is none of our-”

“When did this even happen?” You asked Logan.

“I don’t know.”

“A law firm in Oklahoma sent it over. Apparently it’s taken them a while to find your address.”

You thought for a moment. Yourself and Logan hadn’t been in Oklahoma for nearly ten months. And you certainly didn’t get married. At least, not from memory.

“I need to sit down.”

Logan pushed out the chair beside him with his foot and you fell into the softer leather. You had just woken up and all of a sudden you felt like you wanted to sleep for at least a month.

“We’re married? Are you sure it’s ours? Maybe they got the addresses mixed up and…I don’t know. Got it wrong?”

Logan leaned back and pressed his hand to the side of his face. “Flipped to the back page.”

And so you did.

There was your name. And Logan’s. Signed and dated.

You were married to Logan.

Logan had become your husband as of ten months ago.

You had become Logan’s wife.

“I think I’m gonna puke.”

“You’re not pregnant, are you?” Scott said. Jean hit him on the arm. “What?”

“Hard to not be a little offended at that.” Logan said, half under his breath, half to you.

“Do either of you know when this happened?”

You shook your head, still trying to read the pieces of paper in front of you. When could this have-

“The library.”

“What?”

Logan sat up. “We signed for a package. What kind of delivery company has us sign a marriage contract instead?”

“I don’t know but it had to be there. That’s the only time we ever…wrote our names, signed a piece of paper. It could have been this.”

“We would have noticed if it said “MARRIAGE LICENCE” at the top of the page.”

Then the bell rang.

“We…should pick this up later. For now, let's just try and go about today as normal.”

You could only nod in agreement. And as everyone left, the Professor turned to both you and Logan who were sitting facing each other in your chairs.

“I’ll give you both some time.”

Logan nodded a small thank you and waited until the door closed behind Xavier before he spoke.

You were silent. Still processing. Your heart was like rapid fire against your chest and your vision was slowly losing focus on the paper in front of you.

Logan pulled the paper from your hands and placed it on the desk before shuffling closer and holding onto both of your hands.

“Hey, hey, look at me.” One of Logan’s hands came to rest by the side of your face. “Just breathe. I can hear your heartbeat from here. Just…take a deep breath.”

“We’re married, Logan.” Your voice was quieter than usual.

“I know.”

“We’re married.”

Logan nodded. “I know.”

“What are we going to do?”

“That one I don’t know. What do you want to do?”

You shrugged. “What are we meant to do? By all technicality…we’re married. Husband and Wife. According to this piece of paper, I’ve been a fraud to the government by not going by Howlett.”

“So we…we get a divorce?”

“How? Don’t there have to be…grounds for getting divorced?”

“So, we tell them it was a mistake.” Logan offered. “I’m sure we’ll be divorced as quick as we found out we were- are married.”

You could only nod.

Logan rubbed a thumb over each of your knuckles. “Hey, we’ll be okay. It’ll all be fine. Hey, talk to me. What’s going on?”

“I woke up and found out I’m a wife with a husband. That’s what’s going on. Jesus, are the lights always this bright in here?”

You covered your closed eyes with one hand, trying your best to stop the pounding in your head.

“How can you be so calm about this?”

Logan shrugged. “Figure you’re freaking out enough for the both of us.”

That made you laugh a little.

“Come on, we need to get to class. And you need to get dressed. Unless you want to teach in your pyjamas.”

You looked down at yourself. “Oh, yeah. Sorry about using your t-shirt. Laundry day.”

Logan smiled. “It’s okay. Keep it. It looks better on you anyway.”

Hours later, you found yourself in a pair of jeans you fished from the bottom of your semi-fresh clothes pile and decided to keep Logan’s t-shirt on. A, because it’s one of the most comfortable things you’ve worn, and B, it was the only clean top you had.

And after spending all day teaching classes, you found yourself going through each of your dirty items and throwing them into the washing machine, being careful to make sure there were no sneaky bright or dark colours that made their way into a wash they shouldn’t have been in.

“Hey.”

You turned to find Storm waiting by the door before walking inside.

“Hey.”

“How are you feeling?”

“After teaching a bunch of teenagers all day? Exhausted.” You said with a small laugh. And Storm chuckled for a moment before walking around you and leaning on the wall so she was facing you as you unloaded your dirty laundry into the machine.

“I know that feeling but that wasn’t why I was asking.”

You nodded. You knew that. “I don’t know. It’s just…new information.”

“Have you seen Logan today?”

You shook your head. “Not since this morning. Though he did leave a coffee on my desk when I got back to my classroom after lunch.”

Storm smiled. Between herself and the others (including the kids - though they were yet to find out) Storm thought the best thing to happen was for yourself and Logan to get married. Okay, maybe not in the way it happened. But it was a positive thing.

They had been watching you and Logan for years, becoming friends, becoming teammates, trusting each other, finding your own…ways together. Like with the coffee. Logan only did that with you. Or how, despite only knowing him a week, seemed to know more about him than anyone else did.

You were both so close with each other than some of the kids in the school had questioned your relationship status with each other.

“Have you talked about what you’re going to do?”

“What can we do? The most reasonable, and sensible, thing to do is get a divorce.”

Storm crossed her arms. “Have you talked about maybe…staying together?”

“What?”

Storm shrugged. “It’s an idea. Maybe this is a sign telling you both that there’s something more than just friendship. I mean, going off what you’re currently wearing…that is his, isn’t it?”

You looked down.

“It’s laundry day. He let me wear it.”

“And are you going to give it back, or did he tell you to keep it?”

You were silent and Storm watched as small patches of blush warmed your cheeks. She had her answer.

“Look, all I’m saying is, maybe this is a sign. Maybe this is your chance to see if there is something more between you and Logan.”

“If there was, something would have happened by now.”

Oh, how Storm wished that was true.

But sometimes it was agony watching you both together. Like how at Christmas, you fell asleep against him by the fire and Logan smiled. It wasn’t a big grin, but he smiled. Or how you were the only one Logan would let near him when he had been impaled in his shoulder by a six foot rod. Or how you looked at him. And how he looked at you right back.

There was more than just friendship. A lot more.

“Just think about it.”

And with that she left. And you were left wondering.

What the hell was there to think about? You and Logan were friends, sure, but…more? Sure, when you first met him, it felt instant. Instant likeness, instant trust. And that never came easy for you. Or Logan for that matter. And, yeah, maybe once or twice you had thought something could have happened.

Like the night in the motel room, funnily enough, in Oklahoma.

It had been one bed and you had both woken up and turned to face each other. You had both been talking for a good twenty minutes when the conversation lulled and you were both there. You felt something. You couldn’t put your finger on it but you felt something. But everything was cut short when the owner of the Motel came to knock on the door so he could fix the leaky tap in the bathroom.

Or like the night when you all went camping with the kids.

Somehow, you had found yourself sharing a tent with Logan even though it had been planned for you and Storm to bunk.

You teased Logan on how happy he was to be bunked with you and not Scott. And for a split second, you could have sworn you saw him blush. Though it was probably out of embarrassment of your teasing.

But that couldn’t have been something. It couldn’t have meant anything, could it?

“Couldn’t sleep?”

Logan turned and found the last person he expected to be standing by the door.

“Scott?”

“Figured you’d still be awake and lo and behold, I was right.”

Logan watched as he walked inside and sat across from him. “Have you come to say something, or just be a dick the whole time?”

Scott chuckled, “Maybe a bit of both.”

Logan raised his eyebrows and took another drink.

“Have you talked to her?” Logan knew exactly who he was talking about. But he shook his head.

“Not since this morning.”

“Have you talked about what you’re going to do?”

“What do you want, pal?”

Well, he wasn’t being Logan if he didn’t want to skip the pleasantries.

“I think you and Y/n should give this thing a chance.”

“Excuse me?”

Scott smirked a little. “Come on, you can’t tell me you’ve not thought about it with her. How close you two are, how you both seem to know what the other does before they even do it. And call it what you want, I think this is the perfect excuse.”

“Perfect excuse?”

“To see if something can actually happen between you two.”

“And why should it?”

“Because you’re in love with her.”

For some reason, that felt like a punch to the gut to Logan.

“Look, bub, I know-”

“Logan, the way you look at her isn’t the way a friend looks at another friend. I’ve seen the way you look at her. We all have. From day one, that girl has been something else for you, and even if you don’t know it, the rest of us do. You’re in love with her. You always have been.”

“No, I’m-”

“You can’t deny it, Logan.” Scott told him. “Eventually something is going to snap and it might be too late. So, you’ve done the whole relationship a little backwards. So what? You’d only get divorced anyway if it doesn’t work out. But you need to do something about your feelings, Logan.”

Logan had to laugh. “I think I’d know if I was in love with someone.”

Scott sighed. Did he seriously have to paint Logan a fucking picture.

“You make her coffee every day. You bring her lunch and sit with her every day. She is the first person you go to when you finally want to ask someone for help. And I know for a fact she is the first person you tell anything to. She knows more about you than anyone else in this building does, and that is down to you and everything you have shared with her. Anytime anyone looks in her direction, you aren’t too far behind her.”

“I saw you, that day, when the Mayor and his brother turned up at the school.” Scott continued. “The way his brother was looking her up and down…Logan you were by her side in less than ten seconds and we all saw the look you gave him. That man left the Professor’s office trembling. He also never looked in y/n’s direction again.”

“What’s your point?”

“That you were jealous, Logan. And that, for as much as you can and probably will try and deny it. You love her.”

The conversation lulled for a moment.

“All I’m saying is at least think about it. We’ve all seen you together. Maybe it’s time you finally noticed yourself.”

Logan didn’t see you until the next day when he caught you folding laundry in your room.

“Want some help?”

You turned around and saw him. “Sure. You can start with that pile.”

Logan entered your room, a little more awkward than usual, and started folding clothes.

“How are you…how are you feeling?”

You shrugged. “Like normal, I guess. What about you?”

“Yeah, fine.”

IT was a slight struggle after that but conversation flowed a little easier eventually.

That was something Logan always loved when it came to being around you. He wasn’t the biggest one for talking to people but with you, it was easy. Probably helped by the fact you could somehow change topics at lightning speed.

Conversations with you were never, ever boring.

Even when they were probably meant to be.

And it wasn’t long before your fear surrounding being married…faded.

Around a week later, a leak had sprung on one side of the school which meant having to bunk rooms for a while. Of course, all the kids went with their friends.

But it also meant you had to bunk with someone too.

“You can bunk with me.” Logan told you.

You nodded. “Finally sharing a room. Wow, we’re really moving generations in this relationship.”

“After you, wife.”

This became a common theme, until the weight of the words settled down on both of you once more.

A divorce lawyer had picked up your case.

It would take a couple of weeks to get all the papers sorted, but yourself and Logan would be divorced by the middle of the following month.

Like nothing had ever happened.

Except, it just so happened, that was when something did happen.

Scott and Storms’s words had been playing on Logan’s mind and yours. Not helped by the fact it wasn’t the last time someone held that kind of conversation with either of you.

You found yourself in a similar conversation with Scott, whilst Logan had a similar conversation with Jean.

And then the Professor approached you both, without the other one knowing.

Except he hadn’t been to sit down and talk to you about it. He just made small comments in passing that left you both questioning more and more about your true feelings.

And then Logan found you in the library one night.

“Here you are. You didn’t come to bed so…what are you doing?”

Standing close to the top of the book ladder, you were scanning through different books with a flashlight.

“The main light is too big and the fire’s light doesn’t reach this far back.”

Logan blinked. “That…still didn’t answer my question.”

“I’ve got a new semester of lessons set out. I wanted to get a head start on finding the books needed.”

Logan looked around. “You got a list?”

You looked at him. “Logan, it’s past midnight. Go to bed.”

“That’s not what I asked. Where’s your list? I know you’ve got one.”

Sighing, you reached into your back pocket and held it out. He walked over and plucked it from your fingers.

“There’s twenty six books on this list.”

“And I currently have three. If you still want to help, any that you find, just place them on the table behind the sofa.”

And so he did.

By two in the morning, you’d both found twenty three books in total. Just three more left.

“Is this the right edition?”

“Let me see.”

Logan walked over to where you were still standing on the ladder and handed it up to you. You flipped through a couple of the first pages as you slowly climbed backwards down the stairs.

“Yeah, this is the right one. The last two should be on a lower shelf.”

As you finally reached the last few steps, you felt your foot slip and your knees crashed against the bars. Except, instead of falling backwards, or rolling with the ladder itself, Logan’s hands steadied you.

“You alright?”

You took a second to breathe. Having your life flash before your eyes for a couple of seconds really knocks the wind out of you.

“Yeah, yeah,” you laughed a little. “I’m fine.”

You turned in Logan’s arms and was met with his broad and solid chest as his hands held you at your waist.

“Good,” Logan laughed a little, too.

The sound of your life had always been like music to his ears.

A comfort, even when the moment hadn’t been all that comfortable beforehand.

And for that moment, time seemed to still. Any silence that had been in the room was slowly becoming defending, until your hearing focused on his breathing. The steady rise and fall of his chest and the quickening of your own heartbeat.

The flashlight that you had held in your hands had rolled somewhere onto the floor when you slipped on the ladder.

But you had never seen Logan so…clearly.

You had known him for so long and had even spent nights and mornings in the same bed together. But for the first time, you were committing him to memory. Part of you felt like these moments would go, once the papers came through. That even if neither of you wanted it, something would inherently change between you both once the papers were signed and delivered.

But something in that moment was changing too.

Like how you were realising you never wanted to be away from him. That the best place on this earth was right where you were. In his arms, his eyes on you, and yours on him.

You found yourself leaning in forward, almost as if, if you didn’t get closer to him, he might disappear.

And he was doing the same.

One of his hands came up to your face as he rubbed a couple of strands of your hair between his fingers before he slowly pushed it back and let his gaze wash over you.

He was committing you to memory, too.

His eyes locked on yours once more, just as his other hand trailed down your waist and to your hip.

You fell closer to him.

Or maybe he pulled you closer.

Either way, you never wanted to be without his touch.

What felt like an eternity later, you finally felt his lips against yours and yours against his.

It started off slow. This was new territory for you both when it came to the other. It was slow, full of mixed feelings and…something else.

Then it snapped.

Logan pushed a little harder and you felt your legs hit the back of the book ladder just as his hand and arm snaked around and up your back, holding you flush against him as your own arms pulled him closer to you.

Logan braced the hand that had been by your face, by the side of your head, holding onto the book ladder, keeping you both steady.

And he felt your breath hitch as he stepped into you.

Before you knew it, you were braced against one of the bars on the ladder as Logan’s lips went from yours, across your jaw and down the column of your neck. A small grunt escaped him as your own fingers scratched through the back of his hair and down the back of his neck.

However, just as his lips returned to yours and his hands slipped under the hem of your t-shirt– his t-shirt, as your own started reaching for the hem of his…a clock went off.

“W-w-w-w-w-wait. Wait. Stop.”

“Is everything okay?”

You swallowed. “Yes…no. I don’t know. We shouldn’t be doing this.”

Logan wanted to ask “Why? Why shouldn't we?”. But instead, lowered his head. He knew why.

“You’re right…you’re right.”

Your own temple came to rest against his for a few moments, neither of you wishing to leave the moment just yet.

“We should go…before someone comes in.”

“It’s two in the morning, who is going to come in?”

“I don’t want to leave.”

“Then don’t.”

You stayed quiet for a long time, feeling Logan’s fingers draw circles over your skin. Eventually, the only sound you heard was his heartbeat and his breath, slowly matching your own.

But no matter how much of you told you to stay, you tried your best to fight it.

You and Logan were friends. Friends who were about to get a divorce from a marriage neither of you could remember fully consenting to.

“Goodnight, Logan.”

Reluctantly, you stepped out of his arms, his light grip on your hand not letting go until you were both too far apart to hold on any longer, and made your way through the school until you came across an empty room.

It was the smaller quiet space that overlooked the back of the school. Perfect for the nights when too much noise was keeping you up at night.

Except, it wasn’t noise keeping you awake.

It was your own mind, relieving the one thing you thought you would never do with Logan. The one thing you wanted most to keep going. The one thing you would never forget.

When Logan woke the next day, part of him thought it was all a dream. But even he couldn’t have dreamed up anything from the night before and have it still feel so real in the morning.

Then he didn’t see you for three days.

Save for one moment when he brought a box of your things from his room, to yours. You opened the door, wearing another one of his t-shirts. One that went missing months ago. One that he had seen on your at least a dozen times since. One that he felt he was truly seeing for the first time, on you.

The exchange, coming from the both of you together, couldn’t have felt anything more than awkward.

And then another moment hit.

You didn’t close the door.

He didn’t know what to say.

All he knew was that he wished he was back with you, in the library.

And you were wishing the same thing right back.

“I should-”

“You should-”

A small, awkward laugh came from both of you before eventually you shut the door, wishing you had enough confidence to open it back up and call after him.

Two days later, Logan hadn’t seen you at all.

And a morning meeting, with Storm going to get you from your bed, led to Logan realising why he hadn’t seen you.

“She’s not there?”

Logan turned immediately. “What?”

“Where is she?”

“I don’t know. She’s not in her room or any other place she usually is this early in the morning.”

“Doesn’t she have classes to teach?” Scott asked.

“She doesn’t teach Wednesday and Thursday.” Logan told him.

And it wasn’t long before Logan heard his name being called behind him by Xavier as he marched his way out of the office and to every room he could think you would be.

You were nowhere to be found. It was almost like you hadn’t been there for weeks. The books you had taken out – the ones Logan had helped you find – were piled neatly in your bedroom. On your desk, you had a small wicker basket filled with letters and postcards, all arranged in date order, the newest ones being at the front.

The pictures you had on your windowsill displayed all the people you loved the most. And included a picture from when you had ambushed him on his birthday. He rarely, if ever, took a photo.

But he smiled, albeit a little awkwardly, with you.

“Where could she have gone?”

Logan looked around your room. You wouldn’t have just gotten up and left for good. You loved teaching your kids too much, despite whatever else had happened.

Then Logan saw the framed pictures on the wall, just across from your bed.

“I’ll check with Cyerbro. She couldn’t have gone far.”

“She could be half way across the world by now!”

Logan shook his head. “But she’s not.”

A lot of them were confused, but Xavier watched Logan for a moment.

“Do you know where she is?”

“I have an idea.”

With that, Logan reached for the wall and pulled down one of the smaller frames and carried it out with him.

“Hold on, I’m coming with you.” Storm called out to him.

“You don’t even know where I’m going.”

“Logan, you look like you’re just about ready to punch a bull. I know, right now, even if you are the last person she wants to see, you are the first person she needs. But that also means I know what you’re going to do and, love you or not, Y/n wouldn’t want you to hurt someone or even yourself to find her.”

And Storm was right.

And she was right to tag along.

Because just five hours later, Logan had pulled up outside a local pharmacy. They had received a call on the way; they were heading in the right direction, but they needed to go into the town first. Any chance of finding where she was in the mountains lay where she had been all day.

And it wasn’t long before Storm had to step in to stop Logan from almost killing the cashier.

He had been dancing around the question, leading them all on different tangents of conversation about the town and the people in it before finally he got to his answer.

The cashier nodded. “I don’t know where she lives, but Connie might. She knows everything in the town.”

“Where is Connie?”

The cashier pointed out of the door. “In the bakery, across the street.”

“Thank you,” Logan told him, swiping the picture back up from the counter and walking outside. Storm stopped short behind Logan when she saw he wasn’t moving off the sidewalk.

Then she saw.

You had just left the building and climbed inside your beaten up, old Jeep Wrangler. You pulled out of your parking spot and drove off down the street.

And Logan followed.

However, halfway up the road, he started to recognise the place. He’d been here before, except he was going up the way he would come down and out of the cabin.

So, he took a turn.

He was at your cabin ten minutes before you were. Storm had stayed behind in the town to call the others and let them know what was going on.

“You fixed her up well.”

You jumped at his voice and threw a can of pumpkin puree at his head. Though he managed to catch it before his head made a dent in the can.

“Jesus, Logan.” Then you realised. “How did you find me?”

“You forget that I know you. The pictures on your wall. They’re a lot more recent.”

You didn’t know what else to say so you turned back to your front door and pushed it open, Logan hurrying after you.

“Why did you leave?” He called out, placing the can on the side.

“I didn’t leave.” You called back as you unpacked some of your groceries.

“You disappeared into thin air but you weren’t abducted. I’d call that leaving.”

“I needed a break, Logan. I needed…time.”

“Time from what?”

“From everything. From you, from marriage, from the school, from the library. It’s like I woke up one morning and, quite literally, everything had changed. One day we were- we were teachers and friends…we were us, Logan. And then…we kissed and…I don’t know what we’re meant to do, Logan.” You dropped your head as you pressed your palms onto the kitchen counter.

“Maybe we’re meant to do nothing.” Logan walked towards you. “Maybe we keep things as they are.”

“What? Single and married?”

Logan shook his head, bringing his hand to pull yours to look at him.

“Married and together.”

Your lips parted for a moment, your eyes scanning his face, waiting for the joke to have its punchline.

“So, we did everything a little backwards?” Logan shrugged. “So what.”

“Logan…”

“I love you, y/n.” Logan told you, nothing but seriousness and truth in his eyes. “And I think you love me, too. But you’re scared. And so am I. Do you love me, y/n?”

You were trying your hardest to keep your emotions inside you, but something was failing. “Of course I do.”

“Then we start here, just you and me.”

“If something goes wrong, I can’t lose you. You mean too much to me, Logan.”

Logan smirked. “Good job I can regenerate.”

You scoffed and hit him in the shoulder. “You know what I mean.”

Logan nodded, a faint smile on his face. “I know. You’re not going to lose me, Y/n. You couldn’t ever.”

“Promise me.”

Logan nodded. “I promise. Can I kiss you now?”

Logan didn’t have time to finish his question before your lips met his in a searing kiss, your hands pulling him closer to you whilst his own arms wrapped around you.

Maybe you had done the whole relationship thing backwards, but that didn’t matter. Not anymore.

Not when you finally had each other for life.

#logan x reader #logan howlett x reader #logan howlett x fe!reader #wolverine x reader #wolverine x fe!reader #x men x reader #hugh jackman wolverine #x men wolverine #fluff #yearning #best friends to lovers #angst #library kiss #logan howlett x mutant!reader #chaotic family kinda #falling in love #wearing his t-shirt

1K notes · View notes

roanofarcc · 4 months ago

Text

FUNNY BUSINESS

pairing. tyler owens x boone’s sister!reader

summary. boone was a laid-back guy who only really had one, long-standing rule: his sister was off-limits to the wranglers. But tyler had a bad habit of rule-breaking.

warnings. a curse or two, fem!reader, mentions of drinking/being drunk (not reader), suggestive jokes, bed-sharing.

word count. 4k || masterlist

“You’re the worst, you know that?” Dani said, her arms crossed over her chest as she leaned against the side of the rig alongside Tyler and Boone. She and Tyler had their sights set on you as you concentrated on the options of the vending machine, oblivious to their attention.

Boone furrowed his brows, having just been focused on the camera in his hands. “Who?”

“You,” Dani answered. “You brought your hot sister all of the way out here to help us, and then tell us she’s off-limits. It’s cruel and unusual punishment, if ‘ya ask me.”

A laugh bubbled up from Tyler’s throat, earning him a glare from Boone. “It’s not my fault none of you assholes can keep it in your pants.”

It was Tyler’s turn to glare, playfully. “I’m a gentleman, Boone. Is it a crime to get to know her, you know, considering she’s a part of the team now?”

With a sigh, Boone shook his head. “Just no funny business.”

Tyler mock saluted. “Scouts honor.”

Tyler was a gentleman; his momma had raised him as such. And despite his teasing, he did want to respect Boone’s words. But at the same time, you were the newest member of the Wranglers, and Tyler did want to get to know you since you’d be hanging around for at least that season.

Boone had suggested to bring you on to help with the charity aspect of their storm-chasing. The t-shirt and other sales they made from their online audience went mostly to help victims of the storms they chased, and the rest went back into making the merchandise to sell. Boone said you’d be a good addition to help out with the business side of things, and he’d been right from what Tyler had seen so far. You were smart and quick, and were able to keep up with the rest of Wranglers as if you’d been a part of the team since the start. Tyler was impressed.

But what really impressed him, was how caring you were. It was the first time you’d come along with them to help out a neighborhood that was hit hard by a tornado. Houses were leveled and the devastation was thick in the air from the moment they arrived.

The Wrangler quickly got to work. Lily and Dexter started making sandwiches. Dani started walking around and passing out water bottles. Boone helped the injured to the ambulances that arrived. Tyler started making rounds, helping families find their missing pets or important objects in the rubble. But as he did so, he couldn’t help but watch you interact with the victims as well.

A couple of kids from the neighborhood sat together in a clear patch of grass while their parents tried to salvage some of their belongings and figure out what to do next. They all looked teary-eyed, and faces pulled in frowns as they sat quietly, clutching stuffed animals or picking at the wet grass to distract themselves. You approached them, sitting down in the little circle they formed.

Tyler couldn’t hear what you were saying to them, but your started to look more and more animated and the kids cracked small smiles. After a couple more moments, the kids’ moods looked to shift into something lighter despite the devastation around them. The somber air slowly became filled with giggles and kids’ voices overlapping excitedly.

Tyler found himself smiling softly at the sight before he ventured over. “How’s it going over here?” he asked, earning your attention.

“David here is telling us a very interesting story about a space alien,” you said, earning an enthusiastic nod from one of the younger boys in the circle. “You guys keep telling stories and I’m gonna go make sure no one else needs help, okay?”

The kids all shared a series of ‘okays’ and ‘thank yous’ before you moved to stand up. Tyler outstretched his hand toward you, and you took it with a smile, letting him help you to your feet. Once you stood directly in front of him, he felt himself clam up slightly. He and Dani had made jokes in hopes of irritating Boone in regards to how attractive you were, but seeing you that close, in the after-storm sunlight, Tyler’s breath hitched in his throat.

“Thanks,” you said, dropping your hand back at your side and gazing around at what else there was to be done in the neighborhood.

He cleared his throat. “That was smart, keepin’ their minds off of…” he vaguely gestured around them, feeling a knot in his gut of pity for the poor families affected.

You smiled sadly. “My parents used to do that with Boone and I. When we’d have to wait in the cellar, we’d all tell stories until the storm passed. The more outrageous the better,” you explained.

“It seemed to work,” Tyler said, glancing at the circle of kids all sharing outrageous stories with laughter and smiles instead of the frowns they held a couple minutes ago.

“Yeah, at least a little bit,” you said. There was a beat where Tyler didn’t know what else to say. Something over his shoulder caught your eye before you looked back to him and said, “I’m gonna go help Boone.” You sidestepped Tyler and left him in a slight daze.

He whispered a string of curses under his breath once he was out of earshot of the kids, and hurried back to the camper where the Wranglers were handing out food.

“I’ve got a problem,” he muttered to his friends.

Lily handed out another sandwich before eyeing him oddly. “A problem-problem or a you-problem?”

“A me-problem.”

“Ah,” she said. “Shoot, cowboy.”

“It’s Boone’s sister,” he whispered, ensuring that only Lily, Dexter, and Dani heard him. “She’s…”

“Attractive? Yeah, I thought we already established that?” Dani said, opening another case of water.

Tyler rubbed his forehead, an odd feeling twisting around inside his stomach. “It’s not just that,” he said. “She’s pretty, sure, but-”

Lily cut him off with slightly wide eyes. “Oh no,” she said.

Dexter furrowed his brows. “Oh no? Oh no, what?”

“Tyler only, and I mean only, calls women ‘pretty’ when he has a crush on them. Some ole’ woman at a bar that’s makin’ eyes at him, he’ll call her ‘attractive’ or ‘easy on the eyes’ never ‘pretty.’ Pretty he saves for the ones he’s got a big fat school-boy crush on. And normally that’s all fine and dandy, but this is Boone’s sister we’re talking about, Tyler.”

He hated how well Lily knew him. She read him like a book.

Dexter whistled lowly. “That’s unfortunate.”

“What’s unfortunate?” Boone said, approaching the group with you beside him. All of the Wranglers, aside from you two, looked at Tyler, which was anything but helpful.

Boone was one of Tyler’s best friends, and he knew it was the right thing to listen to him. Besides, Tyler hadn’t known you long so maybe his ‘school-boy crush,’ as Lily had put it, would fade once he got used to having you around.

Clearing his throat, Tyler shook his head. “Nothin’ important,” he said. “Let’s pass the rest of this food out before we head out for the night.”

You adored your brother’s friends more than you thought you would. You’d watch the Wranglers’ livestreams, but it was different being around them in person. Their passion for storm chasing was admirable and how they helped those affected by the very storms they were in awe of was amazing.

When Boone asked you to help out, you jumped at the opportunity. You certainly didn’t regret your decision, but you greatly underestimated the charm of Tyler Owens. You’d read the comments online, all ogling at the storm chaser, but it wasn’t just his looks that made him incredibly attractive. Tyler’s charm entered everything he did and said, but it was especially enticing when he talked about storms. When he got particularly excited, he spoke with his hands, lips pulled in a grin that was ridiculously mesmerizing. You could have listened to him talk about the weather forever, which was a problem.

It felt foolish on your part; not only was Tyler one of your brother’s best friends, but you thought he was miles out of your league. He had people practically drooling over him in the comments of his videos and making eyes the second he stepped into a building. He was a personality, wild and loud, but with a sweet side to make him even more likable. You told yourself the little crush would pass, but you worried that if Tyler kept being so damn nice to you, it’d be years before that happened.

“So, this is how storm chasers spend their off time?” you said, propping your elbows up on the bar before something sticky touched your skin. You recoiled in a grimace.

A chuckle sounded from Tyler as he handed you a napkin. “Here,” he said. “And yeah, it’s the perfect way to unwind. Though, word of caution, don’t drink too much. Storm chasing hung-over is a different kind of hell.”

You wiped someone’s spilled drink from your elbows and nodded. “Noted.” There was still a lot you had to learn about the ins and outs of storm chasing, but you were excited to learn. A silence passed between you two, the space filled with the bar chatter. The place was busy for it being in the middle of nowhere; the Wranglers said it was because most people were either dedicated locals or fellow storm chasers looking to relax a little.

Your brother and the rest of the team were at the old-timey jukebox, picking out songs that they then danced to, loud and rowdy as ever. But Tyler didn’t join them. Instead, he sat at the bar nursing a beer. Before you arrived, he was talking to an old man on the other side of him, cracking jokes like he’d known the stranger for years.

It was like each minute you were there with them, you uncovered something else about Tyler. And maybe it was a couple of sips of alcohol that were already affecting your system but felt like he should know that.

“You know, you’re a little different than I thought you’d be,” you admitted.

He studied for a moment with a gaze that made you nervous, but not in a bad way. “Oh yeah? How’d you think I was gonna be?”

You shrugged. “I watch the lives, mostly to make sure Boone is okay, but online you seemed…” You weren’t sure of what the right word to use was. You settled on, “More intense, I guess.”

A smirk crept across his lips. “And I am not intense enough for ‘ya?”

Your face felt hot, and the busy bar wasn’t helping. You adverted your eyes down to your drink and tried to laugh off your fluster. “I just mean, I thought you’d be like all of the time. I was worried I wouldn’t be able to keep up and you’d all think I wasn’t a good fit.”

The smirk fell from Tyler’s face and was replaced with a furrow of his brows. “Are you crazy?” he said. “We needed someone like you on our team. I know you just started, but I think you’re the best fit we could’ve picked.”

“Careful,” you teased. “Too many compliments like that might go to my head.” Even though you were pretty sure he was just trying to make you feel better, there was something in his tone that was convincing.

“What are y’all doin’?” Boone’s voice filled your ears and suddenly his arm was slung around both your and Tyler’s shoulders, forcing you two to lean in a little bit closer to one another, but with Boone sandwiched in the middle. Your brother’s breath smelled like beer and there was that goofy smile on his face he always got when he had one too many. “The party’s on the dance floor!”

You glanced over at the ‘dance floor’ which was a little space the Wranglers had carved out in front of the jukebox. A couple others joined them, but it wasn’t anything too wild.

Tyler shook his head and finished his beer. “Your ass is gonna be sorry tomorrow, Boone. I told you we’re leaving bright and early.”

Boone patted Tyler’s cheek. “I’ll be just fine.”

Boone was not ‘just fine’ the next morning. What he was a pain in Tyler’s ass, which resulted in him being demoted to the backseat and you prompted to the passenger seat. Maybe that wasn’t the best move for Tyler because while he was driving, he found himself slightly distracted by you.

You sat with your attention fixed out the window, watching the plains roll by with admiration. Every so often you fiddled with the radio per Lily’s request, but other than that you were quiet, observing.

“Can we take a pit stop?” Boone moaned. Tyler glanced at in the rearview mirror, face paled and eyes squeezed shut.

Tyler sighed. “I swear, if you throw up in my truck, Boone…” Tyler muttered, straining his eyes down the road for any sign of a gas station, but there didn’t look to be anything close.

“There’s not another stop for half an hour tops,” you said, searching on your phone.

“Great, cool, yeah,” Boone said. “Then you may wanna pull over or else everyone’s about to have a real bad time in here.”

Tyler quickly pulled off to the side of the road and Boone scrambled out, across the road to empty his stomach.

“I don’t know how many times I’ve got to tell him,” Tyler sighed.

“He won’t listen,” Lily said, unbuckling and sticking her face between you and Tyler. “I’ll make sure he’s all right. You two keep an eye on the weather.” She hopped out, leaving you and Tyler alone.

He drummed his fingers against the steering wheel, wracking his brain for something to say to you. Normally he had no issue talking to people, but he found himself second-guessing his words when it came to you. But you beat him to the punch.

“He’s never been too good at holding his alcohol,” you said. “I can’t tell you how many times I had to pick him up because he got sick at some friend’s bonfire back in high school. I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone get hangovers so badly.”

“All a part of his charm, I guess,” Tyler joked. “Does it run in the family?”

You shook your head. “No, neither charm nor hangovers. Boone’s one of a kind, that’s for sure.”

Tyler steadied himself a little, finding that thread of confidence in the back of his mind. He gazed at you, taking in the pretty features of your face. “I think you’re wrong on the charming bit.”

You looked surprised, eyes a little wider. “Me? Charming?” You scoffed. “No way.”

“Charming, smart, pretty…” Tyler trailed off, waiting for a reaction from you to let him know if he had swung and missed. You looked down, averting your eyes and clearing your throat. Out the windshield, he saw two figures moving in his peripheral vision and before you got the chance to say anything back, Boone and Lily reentered the car.

“That’s my bad, you guys,” Boone said.

You turned your head over your shoulder to look at your brother. “Feel better?”

“Oh, yeah. Ready to chase this son of a bitch!” And you all were off again. Tyler wished Boone and Lily had held out for one more minute. He wanted some kind of response from you, even if it was one telling him he had no chance. It was like an itch he couldn’t scratch, and one he felt bad about having, but he couldn’t help it. You were something new, a little unknown, and unpredictable. If there was one thing Tyler was good at, it was chasing through his apprehension. But instead of a tornado, you had quickly become the storm occupying his mind.

You knocked for the fifth time on Boone’s door and tried calling him again, but one thing about your brother was that he was one of the heaviest sleepers of anyone you’ve ever met. That paired with his hangover from the night prior left him not answering you. You cursed under your breath, ready to set up camp in one of the rickety pool lounge chairs.

There was an unpleasant pair of cockroaches in your motel room and the thought of sleeping with them scurrying about was out of the question. Since none of the other Wranglers had left their rooms, you wondered if you were the only one to notice them or the only one who had them. Whatever the case was, you couldn’t sleep in your room and apparently, you couldn’t sleep in Boone’s either because he was fast asleep. You couldn’t remember where Dani and Lily's rooms were to ask to bunk them.

It seemed like you were out of luck until the door next to Boone’s opened and a groggy Tyler stepped out. “What’s goin’ on?” he yawned, rubbing the tiredness from his eyes.

You hugged your arms closer to your body. “Sorry, did I wake you up?”

“Sorta,” he answered and you felt immediately guilty. “But it’s all right. I just wanted to make sure everything was okay out here. What’re you doin’ up anyway? It’s the middle of the night.”

“There are cockroaches in my room,” you sighed. “I was trying to see if I could crash with Boone, but he sleeps like the dead.”

Tyler chuckled. “That he does.” There was a beat and silent contemplation. You were about to tell him you’d crash in the camper or the truck, but he nodded his head back toward his room. “Come on,” he said.

You stood, confused for a moment. “You can crash with me. I don’t think my room has cockroaches but for both our peace of mind, I wouldn’t look around too hard.”

You weren't sure if you were elated or embarrassed. Overall, you were tired, exhausted even, and any thought of declining fled your mind the second Tyler turned to walk back inside, assuming you were following. So, you did.

Tyler patted the edge of the bed. “It’s all yours,” he said, gathering one of the pillows in his arms.

“What’re you doing?”

He tossed the pillow onto the floor. “Praying for no cockroaches for the next couple of hours.”

“No, wait,” you rushed out. “You can’t sleep on the floor.”

“It’s all good-” he started, but you cut him off.

“No way. I’m not kicking you out of your bed in your room.” You glanced at the bed, feeling your face grow hot at the thought of what you were about to suggest, but you couldn’t let him spend the night on the floor. “We can just…share.”

Tyler stared at you for a moment, like he didn’t know what to say. He shifted his gaze between the pillow on the floor and the bed before landing back on you. “Are you sure? Because I really don’t mind.”

“I’m sure.”

Hesitantly, you sat on the edge of the bed and pulled off your shoes, trying to ignore the shift of weight on the mattress as sat down opposite of you. It wasn’t as big of a deal as your mind was trying to tell you it was. It was just two co-workers, borderline friends, sharing a bed so no one had to face any cockroaches. That was all it was. But even in the darkness of the motel room, you couldn’t help the quick beat of your heart as you crawled under the covers, with your back facing Tyler. He did the same and before you could convince yourself what you were doing was not a big deal at all, Tyler’s soft snores filled the room. It was oddly reassuring. You fell asleep not long after him, a clear space between you but something in the air that wanted to draw you two closer.

For a moment, when he woke up, Tyler thought the exchange he had with you in the middle of the night had been a dream. But when he rolled over to find your sleeping face inches away from his, he realized it was very much real. Your eyes were softly closed and your lips slightly parted as you slept. He found himself admiring you for just a moment, until there was a loud knock on his door, forcing him to get up.

He threw it open without thinking much about it. Boone greeted him with a slightly worried expression pulled on his face. “Hey, man what’s-”

“Have you seen my sister? She called me last night a bunch of times, but I didn’t hear it. And when I went to her room no one answered,” Boone said, quickly cutting Tyler off.

“Boone?” Your voice sounded from behind Tyler and as soon as he saw the several emotions flicker across Boone’s face, he realized he may have made a mistake.

Boone’s gaze flickered between you sleepily sitting up in Tyler’s bed and Tyler. “Dude!” he exclaimed. “What the hell is going on here?”

It must have registered with you too how the situation looked. You hurried out of bed and stood at Tyler’s side. “Wait, hold on-”

“What the hell are you doing?” he said to you. “I said no funny business,” he then said to Tyler.

“It’s not like that,” Tyler rushed out. “I know that it looks like that, but it’s not. I swear.”

“He’s right,” you added. “It’s not. I needed a place to crash because there were bugs in my room, and you wouldn’t answer your phone. Tyler offered to let me stay in his. That’s all.”

Boone didn’t look too convinced. He crossed his arms over his chest, blowing air from his cheeks. “You two have been making googly eyes at each other since you arrived,” Boone said. Both you and Tyler tried to defend yourself, even if Tyler hadn’t been super subtle about his ‘googly’ eyes. But Boone cut you both off with a wave of his hand. “Save it. I know both of you. You,” he pointed to Tyler. “Are the least subtle person I know. And you,” he pointed at you. “Have been talking about him since I started chasing with him.”

Your eyes widened almost comically as you sputtered over your response. “I-I have not!”

“Look,” Boone started, taking a deep breath. “You’re both adults. But if you’re gonna get into any funny business, for the love of the Lord himself, do not do it around me. Got it?”

“Okay,” you answered, catching Tyler off guard. He expected you to brush your brother off and force Tyler to face the reality that you had no interest in him, but you didn’t.

Boone looked to him for his answer. “Y-Yeah.”

“Good,” Boone said. “We’re leavin’ in fifteen.” He turned on his heel and left the two of you in the doorway. Once he was out of earshot, a laugh sounded from your lips, a sweet sound he wasn’t expecting.

“God, that was embarrassing,” you said, still laughing at the situation.

Tyler couldn’t help but laugh too, closing the door and leaving the two of you alone in his motel room once more. “Is that true? You talk about me?”

You hung your head, sheepishly and shrugged. “Maybe.” The idea of you talking about him made him feel on top of the world. “Is what he said about you true? Are you really not that subtle?”

“I did invite you to sleep with me,” he joked, taking a step closer to you. You didn’t move away but instead closed the distance between you two even more. He searched your eyes for a sign that you were thinking the same thing he was, and when your gaze flickered to his lips for only a second, he got his confirmation.

Tyler hooked a finger under your chin, tilting your head upwards just slightly as he leaned in. He kissed you slowly, sweetly as you hung your arms around his shoulders to bring him in even closer, the two of you pressed chest to chest. He felt you smile against his lips, a blissful feeling he didn’t to end.

#twisters #twisters 2024 #tyler owens #tyler owens x reader #tyler owens x you #twister fanfiction #tyler owens fanfiction #glen powell #glen powell fanfic #boone twisters #lily twisters #dexter twisters #dani twisters

1K notes · View notes

thepowerofswayze · 6 months ago

Text

demonstration

originally on ao3

based on this post by @fantasylandloser

pairing: art donaldson (challengers, 2024) / afab reader [gender not specified]

word count: 1.9K

warnings & info: 18+, afab reader, college era art AHHH, friends to lovers, first time together, mostly smut, oral sex (reader receiving), art is a munch obviously, reader wears a bra and skirt

summary: Catching Art up on your adventures gets hard when he doesn't get your explanations, or your hand puppet examples. Looks like you just have to show him exactly what went down. Based on this post that i could not stop thinking about. :))

☆

“Oh my god, fuck you!”

Art chuckled from where he stood, watching as you tossed the t-shirt he’d balled up and chucked at you back in his direction. It fell harmlessly to the floor a foot from him, and you glared at him as he snickered, picking it up and putting it away.

You were visiting Art, your close friend from high school, at Stanford. At that moment, you happened to be explaining how an interaction at a party at your university had gone a couple weeks before. Art never really liked listening to you talk about guys- hence, the shirt thrown directly at your face when you’d started describing this particular frat boy to him in detail- but he’d given up complaining a while ago. It was either that or be honest about why he hated it so much, and that was never going to happen. So, he tidied up his room as you explained the lead up, the flirting, the stumbling up the stairs. He fell back parallel to you on the bed as you got to the “good part”, his head by your legs and an arm over his eyes, like he could block out the imagery.

“Anyway, I didn’t think it was a big deal at first, like when we were flirting, but then I was on him, kinda like-” You took a moment to sit up straight, grinning as art groaned and propped himself up on his elbows to see you better. He watched you attempt to mimic the position with your hands, your left hand being the guy you were talking about, your right being you.

To Art, it just looked like you were mashing your hands together. He looked up from your hands to see you raising your eyebrows at him, as if to ask if he was following. “Huh?” He said.

With an exasperated sigh and without another thought, you pushed yourself up on your knees and waddled over to him, swinging a leg over his body and hovering just over his torso. For a moment, Art just watched, bewildered, as you steadied yourself with your hands on either side of his head. He let himself fall back from his elbows, hands sliding up your hips and settling at your waist, catching momentarily on the fabric of your skirt. His fingers peeked just under the hem of your shirt. Your skin tingled where he touched you.

“... Like this,” you said finally, blinking at him for a moment. “Well, uh.” You moved your hands to his chest instead, careful not to push too hard (though with the muscle he’d acquired since he’d started playing tennis for Stanford, you were sure it bothered him much less than you thought). “More like this, I guess.”

Art nodded, quickly licking his lips before asking, “Then?”

You tried not to look at his mouth. “What?”

“Then what did you do?”

It finally hit you then: what the fuck were you doing, climbing all over your best friend to ‘show him’ how you and some guy had been fooling around a couple weeks ago? That would just mean fooling around with him, obviously. That wasn’t really the plan.

But, it was too late for your common sense to kick in now. There you were, your hips hovering over his, not quite touching yet. You watched his eyes dart down to your lips, then drag slowly back up to meet your gaze. You couldn’t wait here and think about what you’d gotten yourself into and how this would change your friendship forever, though you got the feeling he’d let you take as long as you wanted.

Then what did you do?

You steeled yourself, biting your lip and watching his lips part slightly as he tracked the action with his eyes. Then you took that moment to fully sit on his lap.

You could feel his chest expand beneath your hands with his sharp inhale, his eyes snapping down to your hips, then back up to your face.

“This,” you murmured. You’d intended for it to come out cocky, maybe even a little seductive, but you could hear the breathlessness in your own voice. You were trying your best to ignore the growing pressure where your hips met his, though really, it was hopeless.

Art’s ears were burning a bright shade of pink. The urge to gently nip at them crossed your mind, just for a moment. He cleared his throat. “Then?” His voice was almost a whisper, chest rising and falling unevenly with his nervous breathing. The way he was looking at you, like he wasn’t sure you were real…

Fuck.

You leaned forward, trying not to let your breath stutter at the friction caused by the movement, until your lips hovered just over his. Then you kissed him.

You pressed your lips together gently, lingering for a moment before pulling back by centimeters. His lips chased yours, his grip on your waist tightening ever so slightly, and you were right back on him, lips falling open against each other. A soft sound escaped him as your hips shifted against his, along with a contented sigh from you. You repeated the motion, reveling in the low groan he let out, followed by your name murmured into your mouth.

Art’s lips were soft. And he’d shaved recently, you thought, hands cupping his face. The smooth skin of his cheeks was a stark contrast to the calloused hands he was now raking over your thighs, your skirt pushed up around your hips. You broke away from his lips, kissing down his neck instead, listening to the noises he made whenever you left a mark, whenever you ground against him just right. “Shit,” he gasped. “You’re- You’re sure?”

“Yeah.” You left another kiss just below his ear, before murmuring, “What is it?”

You could feel him all but shudder beneath you. “Fuck,” he groaned, then your name, before he looked you in the eye. You resisted the urge to dive right back in. “Let me eat you out,” he said, suddenly determined, though still flushed and dazed. “Please.”

All you could say was “What?” because, surely, this was one big dream.

“Please.” His hands hadn’t stilled, still rubbing shapes into your thighs, his hips rolling up against yours. “Can I?”

Your entire body was on fire. “Okay, yeah. Yes.”

He wasted no time flipping the both of you over, laying you against the bed so he could kiss down your neck. You barely had a moment to process, your hands moving to tangle in his hair, one of his knees slotted between your legs. He tugged at the bottom of your shirt, prompting you to lift yourself slightly and help him get it off. Your bra came next. “You, too,” you murmured, pulling at his shirt and making him chuckle. He reached behind his head, tugging it off in one swift movement and abandoning it beside your shirt and bra on his freshly cleared floor.

One of his hands slid down your chest from your shoulders, enclosing one of your breasts, the thumb circling your nipple. You bit your lip and sighed, pulling him down for another kiss by the back of his neck.

Art let his hand trail from your chest down the sides of your stomach, then slotted his palm right between your legs, over your underwear. You gasped quietly, pulling away long enough for him to return his lips to your neck, your shoulders, your collar bone. You murmured a couple choice words as he started to move his palm, rubbing at your clit through the fabric. The dulled sensation was almost enough on its own, paired with the kisses he left against your chest. “Arthur,” you whined, tugging at his hair. “Don’t fucking tease me.”

A grin overtook his face at the use of his name, his hands only slowing down, tracing torturously slow circles over you. Art only snickered at your glare before hooking his fingers into the waist band of your underwear, pulling it down and leaving you in your skirt pushed up to your waist. He watched you carefully as he slid further down so that his head was between your legs. His finger only traced a line from your clit to the bottom of your hole before whatever restraint he had was gone, and his mouth was on you.

Art’s tongue flattened against you, the warmth and friction making your head fall back as your eyes fell closed. “Fuck,” you moaned, hands threading into his hair as he answered with an equally obscene noise, muffled against you. ‘Hungry’ didn’t even begin to describe him, his mouth falling into a vague rhythm, eyes closed blissfully, whining into your pussy like it was doing him just as much good as it was you.

You thought about asking him to finger you while he worked, but his tongue prodded at your entrance and almost immediately, words escaped you. You brought one hand up to your face, clasping it over your mouth to muffle your moans, but Art stopped suddenly, watching your face. You whined your confusion, and he reached out to tug at your hand. “I wanna hear you. Let me.”

You blinked at him, chest heaving, and murmured “Alright,” before watching his head dive right back between your thighs, one hand still intertwined with yours. You had no choice but to moan unabashedly, your other hand busy pulling at his hair. His free hand was wrapped around the outside of your thigh, pushing it in towards his head, so tightly you were sure it couldn’t be comfortable. But there he was, continuing to move his tongue against you like there was nothing else he’d rather do, whining and whimpering like you were his first meal in weeks. “Fuck, Art,” you cried, barely keeping your eyes open so you could watch him move. “You’re gonna make me cum.”

He groaned at that, relenting the pressure of your thighs against his head just long enough to reply: “That’s it, baby, please.” If he had anything else to say, he couldn’t keep himself off of you long enough to finish, already pushing your thighs back against his head, nose bumping against your clit as he bobbed up and down.

It seemed like that was all it took, really. You squeezed his hand and his head embarrassingly tight as you felt yourself tip over the edge, head thrown back and eyes squeezed shut. Art kept up his rhythm as you cried out his name, your hips rolling against his face. He didn’t stop even when you’d come down, chest heaving, until you basically pushed him off, desperate for a moment of relief.

He kept a hand on your thigh, the other untangling from yours to push his blonde hair out of his eyes and look at you. He was breathing as hard as you were, you noticed. His mouth hung open as he panted, the entire bottom half of his face coated in saliva and your arousal. Fuck, he was pretty like this. “‘S good?”

You shook your head, beckoning him toward you and pulling him down by the back of his neck when he was close enough. “You’re unbelievable,” you murmured, lips against his almost before you were even done speaking. You didn’t mind the stickiness. You pulled back to look at him, then glanced down to the tent in his pants. “Lemme return the favor.”

Art let out a breathless chuckle. “I don’t think I’m gonna last that long,” he said, somewhat embarrassed. “Not if you’re the one touching me. Not after this.” He gestured to the shine still on his face, to your thighs beneath him. Your face burned, and your smile was so wide that your cheeks hurt.

You shrugged. “Lemme try anyway,” you said, before bringing his ear down to your lips, nipping at the lobe gently. “Please?”

He couldn’t say no to you.

2K notes · View notes