#I still feel like all parents should be older than me

[simvanie]

7 Sins Legacy - generation 5 (gluttony)

Gulshan: I really appreciate that you wanted to take me out for dinner after... After I got the letter this morning that my restaurant has officially lost a star. Halle: Of course, I can't imagine how it must feel for you.

Gulshan: Honestly, I still have to process it... But let's not talk about that right now. I don't want to ruin our dinner- You look beautiful tonight by the way. Halle: Thank you... But what are you wearing? It looks like you found it in the back of your grandfather's closet.

Gulshan: Oh- I... Uh, It's vintage. Halle: Yes, that's what I said. I was just expecting something... fancier. Something that fits this restaurant.

Gulshan: ...I don't really care what the people in this restaurant think of what I wear. Halle: Why? You don't like it?

Gulshan: My parents love it, but I... I have some issues with this place. It's very expensive as well and I currently don't have that much to spare... I'm losing customers every day since it became public knowledge that I was about to lose a star-

-I just didn't want to tell you when we got here because you planned this surprise for me. Like I said, I don't want to ruin our dinner... Halle: Well, I think my dad would love to hear about the issues you have with this restaurant.

Gulshan: Your dad? Halle: Yes. Well, technically he is my stepdad. You've probably heard of him. Because he owns this restaurant. Gulshan: ...What?

Halle: Yes, He is more a dad to me than my biological father has ever been. He has no children himself, so I will inherit most of his assets when he gets older. You see, it's in both our interests that his restaurant has as little competition as possible-

-And when he was reading through the list of new restaurants that the critics have high expectations of, he mentioned your name... I said that we went to high school together, and he asked me if I wanted to help him out.

Gulshan: ...So were you... Were you the person who filed the complaint with the restaurant inspection? Halle: To get rid of your pig? No, I didn't make the call. I just told my dad that you had a pig in your restaurant. He filed the complaint.

-I just had to find out what would impact you the most... Which wasn't that difficult to be honest. It was quite obvious that you had a little crush on me back in high school, and lucky for me, those feelings you had never went away.

Gulshan: ... Halle: I thought you would've figured it all out by now. Especially considering that you were never really my type anyway. I thought that was a given when I started dating one of your friends back then...-

-So if that's clear, I think it's time for me to go now. I have some other things planned for tonight-

-You should probably focus on hoping that your cooking skills are good enough to keep the restaurant afloat- Wouldn't it be a shame if it turns out that sir Hamilton was the main attraction and your food just mediocre at best.

Gulshan: Hamlet. Lord Hamlet.

Halle: Whatever. He should be on a plate, not eating from it. Also, don't forget to pay for the dinner when you leave-

-...Goodbye, Gulshan.

[ilikekidsshows]

This is a longer one, sorry 😅

About that ask you replied to about Marinette's parents. I didn't grow up in a healthy household and i struggle to form a properly informed opinion on Marinette's parents in all this mess.

Cause clearly they are very loving, caring, and supportive, but they aren't perfect either. They are realistically human. They have blind spots, didnt actually RAISE her apparently when she does things wrong, and hardly give Marinette any boundaries or consequences to face, which now evolved into her neither being able to handle anything not going her way nor having to actually take people into consideration and go through with improving on the things she said she should.

Im pretty sure Marinette was a very friendly child who didn't cause too many problems, if at all, so now that she's a complicated teenager who actually needs some boundaries and discipline they dont know how to handle it. Thats the picture im getting. Not to mention that they don't know Marinette is Ladybug so they have no idea what's caused all these extreme changes in their daughter and how to accommodate to properly help her.

But in my eyes, without the whole Ladybug thing, this is still a pretty normal and realistic portrayal of a modern family, so Marinette is simply a normal ass kid. She's clearly spoiled to a solid degree and emotionally shielded the way most middle class kids from central Europe are. Just because her family isn't perfect doesn't it mean she's being abused or her parents are bad. For me, they are a realistic healthy family. Whatever faults her parents have are pretty common things parents do wrong.

But this now raises the question for me how exactly to go about Marinette's family. Obviously her parents didn't to everything right in their parenting, so those flaws of Marinette can be traced back to them while Marinette at the same time SHOULD normally STILL be asked to grow out of it the way any normal teenager should, it's just slightly more challenging.

But then I see discussions that take it way too far imo but I don't know where exactly to draw the line.

It is correct that Tom and Sabine for example seem to know very little about their daughter's friend group to the point that they just let Sabrina into Marinette's room. The common argument I see being raised here is that Sabine is neglective because she doesn't know that Sabrina isn't Marinette's friend.

Now this doesn't feel quite right to me. Marinette's parents seem to be pretty much unaware that their daughter was bullied in school which unfortunately isn't at all uncommon. When the parents are neither told by the child or the school, then how are they supposed to know? The most they seem to know is that Marinette has a hard time with Chloé, but I never had the impression that they know how serious this was. Marinette sure was never shown to ever voice any of that.

So Sabine thinking Sabrina is Marinette's friend is a fair enough assumption in my eyes. I remember back when I was 12-13, forming friendship in a collective class is alot easier when you're a kid. Kids just go with the flow like that and become friends in 10 seconds even if they aren't spending much time with each other directly. Forming connections tends gets more difficult as one grows older.

I don't think at that age parents can be faulted for not keeping track of all their kid's friendships. Sabrina running up to Sabine and claiming she's Marinette's friend and Sabine believing her is honestly nothing too special.

What I take issue with, though, is that Sabine just let Sabrina go into Marinette's room ALONE. That a parent, imo, truly shouldn't do.

And yet, one still wouldn't call her a BAD parent for that, right? It's very flawed, but obviously Marinette also continues to rely on her parents doing that with the amount of times Alya just gets to come and go however she please, even with Marinette not being there, despite Marinette knowing Alya merely year at this point. Way less than Sabrina for example.

There is this persistent grey area here that I can't quite place. Marinette's parents are very obviously very trusting, but the way the show portrays it seems to border on neglective imo, but it's based in their daughter just getting free reign most of the time so Marinette can do shit in her room and leave for long periods of time for example that parents should normally check on their kids for.

So, at the same time, is it actually neglect? Thanks to being Ladybug, it is Marinette who has pulled more and more away from her parents and since season 4 is doing so to honestly very unnecessary degrees. There is little reason for why Marinette constantly locks herself and Alya into her room and doesn't spend much time with her parents when all that Marinette is doing in there is panicking and not doing something actually productive most of the time anyway. You may as well just spend time with your parents instead of crying to Alya that you supposedly CANT (while taking over Alya's life and being the actual reason why SHE cant)

Teenagers at Marinette's age starting to pull away from their parents is nothing uncommon. So I'm pretty sure that's just how it looks like for her parents. Marinette is starting to grow up and doesn't prioritize spending time or sharing her life with them as much anymore.

Can't pretend like that's not a sad truth parents have to deal with, so the kid's friends are trusted by the parents to know their kid in ways they don't anymore.

Marinette has very loving and caring parents who don't push her to involve them or share what she doesn't want to. Now here is the question. While this is neglective to a degree and Marinette does seem to be affected badly by it, is this necessarily something her parents are doing objectively WRONG? From their perspective, their daughter is growing up and so busy that they aren't much of a priority in her life. She's pulling more and more away and her parents try to adjust to that supportively without being given context as any parent must.

Clearly the created distance has Marinette now incorrectly believe that her parents aren't actually a real support system anymore, the way Marinette didnt even try to reach out in Kwamis Choice and her thinking she has lost EVERYTHING at the end of season 4 and then proceeding to act like she doesn't think she truly has anyone or anything in season 5 too.

Now, is Marinette thinking that she has NOTHING at the end of season 4, and still seeming to think so in season 5, something her parents failed at teaching her better?

When a kid starts pulling away from their supportive family, because they are so used to having them, and ends up convincing themselves that their parents dont count anymore as support because it isnt as perfect and easy as they'd like, is this a failure of the parents for not sitting their child down to remind them that the kid isn't the emotional equivalent of an orphan now the moment they have to do something alone?

Or is this simply a normal thing a teenager has to realize on their own? That just because the loving parents aren't a perfect support system anymore, doesn't it mean the kid just gets to disregard them fully as an option the way Marinette constantly does?

Because, well, this IS what it constantly feels like for me when it comes to Marinette.

When Marinette takes offense with her parents not unconditionally believing her all the time, is it really always her parents fault for not having raised her to handle push back better, or is it also just a natural part of growing up that you have to get over yourself and realize that your parents too need context for the situations you're in (e.g. Adoration) because growing up means you're parents shouldn't just handwave all the accountability away you potentially have to take now because you're not an 8 year old anymore and capable of genuine wrongdoing?

Yes, her parents definitely failed a solid bit in regards of leaving Marinette emotionally immature and unprepared when it comes to pushback, criticism, or considerations of others.

But to what degree are her parents actually WRONG in wanting Marinette to learn it for herself now because that's normally how it done?

Do her parents REALLY have to sit her 14-15 year old ass down and teach her that other people have feelings and lives of their own? That reality exists outside of her head and feelings? Or should a teenager be expected to learn that themselves, especially one that's so busy and involved in everything as Marinette? Cause it actually seems to me that her being Ladybug caused her stunted development in this regard. Because being Ladybug always serves as the right excuse to always demand and expect the others to do the learning cause she's "too stressed" and "too justified as leader who doesn't owe anyone anything, but is owed everything herself cause she says so".

It's seems that it's rather that being Ladybug caused the damage in Marinette's development which her parent can't know about, and not that her parents are particularly failing by not holding their daughter's hand all through growing up even more to spoon-feed her every bit of development she should grow into now to make sure its as pleasant and easy as possible?

In my opinion, from teenage age onwards it's not the parents' job to tell their children at any uncomfortable or challenging occasion what's right and wrong and do all the work in the child's personal development into a young adult. And isn't that what Marinette's parents are being criticised for anyway? That they don't let their daughter face disappointment, discipline, and struggles because it makes her upset? But now they are in the wrong for wanting to have their daughter learn and figure things out in their own, but fully intend on always being there for her in every way when she needs it?

There definitely IS a complicated grey area here where these two parenting styles badly overlapped and caused problems.

Tom and Sabine DO give Marinette way too much free reign cause it badly clashes with how little discipline, rules, boundaries, and consideration she was raised to actually having to oblige to as part of living with other people.

Marinette was not well prepared for the freedom she now has, but looking at it in general, the problem seems much more to be Marinette being Ladybug, and not necessarily that she's a teenager who lacks refined emotional intelligence because she grew up shielded and cuddled. If Marinette had a normal life, she would have some more trouble growing out of it, but it's not like her parents ruined her.

I think it's that Marinette is Ladybug that is to blame here. Because that's how she was put in a position where she learned that she just needs to stomp her foot, scream, cry, or use her titel to make it so that it's always everyone else who has to do the learning and not her. Marinette's concerning entitlement grew through being Ladybug and not tolerating anything but having all the support, resources, and everyone beneath her in the hierarchy who must submit to her will or else she cant function.

Whatever problems her parents caused in her upbringing should have been easy enough to grow out of. It's LADYBUG who stunted that development because Marinette learned that she has the option to just demand that everyone has to cater to her instead. That is not her parents fault, but it always leaves me at the same problem of not knowing how to properly dissect and discuss what blame Tom and Sabine objectively have in this.

---

This is a very insightful and interesting essay, Anon. When it comes to Marinette’s parents, it's really hard to call them “bad parents”, because they're really good at many things that come to parenting. They're supportive, they respect Marinette's space and privacy, they believe in her ability to handle herself and Marinette clearly feels safe with them. And you're also right that it's extremely difficult for them to guide Marinette learning social-emotional skills now that she's a willful teenager and wouldn't be receptive to her parents “correcting her behavior” if they even knew there was something to correct.

I also don't think Marinette's parents can see all the issues with Marinette’s conduct. She is a very “easy” child; she's polite, she respects authority and doesn't get into purposeful mischief. She's the exact kind of child adults don't worry about, so they don't have to constantly keep an eye on her. Especially since a lot of her problems come to the forefront as Ladybug, a whole new part of her life her parents aren’t involved in.

The thing here is that 14-year-olds not knowing that other people have feelings or how to deal with disappointments is exactly why early childhood education is now emphasizing the teaching of these skills so much. For a long time, there was a belief that kids learn social-emotional skills naturally and there's no need to purposefully teach them, because kids will “get it” when they're “old enough to understand”. Except that we have now discovered that they don't, in fact, just naturally “get it”. These skills need to be taught in early childhood, starting from simple ideas like “your friend is crying because you took their toy, don’t do that again” and moving up from there. And the only way to teach these things in a purposeful way is to put your small kids with other small kids and let them do small kid things, even if it results in someone ending up crying, especially if someone ends up crying, because learning to deal with your own emotional responses and other people having emotional reactions to your actions is, in fact, an essential life and relationship skill. The theory of mind (the understanding that other people have thoughts and feelings that can differ from your own) is something that preschoolers are expected to learn and should get support in learning if they don't.

I’m saying Marinette should already know this stuff. Her parents and possible kindergarten teacher should have taught her almost a decade ago.

However, I don’t disagree with your assertion that being Ladybug is why these common problems with Marinette’s conduct are such a big issue for her relationships now. Because her upbringing neglected to teach her essential social-emotional skills, and she’s been shoved into a position of not just power, but absolute power where no one is in a position to question her, she’s now a nightmare boss who expects everyone else to be fully committed to making the broken system she’s running run smoothly while she comes up with some nonsense project to keep busy so that she has the excuse to take her frustrations out on everyone beneath her.

If Marinette was just constantly ditching her friends so that she could do something relating to her love quest, I’m pretty sure the most severe, realistic consequences for her friends would just be them thinking she doesn’t want to hang out, feeling bummed and no longer inviting her. Marinette being in a position of leadership both exacerbates her social-emotional ineptitude and makes its consequences more severe, because now they’re facing dangerous situations and the leadership only doesn’t care if they get hurt, but sometimes actively hurts them for the sake of achieving some other goal in the future.

We must consider that Marinette has been Ladybug for only a year, while her parents have raised her since birth. Anything being Ladybug has taught Marinette was learned on the basis her parents gave her. I don’t think this is an either-or situation. Now that she's an independent teenager, of course her parents expect her to pull away, be private and figure things out on her own. What Marinette is doing wrong now is on her, because she's the one taking on all these responsibilities, leaving others in the dark, not consulting anyone who doesn't just appease her and making decisions for others. However, this being her go-to approach shows us that her parents failed her in the past.

I think Marinette's parents are doing everything right for an older child, but I also think they were very out of their depth when Marinette was a small child. She clearly wasn't taught this stuff that has to be taught at an early age because she's now a teenager and seems to have no clue how interpersonal relationships work. Of course she's still too young to understand everything, especially romance, but she lacks basic understanding of mutual friendship as well. It just really feels like Marinette's parents have never had any expectations for her, even when she was a small child throwing a fit when she didn't get her way.

[olivieblake]

Hey Olivie!! Hope you’re well :)

I have loved and followed your big sis advice for years now, and I could use some of it now.

I have always been the kind of individual who has really close 1:1 friendships, but has always yearned for a friend group. I’m in my second year of college, and last year, I finally felt belonging with a group of people, but all of them are seniors and have graduated. I know I am a loved human being, but a lot of the people I love most are long distance now, and I feel lonely in my day-to-day life. I always have seemed to get along with people older than me, but my mom put it bluntly: I need friends my age. I can get along with anyone, but in terms of choosing who I actually click with and invest in, it is very few people. My friends who graduated were all individuals who had similar vibes and energy as me—we enjoyed art, philosophy, and just being silly together. Even now, I’ll look for people with similar interests, but it just doesn’t click. I wish I had something more concrete to go off of—I like a lot of people, but I wouldn’t call them “my people”. I found one girl I really click with, but she’s super flaky and doesn’t seem reliable. I want to love deeply and be loved back deeply, to choose and be chosen.

I’d love to hear your two cents on this. How have female friendships blossomed for you? Am I being too picky or judgemental? Am I doomed to be a floater, a social nomad never belonging to anyone?

Anyways. Thanks! Love you. Boutta reread masters of death, it’s that time of year.

man, I won't lie, finding and maintaining meaningful friendship has been harder in my personal experience than romantic love. there honestly shouldn't even be a distinction! it's a difference of texture, not process. finding someone you vibe with and can be vulnerable with and can trust with your intimacy and tenderness and care and also rely on even though there is no social protocol for friendship the way there is for romantic partnership is a real mind-bender. I think it just depends on how you choose to prioritize your relationships, energy, and time. finding friends is hard, especially if you're coming from a group that already had its own dynamic and fabric, but it just comes down to being open to connection and valuing people for what they bring to your life, even if it's just the possibility of something bigger. be open, be honest about yourself and your passions, and that will take you pretty far, but also, genuine connection is rare. which means it might be hard to find (that's the bad news) and you should nurture it when you have it (that's the actionable item). I meet smart, funny, kind, thoughtful, interesting women all the time, but my openness to them is often what determines the difference between friendship and acquaintanceship.

"I want to love deeply and be loved back deeply, to choose and be chosen" is a great way to put it, and something to hold onto, because knowing what you want is a great first step to being able to make the choices to honor it

[aeolianblues]

it is literally not about legality, if you’re in your late 30s literally what are you hitting up 21 y/os for. Don’t you have investments to make.

[archduke-enver-gortash]

mmm essay about sally and kid gort in the tags (cw for child abuse, mentions of suicide, animal cruelty and a murder attempt. i always hope i don’t have to say this but just in case: i don’t excuse or condone any of her or gort’s behaviour at all.) this is literally not even touching upon everything i have to say because i hit the fucking tag limit lmao. NOBODY READ IT’S BAD BRAINSTORMING I JUST NEEDED TO GET IT OUT SOMEHOW

[pepprs]

ok actually yeah. i really need to do dishes and go to bed and not stay up late mentalillnessposting a little too viscerally on tumblr the night before i facilitate a workshop in front of the literal president of the university and the vp of my division (LOL about that btw. actively shitting my pants.) but oh my GOD. so saying goodbye to lia was actually fine in the moment. neither of us cried and we talked about all the ways we’ll still be in each others lives and reasons we’ll have to interact in the near future. and she gave me an extremely heartfelt thoughtful gift and we left on a very hopeful note and i felt better and content bc there’s still the rest-of-life and we’ll see each other there. but like an hour before that as i mentioned i was HYSTERICALLY sobbing. in full view of people i know AND people i don’t. and i just sat there and sobbed while everything carried on around me. everything carried on around me!!! and i feel like im about to sob again thinking about it.

[kurthorton-moving]

this isnt an au ive talked ab on the dash much its mostly been written on discord but i am thinking heavily about the au where kurt spends his entire teenage years kidnapped and finally escapes a little while after he turned eighteen and the way he has to adjust to the shift in his life from being hostage and conditioned into the lifestyle he lived vs freedom and rediscovering the world and more importantly rediscovering himself

[saetoru]

AGE IS NOTHING BUT A NUMBER — GETO SUGURU.

kinktober day two — overstimulation ; find masterlist here

synopsis. befriending nanako and mimiko has its perks—like fucking their father, for example. suguru might have aged over the years, but that doesn't mean he's lost his touch. don't believe him? that's okay—he can always just show you instead

length. 5.3k words (bro this fic was agonizing)

contents. minors do not interact, fem! reader, dilf! suguru, college au (reader is a student), age gaps (20+ difference), jealous suguru, teasing, cunnilingus, fingering, edging, nipple play, unprotected sex, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, creampie, pet names (baby, sweetheart, princess, angel)

notes. this took me so long bc i hate it so im posting it and running away to play genshin to slave away for primos

most people can tell their best friends everything. not you, though—you have a secret. a dirty, shameful, horrible little secret, in fact.

no one knows that every chance you get, every small little moment you can possibly squeeze in, you fuck your two best friends’ father—and it’s going to stay that way, unknown and forever hidden. suguru is young as far as parents go, just barely in his twenties when he’s found himself a single father of two, but that doesn’t mean he’s not too old for you. and it especially doesn’t mean that it’s not inappropriate to fuck the man that raised your two closest friends.

you meet nanako and mimiko during your freshman year of college—the rest is history. the first time you spend the night at their place, suguru (he insists you call him that on your first meeting) is overjoyed that his girls have someone as lovely as you.

who wouldn’t be? you’re smart, well-mannered, respectable, and incredibly studious. what a perfect role model for his girls—after all, every father’s worst nightmare is his sweet, precious daughters venturing off to the real world. men are dogs—suguru should know. they’re sleazy and prey on young women who are naive and unsuspecting, taking advantage of their hopefulness before completely destroying their innocence. suguru can’t bear the idea of his perfect little girls becoming victims of such sinister behavior—but that’s all quelled when he meets you.

but he never thought, not even for one second, that he’d become one of those men.

those older men who fuck girls half their age—the girls that are barely in their twenties and still don’t even really understand how taxes work. the girls that have just started to learn how to hold their alcohol and can only recently buy it legally. the girls who don’t realize how complicated adulthood can be, just barely spreading their wings and learning what it’s like to be free.

suguru has always found those men deplorable. they’re the awful, disgusting, untamed vermin of society—women must be protected from them at all costs.

but now? well….now he’s one of them—and he finds, even as disgusted with himself as he is from time to time, he has little regrets.

not when you’re sprawled under him, hands tracing over his bare chest, feeling the soft skin under your palms in wonder. suguru, though he’s not let himself go by any means, is past his prime—he still frequents the gym, and he has more time to go now that the girls are gone most of the day, but he’s not immune to the effects of aging.

his hair has more than a few strands of white sprinkled in now; nanako makes sure to remind him not to pull them out unless he wants more. he’s still managed to keep the abs he was once so proud of in his youth, but they’re still not as hard—layered over a slight belly that he can’t seem to get rid of no matter what he tries. his skin is a bit looser, and his eyes have slight wrinkles in the corners of them, but despite it all, suguru still looks as handsome as ever.

he’s aged well, still looks remarkably young for men his age, and still looks like that dashing young man he once was who stole hearts. in fact, he still hears about his looks, especially from nanako and mimiko’s friends—he’s always chuckled to himself and shook his head in amusement.

that’s your dad? god, he’s so hot.

what? he’s single? oh my gosh, do you need a mom?

i can’t believe he’s never been married—women in his generation don’t deserve him. i’ll take him off their hands.

wait, do you have pictures of him when he was younger?

oh my god, he’s so fine. are you sure he’s in his forties?

nanako and mimiko, bless their hearts, have always crinkled their noses at the…less than proper comments they’ve had to witness about their father. in fact, they’ve watched teachers practically throw themselves onto suguru at parent-teacher conferences. it’s bothersome—a little disturbing to hear their friends talk about all the things they’d let their dad, of all people, do to them.

but you? you don’t make unhinged comments. they appreciate that.

but if only they knew…

if only they knew that sometimes, like right now, when you’re spending the night, you don’t actually sleep—instead, you sneak off to their father’s room, lay on his mattress under his body, and feel his touch. you can feel him, hard and throbbing in his sweats as his clothed cock presses against your thigh—but he takes his time with you, and doesn’t do anything about the clear arousal pooling between your legs just yet. 

instead, he focuses on remembering your body—it’s been a while, after all. he hasn’t felt your hips, hasn’t tasted your skin, hasn’t heard your voice. 

“missed you,” suguru breathes, hovering over you as you hum, nipping at your skin as his nose brushes along your neck. your hand is playing with his hair, twisting long, black and white strands along your fingers. “haven’t seen you in a bit, angel.”

“i’ve had midterms,” you murmur.

suguru knows—nanako and mimiko have been studying for them themselves. he’s more than a little disappointed that you haven’t come over to study with them yet. but then, just the other night, mimiko mentions you’ve been spending your time with a boy at the library, sharing a table as you lean over his shoulder to look at his laptop. nanako giggles that you might have finally gotten yourself a boyfriend. mimiko hums and nods as she murmurs it’s about time.

suguru swallows down every bite of dinner with an aftertaste of bile that night.

a boy—a boy? you’ve been skipping coming over to study with the girls (and, by default, seeing him) just to study with some boy? what’s got your attention on the guy so badly? why would you break the routine you’ve had for the last few semesters for someone you just recently met? have you finally started to realize that this is a mistake? is suguru a mistake?

he thinks maybe not, now that you’re back in his bed—but he still has too many unanswered questions. 

“so i’ve heard,” he says lowly, “i’ve also heard there’s a certain boy on your radar.” he smiles bitterly, pulling away from your neck to stare at you with those dark, sharp eyes of his. “a much younger, and fitting match for you, i suppose.”

you roll your eyes, snorting.

“is that what nanako and mimiko have told you? honestly, those two,” you huff fondly, “i told them already. he’s just my partner for a presentation. we’re practicing.”

“oh?” suguru raises a brow—and then he shivers lightly when you lean up and kiss his jaw, eyes fluttering shut at your touch.

“yes,” you giggle, “no need to be jealous of someone half your age, you know.”

“that’s exactly why i’m jealous,” he breathes, leaning in to kiss you softly.

your lips taste like honey—probably sweeter, in fact. they drip with that decadent, saccharine taste of youth. he feels twenty again every time he kisses you, feels not a day older than his glory days.

“oh, you poor thing,” you grin, cupping his face as you scatter kisses along his cheeks and nose, thumb tracing the skin. fuck, is this what it feels like to be in love? it makes him feel so young, so free, and hopeful for the future. when was the last time he felt this way? “have you been losing sleep over my nonexistent college boyfriend?”

“well, kids your age fool around quite a bit,” he says in that father tone that he uses on nanako and mimiko, “what was i supposed to think?”

you’ve heard that tone so many times before; the one where he talks like he knows better, like he’s wiser, like he’s aware of something you’re not. 

girls, make sure you share your location with me—i need to find you in case anything happens. it’s for your own safety, end of discussion.

make sure you watch over your drinks, okay? men these days take every chance they get to spike them when you’re not looking. mimiko, i was your age once, too. i’ve seen this happen plenty.

don’t walk alone in the streets at night. call me. i’ll pick you up—no, nanako, it’s not lame. the streets are dangerous at night. there are creeps, you know.

don’t get into any boy’s cars, girls. you never know what’ll happen; one mistake is all it takes to ruin your life—hey, don’t roll your eyes at me. one day, you’ll understand i’m right.

“i’m not a kid,” you pout, and then, smugly this time, you wiggle your brows. “did’ya lose sleep over my imaginary boyfriend? you need plenty of sleep at your age, y’know.”

“no, you’re not a kid,” suguru agrees, “you’re a brat.” and then he’s back to pressing those hot, open-mouthed, hungry kisses along your jaw, humming in delight when you angle your head to give him better access. 

sometimes, it’s fun to get under suguru’s skin—it’s fun to break that carefully built, mature patience of his, pulling a twitch of his eye and a furrow of his brow from him. so, you grin widely as you murmur, “who knows? maybe he’d fuck better—more stamina, y’know?”

it’s supposed to just tease him, to make him glare at you unimpressed so you can giggle and kiss between his brows—but suguru stills at that, painfully stiff for a moment before he bites at your skin. hard. 

“oh yeah?” he hisses, his voice low and dangerous as he pulls away to glare down at you, “you think so? what, you think an old man like me can’t fuck you long enough?”

you don’t get a chance to reply—not before he pulls your pants down your waist to reveal your soaked panties, pulling a hum from him as he grins at the damp patch of fabric. his fingers circle over your clit for a moment, right over the cloth, making your breath hitch as you buck into his touch. 

“suguru—”

“look at that,” he chuckles, “wearing my favorite one, huh? can’t fuck you that bad if you try your best to impress me. isn’t that what you wanted? is that what you were thinking when you put these on before coming over? how precious,” he murmurs—he speaks so condescending, so knowingly, as if he’s read your mind just by looking at the red lace covering your dripping cunt. you cover your face in humiliation, but he grabs your wrists and pins them over your head, clicking his teeth in disapproval. 

part of you knows you should quit while you can—the other part? well…it wants to test the limits a bit longer. suguru has never been so easy to rile up, you want to indulge in it for just a bit longer if you can help it. 

“well,” you huff, “what’re you waiting for, then? don’t tell me the age has slowed you down—”

“you really don’t know when to quit, do you?” he says in a low snarl, “fine, you want me to hurry up? you got it, princess.”

it all happens before you can even register—one moment, you’re grinning at him with mischief in your eyes; the next second, he has you in nothing but your bra, bare in his bed as he pulls your legs apart and leans close to your pussy.

“you know the thing about guys your age,” he hums, toying with your clit lazily as you gasp with a twitch, “is that they really don’t know how to take care of anyone but themselves. guess they just don’t have enough experience to really figure it out.”

his lips latch onto your clit, sucking before he rolls his tongue over the sensitive bud as his fingers sink into your core, pushing past your folds and stretching you open. it’s slow—deliberately so, in fact. it makes your head spin, and your fingers curl into the bed sheets as you pant. 

“suguru, m-more—”

“don’t worry,” he coos, pulling away from you to grin up at your glossy eyes, “you’ll get plenty, baby. we’ll see if you’ve got the stamina. y’know, since you’re so young.”

his lips are back to wrap around your clit, fingers sinking and curling exactly where you’re most sensitive—suguru finds your sweet spots instantly the first time he has you sprawled under him. didn’t even take a moment of trial, just knew where to touch and kiss to have you unravel in his hold. that much still hasn’t changed—his fingertips press against the sensitive spot in the back of your walls, pulling pretty little whines from you as his tongue flicks over your clit. 

it’s always been a blessing that nanako and mimiko’s room is across the house—had they been closer, they might hear the mewl you let out as his fingers bully into you faster, unforgiving as they brush against your walls and build the ache up between your legs until it’s about to burst. 

“s-suguru, ‘m close, so, so close—”

“already?” he gasps, chuckling as he presses a kiss to your clit with a sly grin, “thought you had more in you than that, baby. so youthful—figured you’d last a bit longer.”

he’s mean about it—rubs it in your face some more that you’re so close so fast before he pulls his fingers away and doesn’t even give you the satisfaction of falling apart on his digits. it makes you sob, hips bucking up to chase the friction of his fingers, but he’s already gone, leaving your walls empty and fluttering around nothing.

“no,” your voice breaks, “n-no, so close, please. i want—”

“that’s what he would’ve done,” suguru hums, “pulled out before you even finished. that’s what guys your age always do—they don’t know how to make girls finish. you ever had that problem with me?”

“no,” you say quickly, shaking your head. you’re a pretty little thing, he thinks—pouty, wobbly lips and those glossy eyes as you sniffle. “no, you always make me cum—please, i wanna cum, sugu.”

“yeah?” he pouts with faux sympathy, “didn’t feel good, huh? feels better when i take care of you, doesn’t it?”

“uh huh,” you nod—you’re still panting through the aftershocks of having your orgasm ripped from you, chest rising and falling harsh enough that it fills him with pride he can pull such drastic reactions from you. no one knows your body like suguru—he’s too good at giving it what it wants for anyone else to compare. 

“think that boy—” he spits the last word like it’s poison on his tongue, “—can take care of you?”

“no,” you whimper, “no, he can’t. not like you, never like you.”

“that’s a good girl,” he nods approvingly, rubbing his slick-coated finger over your clit, toying with it teasingly as you writhe, whining for more. “you know something else about men your age? they don’t care to please a woman—don’t bother to appreciate them enough to make them feel good. you think that boy would be here—” he pauses to motion between your legs, where he’s currently situated, “—willingly? taste you willingly? let you cum on his tongue willingly?”

“i-i don’t…i never asked someone to—”

“did you ever ask me?” he interrupts, raising a brow at you, “you ever have to ask me? i just do it. wanna know why? because i know what i’m doing—know how to treat you right, how to give you what you need. isn’t that right?” 

“yes, yes—you always give me what i want—”

“what you need,” he corrects, “and you know what i think you need right now? this.”

his tongue licks a stripe along your entrances before you can say anything else, pulling a gasp out of you as your hands find his hair and tug—suguru groans at that, feels his pants get impossibly tighter as the aching erection he sports throbs between his legs at the way you pull at the strands so desperately, so needy. for him. only ever him. 

his tongue fucks into you, messy with the way he devours you, the slick arousal pooling from your cunt coating his lips, his cheeks, his chin. you moan—and really, it’s almost a squeal—when his fingers are sinking back into you, tongue flicking away at your clit mercilessly as he thrusts his digits in and out of your pussy. you’re close, painfully so, the pressure steadily building and building until you just can’t hold it back anymore. 

“sugu—’m c-cumming. god ‘s so good—feels good,” you babble, thighs closing around his head as his fingers curl into your sweet spot over and over again, not stopping for even a second as he helps you ride out your high. your walls spasm around his fingers, tight as they flutter around him and make him groan at the thought of being inside you. 

he watches, hungry and in awe, as your back arches off the mattress and your mouth parts, broken little wails of his name rolling off your tongue in a sweet melody. 

“i bet he’s never seen someone look like this,” suguru murmurs, watching the way the ecstasy takes over your features as your face falls slack from pleasure, “so pretty when falling apart. bet he’d never even get close to making you look so fucked from just his tongue.”

your orgasm ripples through you—it’s not new, the way he makes you feel so good, but it’s definitely nothing to get used to either. your body slumps back onto the mattress as you finish, panting harshly while he climbs up to hover over you once again. 

“that felt good?” he asks, nosing at your cheek as you nod breathlessly.

“yeah,” you breathe, wrapping your arms around his neck. 

“hope you’re not tired out just yet,” he says smugly, eyeing the way sweat clings to your forehead and huffs of air exhale from your lungs with each labored breath, “because we’re nowhere near done, baby. not even close.”

just like that, your bra is unclasped and pulled off, freeing your tits for his mouth to latch onto a nipple, sucking and lightly grazing his teeth along the bud while his fingers tease at the other, pinching and rubbing over it with his thumb. you whine, eyes squeezing shut as your hand cups the back of his head and keeps him in place. 

“bet i could make you cum just from this,” he says with a laugh, “i don’t even need to fuck you.”

“please,” you dig your nails into his shoulder, moaning as he switches to wrap his lips around the other nipple, “please, sugu—n-need more.”

“be more specific,” he says lowly, looking up at you in amusement, “gonna need more than that, princess. you gotta help me out here—i’m afraid i don’t know what i’m doing.”

suguru is doing everything he can to drag this out—if you’d known one small comment would have him riled up like this…well, truthfully, you can’t say you wouldn’t have made it anyway. it’s exciting in its own right when he’s so determined to show you why you need him, why no one else but him is meant to see you like this, make you fall apart like this, have you sprawled under them like this. 

no one can know about you and suguru—not nanako and mimiko, not your other friends, not your family. you know what they’d say, how they’d feel. 

disgust—shame, even. he’s far too old for you, you know they’d say; he’s a red flag for getting with someone so young. no one can know that you come here, dead in the middle of the night when your friends are asleep, and fuck their father. not only that—lay with their father, talk about your hopes and dreams for the future with their father, giggle as you gossip with their father, fall in love with their father. 

something tells you the feeling is not unreciprocated—that suguru feels the same, that he loves holding you in his arms just as much as you love laying in them. maybe it wasn’t a joke, what you’d said. not to him, at least—maybe deep down, it stung; maybe he had something to prove. that boy might be closer to you in age, but he’ll never, ever treat you the way suguru does—no one will, for that matter. perhaps he has to show it so you really know. 

so you look him in the eye, pull him closer until his forehead is pressed against yours and you can press a delicate kiss to his lips before you murmur against them, “fuck me, suguru. please—need you.”

he groans at that, closes his eyes before his hips move to press the thick tip of his cock against your folds, dragging it along your entrance as he coats his head with your slick. it’s flushed a deep pink—it’s been neglected for so long that he shudders at the way it aches, at the way even the slightest friction along the sensitive tip pulls a soft gasp from him. 

for a moment, he wonders if he really will last long enough to fuck you properly—he might not, with the way your walls always squeeze around him, always have him ready to fuck his load into you just as soon as he’s inside you. the thought alone almost makes his cock twitch—but suguru is a man of patience, so he slowly pushes into you, inch by inch, looking down and watching as his girth disappears inside you. 

“look at that,” he coos, grinning wide as he looks back up at you, “took me so easily. ‘s cause when you do it right, it doesn’t take much, does it?”

“f-fuck—” your head presses back against the pillow, mouth hung open as you breathe heavily, trying to squirm and get even the slightest bit of friction from him as he stays painfully still. “move, suguru—please, c-can’t wait anymore. jus’ wanna feel you.”

“i know,” he chuckles, “patience is a virtue, sweetheart.”

despite it all, suguru is not feeling very patient anymore—it’s been long enough. his hips roll slowly at first, a shallow thrust of his hips that makes you both moan lowly before he all but pulls out and slams back in, hard. you can feel the burning stretch of his girth practically splitting you open, every thick vein dragging along your cunt and every brush of his tip against the back of your walls. it’s loud—the sound of skin slapping against skin, the sound of his deep groans and your breathless whines, the sound of the headboard hitting the wall as he fucks you into his mattress. 

“god—fuck, suguru—th-there,” you mewl as he slams into you right where you need him. 

you’ve lost count of how many times suguru has fucked you like you’re his. in his bed at night, in his shower in the mornings, on the couch when you drop by when the girls aren’t home, in his car that one time he drove you home when it rained, in your apartment that one time he dropped off your laptop because you forgot it. there’s one common denominator—the way he makes you feel, not just from the way his cock ruts into you, but from the way his fingers tangle with yours, from the way his mouth finds your jaw to kiss, from the way his forehead presses into your shoulder with warmth. 

it’s exciting, maybe. at first, it’s scandalous and a little thrilling in its own right. by now, it’s something much more than that—you don’t think anyone could make you feel the way he does, fuck you like he does, even if they tried. even if they knew where to touch and where to kiss. even if they knew what you liked and what you didn’t. 

they couldn’t be suguru—would never be suguru. 

“there, huh?” he pants, moaning softly as he feels your walls flutter around him tightly, “i know. i know how to fuck this pussy—my pussy. you think some boy you hardly know would know? think he’d care to learn? think he’d even try?”

“no,” you gasp, shaking your head as your hips buck up to meet his sharp thrusts, “no. no one would make me feel this good. make me feel so good, sugu.”

“ngh—sh-shit,” he hisses at your words, cock almost swelling harder at the way you praise him, at the way your words are almost slurred with no real thought behind him. it’s a little pride-inducing, the way you’re still able to sing his praises without having to really think about it first. he can hear it, the way you’re lost in the drag of his cock, drunk in the haze of pleasure, unfocused on everything else besides the way he bullies his thick girth into your abused cunt.

it’s a mess, it’s filthy the way there’s a mix of pre cum and your slick at the base of his cock, along your inner thighs, coating your skin as the squelching sound of him nudging past your folds fills the room.

it’s good, the way he makes you feel—he can hear it in your voice as you wail his name.

“s-suguru—oh.”

“what, you gettin’ all fucked out on me? ‘m not even close yet, princess,” he hums, leaning down to kiss your neck as he sucks softly into your sweet spot. you throw your head back, rasping out a cry of his name again as his balls slap against your ass with a harsh roll of his hips. 

and then his hand makes its way between your bodies, thumb attaching itself to your clit before rubbing punishing circles into the bundle of nerves—you sob at that, back arching up as your chest presses against his, nipples hard as they brush along his skin.

“s-sugu—close, ‘m gonna cum a-again—so close,” you pant brokenly, every sentence cut off with a sharp gasp as he thrusts into you. 

you’re close—you can’t fight back the way the coil in your belly snaps as he teases your clit. it’s still sensitive from the last orgasm, every nerve still burning up from before as he gives you more, gives you too much, almost. you cum harder this time—your second high creeping up on you when you least expect it. 

it makes your eyes roll back, makes your thighs quiver, and tears stream down your cheeks as you chant his name over and over. suguru, ‘s so good. suguru, ‘m cumming. suguru, ‘s all for you.

every sentence makes his cock drill into you faster, sloppier in rhythm, maybe, but faster. needier. bordering on desperate. 

“f-fuck, baby,” he grunts, “squeezin’ me so tight—such a tight fuckin’ cunt. you think just anyone deserves this? think you can just walk around and let anyone fuck this? ‘s bullshit—ngh.”

you don’t answer—can’t answer, in fact. it’s all teary eyes and soft sniffles as you mewl with every thrust, voice breaking between every pretty little sound you make. he’s still fucking into you, still dragging his cock against those sensitive walls, still bumping against your clit with his navel, still nudging against your sweet spot with his thick, swollen tip. it’s almost too much—it is too much, making you writhe under his body as you try to form the words. 

“‘s t-too much, sugu—c-can’t anymore,” you try, “can’t.”

“what?” he gasps, furrowing his brows in mock confusion, “you’re tappin’ out on me already? but ‘m not even done yet, sweetheart. haven’t even finished yet—don’t tell me you’re already spent. how will you keep up with your little boyfriend’s stamina if you can’t even take an old man like me?”

“c-can’t take anyone but you,” you sob, “jus’ you—only you. promise.”

“yeah? you swear?”

“uh huh. jus’ you, sugu—don’ want anyone else. won’t fuck me the same.”

“atta girl,” he coos, chuckling as he leans down to kiss your jaw, trailing soft pecks until he meets your lips, “that’s what i thought. make sure you don’t forget, okay?”

“fuck, suguru—’m…g-gonna…”

“gonna what? cum? you’re cumming again?” you nod at that—he grins wide, pride settling into the crinkles of his eyes before his thumb rubs harsh circles into your swollen clit once more. he looks pretty like that—hair framing his face, the mix of black and white strands sticking to the damp skin of his forehead. his skin is flushed, abs flexing as he pants over you. sometimes you feel guilty that half of why you come over to visit nanako and mimiko is to fuck suguru—the guilt is quickly extinguished when you see him like this, bottom lip caught between his teeth as his arms barely hold him over you, eyes shut tight as he groans. 

“i-i’m—fuck, fuck, fuck,” you can’t form sentences anymore as you cum—again. not that you really could before that, but now all you can offer is croaked half-syllables and shaky sobs. your walls squeeze around him, tight as they hug around his throbbing cock. 

it takes one, two, three more sloppy rolls of his hips before he lets out at a low, “baby, fuck—’m gonna fill you up. want that? want me to cum in you? make you mine? always been mine, haven’t you?”

“yes, yes—yours, sugu. yours, yours, yours,” you babble, words slurred between breathy moans and broken sobs. “wanna be yours.”

you can feel him—feel the way his cock twitches in you, the way he grinds into you to ride out his high, the way sticky, hot ropes of cum fill your walls, the way he fucks his load deeper into you with every sloppy thrust of his hips. his arms quiver as he holds himself over you—just barely, though. you can hear the way his voice cracks as he gasps your name over and over, as he mutters lowly about how you’re his, how you’ll always only be his. 

“mine,” he grits, “you’re fuckin’ mine—see how you’re suckin’ me in? see how i fit in this pussy like it was made for me? ‘s cause you’re mine.”

his body slumps onto yours as he finishes, head pressed into the crook of your neck as he kisses the skin while you both catch your breaths. you whimper, still sensitive, as he pulls out of you, a soft chuckle falling past his lips as he pulls his head up to look at you and press a kiss to your cheek. 

“so,” he starts, eyes laced with amusement as he takes in the fucked out look on your face, the tears still drying your cheeks, the swollen flush of your bottom lip, “still think you need someone with more stamina? someone who’ll fuck you better—”

“god,” you groan, slapping his shoulder, “will you drop it already? you got what you wanted, didn’t you?”

“no,” he murmurs, pecking your lips, “still wanna hear it some more.”

“your ego needs a reality check,” you huff as you brush a strand of hair from his forehead, “think i’ve fed it plenty all night.”

“actually, i think you crushed it,” he pouts theatrically, “talking about some asshole who doesn’t care about you right in front of me. after i take such good care of you, too. the girls already think you should date him,” he adds the last part with a slightly bitter roll of his eyes, pulling a giggle out of you.

“they think i don’t know how to talk to men,” you snort, “imagine they knew i was talking to men old enough to be my father.”

“hey,” he clicks his teeth, falling onto the mattress beside you—he pulls you into his chest, letting your cheek rest on his bare skin. it’s so wrong—lying in bed with the father of your best friends. but somehow, suguru feels like the only thing you’ve ever done right. “age is nothing but a number, sweetheart.”

if i have to see the word cock one more time im going to eradicate all humans that have them

do not comment about a part 2 !!!!!!!!!!

[lycandrophile]

i clicked on the original tweet just to see if anyone else felt as weird about it as i did because at this point i’m just tired of seeing people going on and on about trans men dating cishet men who try to convince them not to transition as if it’s a funny joke about a trans man doing something silly and not a manipulative and generally very unhealthy relationship dynamic that can hurt the trans man involved really deeply (as forcing someone back into the closet tends to do.)

did i find anyone else feeling that way? no. there were a few people pointing out that it was weird in general, and plenty saying it’s a weird thing to say about a cis woman, but nothing expressing any sort of concern about the tired stereotype it’s perpetuating.

but you know what i did find? replies like the one in the second screenshot, using the tweet as their chance to tell the world how much they hate trans men and how repulsive they find the idea of ever being compared to us. and replies like the third one, shaming trans men in relationships like that as if the fact that they’ve found themselves in an unhealthy relationship makes them deserving of public shaming, as if their relationship is hurting anyone other than them.

stereotypes like this just feel like yet another way of indirectly calling us stupid little girls who don’t know what’s good for us, and the fact that a picture of a woman is being used (even jokingly!) as an example of what trans men “like that” look like should make the implications of rhetoric like this all the more obvious.

it’s relationships like these that keep us miserable in the closet for so long and drive up our sexual assault rates even more. they’re not funny and if anyone is going to be making jokes about them, it certainly shouldn’t be people who have never been in that situation. if you actually cared about us you’d be looking for ways to support the trans men you know who are in relationships like that instead of hopping on twitter to joke about how stupid they must be.

i don’t care if it’s a joke. if it victim blames trans men for the transphobia we face in our personal relationships, adds to the common idea that we can’t be trusted to make decisions about our own lives, and invites even more blatant transphobia against us by people who unabashedly admit they see all trans men as “disgusting and phony”, it’s not fucking funny.

(i also want to note that the people making these jokes never like to mention that this also happens to trans men in relationships with queer women. they also hate those trans men, of course, and are happy to express that when they get into fights about trans men who date lesbians, but they’ll never talk about it in the context of this particular stereotype. it’s always a man being manipulative in a relationship and pressuring trans men to not transition, as if a woman would never be capable of such a thing.

they also like to conveniently ignore the existence of older trans men who transitioned after already being in a committed relationship with a cishet man and were able to make that relationship work despite their transition, because acknowledging that would require recognizing that trans men can be in seemingly contradictory relationships and genuinely be happy with their partner. who needs nuance when you can simply choose to judge all trans men for our relationships regardless of what they’re actually like?)

do you think they also would call me “a trans man being purposefully misgendered” with this kind of vitriol because i’m still living with parents who don’t recognize my gender instead of moving out before i’m ready to be financially independent? at this point, i’m starting to feel like they might, with the way every decision a trans man ever makes is the subject of a public debate and people have decided that trans men are secretly using being misgendered as a weapon to somehow hurt other trans people.

as a general rule, i’d say the only people who should be making “X looks like a trans man” jokes about literally anyone/anything are trans men, and posts like this show exactly why those jokes being made by anyone else (even by other trans people) just isn’t a good idea.

[headkiss]

fall right into me

pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader

summary: when something happens to your apartment and you need a place to stay, steve, your best friend, is quick to provide it for you. your prolonged proximity forces you both to realize some things.

word count: 13.6k

warnings: childhood bffs to lovers, absolute idiots in love, mentions of a negative relationship with parents, probably inaccurate descriptions of some things but it’s (say it with me) for the plot!!!

a/n: i know it’s been a LONG time since i’ve posted a long fic so thank u guys for ur patience <3 i had so much fun getting back to it and writing these two, and i hope it’s at least a little bit worth the wait!!! ily :,)

𝜗𝜚

Your shoes are still wet as you dial the first number that comes to mind: Steve’s.

He picks up on the third ring. “Hello?”

“Hey, Steve.”

“Hi,” you can imagine him on the other side of the phone, leaning casually against the wall, an easy smile on his face, “what’s going on?”

You’re not quite sure where to start.

Coming home from work earlier, you’d been excited to shower and change and lay around for the rest of the evening, your book hanging open in your lap and some mindless TV filling the silence.

The day seemed to have other plans for you, though, because as you walked down the stairs to your apartment—one in the basement of a sweet, older couple’s house who just never used the space and converted it—the carpet had made an ugly squelch as soon as you stepped on it.

You looked down at your shoe against the carpet, at the way its color was darker than usual from whatever water had gotten into it. Looking up, you found a complete mess. A piece of the ceiling hanging open right above your bed, water still dripping in steady drops from the gap, your bedding ruined among many other things.

You don’t know how long you stood there, hand over your mouth, eyes flickering over the damage like you were hoping it would vanish, like it was only something you imagined.

Unfortunately, it wasn’t.

The couple who owns the house came down when they heard you shout for them, unsure of what else to do. They’d both gasped when they came down, and began apologizing for something that really wasn’t their fault before one ran up to call whoever it was they needed to call to fix this and the other comforted you with a gentle “we’ll take care of it, sweetie.”

You nodded, eyes still roaming your space that was now uninhabitable.

It’s an old house, something was bound to happen at some point, you only wished it wasn’t so inconvenient for you. A small leak, you could have handled, but the ceiling practically caving in?

Yeah, it was a complete fucking mess.

Hours later, with the damage assessed and set to take a few weeks to fix up, you’re on the phone with the one person you’d known would pick up.

You fill Steve in on what happened, and his first response is a sigh of, “Shit.”

“Yeah, shit,” you agree. “And now I’m gonna have to live with my parents for a while and I don’t know how I’m gonna go back into that house, Steve.”

If you’re being honest, the couple you live with now was kinder to you than your parents were. You suppose that’s one of the many things that you and Steve have bonded over.

“Just come live with me, instead,” he offers without hesitation.

Steve says it like it’s obvious, a no-brainer, and you guess it should be, since you’ve slept over at the Harrington’s house countless times before. Only, this is different because you’d be staying for a while, because you’d be needing his help, which makes you feel all awkward and guilty.

He’s been your absolute best friend for as long as you can remember, and you’re one hundred percent sure you’d offer the same thing if the roles were reversed, but that doesn’t make it any easier for you to accept, not when you’re already frazzled from the events of the day.

“No, Steve, I’m sorry I’m just being dramatic,” you say, twisting the phone’s cord around your finger. “I’ll be fine, really. It’s just a month, or so, and I don’t wanna be in your way or-”

“When have you ever cared about being in my way, angel?” The pet name he’s called you ever since your ninth grade Halloween party slips out naturally, the way it always does. ���Besides, this house is too fucking big for me as it is, and you know my parents won’t be around to care, either.”

“I can’t ask you to let me move in, Steve.”

“Well then, it’s a good thing you’re not asking. I’m offering. It’ll be like that one week when we were twelve and you stayed over for spring break, only longer. It’s perfect!”

There’s a small smile ghosting across your face as you recall the memory he’s talking about. A blanket fort in their spacious living room, sleeping bags and pillows piled inside it along with two flashlights.

You can picture the way he looks on the other end of the phone, his hair a bit messy from running his hands through it during the day, one strand rogue against his forehead, his shoulder leaned carelessly against the wall the way it usually is when he stands. Like he can’t be bothered to hold himself up, like there’s constantly a weight on him.

“Are you sure about this, Steve? It’s really okay if you’re not. I swear I’ll be fine.”

“As if I’m letting you spend multiple weeks back in your parent’s house. You’re staying with me, alright?” His voice is insistent, yet kind, letting you know that he’s being honest, that he means it. “We’ll order pizzas and watch shitty romcoms, ‘kay?”

“You can call romcoms shitty all you want, but we both know you get teary at every single one.”

“Don't change the subject, angel. Also, fuck off,” he says, though you can hear the smile in his voice. “So, you’re living with me, yeah?”

You don’t think you could say no to him even if you wanted to.

“Yeah, alright, Steve. Thank you so much.”

“None of that. I know you’d do the same.”

There’s something beautiful about the kind of trust and ease that comes with a friendship as long as yours. One where you’ve watched each other grow up, awkward phases and all, and stuck together the entire way. There’s no questioning whether or not you’d be there for each other if you were in need.

It’s known, felt. Like a fact.

“Now,” he continues, “I’ll pick you up, okay? Ten minutes, tops.”

“Okay.”

“You need me to bring boxes for your stuff?”

“I’m not sure how much is worth keeping. It’s pretty ugly in there.”

Your voice goes small at the end, because the gravity of it all is really sinking in. You’ll have to replace a lot of stuff. Stuff you don’t have money for right now.

But, you haven’t let yourself cry just yet, so you swallow it down.

“I’ll bring some anyway, then. We’ll figure it out, angel, don’t worry.”

“Thanks again, Steve. See you soon.”

“Ten minutes,” he assures you, then the line clicks.

-

True to his word, Steve arrives in under ten minutes, which isn’t surprising considering the size of Hawkins, but feels reassuring all the same.

You’re sitting on the curb in front of the house when Steve’s BMW pulls over on the other side of the road, and you stand just as he climbs out and shuts his door, rounding the car and jogging over to you.

His keys jingle as he tucks them into the pocket of his faded jeans, his opposite hand coming up to squeeze your shoulder, “You okay?”

The warmth of his palm seeps through your work shirt that you’ve yet to change out of, and you let your eyes fall shut just for a second before looking at his face, “Guess so,” you nod. “Maybe ask me again after all of this?”

Steve’s arm winds itself over your shoulders, tugging you into his side and dropping a kiss to the top of your head, simple as an instinct. “I’ve got you. We’ll get through this, angel.”

We’ll, he says. A team.

You reach up and squeeze his hand and nod, guiding him to the side-entrance leading to your basement apartment.

“I hope you didn’t wear your good shoes for this,” you say.

Steve looks down at his feet and shrugs, “Shoes can be replaced.”

He lets you lead the way down the stairs, his footsteps close behind yours. You wince when you look at the damage again, even though you’d seen it minutes ago. You can't bring yourself to look at Steve, to see the reaction on his face, because you think it’ll just make it all more real.

He mouths the word ‘fuck’ while you aren’t looking, then claps his hands once. “Okay, let’s figure out what we can save, yeah? Where do you want me?”

You’re grateful for his gentle guidance at what to do. “Maybe the bathroom? Everything in there should be fine, so it just needs to be packed.”

“‘Kay. I’ll just go grab some boxes from my car,” Steve says. He squeezes your hand once before heading up the stairs. “I’ll be right back.”

You decide to tackle the worst spot first. Though the place is more like a studio, the side that houses your bed and your closet is the most affected, so you head over there and try to tune out the squish of the carpet beneath your feet.

You’re opening the sliding doors to your closet when Steve comes back, dropping a stack of boxes by your feet and running his hand down your arm softly before heading over to the bathroom to pack for you.

Even his presence seems to be making things a little bit easier for you, and each time he finds a small way to touch you or speak to you, to remind you that he’s there, you’re glad for it.

Half of your closet is a gross, wet mess, but some things are salvageable, which you take as a win. Things might be damp, but at least it’s only water, you suppose. A cycle in the dryer and most things will be wearable again.

Your dresses that are hung get the worst of it, soaked and smelly, and you decide that it’d be easier to get a couple new ones than to try and save what’s there.

Steve checks in every now and then, poking his head out of the bathroom’s doorway to look at you and make sure you’re doing alright, giving you a thumbs up when you look over to him.

You’re not sure how you’d be managing this if you were alone, and you’re thankful that you don’t have to.

The next time he checks on you, you’re by your nightstand.

Sitting atop of it is a framed picture of you and Steve from summer camp when you were around ten years old, maybe younger. Only now, the picture’s stained with water and the frame you’d decorated all those years ago at camp is a splotchy mess.

Where yours and Steve’s handwriting used to be, is now a blur from the water seeping into the wooden frame, the marker’s colors muddy. You frown, picking it up and running your thumb over the edge.

Before you can stop yourself, you’re tearing up, frustrated and sad and tired. Memories like this one are the most special to you, the ones that have kept you going for so long, and just like that, the picture that’s sat on your nightstand since being taken is gone, and it fucking sucks.

“Hey, angel?” Steve calls.

When all you do is sniffle and mumble an “mhm?” in response, he sets the box he’d been packing on the bathroom counter and walks over to you.

He comes up behind you, resting his hands on your upper-arms and peering over your shoulder at the ruined picture.

“It was my favorite one,” you say, voice breaking a little. You wipe your tear away as it trails down your cheek, your own fingertips too harsh against your skin.

Although it’s soaked and splotchy now, Steve knows which picture it is. The one where you’ve both got your neon summer camp t-shirts on, the one where his cheeks and nose are completely sunburnt and you’re both grinning up at the camera from your seats on the ground.

Steve’s clutching a stick in his hand for some reason, and you’ve got your fist tangled in the sleeve of his shirt.

It feels like no time and forever has passed since then.

Steve grabs the picture and pries it gently from your hands, setting it back onto the table and turning you around in his grip to face him.

“We can fix it,” he tells you, his brown eyes all soft as his hands come up to cup your face, thumbs swiping your tears away.

“But the frame-”

“We’ll fix it, angel. I’ll find a way, okay? We can pack it in one of the boxes and figure it out.”

“Steve-”

“Look at me,” he urges you when your gaze flickers to the ground. You listen. “This fucking sucks, I know it does, but you’re strong and I’m here, and we can handle this.”

His voice is quiet, but sure. You search his face for any trace of a lie and find none. He really believes what he’s saying, and he really believes in you.

“Thank you for being here.” You take a deep breath and drop your forehead against the collar of his shirt. “I’m sorry for crying. I know it’s kinda stupid. Most of this is replaceable, it’s just-”

“It’s not stupid,” he says, letting his chin rest atop your head. “You’re allowed to cry. Hell, I’d probably be kicking and screaming on the floor like I'm back in the terrible twos.”

You laugh wetly into his shirt.

“Now,” he says, pulling back and putting his hands on his hips, “the quicker we pack, the quicker we go home. I’ll even let you wear a pair of my good fuzzy socks.”

A smile tugs at your mouth. “Deal.”

-

Steve wouldn’t let you do much of the work after that.

Instead, he simply held up items for you to assess from where you’d been leaning against the wall and packed it into a box if it was a ‘yes,’ or tossing it aside dramatically just to try and get you to laugh if it was a ‘no.’

Once things were sorted through and packed, you loaded everything into Steve’s car—which wasn’t a whole bunch, considering how much you had to leave behind.

You’d refused to let Steve carry the boxes all on his own, though he tried, but he still managed to open the doors for you whenever you made it to his car, even when his own hands were full, too.

By the time you were finished, you were drained. It felt like you’d lived multiple days in the one. An eight hour shift opening at the store, then coming home to a wrecked apartment. All you wanted to do was shower and lay down and not get back up.

Steve knows you well enough to be able to tell when it’s time to fill the silence and when it isn’t, and on the drive back to his place, while your head was leaned against his window, he knew to stay quiet and give you a bit of space.

He turned the radio on, but not too loud, letting the songs hum through the speakers. At every stop sign, he reached over and gave your thigh a light squeeze. Reassuring, kind, somehow exactly what you needed at the moment. Nothing more, nothing less.

You were no stranger to the Harrington’s house, having been there countless times since you were little, but it feels more intimidating now, knowing you’ll be staying. You feel silly for being worried, but you are. Asking for help makes you feel like a burden.

Steve, however, doesn’t let you entertain that thought for long, parking in his driveway and jogging around to open the passenger door for you. “Honey, we’re home!”

“Dork,” you say, though you accept his hand and let him tug you up out of the car.

Grabbing the first couple of boxes, Steve leads you inside and upstairs, right to the guest room across the hall from his own bedroom. The closest one to him.

The house has at least two guest rooms, though you suppose with how little Steve's parents are around, you could consider there to be three. Three spare rooms and Steve puts you up in the nearest one possible. It makes your heart squish in your chest, how caring he is. He doesn’t even have to try, really, the goodness in him shows even when he tries to keep it hidden.

It only takes a few trips down to his car and back before all of your boxes are stacked against the wall. You decide you’ll deal with them later.

Steve runs over to his room and grabs a set of pajamas that you’d left there, and hands them to you. “I figured you’d wanna wash up.”

“You calling me smelly, Harrington?”

“Shut up, I think you smell nice. Usually.”

“Hey!”

“I’m teasing, angel.” He ruffles your hair. You swat his hand away. “You know where the bathroom is, and there should be soap and stuff in the shower already. Just yell if you need something, okay?”

You do know where the bathroom is. You have your own toothbrush in a cup by the sink, a set of travel-sized skin care products in the cupboard behind the mirror for whenever you end up staying over.

It’s funny, you’ve always felt more at home here than at your own parents house, and though he hasn’t said it to you, Steve much prefers this house when you’re in it. There’s a warmth that comes with your presence that makes him ache when it’s not around.

You nod, “Thank you again for letting me stay, Steve. I won’t be in the way, promise.”

“I want you in the way. You know you’re always welcome. This is no different.” He shrugs, “Plus, it’ll be nice having you around. Place always feels so empty when it’s just me.”

“Maybe I’ll just stay forever, then,” you say, tone light and joking.

Steve, completely serious, says, “I’d let you.”

There’s a zip that goes through you when he says it, quick as lightning, something you’ve never felt—or noticed, rather—around him. It throws you off just a little.

“Anyways,” Steve cuts your thoughts short, “I’ll let you get settled. Pizza will be waiting for you when you’re done.”

He leaves the room before you can thank him again, his footsteps retreating and heading downstairs.

You’ve been to his house a million times, so you don’t really feel the need to ‘get settled’ but you desperately need a shower so that’s where you go.

You stay in for longer than you need to, letting the too-hot water run down your neck and back.

When you finally do step out of the bathroom, now clad in your pajamas, and head downstairs, Steve’s sitting on the couch in the living room, the romcoms he owns sitting out in front of the TV for you to choose from, your favorite blanket resting on your side of the couch, and pizza boxes on the coffee table just as promised.

It’s the best thing in the world, you think, to have a friend like Steve.

-

You’ve been staying at Steve’s for a couple of days already, and time seems to fly by a little quicker when you’re there, especially when you’re around him.

He’s taken it upon himself to have coffee ready in the pot for you every morning, one of your favorite mugs already next to it on the counter. You’ve cooked breakfasts together (pancakes one day, where you’d done most of the work, or something simple as toast when you both have to get to work), ordered dinners, and Steve comes home from his shifts with a new movie to watch almost every day.

It’s been so nice. Almost perfect, actually.

This morning, the first day where your shifts happen to be at the exact same time, he’d even insisted on driving you to work. It was an easy yes, considering it wasn’t out of his way at all.

After a short stint of working together at the grocery store in ninth grade, and your subsequent firing from the job after a month of constantly distracting each other on the clock, Tim, the grocery manager, took it upon himself to warn Hawkins not to hire the both of you together.

Eventually, you’d taken the closest you could get which resulted in you working at the arcade and Steve next door at Family Video.

You share a parking lot. Steve already drives you to work most days. You like to put up a bit of a fight just to annoy him.

Though you haven’t worked together in years, and he isn’t far away by any means, you miss having Steve around on days like this. Where the arcade is quiet save for the sounds of the games in the background, where you’re simply babysitting the desk and cleaning things multiple times to try and make the hours pass by.

If Steve were with you, he’d make stupid jokes that you don’t wanna laugh at but do, or coerce you into playing the games while on the clock with the change you find whenever you’re cleaning.

He’d probably trash talk you, and bump your hip with his while playing pinball, and be a sore loser, and for some reason you want him around so bad.

You chalk it up to getting used to spending hours and hours with him, every single day, these past couple of days. Staying with him has made you miss him more, you think.

That’s it.

Meanwhile, over at Family Video, Steve isn’t feeling too different from you.

He’s spent the morning stocking shelves, memories popping into his head whenever he’d come across a movie you loved or watched together, while Robin’s been manning the desk.

Then, when his cart was empty and put back into the back room, he sat on the chair behind the front desk, spinning around until Robin stopped him with her foot and asked what he was thinking so hard about.

Steve caught her up on what had happened with your apartment (you’d told him he could tell her, because she’s your friend too and would find out sooner or later) and how you’d ended up staying with him in his house.

She raised her eyebrows and hummed in a way that was automatically suspicious, because Robin isn’t very good at hiding things.

“What?” Steve asks.

“Nothing.” When Steve only gives her a pointed look, Robin continues, “Well… are you sure that’s a good idea?”

Now, Robin is one of Steve’s closest friends, and him one of hers, and she supports him in pretty much everything that he does even when she teases him relentlessly along the way, but she cares about both of you and doesn’t want to see anyone hurt.

She can read Steve better than he can read himself, probably, because to Robin, it’s clear that he feels more than friendly towards you. And he doesn’t even know it.

When they became closer, it was clear to Robin, even before meeting you, just from the way Steve spoke of you, that there was a spot reserved for you in his life that couldn’t be filled by anyone else.

He would say it’s that of ‘best friend’ but Robin would call it something even bigger than that. Still, even though she thinks he’s an absolute dingus, she’s trying to let Steve figure it out for himself.

Clearly, it’s taking fucking forever.

He looks confused at her question, “Why wouldn’t it be a good idea?”

Robin sighs and resists the urge to drop her forehead against the desk and decides on, “You know what they say: become friends with your roommates, don’t become roommates with your friends.”

“Whoever they are, they’re dumb as shit,” Steve says. “She’s been over, slept over, hundreds of times. It’s not any different, just longer.”

“I guess so,” she settles on. “The rules of the world never really seem to apply to you two.”

“That’s because the rules of the world are also dumb as shit.”

“How would you know? It’s not like you’ve ever tried following them.”

“‘Cause I’m a rule breaker, Robs.”

Steve wiggles his eyebrows. Robin shoves the rolling chair he’s sitting on with her foot, sending it into the other side of the desk with a thud.

“Don’t think that smoking weed in your backyard is enough to call yourself a rule breaker, dingus.”

-

That night, your routine was pretty much the same.

Steve was already waiting for you in his car when you left the arcade, a smile spreading onto his face when he saw you making your way across the parking lot to him, your skirt swishing a little with the breeze.

Rather than go straight home, you made a stop at your apartment to talk things over with the couple who owned the home. They’d met with a builder and plumber about getting everything fixed and wanted to walk you through it all.

Steve came with you and held your hand, and both of them cooed at him and pinched his cheeks and called him a cutie before getting to the important stuff.

After going over what had to be done (rip out the carpet, replace it, fix the pipes and make sure no others were at risk, replace the ceiling, and more you couldn’t even remember already), they’d assured you that they would be taking care of it all. Covering the entire cost.

You probably would’ve argued if not for how little money was in your bank account, and how stubborn you knew these people to be. Instead, you’d squeezed them both and thanked them while your eyes grew misty with tears.

Steve’s hand stayed in yours and squeezed when you sniffled.

He knew, because he knew pretty much everything about you, that these people were kinder to you than even your own parents. That, if this had happened at their house, they would’ve found a way to blame you for it.

You feel lucky to have found that kind of parental love elsewhere, sad that you didn’t know exactly what it felt like beforehand.

After giving the couple Steve’s phone number to call in case they needed you and giving them both another hug, you and Steve headed back home.

Home, you call it. Like it’s yours.

Sometimes it feels like it is.

Later, after you and Steve have both showered and had dinner and gotten comfy in your sweats, you’re back in the living room, Steve shows you the movie he’s brought back this time.

“Gremlins?” You ask, smiling and shaking your head.

“Hell yeah, angel. It’s a classic.”

Steve sets everything up, joining you on the couch after pressing ‘play’ on the movie and adjusting the volume with your guidance.

“So, how was work?” Steve asks during the opening credits. The two of you have a hard time being next to each other and not talking. It’s why you get dirty looks whenever you go to the movies.

“Weekdays are so boring, Steve,” you say, letting your head fall against the back of the couch. “You’re so lucky you have Robin to entertain you during the day. I think I dusted like, ten times at least.”

“Robin is a pain in my ass.” He says. He doesn’t really mean it, because even when she is, he’s glad to have her around. A different kind of gladness than he feels with you. “She kept pushing me every time I sat in the rolling chair. There’s probably a dent in the desk.”

“That’s because you were probably hogging the chair, Steve.”

“What the fuck!” Steve’s smiling when he says it, lacking any sort of anger. “You’re supposed to be on my side.”

Your smile mirrors his, the way it always does. It’s contagious, you think, the way his eyes crinkle at the corner.

Shrugging, you say, “I don’t know, I’d wanna push you around on that chair too, I think.”

“You’d spin me too much. I’d get sick all over you and then nobody’s happy.”

“Don’t talk about barf while I’m eating, Harrington.”

You throw a piece of popcorn at him. It bounces off his cheek and lands on his lap, and he doesn’t even flinch. Steve just picks it up and pops it into his mouth.

When the bowl’s empty, you lean forward and set it on the coffee table before sinking back into the couch, Steve's shoulder brushing yours. You let the warmth seep through your clothes and shut your eyes.

It’s a little more than halfway through the movie when Steve realizes you’re asleep. You’d been quiet, sure, but Steve only thought that meant you were paying attention to the movie.

That was, until your head slipped and rested against his shoulder.

He looked down at you, at the hair falling across your forehead (he smoothed it away gently, so it wouldn’t be in your eyes or your mouth), your eyebrows relaxed and free of any worry, your chest rising and falling with steady breaths.

He thinks of how tired you must be, after everything. Your apartment and dealing with the aftermath both emotionally and physically, working long shifts most days to keep your bank account full.

Steve, though he doesn’t let himself look too deep into it, also thinks of how beautiful you are. Now and always.

Not wanting you to get a kink in your neck from the position, Steve decides to rouse you from sleep as gently as possible. He slips a hand under your head to keep it steady and maneuvers himself to kneel in front of you.

“Hey, angel,” he almost whispers, thumb dragging across your cheek. “C’mon, let’s get you to bed.”

Your nose scrunches and you grumble, but after some coaxing, you blink your eyes open and squint at Steve. You blame your half-asleep mind on the way you nuzzle into his palm. “Hmm?”

“You fell asleep.”

“Oh, sorry,” you mumble.

Steve laughs softly. “Don’t be sorry, I just didn’t want you to be uncomfortable.”

The warmth of his hand leaves your cheek as he stands and holds his hands out for you to grab. He pulls you up off the couch and starts leading you towards the stairs.

You knuckle at your eyes on the way, a tiny smile gracing your face at how sweet Steve’s being. As if you haven’t fallen asleep on his couch plenty of times before.

Still sleepy, you stumble a little on the stairs, but Steve catches you easily with an arm around your waist and a small “Careful.”

He leaves his arm there the rest of the way to what’s become your bedroom, guiding you over to the bed and lifting the covers for you.

Tomorrow, you’ll regret not brushing your teeth or washing your face before climbing in bed. But today, you don’t feel like risking not being able to sleep again if you wake yourself up further.

You’re practically asleep again by the time you’re settled with your head on the pillow as Steve tugs the blankets over you.

You’re just awake enough to feel the light press of his lips on your forehead and a soft “Goodnight, angel” against your skin before he leaves the room and shuts the door behind him.

-

On a random Thursday that you and Steve both have off, he convinces you to let him take you to the mall.

“We should go shopping,” he says when you walk into the kitchen. It’s a little later in the morning, having slept in since it’s a day off, the sun slipping through the window in warm beams.

You raise your eyebrows at him. “Like, groceries?”

“No, like shopping shopping. You know, the mall?”

You lean against the kitchen island, the countertop cool on your back where it touches the sliver of skin between your tank top and sleep shorts. Steve has his shoulder against the fridge, his arms crossed over his chest, the sleeves of his t-shirt tight against his muscles. Not that you’re looking.

You squint at him, trying to find his motive on his face. “You literally buy whatever the mannequins are wearing to avoid shopping.”

“That’s what they’re there for!” The sass in his voice has you biting back a smile. “You need new clothes,” he continues, “and I need to get out of this house.”

“We can do something else, Steve,” you say. “I thought you hated shopping.”

“Well, I don’t hate you.” There’s a pause, Steve’s eyes lowering to that sliver of skin above your shorts. He flicks them back to your face quickly, hoping you didn’t notice, because even he’s not sure what compelled his eyes to wander. “Plus, Eddie called me a hermit the other day and I really can’t stand for that, can I?”

“Ohhh,” you ignore the way your skin suddenly feels warm beneath his gaze, “so you need to make a public appearance to prove Eddie wrong?”

“Exactly. We’ll replace some of the things you lost and restore my reputation. Two birds, one stone, right angel?”

So that’s how you’d ended up at the mall. After Starcourt burnt down, the closest place was a couple towns over, and Steve (as always) offered to drive.

He lets you pick the music the entire way, sings along when you hold your water bottle by his mouth like a microphone, even attempts to harmonize with you which just ends in laughter because neither of you sounded that great.

You’re a couple of stores in, and Steve’s been complaint-free so far—which makes sense, since this was his idea, but you’ve caught him side-eyeing some things, so you know he’s got some remarks in his head he just hasn’t said out loud—and follows you around as you browse. You try not to take too long, because you can’t imagine that this is any fun for him.

“How about that one?” Steve asks, pointing at one of the dresses hanging along the store’s wall.

He’d seen your apartment, though that was a bit ago, and he remembered what you’d lost the most of, along with the type of stuff you like. He pays attention like that, in small, quiet ways that you think mean the most.

He knows you. He cares enough to know you.

“Yeah, that’s really pretty, actually,” you admit.

At your approval, Steve grabs one in your size (which he also just happens to know) and adds it to the couple of things he’d already been holding for you. Every time you picked something up, he was quick to snatch it from you, telling you it was ‘too hard to browse with your hands full.’

After making your way through the rest of the store, you decided to head back to try things on, holding out a hand for the stuff Steve’s holding. “You can wait out here, I’ll be quick.”

“Hold on,” he says, holding the hangers out of your reach. “Why do you think I’m here, angel? I wanna help you pick.”

“Seriously?”

“Yes, seriously. Give me a fashion show, yeah?”

“Oh my God,” you mumble, letting him follow you to the fitting rooms.

They’re hidden behind the back wall of the store, a hallway painted bright blue with pink changeroom doors on one side, and white benches along the other.

“Hi there,” an employee with auburn hair greets you both, her smile wide and kind, though you know it’s a practiced one. Customer service smile. “How many you got there, darling?”

“Oh, um,” you turn back towards Steve, who’s counting the hangers in his hand. “Five.”

“Perfect!” The girl takes the key hanging around her neck and unlocks one of the rooms for you. She takes the clothes from Steve and hangs them up inside for you, then turns to the two of you and says, “Your man can have a seat right here. We call them the ‘boyfriend benches.’”

“He’s not my-”

“Thanks,” Steve says, cutting off your correction because for some reason he didn’t want you to correct her.

Did he… like the idea of being your boyfriend?

Fuck. No. He just didn’t want you to have to explain the whole situation in your rambly way. That’s all.

The redhead smiles again, “Holler if you need anything,” she says before walking off.

You stand there for a second, something like confusion on your face. Did it look like you were boyfriend and girlfriend?

“Come on,” Steve says, snapping the both of you out of whatever that was. “Show me what you’ve got.”

“I can't believe you’re making me do this,” you say, walking into the fitting room and shutting the door.

You try on a couple of sweaters first, and Steve feels the fabric both times, making sure that it’s not scratchy on your skin. Then, there’s just some basic t-shirts that aren’t all that exciting, but Steve says they look nice anyway.

Finally, you get to the dress he picked out.

It really was pretty. A midi-length with a ruffled hem and straps that tie into little bows on your shoulders. You don’t always feel good in your clothes. Sometimes you wish you could crawl out of your skin when you look into the mirror, but right now, you don’t hate what you see.

You actually like it.

“Well?” Steve calls softly from the bench.

In response, you open the door and step out so he can see you.

Steve’s seen you in plenty of dresses—hell, you went to prom together—but for some reason this one makes his heart beat just a little bit quicker. Maybe it’s simply the fact that it looks great on you, or the way you’re smiling shyly as he looks you over.

Or, maybe it’s because he’s the one who picked it.

He stands up, spinning his finger in the air in a gesture for you to twirl. You roll your eyes but do it anyway, and he can’t take his eyes off of you. The hallway of fitting rooms isn’t very big, so with both of you in it, you’re standing toe to toe, the gold flecks in the middle of Steve’s eyes and the faint freckles that dot his nose are visible from where you stand.

As if he can’t help it, Steve lifts a finger and dips it beneath the strap on your shoulder. Not moving it or undoing it, just gliding along your skin where it sits.

“You look beautiful,” he says. His voice goes all quiet and soft when he says it, and his eyes widen a tiny bit, like he hadn’t meant it to slip out that way. It sounded… more than friendly. He clears his throat and steps back as much as he can in the small space, his finger leaving your skin. “I have great taste. Clearly.”

You blink at him, then shake yourself out of it as much as you can. “Yeah. Don’t let it get to your head.” You lift the tag where it hangs by your armpit and look at the price. You gasp and swat Steve’s arm. “Steve! Why would you let me walk into a place so expensive?”

You probably should’ve looked at the tag beforehand, but here you are. Steve, shrugging exaggeratedly, says, “I didn’t know!”

“Okay, I’m gonna change before she comes back. We can make a run for it.”

“We’re not stealing.”

“I know, but they look at you all judgemental when you try stuff on and don’t buy something. Trust me.”

You turn and go back into the fitting room to put on your own clothes, taking a look at the dress in the mirror one last time before shaking your head at yourself.

Steve, however, takes the opportunity to leave you and head back out into the store. He finds the dress easily and grabs another one in your size from the rack and heads to the cashier.

He’s just finishing up, bag in hand, when you walk out and meet him at the front of the store.

“For you,” he says, holding out the bag for you to take.

“Steve…” You grab it and look inside. Your chest aches when you see the dress, your heart suddenly too full and your stomach fluttering stupidly. “You didn’t have to do that. I would’ve been fine with something from the Gap.”

“I know that,” he says, a hand lifting to scratch at the back of his neck. It’s a nervous tick of his, and the thought of him being nervous right now makes you melt even more. “I wanted to get it for you. You looked too pretty in it not to have it.”

Your eyes catch his, and again, something passes between you that you don’t think you’ve ever felt before. A fizzle, a spark.

You rock back on your feet, looking down at the ground before meeting his eyes again. They’re so fucking soft it makes you wonder how lucky you have to be to have him in your life. Being your best friend, driving you to work even when he doesn’t have a shift, offering you a place to stay, buying you a dress.

He’s the sweetest boy you’ve ever known.

“Well,” you twist the straps of the bag around your fingers just to keep them busy. “Thank you, Steve. This is really nice.”

His knuckle traces down your arm just once, featherlight. “You’re welcome, angel.”

You don’t buy anything else after that, instead stopping at the food court for fries, stealing from each other’s baskets, smiling and slapping hands away.

It’s the best day you’ve had in a while.

-

You don’t think anything you do will convey just how grateful you are that Steve has been so kind to you. Always, but especially now. Letting you stay with him and refusing to let you pay rent. (“I don’t even pay rent, and I live here all the time.”)

But, this morning, you’ve decided you’re gonna try.

Steve’s favorite meal of the day happens to be breakfast, which is funny, considering he usually eats something as simple as cereal. He’d told you once that it was because, as a kid, breakfast was the most peaceful of meals, his parents too busy getting ready for work or wherever they were going that he’d have the kitchen table to himself.

Lunch was usually spent at school, and Steve was never a fan of school to begin with. Then there was dinner, which his parents (when they were home) still wanted to have all together. They’d ask him questions and make backhanded comments about every single answer he gave. He never won at dinner.

So, breakfast was, and has remained, his favorite.

You made sure to get up early enough to give yourself time to get everything ready before he wakes up. Steve’s usually the one making the coffee in the morning, and you figured the least you could do was give him a break.

Yesterday, while Steve had been at work, you went over to the Wheeler’s and asked Nancy if you could borrow their waffle maker. She’d directed the question to her mother, who went and grabbed it for you and handed it over with a smile. You promised to take good care of it and have it back in a couple of days.

By the time Steve walks into the kitchen, you’ve already made the batter and set out the toppings—berries, maple syrup, whipped cream—like a buffet. However, he just so happens to come in as you’re swearing at the waffle maker.

“Stupid fucking thing,” you mutter, trying to open it.

Steve smiles to himself before saying, “Morning, angel.”

You jump at his voice, not having heard him walk in. When you turn around, your heart beats for a different reason.

Steve’s still only in his pajama pants, plaid and soft, hanging low on his hips. And he’s shirtless, his chest smattered with hair and his skin a little tanned from the sun. He’s got beauty marks all over, like a constellation you could chart, and his abs are just visible beneath the soft of his stomach. A trail of hair leading to the waistband of his pants and disappearing beneath them.

You’ve seen Steve shirtless plenty of times. Swimming and sleeping over in the summer, in high school when you used to go to his practices, but it hits you harder for some reason this time.

The way his hair is still a mess from sleep, his eyes a bit heavy. The way it feels to be greeting him in the kitchen, cooking breakfast. Intimate. Domestic.

You clear your throat and turn back around to pry the waffle maker open, revealing a slightly burnt but otherwise good-looking waffle. “I’m making breakfast. Coffee’s already in the pot, too.”

He walks over, his chest close to your back as he grabs a mug from the cabinet above you before heading over to pour himself a cup. He looks at the spread you’ve prepared, “Waffles, huh? What did I do to deserve all this?”

“Just wanted to do something nice for you,” you say as Steve walks over to lean against the counter next to you, his hip barely touching yours. “To thank you, in a way. For letting me stay and the dress and-”

“How many times do I have to tell you to stop thanking me?” He says, though his voice is soft and still a bit rough from sleep. “I like having you around.”

“So you don’t want the waffles then?”

“Oh, I want the waffles. I just don’t want you to feel like you have to do anything for me. It’s not some debt you’ll owe me, angel.”

“Want you to know I appreciate you is all,” you say, pouring a new scoop of batter into the waffle maker.

Steve, unsure of what exactly possesses him to do so, dips in and presses a kiss to the apple of your cheek, his lips a whisper away from your skin when he says, “I appreciate you, too.”

Then he pulls away and moves to set the table. Like it was natural.

And it was, in a way. How you moved around each other in the kitchen. You leaning out of the way when he needed to reach something you were blocking, him putting a hand on your lower back when he walked behind you so you knew he was there.

Your cheek still tingles from where he’d kissed it when you bring the plate of waffles to the table, your skin somehow even warmer under his gaze, like he’s still remembering exactly how it felt, too.

You sit in the chair beside Steve, not noticing the way he tugs it a bit closer to him with his foot before you sit down. Soon enough, both of you are digging in. Steve’s got more whipped cream on his plate than waffle (you tell him as much) and you’ve got your berries on the side the way you always do.

Neither of you work until later in the day, and it’s nice knowing that you can take your time. Steve tells you about the advice he gave Dustin about how to be ‘cooler’ in school (he’d told him that being cool is completely overrated, he knew from experience, and that being himself is the most important). You’d told him he was going soft with age.

You talk about anything at all. How Keith somehow manages both of your places of work, how he also somehow does both terribly. The way he says ‘if you have time to lean, you have time to clean’ while literally having Cheeto dust on his fingers. Laughing at each other’s impressions of him.

What the new highscores were at the arcade, what people were renting from Family Video.

You wonder what it’ll be like when you have to leave. When you’re living alone again.

Logically, you know you’ll still see Steve frequently, because he’s your favorite person and you can’t remember the last time you went longer than a few days without hanging out. Still, it’ll be different than right now, waking up in the same space and sharing breakfast and brushing your teeth side by side in the mirror.

You’ll miss it, you think.

Trying not to dwell on something that’s still a few weeks away, you take another bite of your waffle. Steve catches your chin and wipes off a bit of whipped cream from the corner of your mouth, then pulling away and sucking it off his thumb.

He goes back to his own plate without a thought. Like touching you just now was an instinct.

Then, he teases you, “These are a little crispy, angel. Maybe you should stick to letting me make breakfast in this household.”

You kick his leg under the table. “That’s a funny way of saying ‘thank you,’ Harrington.”

He kicks you back, much gentler than you’d been. “Thank you.”

“That’s what I thought.”

When you look at him, there’s an easy, boyish smile on his face.

A similar one stretches across your own lips.

-

Steve has had the thought pop up into his head a couple of times, that maybe he should’ve just asked you to live with him before you ever bought that apartment. Because having you around feels the most right things have ever felt in his house.

And though the circumstances of your moving in with him (temporarily, he has to remind himself), were far from ideal, he can’t lie and say that he isn’t glad that you’ve ended up sharing his space.

The room across the hall will always be yours, even when you move back to your place.

He knows that you feel indebted to him for all of it, but if anyone owes the other something, he feels like it’s him. For everything you’ve ever done for him. Sticking around even when he was an asshole in highschool, defending him to his parents whenever you’d cross paths, simply being the kind of friend he needed.

Even when you’re not around, he can picture your face, the way your smile spreads slowly until you’re fucking beaming. Worse, the way you cried into his chest that day at your apartment.

He remembers the crack in your voice when you spoke about that picture frame from summer camp. Though he hasn’t seen you cry since, or even bring it up, he’s decided he wants to fix it. He’d told you he would.

Dustin wound up roped into his plan: find a similar frame, decorate it the exact same way, and scour the photo albums in Steve’s room for his copy of that same picture.

When he was younger, the photo albums pissed him off, because they were purely for show. Pictures of his family that were all fake smiles. Now, he’s glad for them, because at least he has some good memories to look back on. To know it wasn’t always all bad.

Steve probably should’ve thought that one through, because when they looked through his albums, he was on the receiving end of relentless teasing from Dustin. (“Dude, you have an insane boogie in this picture.” “I was four!”)

He hopes it’ll be worth it.

Dustin was the one who found the picture they’d been looking for, and he cheered and waved it in Steve’s face as if they’d been racing.

Now, after driving Dustin back home, decorating the frame the way the two of you did as kids, trying to make his handwriting look like it did back then (which wasn’t too difficult, ‘cause Steve’s writing still isn’t that neat), he’s waiting for you to come downstairs before giving it to you.

He’d picked you up after your shift at the arcade not too long ago, but he knows you like to shower and change as soon as you get home from work, so he’d taken the opportunity to wrap the frame and have it ready for you.

Steve can hear you singing in the shower, and he knows you’re done when it goes quiet. A few minutes later you’re walking down the stairs in a baggy t-shirt and silky sleep shorts.

His eyes, for some reason, linger on your legs for a second.

He stands up, frame in his hand, when you walk over. “I have something for you.”

“Steve! Stop buying me things. Seriously.”

“This thing was free, so you can’t even be mad,” he says, smiling almost sheepishly.

Your eyes search his face, flickering between his own and dipping down to his lips and his nose and back to his eyes. He looks… nervous.

Steve’s never nervous around you.

“Okay,” you say, shuffling on your feet. “What is it?”

“Here,” he hands you the poorly-wrapped frame. “Open it.”

You scrunch your brows at him once, because you have no idea what it could be. It isn’t your birthday, or any sort of holiday at all. With zero guesses, you look down at the light yellow wrapping paper in your hands and slowly tear it open.

What you find makes your eyes grow misty, tears pooling at your lash line but not quite falling.

It’s your favorite picture, the one of you and Steve in those stupid neon shirts with messy hair and dirt on your hands. Only now, it’s not water damaged, and the frame is new, but decorated just like the old one. You run your thumbs over the glass lightly, smiling down at little you and little Steve.

When you look back up at him, he’s already looking at you, his brown eyes all warm, his smile kind but also worried, waiting for your reaction.

Seeing his face springs you into motion, jumping forward and wrapping your arms around his neck tightly with the frame still in your hand. “Thank you,” you say into his skin.

Steve’s arms move to hold you around your waist without a thought. A reflex. They squeeze you close to him, his nose pressed into your damp hair, smelling your shampoo.

“It’s not perfect,” he says. “But I know how much you love that picture, and I wanted to fix it.”

“Steve. Shut up. It is perfect.”

“I’m glad you think so,” he says, his thumbs running back and forth against your back.

You hug for what could’ve been minutes, but neither of you moves to pull away first. You’re not sure if it’s still considered friendly to stand in each other's arms, breathing each other in, for so long, but you don’t care at the moment.

This is probably the nicest thing anyone’s done for you in a long, long time.

When you finally do pull away, you don’t go far. Your arms stay slung over his shoulders, Steve’s hands framing your hips. His thumbs still dragging those sweet patterns against you.

“I’m keeping it forever,” you tell him.

“You sure?” he asks.

“Certain. You’ll always be my best friend, Steve.”

“You’ll always be mine too, angel.”

Then, your eyes both move to each other’s lips, yours flick back up in a second, startled at their wandering.

Steve, however, is a bit transfixed. He looks at the slope of your cupid’s bow, the way your lips are shiny from your lip balm. He thinks it quickly, like a gust of wind that can’t be stopped: I really wanna kiss her right now.

Fuck. He wants to kiss his best friend.

He blinks a few times, clearing his throat and pulling back, letting his hands fall from your waist as yours slide off his shoulders. He misses the feel of your touch immediately, but he’s too freaked out and confused to do anything about it.

“What are you in the mood for tonight?” he asks, cutting off his own thoughts. “I brought back a horror and a comedy. Take your pick.”

“Mmm,” he picks up two tapes from the coffee table and holds them up for you to choose from. “Horror. Unless you’re too scared?”

“You’ll just have to hold my hand, then, won’t you?”

“I guess I will.”

You look back at the picture while Steve puts the movie into the player. You smile at it every time you see it, because you can still see parts of Steve in him now that were in him then.

His eyes, always kind, the way he smiles when he laughs, and about a half hour into the movie, the way he holds your hand and squeezes it when he’s scared.

-

You’re having one of those nights. The kind where sleep seems to be fighting you.

You worked a closing shift at the arcade, which usually lasts until late considering how long you’re open plus all of the cleaning you have to do afterwards. Today was no different, and despite how much later you finish than him at Family Video, Steve waited and drove you home. He hung out in the arcade with you until close, actually.

You’d think that after such a long day, the second your head hit the pillow you’d be out and breathing steadily. Today, that is not the case. You fell asleep for maybe an hour before a nightmare woke you up. You can’t quite remember what happened, only that you’d been yelling for Steve and he wasn’t there.

Groaning quietly, you rub your eyes and toss the blankets away. You stand up and head down to the kitchen in the dark, hand trailing along the walls to make sure you don’t bump into anything.

Just as you’re pouring yourself a glass of water, you hear the shuffle of sleepy footsteps coming into the kitchen.

“Holy shit,” he says, walking over to grab a glass, one hand on his bare chest. “I thought you were a ghost or something just now.”

You shift out of the way to let him get some water just like you did, taking the second that he’s distracted to look at him. His hair a mess, wearing nothing but his boxers. You take a big sip from your glass.

“I feel like I should be offended right now,” you say, “if you think I look like a ghost.”

“Shut up,” he says, dragging out the second word. His voice being rough from sleep makes his words sound much warmer than they are. “My eyes aren’t awake yet. Nothing to do with you, angel.”

You shake your head, though there’s a soft smile on your face the way there always seems to be when you try to be annoyed with Steve. You tilt your head at him, asking, “Couldn’t sleep?”

He shakes his head. “Been tossing and turning. Just can’t get comfortable, then I got pissed ‘cause I couldn’t get comfortable and only made it worse.”

“You would get pissed at that. Probably slapped your pillow like it was at fault.”

He folds his lips inwards and blinks at you. Because he did smack his pillow and call it a dipshit. “Why do you know everything? Spying on me?”

“Hate to say it, but you’re getting predictable, Harrington.” You shrug, then move to put your now empty glass in the dishwasher. “I know you too well.”

He looks at you, your hair falling across your shoulders, your pajama shorts riding up a little as you bend down. The moonlight slipping through the window seems to hit you perfectly. Like a halo.

Fitting, he thinks. You’re his angel, after all.

“Yeah, you do,” he agrees. Then, “What about you? Why’re you up?”

“Nightmare. Been forever since I had one.”

“You okay?” he asks, trailing a knuckle over your shoulder, pushing your hair behind it.

“Yeah,” you say, skin tingling where he’d touched you. “I can't even remember most of it, but now my brain won’t let me sleep.”

Steve wishes he could’ve protected you from whatever haunted you in your sleep. It’s silly, he knows, to think he might be able to ward away anything that hurts you, but he wants to, nonetheless.

He thinks about how comfortable he is whenever you cuddle during movie night. Your head on his shoulder or his chest, his hand on your back or waist.

So, he blurts, “Why don’t you sleep over?”

You furrow your brows at him, “Um, I’ve been sleeping over. A couple of weeks now, actually.”

“No, I mean, like in my room with me,” he says, suddenly shy at the idea. He’s grateful for the darkness, because he can feel his cheeks warming up. “A proper sleepover.”

You’ve done it before. Shared a bed a bunch of times, but for some reason your heart jumps when he says it. Your stomach swirls as you say, maybe a little too quickly, “Okay.”

Steve’s eyes widen like he’s surprised, just for a split second, before a soft smile takes over his face. He holds out a hand for you to take, “C’mon.”

Soon enough, Steve’s lifting his navy bedspread for you, letting you slip into bed next to him. He stays further away at first, letting you settle and lay on your side the way he knows you always do.

You blame sleepiness—or, maybe, the lack thereof—for the way you reach behind you for his arm and tug him closer, draping it over your own waist.

He obliges, of course, his arm securing itself across your stomach, palm spread out and warm against your sleep shirt. His chest is only a breath away from your back, though he keeps his lower half a little more distanced.

His thumb runs circles over your shirt, once, twice, three times before stilling, his forehead pressing to the back of your neck.

“Goodnight, angel,” he says into your hair.

Your hand splays itself on top of his. “Night, Steve.”

And suddenly your eyes grow heavier, and sleep doesn’t feel like much of a battle anymore.

-

You wake up the most rested you’ve felt in a while. There’s warmth surrounding you, but not the uncomfortable kind. The kind that feels safe.

Somehow, you and Steve are even closer than you’d been when you fell asleep. His arm is still around your waist, his other outstretched and tucked beneath your head like a pillow. His chest is flush to your back, and you can feel it expand with every breath he takes.

Most differently of all, however, is the way his hips are snug against the curve of your butt. And you can feel him hard against you.

Your skin feels even warmer than before when you notice.

Steve hasn’t woken up yet, you don’t think, because the faintest snores are getting puffed out against your shoulder where his face is tucked. His hand on your stomach has worked its way beneath your shirt, though, and his fingertips press against your skin, like he’s fighting to keep you close.

As if you’d go anywhere even in your sleep.

His knee is tucked between your legs, and you’re quickly realizing that it’d be pretty impossible to get out of bed without him noticing. You’re completely tangled together, a knot of limbs somehow fitting together just right. Like two puzzle pieces.

In his sleep, Steve’s mouth presses against the back of your shoulder, and only when you involuntarily shiver at the contact, does he stir.

It takes Steve a bit to really wake up, mumbling words that don’t make sense, scrunching his eyes shut even further before blinking them open. He’s met with the sight of you right in front of him. Body curved perfectly against his.

“Steve? You awake?” you ask, checking.

“Mhm,” he hums.

Then, something that has his cheeks flushing pink, he registers the feeling of his boner pressed against your ass. He shuffles them back enough so there’s space between you. “Fuck. Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” you say. Because he can’t control the way his body reacts while he’s asleep.

“I didn’t think-” he cuts himself off, because he’s not quite sure how to say I didn’t think about the whole morning wood factor or that I’d fucking plaster myself to you when I suggested a sleepover without sounding stupid. Instead, he just repeats, “I’m sorry.”

You twist yourself around to face him, sheets crumpling and twisting as you move. When you settle back onto the pillow and look at his face, at the redness on his cheeks and the tips of his ears, you squeeze his hand that’s now laying between you.

“It’s okay, really,” you say. “It’s, like, anatomy. You’re human, Steve.”

“I don’t want you to think I invited you to sleep in here for some pervy reason,” he says, scrunching his nose when he says it.

“I don’t think that at all,” you tell him. You squeeze his hand again. “We’ve shared a bed like, a hundred times by now. If anything I’m surprised this hasn’t happened already.”

“Oh my God,” he groans, shutting his eyes and pushing his face into the pillow.

“Steve,” you drag out his name, fighting a giggle at the way he’s acting. He’s got a reputation, after all, and how shy and embarrassed he seems to be doesn’t reflect the things you heard about him in high school. He’s changed a lot since then. “It’s seriously fine. We can pretend it never happened. Promise.”

Steve pulls his face from the pillow, eyes catching yours as his fingers squeeze yours back in appreciation. He lets his eyes wander a bit, at the messy bits of your hair around your face from sleeping, the marks in your cheek from the pillowcase, the way your sleep shirt has fallen off your shoulder.

He feels lucky to get to see you this way, right after you’ve woken up. Vulnerable, unguarded, beautiful.

It’s during this small stretch of silence that you realize how close your faces are now. You’re sharing a pillow, his nose not even an inch from yours. Shift forward the slightest bit, and they’d be touching. Your eyes trail down to his mouth, to the visible patch of chest hair and the freckles that dot his skin. He’s already looking right at you when your eyes flick back upwards.

You know Steve, could tell what he’s feeling just from the look on his face, but this is one you’ve never seen before. At least, not directed at you.

Steve moves first, his eyes a little darker than usual, shifting forward slightly, then looking at you. Daring you to make the next move.

“What if we didn’t forget about it?” he says. Quiet and scratchy.

You don’t have time to think before you move forward a bit, too. Your noses brush. “What would that mean?”

Steve doesn’t answer with words. Rather, he moves forward the final bit and brushes his lips against yours in a question mark of a kiss, giving you time to pull away.

You don’t.

Instead, the hand of yours that isn’t still holding his comes up to the back of his neck, gently encouraging him to do it again. His free hand tightens at your waist as he dips in a second time.

It isn’t as tentative now that you’ve urged him on. His lips meet yours more sure, more firm, but still soft against you. Neither of you cares one bit about morning breath, or about what this might change. As if the morning’s haze slows time, minds still a little sleepy.

You’re simply acting on instinct. And this feels too right to stop.

Soon enough it grows more heated, Steve shifting to hover over you, his elbows pushing into the mattress to hold himself up, his tongue sneaking out to lick against the seam of your lips for permission.

Just as you open up for him, the blaring sound of Steve's alarm cuts you off, pulling back with a gasp. He simply leans up on one arm and slams the snooze button—and you laugh, you laugh, at how hard he hits it—before diving back into you.

You feel hot all over, where one of Steve’s hands has moved to cup your jaw, his thumb running delicately against your face as his mouth moves against yours, practically devouring you. Where the blankets are still over your lower halves, trapping in heat. When he pulls back, looks into your eyes, fucking smiles all dopey and pretty, and then kisses you again.

It’s so good, you’re almost angry at yourself for not kissing him sooner.

You kiss until his alarm goes off again and Steve's forced to pry himself away from you, groaning about being on his ‘last tardy warning’ from Keith.

Still, he takes the time to kiss your forehead on his way out, Family Video vest slung over his shoulder, calling a sweet, “bye, angel,” on his way out. His hair’s still a mess from your fingers, and he doesn’t even seem to mind.

You stay in his bed longer than you probably should, blinking up at the ceiling, fingers pressed against your lips like you’re searching for physical proof that everything was real.

What the fuck just happened?

-

It’s been a couple of weeks, and Steve can’t stop thinking about that kiss. He doesn’t know it, but you can’t stop thinking about it either.

Neither of you have brought it up, and things have faded back to normal as if it had never happened. But you and Steve are both thinking the same things without knowing it. How good and natural and easy it felt, how, every now and then, you think about doing it again.

You talk and joke and watch movies and eat meals together the same way you always have, and it’d be so easy to stay that way, to never kiss again. But then, what if you could stay that way and kiss? Wouldn’t that be something close to perfect?

You lay awake thinking about it every few nights. Because, when you really reflect on your life and how intertwined it is with Steve’s, you realize that you’ve sort of always acted like a couple, minus the kissing and sex aspect. You go on what could easily be classified as dates—the movies, lunch or dinner—you cuddle on the couch almost nightly, and you’ve never shied away from physical touch with one another. Held hands, a palm on your back.

You haven’t brought it up with Steve because you haven’t even come to terms with it yourself. Feelings are so fucking confusing and messy and you’d like to have a better idea of what’s going on in your own head before asking him about his.

Meanwhile, Steve has allowed himself to come to terms with it. He’s in love with you.

He’s pretty sure he has been for a while. Months, maybe even years.

It hadn’t come easily, though. It was nights spent similarly to yours, running through interactions you’ve had and the way he felt that one time in senior year when you went on a date with some guy from your math class. Even then, a part of him felt wrong about it, that pit in his gut.

Then there were his shifts with Robin at Family Video where he’d practically spilled everything just to get her opinion. She looked up and sighed “thank you” before saying that it was nice of him to finally catch on.

Had he really been that obvious? All this time? And had he really been that oblivious to his own feelings?

Steve can’t answer those questions. He can’t say when his love for you changed from platonic to romantic, he just knows that it has and he doesn’t think he’ll ever come back from it.

You’re his best friend in the entire world, the prettiest girl he’s ever seen, and he can’t picture himself loving anyone but you so wholly.

He’s fucking terrified of losing you, but he’s also terrified of never telling you how he feels and testing that what if.

So, like a desperate idiot, he knocks on the door to Eddie’s trailer.

Eddie opens it after a minute and what sounded like him stubbing his toe, “oh, hey Harrington. More weed?”

“No, shut up. I need your help.”

“You,” Eddie points at Steve, then at himself, “need my help for something? Are you ill?”

“Okay,” Steve, dramatic and bitchy as usual, sighs and mutters something about this being a stupid idea and turns to leave.

“Come on,” Eddie laughs, “I’m just joking. What’s up?”

Soon enough, Steve’s sitting on Eddie’s couch, Eddie pacing in front of the coffee table like this is a very serious matter, and telling him pretty much everything. Your kiss, the train of thought it sparked.

“Basically I’m in love with her and I have no clue what to do,” Steve finishes, sinking back into the couch cushions. It squeaks as he shifts.

Eddie pauses, tugging at his bottom lip between his fingers, then looks at Steve and says, “You know I’ve never dated anyone in my life, right?”

Steve groans into his hands, “Why do all of my friends have to be losers with no dating lives.”

Eddie ignores that, because he can tell how affected Steve actually is by all of this. How much he cares. He walks over and sits down on the opposite end of the couch. “Have you ever thought of, I don’t know, telling her how you feel?”

Steve rests his elbows on his knees, leaning forward and letting his head hang for a moment before picking it up. “Of course I have, but I’m fuckin’ scared.”

“What’s the worst that could happen?”

“Um, she could reject me and not feel the same way and everything would be awkward because I ruined it and I’d lose my best friend in the entire world.”

“What if she does feel the same?” Eddie asks.

He’s both yours and Steve’s friend, he’s been around the both of you together. He’s seen the way you look at each other. Eddie might not be an expert, but it’s always looked a lot like love to him. He’s pretty sure the chances of you feeling the same are quite high.

“What do you mean?”

“What if she does feel the same and you never figure it out because you’re too afraid?” Eddie says. “Man, don’t you think that risk is worth taking?”

Steve thinks about it, and as much as he hates to admit it, Eddie’s right. He’d hate to always wonder, to lose out on the chance to really be with you when he knows it could be so good.

You are worth the risk to him.

“When the fuck did you become so wise, Munson?”

“Dunno,” Eddie shrugs. “Wanna smoke?”

Steve laughs, “Yes I do.”

-

With Steve gone at work and you off for the day, there’s been too much room for your thoughts to creep in. Too much silence.

You’ve already been thinking about things so much. Thinking about him so much, that in his absence, your mind seemed to work overtime to fill in the gaps.

You thought about the day he picked you up from your apartment, how quick he was to drop whatever he’d been doing and come over and help you and take you home with him. The day he took you shopping and bought you a dress because he thought you looked pretty in it, the way his fingers fiddled with the strap on your shoulder when you tried it on for him.

The day he gifted you a remade version of your favorite picture from summer camp because he knew how much it meant to you, the way you held on to each other afterwards.

How you’d been waiting for him to get home that night he went to Eddie’s, just to make sure he was okay. How when he came in, he smiled at the sight of you curled on the couch, and he kissed your cheek when he walked by like it was the easiest thing in the world.

Your brain knew he was high, you could smell the weed mingling with his cologne on his clothes when he leaned in close, but your heart didn’t care about that. It thumped in your chest the second he leaned in closer, even worse when his lips touched your cheek.

The realization hits you now like a shock, a quick zip of electricity running through your system. You fucking love him.

Sure, you’ve loved Steve practically your whole life, but this was different. You love him, love him. Like, you want to kiss him when he comes home from work and in the morning. You want him to introduce you as his girlfriend and to be able to call him your boyfriend.

You feel stupid for not realizing it sooner, because looking back on things now, knowing how you feel, you can see it written throughout your entire friendship. Holding hands and kissing foreheads and hands pushing hair away from faces.

For a second, you’re purely happy, because you get to be in love with your best friend and it feels as warm and sweet as sunlight. Then, the fear creeps in, and you’re scared. Scared of losing him, of making things weird, of change and doing the wrong thing.

So scared that you start to panic and pack up some of your things in your bag like you’re running away.

Truthfully, you’re not sure what else to do. You’ve never been in love before, you’ve never known it this way—so kind and unconditional. And your parents sure as hell didn’t set a good example for you. They’d fight, and someone would leave with the slam of a door, and then they’d be back and the cycle would continue.

You’re scared and confused and your instincts are telling you to run away even though the only place you really wanna be is with Steve. In his arms.

You’re stuffing clothes into your bag just to keep your hands busy, breathing hard and fast, when you hear the front door open and close. Steve’s quick to find you, his eyes scanning your room and then looking at you. “What are you doing?”

You feel like you might cry just looking at him. His brown eyes worried but warm as always, his hands stuffed into his pockets like he’s nervous.

“I thought you weren’t supposed to be home until later,” you say, hoping he can’t hear the shake in your voice.

“It was dead, so Keith let me off early. I-” Steve furrows his brows, “are you leaving?”

You nod. “I’ve been in your way long enough.”

“I told you, you’re never in my way.” Steve knows you, and he loves you, and he can tell that there’s something going on. That you’re panicked and trying to get away from whatever it is. He cares too much to let that happen. “I want you to stay.”

You want to stay, too. You just don’t know what comes next, and that unknown, the lack of control, of familiarity, it makes your hands shake.

Your mind doesn’t work the same when you’re afraid.

“Give me one good reason why I should stay, Steve. I’ve been taking up your space for weeks and-”

“Because I love you.” Steve cuts you off. He hadn’t planned on telling you this way, he wanted it to be romantic and perfect but he can’t wait any longer. Especially not when you’re trying to run away. “I’m in love with you. And I want you here.”

You immediately stop in your tracks, blinking up at him like you’re not sure you’d heard him correctly. “You- what?”

“I love you. Romantically. And I think I have for a really long time.”

“You’re not high again, are you?” You ask, your eyes a little misty.

Steve walks over to you and grabs both of your hands in his, making sure you’re looking at him, at the sincerity written all over his face, when he says, “Completely sober. I fucking love you and I want you to keep living with me, because this house doesn’t really feel like home unless you’re in it.”

“What about when my apartment is ready?”

He squeezes your hands. “Stay then, too. Stay forever.”

You look up at him, his hair falling over his forehead, his eyes so honest, a tentative smile on his mouth. The only boy you’ve ever loved.

You feel silly for trying to escape this when this is how it’s turning out. Steve had been brave just now, telling you he loves you and he wants you to stay, so you decide to be brave, too.

It’s easier than you thought it would be to say: “I love you, too, Steve. I feel the same. I only just realized it and freaked out. I’m so scared of losing you, is all.”

“You won’t. Not ever.”

You tip your chin up to kiss him after he says it, because you can. You pour your feelings into it, and Steve returns your kiss as if it’s one he’s known for years. It’s slow, and deep, and sweet, and so full of love you’re practically overflowing with it.

The two of you only pull away when you need a breather. Steve doesn’t go far, resting his forehead against yours.

“So what happens now?” You ask.

“Well, we’ve been acting like a couple for a while, I think, so we stay the same. Mostly. Except now I get to call you my girlfriend-”

“Um, I’m pretty sure you’re supposed to ask me first.”

He lets go of one of your hands and pushes a loose strand of hair behind your ear, his knuckle running lovingly across your cheek. “My angel girl, will you be my girlfriend?”

Your grin is wide and lovesick and cheesy and you don’t care one bit. “Yeah, yes I will. Boyfriend.”

“And, being your boyfriend means I get to do this.”

He kisses you once more. And you don’t ever want to not be kissing him again.

𝜗𝜚

thank you guys so much for reading!!! it would mean a whole bunch if you would consider leaving a comment or a reblog and letting me know what you thing!! it helps more than you know <3

[ybklix]

daddy issues

★ bang chan

✦summary: After the agony for his sexual frustation of living under the same place as you, Bang Chan finally decides to do something to satiate all his deep and dirty fantasies with you, his best friend’s precious daughter.

♡ pairing: richdilf!chan x spoiled!bratty rich fem reader

headcanons: dilf!chan, urdad’sbestfiend!chan ♡ he wore that dilf outfit and leave us fereal like that (me) + one shoot: smut

(i tried my best, not sure if this is how headcanons works heh)

♡ based on my wild thoughts in this post lol

♡ current warnings: MDNI, smut, daddy kink, dirty talk, teasing, fingering, masturbation, spanking, slapping, oral sex, choking, implied legal age gap (reader in her early 20’s and Chan in his mid 30’s), use of nicknames (some of them degrating), after care, and just chan being rough without mercy🙂‍↕️

note: reader goes by ‘park’ last name but it is only mentioned once for the narrative.

♡ word count: 11.3k

•MASTERLIST• taglist forms for upcoming works or wip♡

—a/n: there you go, happy late father’s day!

playlist: daddy issues by the neighbourhood + be my daddy by lana del rey

yourdad’sbestfriend!chan who since he met you has not stopped fantasizing about the spoiled daughter of his friend and business partner.

dilf!chan who had to go through a horrible divorce and is trying to be the best father for his beloved toddler daughter, going through emotional stress and turning into sexually frustration since he meets you because he hasn't had sex in a long time, and you keep dangerously flirting and teasing him.

yourdad’sbestfriend!chan who wants to put you in your place for being spoiled and at the same time pampered you himself, him thinking that you’ve had everything in your life, except a big dick like his.

yourdad’sbestfriend!chan who finally decides to take you on a fancy date after your fiery flirtations behind your father's back, but proposes to meet his penthouse after a casual event at your parents's house and eventually wait to feel your nice tight pussy wrapped around his cock.

dilf!chan and yourdad’sbestfriend!chan who knows that his friend is a tough guy, demands too much from you and he didn’t give you the sweet treatment and love that a father should give his daughter, so Chan loves to hold you tight in his arms while you act tender and submissive since you could never do it and forced yourself to have a strong personality.

daddy!chan who loves to fuck you hard, ramming rough your tight hole just because you love it too, and ask him to do it hard; but also enjoys sweet fucking you while giving you soft kisses all over your face while praising you gently for moving on his big cock at your soft and tender pace.

daddy issues

He was older than you and was also your father's friend and business partner… yet you could not refuse his request to accompany him to his apartment where, according to him, you could have a nice chat and a better time… your little games of seduction and flirting were not new; you were both captivated by each other when you saw each other for the first time.

You knew Bang Chan, at least only by name, as your father often mentioned him, however you never got to see his face as he was a partner in a company in another country and your father always saw him there, you knew he was significantly younger than your father and that he trusted him a lot… almost considering him as the son he never had. You were an only child so you could say that you were in a way, somewhat spoiled since your father was stupidly rich and you were the only legitimate heir to everything he has and built throughout his life, but still having such a position carries great consequences as the harsh discipline and demands that he always put on you… almost making you mold two personalities; in spite of everything you were kind, a bit cold, but kind, humble and very aware of your surroundings, qualities that Chan noticed and captivated him instantly as well. You were mature but at the same time immature and mischievous, you had a special look for him that only he was able to decipher, you drove him crazy.

You only knew little details about Chan when you didn't know him in person, scattered comments in the air that you listened to vaguely with interest from your father, that Chan is his partner from another country, that he got married a couple of years ago —whose wedding you couldn't attend because of your commitment at the university—, that he had a daughter, that he got divorced and was the one who accompanied your father on the little relaxing vacations he gave himself from time to time; honestly you couldn’t have played it down more, you always thought he was a mature man in a suit looking old. Until you saw him for the first time at a business dinner that you were forced to attend so you would be more related to what your father was doing and working for; you saw him, Chan, near that white door frame, wearing an elegant suit and with a glass in his hand that looked so small when he held it. Your father introduced him, the famous Bang Chan he always talked about and the one and only you usually didn't take the slightest interest in him.

You remember how handsome he looked and the big smile formed on your face as you heard your father say that he would be staying a little over a month to settle matters of their respective companies just in the city and, to your surprise, he would be staying in the small house —not so small, as it could almost be considered as a quite decent and elegant apartment for which many people would pay a great deal of money— near the swimming pool. The timing couldn't have been more perfect for you, you would be home for the academic break and you had Bang nearby, you had him in your sights from the first instant you saw him, his young and manly appearance, serious but relaxed countenance, his exquisite slightly pale skin and his beautiful full lips that you wanted to taste, in addition with an adorable accent, you suddenly found yourself fantasizing strongly about your father's best friend. All that night you couldn't take your eyes off him and… for Bang Chan, the feeling was quite mutual, he really didn't expect a pleasant surprise and a beauty like you from his best friend's daughter.

Your little fleeting games of seduction began without further ado, you noticed for miles the hungry gaze with which his eyes penetrated you; you wore short little skirts when he was supposed to be counseling you in finance, you accidentally caressed his body, you looked at him with sparkling eyes while seductively addressing him as Mr. Bang and you just loved being a little flirtatious around him…. when your father didn't see you, as he would never allow that kind of provocative and revealing attire on you; but you excused yourself with brave, of being a hot summer, and went out swimming in your bikini hoping Chan was watching you. It wasn't news to you, you wanted him so badly, and you were so used to getting everything you wanted.

And for him, of course he was watching you, he did it from the first instant he met you, he knew that you were not a normal kind of girl… Bang Chan always considered himself an observant person who appreciated and noticed every detail, since you met, he noticed the slight gleam in your eyes that grew more and more, your pupils dilating, your weak and fragile body excited to have him near, the feeling was mutual, since a long time ago he had not felt attraction for another woman again after his disastrous divorce and, what he considers, as failure in love, his only true love is his daughter, who is his priority, and his mother.

At first he decided to concentrate, you were a girl younger than him, as far as he knew, still studying at the university, you were not even studying a postgraduate degree; so it seemed absurd to him, you were young, immature and above all, the precious daughter of his best friend and business partner. But the days progressed, tortuous days in the Park's gigantic house, where you kept strutting in front of him like a little whore —or so he thought—, Chan only tensed his jaw, swallowed nervously with his throat dry, thirsty, trying to ignore the dirty thoughts of wanting to take you and put you in your place so you start behaving like the polite and fine lady you should be, carrying with pride such an important last name, but no, you decided to provoke him to the extreme, his blood heating up and fighting with his greatest instinct to not lift the little piece of cloth that would cover your ass, which you called a skirt, and hit your buttocks hard until you cry and lose little consciousness and that the only thing you remember is that you should feel ashamed.

Chan couldn't take it anymore, so after the first week he rented a luxurious penthouse where he would stay for a few nights to clear his mind… and get away from you, because once near you… his body reacted on its own and he was terrified that his instincts would take everything from him. He was stressed, he could not do that to his best friend, he trusted Chan fully and madly, he even confessed to him in such an intimate and vulnerable moment that he would leave in his hands two of his most precious things in life: his legacy and company and his beloved daughter, to advise you and teach you everything you need to know so that you, together with Bang, can take control and continue the legacy. Chan thought ironically if it must have been true when he told him that he would leave you in his hands, since he was dying for you to be in his arms right now.

Days passed and ignoring your immature games, Chan managed to get serious and advise you on company matters; you thought it was boring and expressed to Chan firmly how uninterested you were, to which he annoyingly puffed out his nostrils, thinking, but what a fucking spoiled brat... yet you were curious, competitive and a fast learner, so little by little Chan saw in you your maturity and determination, got to know your serious side and true personality… as if that wasn't enough, he was now more hopelessly interested in you.

After that he was more drowned in a sea of emotions that overwhelmed him more and more, sometimes you were a cute and pretty educated girl willing to learn, sometimes you acted provocatively seducing him and making his poor big cock cry of desperation, he wanted to fuck you hard without stopping, but also kiss you sweetly and take you on a date, he wanted to hear you talk freely about yourself, but he also wanted to leave you breathless while penetrating your delicate pussy. It wasn't until later when in a serious moment you confessed to him that your choice of college career was not something you enjoyed at all, you were doing very well when it came to your grades… but you felt it was only to please your father; Chan was surprised, he knew your dad was tough but he always seemed like a good family guy, but apparently he was not, he was always absent and filled his presence with material things all your life, Chan felt bad and… he remembered his beloved daughter away from him, it seemed wrong but, he thought he didn't want to give her those treats or be absent at any time in her life, but sadly he was thousands of miles away from her, just because of work. You sweetly told him that he still had a chance, since she was only two years old, it's not something like the little girl would remember anyway, that her father had to leave for a little over a month. And in a way you felt bad for yourself and for him... you felt so bad for wanting a man with children and because he had to get divorced because suddenly their relationship didn't work out, even with a child, which left you thinking too much....

Later in the madness of living under the same area, Chan witnessed something he shouldn't have, how your father yelled at you senselessly for partying around like a ‘slut’ when you should take care of your image for the sake of the whole family and that you could have appeared in the media, as well as claiming how you were bothering Bang Chan; since you had gone out to a club like any normal girl your age, frustrated at not getting the man you wanted, you decided to get drunk and text him while you were in that state, to which Chan ran to your rescue without hesitation. He took you home as you insisted and whined over and over about it, and sneaked you to his place, so your father wouldn't see you drunk; and you slept heavily in Chan's bed without realizing it, Chan died of tenderness and took care of you all night; however his help was in vain, the gate keepers and all your father's staff informed him of the situation, that Chan had to pick you up and that they saw you enter his room… making your father angry, not with Chan, but taking out all the anger on you, slapping you.

Chan was as devastated as you were, and ran after you, for the first time, giving you a hug as you cried into his chest. You hated crying, you hated being vulnerable in front of people and allowing them to show emotion in front of them… but with Chan, you were able to release yourself so well into his arms as he stroked your hair, you had forgotten when your last hug was and how warm human companionship can be.

After all that madness in such a short time, countless nights of both of you touching yourselves fantasizing about each other, Chan wanted to put an end to his agony, his heart ached for you and his cock cried so often for not being inside you. He was about to forget everything, to tell your father that he appreciated the stay and lodging at his house, but that he would like to leave for the penthouse he rented, where from there he would leave directly for work and only see you occasionally when you visit your father's company for your quick lessons; but he lost his mind when your father confessed to him that he would like you to date a son of another of his partners, a polite boy four years older than you… that was the straw that broke the camel's back, Chan hadn't realized how privileged he was and didn't take a chance, you were completely single, you didn't see any boy —as far as he knew-—, you barely left your house, so he finally asked you out on a date, a nice romantic date that he tried hard to plan since he knew very little about the city. You had a wonderful time and he couldn't believe it, for the first time in a long time, he was beginning to like and… slightly starting to fall in love with another girl.

Finally, the hot games of seduction and teasing were mutual, escalating into more and more dangerous territory until, Chan could no longer contain himself, he was fed up with so much play and erections in his pants that he had to take them off himself; so one simple Saturday where your father wanted to be a simple man and do things like most average men do to get along, like a barbecue, somehow or other Chan managed to get out of that situation as something suddenly came up for your father… leaving you and Chan alone. But you both knew you were not quite alone, there were eyes everywhere, so he suggested that you stop by to visit his temporary apartment.

You had accepted, your nerves increased with strength, you had not passed with Chan from light friction and dangerous closeness… but to be finally alone, your heart was pounding, you did not believe you had come so far. That Saturday you were exclusively bored, sneaking out a bit to see what your father and Chan were up to, who looked so handsome wearing a slightly baggy pale blue shirt, which showed through a bit underneath so he wore a white sleeveless shirt, blue jeans and simple sneakers… he looked so relaxed and cute. You fantasized about him in all his forms, in a suit acting like a rich and powerful man, the tender Chan hugging you while you cry and comforting you, the Chan best friend of your father who talks animatedly with him, and him casual, just him. You were so eager for him, you even told your best friends that this summer you had to fuck your father's friend, no was not an option, you had to have him.

He drove without another word to his place… you both didn't know what to say but you could feel the tension in the air, it was obvious he wanted to do a couple of not so tender and gentle things with you. You smoothed your skirt nervously as you rode shotgun in the car, luckily you always dolled up to see Chan and ever since that hug he always reminds you how pretty you look, out loud when you’re alone, and in whispers in your ear when people are around.

You entered the place even more nervous with Chan behind you… normally you are not the nervous type of girl, but something about being so close to Chan and what you always longed for made you even tremble.

“It looks nice” you managed to say as you walked into the place, clearing your throat a little.

Chan brazenly watched your silhouette up and down licking his lips, even your voice was driving him crazy, you turned to see him and found his worked and muscular body relaxed, giving you a little smile.

“But why would you rent an apartment if you're supposed to already have a place to stay...” you spoke again, getting closer to him and unable to avoid showing your little cynical and sarcastic side, “is it something rich men do or… is it to have more privacy with the girls you fuck?” your smile got bigger, waiting for a response from him.

But he didn't think it was funny, if only having sex with other women was so simple he would have done it so fast to forget about you, but he couldn't, it was just you, you and you. But Chan decided to relax a little and and match your energy.

“Oh yeah, hundreds of girls I bring here” he added amused, “Honey do you want something to drink…?”

You bit your lower lip, while your cheeks turned red as you heard him sweet talk you, you adored him madly and appreciated his attempt to be nice to you but you couldn't deny that you were incredibly horny, you were even slightly wet already, so you gently rolled your eyes then let out and small sigh, moving closer to Chan, you couldn't contain your body anymore, it was vibrating from all the possible scenarios that you couldn't wait another second for them to happen.

“Why don't you just kiss me already… isn't that what you've always wanted?” you said slowly returning to your seductive tone and took a step closer, almost brushing his lips as you look him suggestively in the eyes.

Chan stood still, incredulous of your boldness and that you wanted to start doing it at once… his breathing started to get irregular, his heart pounding as excited as it had never been before, he was crazy about you, although sometimes, with that cute and tender face you have, he expects you to act like that, tender and innocent, but you are absolutely the opposite, speaking boldly and not afraid to say what you are thinking about. And of course you were like that, at least in sex, not every day you had a man like Chan willing to fuck you, although you knew perfectly well that you could have them all in the palm of your hand, but no one was him, your sweet Channie who without realizing he knows too many private things about you that you fought so hard to keep them and hide, that you always carried with that weight; but you were like that, a bit daring to get what you wanted... but when it comes to feelings and expressing what you feel, that's when you really become the sweet, innocent young woman he slightly desires. But he doesn't mind anyway, knowing every facet of you is a challenge he loves to take.

“Please… Chan” you asked again almost in a whisper, you don't mind showing a little needy side of you to him, even though you were proud, you really wanted him badly.

Chan reacted coming out of his trance and quickly observing the details of your face, he grabbed your waist and finally caught your lips, feeling the same softness of the clouds and rising to a trance so heavenly by your touch, he was dying to kiss you from the first moment he saw you. Chan was slowly moving his expert lips over yours, you were so stunned that you didn't even know where to place your hands so you only left them lightly resting on Chan's chest, feeling the stiffness of his muscular and very well worked body, you couldn't believe it, you were getting too carried away with just simple kisses and your pussy started to throb hard so ready to take Chan's cock if he wanted to do it right now. Chan made you slowly open your mouth, at his torturous, slow and hot pace, with his left hand he held your face and finally the kiss became a little dirtier as he used his slick tongue mercilessly. The act made your pussy throb harder and covered more your panties with your sweet wetness. You took little gasps of air every now and then but Chan never let go of your mouth, you felt so good just kissing him that you slowly lost your sanity and the strength to stand; he gently began to stroke your back with his other hand, so you also wanted to be part of the soft touching while kissing passionately, so you directed your hand towards his cock, surprised to find his dick extremely prominent and erect in his pants, you almost moaned at the thought of how big his cock was erect, you were dying to see his cock completely uncovered. Chan moaned subtly as he felt your daring touch… but something inside him that night wanted to take absolute control of the situation, to give you orders and wanted to see you being a good girl for him, but you started touching him, provoking him more and teasing him just a little, but enough to squeeze your wrist hard with his hand that was previously on your back, pulling it away from his cock and, pulling a little on your hair to get you off his face, away from his lips. Leaving you confused and disoriented as you were extremely lost in his caresses.

“Don't touch until I tell you what to do, babygirl” he warned with a stern and defiant look at you, expecting a sweet nod of your head as you stare into his eyes so needy and submissive.

But it was just the opposite, you were so excited that all you could think about was making him feel good and how cute it would sound as he whimpered your name. You bit your lip, and tried to wiggle out of his grip on your wrist, going back to stroking his erection, ignoring him.

“Shit, but you're so hard and it's so big” you moaned, but quickly the tighter grip on your wrist and in your hair took over, stretching it, it confused you a little and you looked him straight in the eye.

“Why do you always have to do what you want and act like a fucking slut?” he blurted out suddenly with his eyes dark, the vein in his neck slightly exalted and his body full of lust.

You smiled broadly, something about him seeing him angry made you ten times more horny, you loved teasing him so much.

“Then treat me like one” you commented with a cocky grin, almost in an excited sigh, you were so agitated, your body throbbing, your breathing ragged and your heart seeming to want to burst out of your chest, forcefully feeling each beat rumble in your ears, you needed to fuck him desperately.

Chan smiled sideways in disbelief at your request… he was so willing to make you feel good and have a nice unforgettable night, of course he was going to penetrate you till you were breathless, but he would be gentle, ordering you around gently… but you were complicating things too much, suddenly you confessed to him how dirty you wanted the act to be.

“Is that what you want?” he added in a low voice, looking at you expectantly and intimidating you a little for the first time.

You nodded nervously as you felt the pressure of his grips even tighter, causing you a little pain.

“Alright” he replied, still looking intimidating and dominant, he brought his face closer to you, almost brushing your lips and tempting you to kiss him, “Dirty sluts don't deserve sweet kisses on the lips then” he mumbled in your face, pulling even harder on your hair, “They get fucked hard.”

You winced a little but he quickly released you, you couldn't hide your smile hearing him say that, you were so turned on and he hadn't even started touching you, you lowered your gaze to his pants, the protruding bulge in his blue jeans took your breath away, he was also so ecstatic without even starting.

“Take your clothes off now” he ordered you, still with an annoyed tone, but he was too turned on by you provoking him and acting like a spoiled cynic little bitch.

Chan pressed his lips together, licking them and putting his hands on his hips, with bated breath waiting to see the whole show. You looked at him and then lowered your gaze to your clothes, with light trembling hands that you were trying so hard to relax, you removed your top, your bra, your skirt and paused a little at your panties, bent down as you slid from the thin elastic and stared at him, his eyes captured on you, his gaze traveling quickly to every part of your body so as not to miss any detail, you gasped at the sensation of the fabric leaving your pussy and finally you were completely naked for him, smiling smugly at him. Chan couldn't resist, he had to touch you so he quickly drew your body to his, squeezing your ass, making you give a little squeak of surprise, finally, the sensation of his skin clinging to yours, touching you, your cheeks burned again, for so long you had fantasized about being touched and groped by him and now Chan found himself massaging your ass as you feel the friction of all his clothes, and his erection, joined to your naked body.

Chan watched you, your sweet pink lips begging to be treated gently, but you by yourself had decided to be treated like a whore so he would give you exactly the treatment, completely unaware of you and trying to erase the tender thoughts he has of you.

“Even fucking whores should be taught manners once in a while” he mumbled looking down at you from above and tightening his grip on your ass to which you moaned.

Chan carried you with ease, walking a few secluded yards to his living room in his large, soft white couch with its large mirror on the wall above it; he sat down and wrestled you onto his long, strong thighs face down, your lower abdomen feeling the pressure of the rough denim of his jeans, and your breasts brushing against the softness of the couch, leaving your ass in the air at his sight and will. You drew in a shaky breath, stirring uncomfortably from your position, predicting exactly what his next move might be about. Chan dropped his heavy arm on your shoulder blades impeding and bounding your movement a bit, having you just facing your very bounded front view; you felt him gently caress your ass and gently spread it apart to part your folds making you groan. Chan bit his lip at the sight of your wet and slightly swollen little pussy, you were so needy and having you just at his disposal made his cock throb enclosed in his tight pants, it was like his cock had a life of its own when it came to you, only with you he would get hard in seconds at the slightest interaction and that frustrated him madly… so he would finally get even for all the times you misbehaved and left him so needy, for all the times you behaved like a real slut to get his attention.

He inhaled air between his teeth gently shaking his head, thinking he had to, he wanted to see you cry and beg.

“I'm going to give you a little punishment babygirl, for all the times you went around provoking me when I never asked you to, behaving like a fucking slut, you won't count them, I'll spank you until you understand” he said plaintiff.

You sighed half-heartedly and excited, somehow you were so turned on by this foreplay of him acting domineering, of wanting to correct you and, without being able to think anymore, you felt the first strong and loud spank on your ass, your body contracting from the shock and impact, you gasped loudly, it had hurt so much and it was only the first one, but you couldn't help feeling that it was turning you on more, you thought that you would look a little crazy if you cum when he was hitting you, but you couldn't help it, your sensations were at the limit. Chan didn't even let your blood pressure molecules work for your well-being and stability, when he was already spanking you again, this time letting out a little cry and biting your lip hard.

“You have been a very bad girl…” he mentioned almost breathless panting with excitement as he saw your weak body react to the pain, “Very very bad for daddy, when all I wanted was for you to behave well” he spanked you again.

And you didn't know what surprised you more, the hit or that he had suddenly called himself daddy, making your heart pound harder…. daddy, oh my god you thought, he had finally said it, you thought it sounded so hot coming out of his rough voice full of pleasure and that ultimately that dirty fetish suited Chan so well, of which he felt a sexual arousal hearing you say daddy when you meekly and in a high pitched tone referred to your father like that, when clearly it was with a double intention, a random afternoon as you sucked hard on a popsicle while looking him coyly in the eyes. And Chan couldn't deny it felt so good to self-brand himself in that term in the sex act, it came so naturally to him, it made him feel empowered and in control, such a tender and dirty term only when both of you use it.

“Daddy” you moaned in pain and excitement as you felt your fourth spank.

“That's right babygirl, daddy is here to correct you every time you are misbehaving” Chan growled, stretching your hair and spanking you sudden times.

The shuddering sound of his big hand colliding with your destroyed skin made him hornier, Chan spanked you and watched your sweet reaction two seconds and continued to his activity, exciting him uncontrollably, with your body helpless and unwilling to move by his grip and your moans were more than enough, Chan wanted to release his cock once and for all, his balls ached and he could feel his precum drops coming intensely from his choked and pressed tip. You on the other hand were starting to whimper, you kicked hard and with awkward movements you struggled your right hand towards your ass to stop him from beating you, you had forgotten how many he had given you, but you were on the verge, your ass was a fiery red.

“Daddy, please” you whined with your voice trembling and in supplication.

“Please what?” he spoke sharply, releasing his grip on your hair and bringing it to your hand to stop you from impeding his action.

You were practically crying a little and tried to turn to look at him once he stopped leaning against your back, but you couldn't. You were about to answer, as you were feeling your buttocks burning intensely, but you were sore and limp, however before you could say anything you felt two long fingers in your hole, suddenly fucking you and causing your body to react.

“Do you want me to stop, you little slut?” spoke Chan, playing with his fingers at your entrance, dilating it for him, you gasped in response, “You are so fucking wet and all I have done is spank you, do you actually like being treated like a real slut?” Chan bit his bottom lip again as he felt your walls clench his fingers, thinking if this is how tight you are with his fingers he was dying to feel that tightness around his cock.

You were so focused on the shocks of vibration his long digits transmitted to you as you tried to forget the pain in your ass, but you shrunk your body a little with fear as you felt his left hand let go of your arm and started to caress your ass again, you didn't want to be spanked again, you understood it was hot at first but now it just hurt. You were already a mess, you are soaking wet, with your eyes watering and physically weak. Chan got a half smile on his face as he noticed your reaction.

“So have you learned to behave yourself or do you want me to remind you again how painful it can be not to obey daddy? Because I can break that lovely ass of yours again” he commented, almost sighing excitedly the last sentence as he leered at your round red ass with his hand marked on your skin, gently squeezing the damaged area, making you whimper again.

“Yes daddy” you responded quickly and desperately as you resented the violent rhythmic changes of his fingers on your sensitive pussy, “I-I'll be a good girl for you, ahh, fuck daddy” you moaned exquisitely feeling the skill of his fingers exploring your insides as he plunged into the sea of your wetness, grotesquely hearing the sound of your fluids colliding with the movements of his fingers.

You were not thinking clearly, you were so close to your first strong orgasm from the sensation of his fingers alone.

“Watch your pretty mouth, princess” he commanded as he heard you curse.

“S-sorry, daddy” you replied just to please him so he wouldn't spank you again; it felt so satisfying for you to call him that as he had you exploding with pleasure.

Chan removed his right hand from your entrance and with it he began to delicately caress your wet folds as he grabbed your hair again.

“Come here” he ordered you.

You moaned softly as you stopped feeling his touch and struggled to sit up, you slowly raised your body, sitting painfully on one of Chan's thighs, but as soon as you sat down, he gently lifted you off your hips, leaving you sitting on the couch and he quickly stood up. You winced at the sensation of the material of the couch rubbing against your sensitive, bruised bottom, rising uncomfortably pressing your palms into the cushioned couch as you watched Chan's domineering complexion in front of you from the bottom up, the two of you exchanged eye contact, Chan looking up at you haughtily, gently licking his lips as his long fingers went to the button of his pants to unbutton them; your attention was completely diverted, concentrating on the action, you subtly bit your lip, you brought your legs together a bit feeling all the wetness of your pussy and for a moment you forgot your discomfort, your heart raced again just seeing that Chan was starting to undress, you were so excited as if he was unwrapping a gift you were eagerly waiting for, Chan never took off his smug expression and enjoyed seeing the eager reaction of your fragile body; once with his pants unbuttoned, he quickly stripped off all his clothes, he always felt more comfortable naked, plus he could freely do everything with you, he raised his arms, taking off both shirts, pale blue collared and the white sleeveless one he wears underneath, finally revealing his marked abdomen and pecs, you sighed, thinking how well preserved he was for an older man with a daughter and thought about how much you wanted to ride his cock while holding on to his worked body... oh, his cock, you thought in a second, still with your mind a little fuzzy and your vision blurred between desire and your slightly watery eyes. Chan finally took off his jeans, also desperate to be on top of you, you appreciated his big bulge for a few seconds before he finally takes off his underwear, his erect and rigid cock coming out gracefully, so overstimulated and with its notorious tip of a bright pink with details of a brilliant white from his precum. You opened your eyes in amazement analyzing every detail of his member's anatomy… you had never seen such a thing, you always fantasized that it would be big but reality surpassed fiction a little, it was a little bigger than what you projected in your head… it was perfect and looked so appetizing, you didn't miss any detail of his cock, from the base and its pink and slightly tanned testicles, to its entire firm length with protruding veins scattered all over it, it looked so nice and neat, and you started to feel so perky and excited leaving aside the pain in your ass, you were so excited that the slight discomfort was even turning you on more. It was so impressive and big that you wondered how he was able to hide it all this time. Chan saw your tender gaze sparkle at the sight of his big cock.

“You like what you see, honey?” he laughed softly, bringing you out of your shock and making you look him in the face, yes you adored his cock and you hadn't even tasted it, but you loved the person who possessed it more, you wanted to see every expression of your adored Chan when he is already fucking you. You nodded.

He caught your gaze, so lewd and submissive for him as your body trembled slightly and your chest looked heaving breathing hard. Chan was enjoying every damn second of having you. You wanted to get close to him, to start jerking him off because of your seductive nature, but you held back all your urges with almost even physical strength. Chan got down on his knees, fully willing to appreciate the precious pussy that now belonged to him and he would surely destroy later, making his cock move freely at the rough movement making him moan which you loved to hear, you came back to your senses hearing it; Chan spread your legs and appreciated your poor needy cunt, with your entrance slightly dripping.

“But look what a mess you're made of… just for daddy, aren't you precious?” he groaned running his fingertips along your labia.

“Y-yes daddy.”

You gasped, trying to relax your body on the back of the couch and settling your body so that your ass wouldn't hurt so much, Chan was lost in detail all over the structure of your vagina and began to stroke your sensitive clitoral spot, contracting your body a little; for him suddenly his slow process burned inside his body, but he was a true believer of leaving the best to last and in this case it would be finally feeling your tight core hugging his cock. Chan continued to stroke the entire length of your folds without leaving your clitoris alone; you were so frustrated, and excited, the sensation of your orifice getting more and more lubricated was driving you crazy… if you didn't feel filled by his cock in the next five minutes you would start to cry with despair.

“But what a nice, needy pussy, ready to be cared for, do you want daddy to take care of it for you?” he said dirtily spanking your exposed vulva, getting you all worked up.

“Yes, daddy, p-please…” you were about to beg him to fuck you at once, beg him because it wasn't that hard to just stick his cock in you.

But once again your words were interrupted as you once again felt Chan's fingers in you fucking you with agility, making you once again lose your sanity.

Chan brought his hand to his member as his poor sex was also crying out to be attended, but he would never admit it, at least not in this sizzling scenario you both were creating… and he began to masturbate panting while his other hand attended to you. You saw him lustfully biting your lip thinking that you could be the one who could please him, take his cock and make him feel good, he didn't have to do it by himself. He came dangerously close to the center of your labia, feeling his hot breath and his big nose brushing lightly against your genitals, you saw him, confused and expectant that if he came near your pussy it was because he was going to start sucking it but… he just stood there for a few seconds with a naughty little smile on his face.

He stopped masturbating to bring his hand up and play with your labia without missing the delicious rhythm of his fingers on you.

“You want me to eat your pussy, huh, little slut? Do you want to feel my tongue making you scream?” he spoke between sighs in front of your sensitive area.

Your cheeks flushed and you couldn't agree more, you nodded excitedly with your eyes sparkling, but only got a small mocking laugh from Chan in response.

“Well too bad, princess, bad girls don't deserve to have their pussy eaten by daddy.”

You whimpered as you stopped feeling his hot breath near you and from Chan's sudden movements inside you filling your organ.

“Let me help you daddy, I want to touch you too” you mumbled senselessly, closing your eyes tightly so ecstatic to feel something inside your vagina.

“You want to help me huh, yeah? With what, baby?” your whole body collapsed and trembled, you were so close and he knew it.

“L-let me help you with your cock daddy, I want to make you f-feel good too” you babbled, arching your back as you felt you were nothing short of orgasm. “Fuck, I-I'm-gonna cum daddy” you cried out sharply and before you felt the jolt of your orgasm you felt one of Chan's hand on your cheek, slapping you then squeezing your cheeks hard with his hand so you could stare at him.

The slap surprised you but excited you too much once you caught his dark gaze behind his small eyelids.

“I told you not to curse” he spat annoyed without missing the rhythm of his fingers in your pussy, you lowered your gaze to his strong arm whose skin glistened from the lighting of the place and his veins were exalted in his hand working on your hole and folds, you felt him pull again on his strong grip “Look at me” he commanded “You're about to cum, huh, dirty slut?” he gasped seeing your taut complexion struggling for release, and, almost bursting to fill Chan with you, he stopped completely, “Oh honey I would have made you cum but don't forget tonight you are still a dirty whore at my beck and call, you will cum until I tell you to.”

You whimpered, letting out a heavy sigh as you watched him in annoyance and disbelief as he stood up, bringing his big cock closer to your face.

“Come on, didn't you say you were going to try to be a good girl and help me” he groaned inhaling air between his teeth and dropping his heavy right hand on top of your head.

You saw him, lewdly and quickly arranged your body, getting on your knees on the couch and leaning your torso and arching your back to get exactly level with his cock, you licked your lips hungrily and held his long and slightly curved cock, you gasped as you felt its rough but smooth texture in your hands… for a second you thought about getting revenge and leaving him so needy without letting him cum… but your mentality changed as you finally felt him, so erect and rigid and ready for you.

“Can I put it in my mouth daddy?” you asked innocently looking into his eyes as you felt his sex throb after hearing you speak.

“Fuck, yes, babygirl, take it all, show me you can take all of daddy's cock, show me what your dirty little mouth can do” he replied in a gasping whisper stroking your hair.

You smiled and your eyes moved to his manhood, you kissed his tip, covering your lips in his precum and continued to give him soft kisses all along his length as your hands moved down as well, until you reached his base, where your left hand gently caressed and squeezed his balls and you quickly ran your tongue along his erection until you returned again to his tip. You felt every bulge of his veins in your mouth thinking that his cock would become your new favorite plaything. Chan gasped, completely giving in to the sensation of his sex finally being touched and tightened his grip on your hair.

“It's so big daddy” you moaned looking into his eyes as your hands masturbated him, preparing to take him into your mouth.

“It has to go all the way in your pretty mouth slut” he replied watching you from below.

You watched all the way down to his cock from your angle, his strong neck, his protruding pecs and marked abdomen until you reached his clean shaved pubic area detonating small veins until you reached his huge erect manhood, you wanted him to fuck you so hard until it made you forget your name and the only one you can scream and remember is his… but for now, you were going to suck him off so good he would miss the feeling of your warm cavity on his cock.

You moved your tongue circularly on his glans, tasting every part of his salty pre cum combined with your saliva as you tentatively played with his foreskin a little, making Chan whimper, which made your body vibrate with excitement and finally you opened your mouth wide to insert it. Chan let out a little gasp at finally feeling his cock inside something, a cavity as soft and warm and like yours, as he felt his cock finally being surrounded by the wetness of your mouth and the sensation of your naughty tongue that wouldn't stop moving. Chan sighed heavily, closing his eyes and throwing back his head.

“Fuck, babygirl, that's it, keep g-going, don't stop” he gasped encouraging you to move more.

His cock was so big that only half of it fit with effort, the rest of its length you held with your hand, still you took advantage of the stiffness but flexibility of his member, making him explore the inside of your mouth, making Chan tremble as his sighs of excitement came more and more forcefully from his inside, pushing against his abdomen. You felt a tickle in your nose as it watered and became slippery, your whole expression changed, your cheeks rose up to your eyes, bothering you and making them begin to water, however you did not stop and began to move, bobbing your head up and down his length, trying to adapt to his size, and do it at your pace, however pleasure took over Chan and between gasps he began to pull your head penetrating your mouth gently; you moaned breathlessly and with his virility in your cavity, whimpering and releasing tinies mmm's, the liquids of both began to slide out of your mouth; Chan bit his lip at the submissive and helpless image of you with his big member in your mouth as you struggled to keep up and catch your breath, then he looked up, meeting his reflection in the big mirror on the wall, seeing himself with such a pleased expression from you pretty mouth giving it all to satisfy him, Chan thought he couldn't wait to see what a mess you became as he fucked you hard, seeing you both in that damn, big, strategic mirror.

Chan continued to thrust your head, you were so turned on again that your trembling, fumbling hand found its way to your pussy to begin stimulating your clitoris as your mouth grotesquely and sexually filled with your father's best friend's big cock. Chan flicked his tongue, smiled at the sight of you in a mess, your makeup smudged, your eyes watering and your hand struggling to touch yourself… however the last thing did not please him at all, he wanted to keep teasing you and have absolute control of your body, your emotions, your panting, your pleasure, everything must be because he was giving it to you, it all belonged to him. He pulled roughly on your hair, pulling his dick violently out of your mouth splashing your fluids all over your face, his abdomen and onto the couch; Chan without thinking again treated you like a whore, and slapped you again.

“You can't touch yourself, concentrate on my cock, cum like a slut by just sucking my cock if you want, but you are not allowed to touch yourself, today only daddy can touch you” he demanded, leaving your fragile cheek slightly burning with pain.

You looked at him in surprise, and without answering him or being able to take a breath, he reached up again to grab your hair, taking the base of his erection with his hand and directing it back to your mouth where its red tip brushed your wet lips.

“Open up, make me feel good, let daddy cum in that little mouth” he demanded again in a husky voice.

You looked at him, vulnerably with each limb weak and trembling, you opened your mouth and he without warning pushed until you felt his glans touch the bottom of your cavity.

“Daddy is going to fuck your throat, princess, hold on.”

Your body vibrated and your womanhood reacted violently to his warning, you made eye contact with him again, almost begging for mercy as your eyes watered, which only made Chan swell more, he bit his lip and the vein in his neck started to become more and more noticeable, it felt more than good, he was about to cum with an intensity like he had never done before and just from fucking your mouth. Chan rammed you gently and then found a way to slide his cock down your throat as he dug his hands into your hair; you whimpered, out of breath and contracting your body hard, out of air and begging for some, regurgitating as he touched the uvula of your mouth, upsetting your gag reflex, as you held onto his thighs, digging your nails in; Chan cried out in pleasure, reaching so deep until you felt the rough texture of the skin of his balls on your lips, rubbing them into you as he moved subtly, only to pull away quickly as he saw your body convulse for help. You caught your breath and coughed from the earlier sensation of a large intruder in your throat, you brought your hands to your neck… you still smiled at him, it was so fucking hot, you were immobile unable to do anything about his strong grip, fuck, now you loved deepthroating him.

He noticed your cynical reaction, you looked incredibly horny to him, he didn't think you were that kind of girl, all in all a wonderful girl willing to explore every game and open to anything.

“Make me cum” Chan added in a whine, now he almost pleading, releasing his tight grip on your hair and now stroking it. Your smile widened and now you continued at your pace, tasting and enjoying his entire length and testicles, your mouth up and down his cock as you massaged his balls; then running your tongue all over it as if it were your favorite candy.

“Mmm, you taste so good daddy, I love your cock, it's so big, mm” you babbled between his cock, looking into his eyes.

“Yeah?” he said raising his eyebrows and looking at you haughtily, weakening his body so much at every naughty flick of your tongue and strong suction, echoing grotesquely in the room the moans of both of you and the dripping sound of his cock colliding with your mouth and lips, Chan was so close, “Keep going babygirl, fuck, I'm gonna cum, I'm gonna cum, all over your fucking mouth, you're doing it so well, what the fuck” Chan babbled feebly.

And Chan ejaculated, inhaling hard air between his teeth and gasping loudly as he closed his eyes as he felt his cum shoot out of his glossy tip, landing on your ready, open tongue. You watched Chan cum, his abdomen contracting as he gasped loudly and you felt like a faithful happy puppy wagging your tail endlessly. You kept stimulating his glans, flicking in small circles as you subtly lubed it and withdrew the semen from your mouth, falling in sticky drips to the couch.

“Fuck” said Chan in exasperation for the last time before pulling his cock away from you.

Chan was hard again, not caring that he had just finished cumming, he was still very well loaded, now ready to fuck you, he leaned towards you, looking at you intimidatingly to which you shrank back coming up against the back of the couch, unsure what his spontaneous move might be now. Chan approached your face and with his thumb he roughly slid the liquids around your mouth, on your chin and under your nose, aggressively doing it even on your lips, then forcing his finger into your warm mouth, you didn't take your eyes off him, once again breathing heavily, you caught his finger and sucked it hard in such an erotic act while appreciating every detail of his handsome face.

“Good girl” he whispered, “Now spread your pretty legs and let me see your pussy to prepare it before I fuck you.”

Once again you came back to all your senses, your body trembled with exaggeration and excitement knowing that he was finally going to fuck you. You leaned back fully and spread your legs again showing him your exposed vulva, still throbbing and a mess from being soaked and moaning softly from your bruised ass. You looked at Chan's full complexion and once again your eyes were lost on his stiff throbbing cock, fearful that perhaps it was going to hurt a little…. Chan didn't hesitate and passed his hard cock rubbing it in your soaked folds while holding it with his hand, you moaned shuddering at the sensation, he was teasing you to the limit, Chan also gasped subtly at the pressure of his cock in your wet warm genital, rubbing it proudly in you, you swallowed, still with your mouth wet and sensitive from his cock in it just a moment ago and plucked up the courage to say to him:

“Fuck me please, daddy, I-I need you, please” you begged as you felt his firmness rubbing hard against your labia.

Chan watched you smugly with a smile as he saw you so needy, your pussy exposed, your makeup ruined and your glossy mouth dirty and your body with little drops of his cum.

“You want my cock so badly, huh?” he mumbled now teasing your entrance, rubbing his tip and rubbing it gently, almost thrusting it in which made you groan as you retained the loud sound biting your lip and enjoying it.

“Mmhuum…” you moaned nodding softly.

You thought Chan was about to fuck you in that position, you were so ready, your orifice dilated desperate for him, but you were surprised when he abruptly grabs your wrist, pulling you up and forcing you to stand, moving your body with ease, putting you on your back to him, you felt so hot from his sudden movement and quickly felt Chan move closer to your body, sticking his erection on your back, he held you by your breasts and whispered hotly in your ear,

“I'm going to fuck my way into you, babygirl.”

You saw the scene in the mirror facing you, half your body exposed and Chan behind you looking at you with desire. Once again your serotonin rose, this time without false hope as you finally felt Chan's cock slide all the way to your entrance, stretching your entire hole making you scream and you felt your whole canal slowly fill to the bottom, with the sensation of Chan's body crashing against yours, he also groaned as he was inside you, with your tight walls choking his swollen cock; you whimpered and arched your back a little, now enjoying it and shifting your hips gently to adapt to his size. Chan saw the sight of his cock buried in your tiny hole, stretching for him and gasped at your subtle movements.

“And you're fucking yourself already huh? Don't move babygirl, I'm gonna be the one fucking you tonight, remember.”

Chan grabbed your hips, pulling your body away and then tackling him, exquisitely sliding his cock into your walls, you both gasped. He meant to be gentle at first, but eventually found his pace as he began to pound you hard, inserting his entire firm length into your tightness, “Fuck” Chan mumbled, looking at your red and slightly bruised ass, as his pelvis and balls pounded you hard. You were so wet that amidst his moans and sound of his skin slapping also came the sound of your wet pussy meeting his cock.

“Fuck, baby, you're so tight, what a fucking tight cunt, so good, baby” Chan whimpered, you were deliciously tight for him which made him feel divine, finally everything he had sighed about so many nights in frustration, wanting to falsely set limits with you, was just now, fucking you hard.

“Fu-, it's huge daddy it hurts but it feels so good” you mumbled as you were rammed hard with your voice cracking between each stroke he gave you.

Chan grabbed your arms now, holding you still and doing what he wanted with your body, deliberately pounding you with his big cock, enjoying every inch of you until he reached your cervix hitting it hard. He stretched your body, pulling it together with his, making the thrusts deeper, almost vigorously moving your guts, feeling the bulge of his cock protrude into your belly; Chan wrapped his right arm around your chest and neck, headlocking you softly, while his left hand went down to your clitoris, caressing, you trembled and moaned at the same time, you were losing strength as you were extremely filled with pleasure and literally filled, physically by Chan's cock, you saw his glowing big arm wrap around you, smelling his sweet scent as he gently brushed your chin, he put his head close to your ear and whispered dominant:

“Look how I fuck you, huh, is that how you like it little slut?”

You gasped breathlessly, and looked up to see your humiliatingly weak body and your expression of pleasure in the mirror, ecstatic at your insides being destroyed. Chan was also beginning to tremble, he was so empowered but at the same time weak, he had cum intensely before and your walls were sucking his cock heavenly; so in one swift movement, he sat down on the couch, without getting out of you, giving you a better sensation of his balls rubbing against your pussy and his smooth, marked skin of his abs touching your back; you whimpered at the sudden motion, as your buttocks were still sensitive, Chan continued to hold you by the neck, ramming you hard bringing him closer and closer to his glorious second orgasm. Once again he stroked your sensitive spot on your pussy and positioned his face next to yours, so you heard every hot and needy whimper of your secret lover, every sigh and exasperated moan, being music to your ears.

“Look at you, taking my cock so well into that soaked tight pussy, don't you love when daddy fucks you hard, sweetie?”

You gasped raggedly, “Yes, daddy, I love it”, but your body quivered harder, finally so close to your orgasm.

“Fitting my cock in your tight hole like a fucking slut, god, you feel so good” Chan whimpered at the sensation of his swollen cock shrinking, struggling to enter you fully, destroying you so heavenly, while Chan held back the urge to kiss you dirtyly.

He accelerated his movements, both of on your clitoris and his thrusts, lifting his hips harder, pounding you hard.

“Oh, daddy, I'm going to cum, can I cum?” you whimpered shuddering almost on the edge, you had held back so many orgasms you were about to burst.

“Go ahead princess, cum on my cock, isn't that what you always wanted?”

Chan groaned, smelling strongly the scent of your hair and moved his arm, now only to his hand, placed on your neck and beginning to choke you. You felt his strong grip, shortness of breath and your heart pounding intensely as your pussy kept being rammed, you brought your hands to his at your neck, feeling every exalted vein of his bony upper limb with your sight blurring completely, you whimpered loudly for the last time and unloaded into him, relaxing the tension in your muscles and releasing all your sweet cum.

“Fuck” grunted Chan as he became aware of your warm cum wrapping around his dick, and his grip on you gradually became less tight, “I'm gonna fucking cum inside of you, babygirl, oh, fuck, fuck” he whined and he continued ramming you until he cummed hard inside of you.

You drop your completely tired and yielding body on Chan's chest, both of you with heaving breaths. Chan lift you up a little from his length to witness the obscene scene of your tired cunt and wide open hole with his cock inside, so needy and twitching while spilling out your sweet cum coating his cock, sliding down reaching his balls. He smiled incredulously and proudly, after he promised himself that he wouldn't touch his friend's beloved daughter…

“Fuck, babygirl, that was great” commented Chan breathlessly with a sweeter tone as he gently fondled your breasts, “Come here and kiss me” he asked sweetly.

You were shaken, your vision blurred and throbbing from such an intense orgasm, yet you gave your all to turn your body and join your lips with Chan's, you loved being fucked by him, but all the time you missed the feel of his soft lips. Chan kissed you sweetly, playing with your nipples, an act of which if he kept doing there was no doubt you could become aroused again.

“Maybe next time I'll fuck you gentler, okay? Forgive me if I was too rough, princess, was I?” he whispered tenderly, softening his gaze to a cuter one in seconds.

You softly denied looking at him tenderly, “No, daddy, I loved it… but I would also love it if you fuck me gently next time” you smiled shyly at him.

Chan found your tired face adorable, your cheeks red, still so flustered trying to calm you down, he smiled back and released your tits to let his hands rest on your thighs, caressing them and placed a soft sounding kiss on your shoulder and said:

“Do you want to stay on my cock for a while or…?”

“Oh, I'm sorry” you interrupted him opening your eyes in surprise not realizing that maybe he wanted to be done, which he laughed softly at your reaction, narrowing his eyes and stretching his nose a little.

However that wasn't his intention, Chan didn't care, he also refused to get out of you, to feel you from him, he just wanted to know if you would stay longer to get into his totally tender mode and not get hard inside you.

“You want me to clean you up? Geez you've made a mess, beautiful.”

You denied again embarrassed.

“No, no, can I go to the bathroom?”

“You'll clean yourself up like a big girl” he continued playfully.

To which you provocatively and innocently replied, “Yes, may I daddy?”

Chan let out a giggle and nodded, stroking your back, “Would you like some dinner, princess? It's late, will you stay here?”

You nodded blushing, “Yes that's fine and… I guess I can say I went to stay with a friend.”

Chan smiled, “Won't it be very suspicious that we left together and absent at the same time?”

“Like if my dad would care” you replied, a little annoyed.

“I think he will mind if he finds out that it's me corrupting his sweet daughter…” snapped Chan.

You moved closer to his face and with a big mischievous smile you whispered, "Then let's always keep it a secret" you kissed him quickly.

That caused a reaction in Chan, again you and your subtle seduction games but you stood up, sliding his cock one last time and it falling gracefully again close to its owner, causing him to let out a soft moan as he still saw how soaked both sexes were joined together.

“Where is the bathroom…?” you asked, uncomfortable, looking for your clothes to cover yourself as you didn't want to walk around naked like one without shame.

He watched you tenderly as he noticed you, “Down this hallway to the bottom right” he answered you, reaching down to get his blue shirt, “Here, babygirl, put it on.”

You smiled shyly at him and put on his shirt of which was of little helpless as your body was see-through in it, he looked at you more tenderly as he saw how huge it looked on you and you walked shyly to the bathroom.

Chan got up, cleaned up and tidied the mess a bit, ordered dinner and tried to find something comfortable for you… but none of his clothes weren't going to fit you. You came out of the bathroom and looked for Chan until you found him near the TV in his living room trying to put something on, looking like a real dad looking for what to watch on TV, you approached him with a smile and hugged him to which he immediately reciprocated.

“I tried to find something for you, but I don't think my clothes fit you, but don't worry beautiful, I put your underwear in the washer so you'll be comfortable.”

You lifted your face and looked at him sweetly, “I guess I have to stay like this, with nothing in my pussy for a while” you commented, playfully.

“It doesn't have to be so alone, your pussy if that's what you want” Chan whispered, sliding his hand suddenly and with his fingertips caressing your exposed folds.

You moaned, your eyes began to darken and your pupils to dilate. Chan let out a giggle and withdrew his hand, he was just teasing you a little.

“I ordered us sushi, okay? Wanna watch a movie?” he said still with a slightly teasing expression, to place a soft kiss on your forehead.

But Chan knew damn well you'd never end up paying attention to the stupid movie anyway, he still wanted you so bad.

₊˚⊹♡ bonus imagine:

Video you take of your new secret lover, in your hidden encounters in his apartment; him looking so relaxed and handsome in his black sleeveless shirt as the two of you make out passionately, waiting for the situation to escalate to something more fiery, exciting you so slowly and exquisitely as you feel his lips, but suddenly an important call interrupts you, Chan has to take it, telling you that all his attention will be on you in an instant, so fast as soon as he finishes an important issue and he turns on the bed to grab his phone so he stays positioned with his abdomen pressed against the bed. You frustrated and a little annoyed you get up from the bed and grab your phone which is on the other side of the room, but you came across a Chan so tender and focused on what he was doing so you couldn't help but take a video of him, to which he promptly notices and reacts in a sweet way.

(i had to made it a gif cause the video glitched the post)

The kind of selfies he sends you when you're not together because he had to go back to his city, followed by a: I miss you so much

I've been thinking about you so much, I can't wait to see you on friday, my princess❤️

--------

𐙚TAGLIST: @rylea08 @hann1bee @iovecb97

[brainmuncher]

A mis-text-derstanding

After a long night of patrolling around Amity, Danny damn near collapsed onto his bed. His back ached from a stray ectoblast and his eyes felt heavier than a mountain. Technus had done something to the technology around the town. At random a piece of technology would suddenly go rogue with a virus the ghost implemented. The virus would make the item try to capture anyone in the vicinity using any means necessary. So Danny had been doing regular patrols around town to catch anyone who needed help.

That also means that his sleeping time had been radically reduced. Without even the energy to lift his head, Danny patted around for his phone. Once he finally found the device he hefted himself on his side with a groan. It was a new phone since he was the first casualty in Technus’ plan. Thankfully, Sam had given him another so his parents wouldn’t try to make him one. (Who knows what kind of ‘anti-ghost’ protection they would’ve put on it.)

Tucker had promised that he was working on fixing the virus going around. Hopefully, he had some kind of good news to share. As soon as Danny went to message him he realized he hadn’t downloaded their chat app to the new phone. With a sigh he knew that he would just have to use normal texting but with careful codewords.

Putting in Tucker's number with a yawn, Danny sent the first message.

‘It’s your undead bro. The night out tonight was killer. Any news on the techie progress?’

Danny smashed his face into his bed with a sigh after hitting send. Knowing Tucker he was probably face first in his laptop and won’t notice the message for a bit. He could probably just close his eyes and…

Before he could even consider taking a nap there was a generic jingle from the phone. He should really get to fixing that. Tuck deserves a much better ringtone than some bells.

‘Nothing noteworthy yet. It's harder to crack than normal but nothing I can't handle. Do you need me to take over for tomorrow?’

‘Also why aren't you using our chat?’

Danny squinted at the screen with a slight frown. It had been a while since Sam or Tucker tried to go out in his place. They learned pretty quickly that it made Danny way too anxious to have them out there without him. Something about not being there to protect them if they got over their heads made Danny’s chest ache. 

And of course, Tucker noticed that he wasn’t using the app he made. It was a bit glitchy at times, but what tech wasn’t when it came to Danny? Not only was it secure, but it became an easier way for them to establish a timeline for filing. Jazz had been the one who realized that they didn’t have steady information on not just the rouges but the events of the fights. It became a staple to write out what happened and what went wrong after hearing her lecture about it.

‘Don’t have it on this phone yet. And you know how I feel about you being out there.’

Danny watched the screen for a bit, waiting to see if Tucker would reply immediately again. His mom probably caught him on his computer all day and was forcing him to separate himself from it for a while. It wasn’t an uncommon thing for Ms. Foley to do.

‘Yeah yeah, Mr. Possessive. Do you need me to walk you through how to get it again?’

Snorting at the pun, Danny easily replied. If Tucker was feeling sassy enough to joke about that, then he would push some buttons back. It was a simple banter that they sometimes fell into.

‘You know how I get with technology. I’m more likely to break something. Especially since this phone is so new. Whatever happened to flip phones?’

Danny snickered to himself at the message. Tucker had an ongoing war between new and old technology. While he loved his PDA he also admired some of the top-of-the-line devices. It was like the past and the future mixed in his friend's room. He would gush about the new devices but also gush about the older ones that still had functions that the newer ones lost. But flip phones? That was the only technology he knew that Tucker hated. It was the worst of both worlds for him. He’d been so excited when Danny’s flip phone was bricked by Technus’ virus.

‘I’m going to ignore that you said that.’

‘Also there’s going to be trouble in the park near you tomorrow. I’m already planning on going. Do you want in?’

Scooting up from his lounged position, Danny started to write back his reply.

‘Of course, I’ll be there. Don’t need you to go in alone and join the dead. Unusual for him to leave his plans there though. That’ll be fun to write in the report.’

The image of Jazz reading about that brought a smile to Danny’s face. She always found it interesting when one of the ghosts would change a long-time behavior. The fact that Technus was able to keep this rather on the down low would guarantee her interest. He was always one to blatantly announce his plans to the world to hear. Even though it’s a bit of a pain that he’s learning to keep things to himself it would peak Jazz’s curiosity, which made it bearable.

‘It is weird. And don’t remind me about the report. I still have the one from last week to write and I don’t want to do it.’

That made Danny laugh to himself a little. Last week the lunch lady tried to embrace the Ultra-Recyclo Vegetarian life. In the overflow of food, Tucker had gotten trapped in veggies. He was visibly green from having to eat some to escape. Sam had been excited about it at first before she saw how much food was being wasted. She ended up getting attacked for trying to explain the damage overconsumption and food waste could bring.

‘You looked like you wanted to vomit afterward. Well, at least we are prepared this time. We don’t always get that chance.’

Danny stretched out his stubborn limbs, feeling himself try to sink into the darkness. He’d have to end the conversation sooner rather than later. At this rate, he wouldn’t have a choice on whether he was taking a nap or not. At the familiar sound of bells, he looked back down at the conversation.

‘Unfortunately. Well, I’ll be finished by the time we meet at the park. I know you usually like to sleep after a long night.’

The reply made Danny’s core feel fuzzy with happiness. Tucker always knows him so well. He doesn’t know what he did to get such a fantastic best friend. It was at times like these that Danny knew he was so glad that they were in this together. With two of his best friends at his side, it made being a vigilante so much easier to bear. 

‘Thanks. Remember that not just the dead get to sleep. Don’t push yourself. Goodnight.’

With that, Danny felt comfortable with setting his phone down to get changed into pajamas. It ached on his back to take off his shirt, but Jazz would be disappointed in the morning if he didn’t. She always got that pinched look on her face when he didn’t take care of himself to her standards. Her standards weren’t exactly high up either so it made him feel extra upset when he missed the mark.

Being careful to not lie on his back, Danny got back into his bed. He curled himself into the blankets with a small smile. One last chime of bells rang out in the room, probably from Tucker saying goodnight back. Picking up his phone, he opened up the lock screen and looked at his messages.

Instead of a goodnight, his stomach dropped as he realized a different number messaged him. A very familiar number.

‘Hey dude! I know you had to get a new phone so this is me. Not only did I figure out how it’s spreading, I think I finally found a way to get rid of the virus.’

Practically throwing himself off the bed, Danny got to his feet. Both his back and his mind screamed at him as he looked over the message. He tapped back to the one he’d just been replying to, finding his heart stopping at the string of numbers. One of the area code numbers was a six instead of a nine. He’d been messaging a stranger this entire time.

Looking back at the messages he convinced himself that it was fine. He was vague enough to not be recognized. It wasn’t like this person was from Amity. They won’t recognize the correlation between him and Phantom. Surely the other person wouldn’t take his words at face value. 

Worst comes to worst he can have Tucker take over his phone for a bit and make sure the other person can’t find out who he is. He hadn’t bought the phone or had it under his name in any way, so they could only find out from the conversation alone.

Breathing out a breath of air he kissed his night of sleep goodbye.

‘I’ll be over in a sec Tuck. I think I just made a mistake.’

[foldingfittedsheets]

We had the most egregiously evil little pony horse when I was growing up. I know everyone says that. Ponies are one of the animals that truly understand how to commit crimes but she was really deeply atrocious. One time she tried to murder me. Her name was Fancy.

I feel I should slightly explain here. See, my parents bought two acres with a house and a barn and pasturage and went “We’re farmers now!” They had absolutely no idea what they were doing. And at a certain point along that journey my mom got her hands on a horse. Technically she was half pony half horse so she was this weird middle size.

Fancy belonged to a friend of hers and he showed her how to saddle Fancy. And that was it. That was all we knew about this horse. So my mom brings her home and saddles her and we decide to go for a ride on this new creature in our lives. But Fancy, being the savvy bitch she was, was far too canny for our dumb asses.

Her maiden ride went to my older brother and ended rather abruptly when the saddle slid completely sideways and my brother toppled off her, miraculously unharmed but unwilling to ever try again. This made me like Fancy somewhat, because I hated my brother.

Those familiar with horse trickery would have caught her ruse but Fancy had deliberately held her breath to make the saddle seem tight enough. But in stride she let the breath out, the saddle loosened, and my brother came toppling down. She planned that fuckup.

I was a bit more game, being a dedicated horse girl. I wanted to succeed where my loathsome brother had failed. Keep in mind: none of us had ever ridden. We had no idea what we were doing, and in the only defense I’ll ever make of that hoofed demon it was probably not pleasant to have a human flopping on her back like a sack of potatoes. But I paraded around in a circle until she scraped my leg against a fence post. I lasted longer than my brother but had to admit riding an animal radiating malice at you is not comfortable.

We didn’t really ride Fancy much after that. She was a decorative aspect to the fields. Sometimes I’d sit on her bare back while she was eating. Every so often she’d buck me off for assuming familiarity with her.

But Fany's coup de grâce took several months. Most of the pasturage had electric fence running along it to keep the livestock from testing the fences or getting a taste for freedom. My parents were constantly moving fence posts and reallocating land to different purposes which is how one of the major gates ended up with electric fence running over top. During a move the wire got left up from the last border and now it was strung over what should have been an open passage.

I was taking a ride on Fancy, living in a fantasy that I had any idea what I was doing. My mom was out working in the yard, and as she passed through she left the gate open, forgetting the wire hazard. You know who didn't forget?

Fancy.

She beelined for the open gate and I realized a second too late what her plan was. I hauled back on the reins with all my strength but she powered through, charging at the wire. If I'd caught on sooner I could have tipped forward and probably cleared it.

It was roughly chest height. But she was too savvy, keeping a slow pace right up until the passage, and I didn't have time to react. The thought of getting electrocuted sent me down into a terrified backward limbo, desperately trying to flatten myself along her back.

Her assassination almost worked. But instead of beheading me the wire caught under my chin, pressing back into my neck like a garrote. The only good news was that the wire wasn't live, but I was still in terrible danger. I squealed and wiggled and managed to twist my neck enough that the wire scraped over my face instead of pressing deeper. Once we were through Fancy stopped and turned to regard me, disappointed that her murder had failed. My neck was bleeding but my head remained attached.

My mother was absolutely terrified and I was pretty shaken myself. We unsaddled Fancy for the last time, as full on attempts on my life were a bit more than I was willing to bear for the sake of pretending to be a fantasy hero on an epic journey. My neck still has a faint scar from her homicidal tendencies.

Fancy got to remain a decorative horse for many years after that, free of our attempts to ride her. Her last torment was when my mother decided to try to breed her to achieve an animal that was less interested in murder.

But Fancy, true to form, brutally attacked the stallion sent to service her, even when hopped up on horny hormones. There would be no foals from Fancy, and her saga ended when we sold her to another unlucky soul.

[togrowoldinv]

The Retreat

Milf!Wanda Maximoff x Reader

When you go on a church retreat, you have a very interesting conversation with Wanda

Note: I have missed writing for this Wanda! Can’t get her out of my head lately. Y’all enjoy this one!

Warnings: Smut! 18+ please! Kissing, cursing, sad Wanda, oral and fingering (W receiving), age gap

Milf Wanda Masterlist, Main Masterlist

When you were asked to go on a women’s retreat, you immediately wanted to say no. The only reason you even go to church is to appease your parents. But it’s the final retreat of the year and you are expected to attend at least one.  

So, you find yourself now waiting by the church bus to load up. You watch as mothers say goodbye to their children and wives kiss their husbands. One family in particular catches your eye.  

The Maximoffs. Wanda, the matriarch, is a good friend of your mothers. They just moved to town a few years ago, but have made quite an impression in the town. Her husband travels for work, so Wanda is often found alone at the church service while her twin boys are in class for the children.  

You wonder how a man could ever leave a woman like that alone. She is definitely the most beautiful woman you’ve ever seen. Some part of you has been attracted to her since you first laid eyes on her.  

Wanda gets on the bus and sits a few seats from you. She gives you a small wave. You put in your headphones to try and drown out the world. The drive only lasts a few hours and soon you’re at the retreat.  

You check in and get your room key. It doesn’t take long to figure out that you will have a roommate when you open the door and see there are two beds. You're praying it’s not one of the older ladies or someone in your peer group who you can’t stand.  

The prayer is answered when the door latch opens and none other than the one and only Wanda Maximoff walks in.  

“Well, hi y/n!” She says. “I didn’t know we were roommates.”  

“Hey Mrs. Maximoff. I didn’t either.”  

“Oh please call me Wanda. This weekend we are peers, sweetheart,” she says.  

She puts her bags on the bed next to the window. Sitting on the bed, she looks around the room. Wanda spots an itinerary on the bedside table.  

“Looks like a busy weekend,” she analyzes. “We should get going to the first session.”  

“Oh, I was thinking I would just rest tonight,” you reply.  

“Nonsense, y/n,” Wanda says. “You came all this way. You might as well try and enjoy it. I know you aren’t feeling the spirit these days, but let me try and do something about that, okay?”  

Your pulse quickens. How can she see right through you? Maybe she’s just being nice. Or maybe it’s worse and your mother asked her to look out for you this weekend.  

She stands and waits for you to join her. You sigh and follow Wanda out the door.  

The first session goes better than you thought it would. At least the food was good and the middling company was made a little better by Wanda’s presence.  

When you get back to the room, it is freezing cold in there. You notice Wanda shivering even in her sweatshirt and sweatpants she has on for bed. Still, you both try to go to sleep for the night.  

At some point though, you get a feeling someone is watching you while you sleep. Or more accurately, as you try to sleep in the arctic environment. Your eyes flutter open to see Wanda sitting up in her bed.  

“What time is it?” You ask her.  

“Early,” Wanda replies. Her voice is gravely, and if you think about it too much you might even be turned on by it.  

“Are you cold?”  

She nods. “The heat isn’t working. I tried, but can’t fix it.”  

You roll out of bed and walk to the thermostat on the wall. Wanda follows you and stands close behind you. You can hear her breathing as you investigate the issue.  

“Can you fix it?” She asks.  

“Unfortunately, I cannot,” you reply. Wanda sighs.  

You turn around and Wanda is still very close to you.  

“We have one option here,” she begins. “To sleep together.”  

“Oh,” you mumble. “We- um-”  

“We could snuggle and then our body heat will keep us warmer,” Wanda further explains. “What do you say?”  

“Okay.”  

“Okay,” Wanda says.  

She leads the way to your bed hoping since it’s the one away from the window it’ll be a little bit warmer. Wanda crawls into the bed and pulls the covers down. She waits for you to join her. You get into the bed cautiously, keeping a little distance between you two.  

“Come on closer, baby. I don’t bite,” Wanda says. She grins at herself.  

You get closer to her and she wraps an arm around your waist. You drape one of your arms across the pillow and she positions herself with her head between your neck and shoulder. Admittedly, it is warmer with the two of you snuggling together.  

Eventually, you both fall into a deep sleep and the snuggling becomes more relaxed. It feels natural when the two of you wake up in the morning still intertwined.  

“Good morning,” you say softly, trying not to get lost in her green eyes.  

“Good morning,” Wanda says. Her face is close to yours. You can practically see every detail of her perfect face. “We should get ready for the day.”  

“Right,” you say, breaking out of your trance. “Of course.”  

You two break apart and you miss her warmth already. When you two show up at breakfast, several people are already in the room.  

“Wanda! Y/n! Join our table!” The leader of the women’s group calls you both over. “How did you two sleep?”  

“Quite well,” Wanda replies. “It was cold, but we made do.”  

“Oh, we can have someone look at your heat,” the leader replies.  

“Thanks that would be-” you start, but are interrupted.  

“That’s alright,” Wanda says, placing a hand on your forearm. “We are okay.”  

It's a strange response, but you try not to read into it. She probably just doesn’t want to cause any trouble. The breakfast lecturer starts soon and your attention shifts.  

At the end of the day, you and Wanda find yourselves sitting in your room once again. Dinner isn’t for another hour, so you are just waiting around.  

“Should we work on our exercises?” Wanda asks, breaking the silence.  

“What?”  

“The vulnerability exercises we talked about today in the final session,” Wanda explains.  

“Oh, sure.”  

Wanda smiles. She sits on the edge of her bed and pats the spot next to her.  

“I’ll go first,” she says. 

“Remind me of the rules,” you ask.  

“We reveal something to each other that no one else knows. So that we can release it and let the weight go.”  

You nod. You have no idea what Wanda might say. Her life seems perfect.  

“Vision left me,” Wanda blurts out quickly.  

“What?” You ask in shock. “Wanda, I- what happened?”  

You hadn’t seen them interact much, but you never assumed that he wasn’t still in the picture. Just that he had been traveling.  

Wanda looks down, playing with the ring on her finger. You can tell she’s holding back tears.  

“Wanda, it’s okay. You don’t have to explain. I'm really sorry.”  

“No, it might help if I do,” Wanda says. “Things just got bad. They went from okay, to maybe not so good, to fuck we’re over.”  

Your eyes go wide. Never have you ever heard Wanda curse like that.  

“How long ago was it over?”  

“A few months,” Wanda says.  

“And you haven’t told anyone?”  

She shakes her head. “I just keep saying he’s away on business. The truth is he hasn’t touched me in almost a year.”  

“So, that snuggling we did last night was?” 

“The first time I’ve remotely been that close to someone in a year.”  

“Jesus,” you mumble. She doesn’t even scold you for using the Lord’s name in vain. “Can I hug you?”  

You figure she needs human connection now more than ever. She nods and you take Wanda in your arms. She melts against you. Tears fall down her face and soak into your shirt.  

“It’s okay,” you whisper softly to her. “You’re okay, Wanda.”  

“I’m not,” she says through sobs.  

“You will be,” you reply. “I’m here for you. My parents are here for you. All of these stupid, annoying women here are on your side too, okay? We won’t let you fall.”  

Wanda pulls away some and looks at you. You run your hand through her hair and brush your thumb against her cheek gently. She leans in just enough for you to know what’s about to happen.  

“Wanda,” you say. She keeps moving forward. “Mrs. Maximoff.”  

That makes her stop. She looks at you with confusion in her eyes.  

“I just want you. Do you not want me, baby?” Wanda asks.  

“Oh, of course I want you. I just haven’t done the exercise yet.”  

“Oh?”  

You take your other hand and pull her closer by her hip. Your lips are almost touching.  

“My secret is that I really, really want to kiss you right now and fuck you until you forget about your loser ex-husband who never deserved you in the first place,” you say.  

Wanda closes the gap between the two of you. Her lips move fervently against yours. You can tell she’s desperate.  

“When’s the last time he kissed you like this?” You ask between kisses.  

“Never,” she replies.  

You smile into her mouth and move to push her back onto the bed. Her legs wrap around your waist as you pin her arms above her head.  

“Fuck, Wanda, you are the most beautiful woman alive,” you tell her.  

“We shouldn’t do this,” she says. It's her final effort at not letting herself feel as good as he deserves to feel. You move your hands off of her just briefly.  

“We should do this, but I'll stop if you really don’t want this,” you tell her.  

“No, I- we just can’t tell anyone, okay?”  

“Yes ma’am.”  

You put your hands back on her. This time, you go straight for the buttons of her jeans. You kiss down her chest and around her belly. Deftly, you pull down her pants and panties in one fell swoop.  

Wanda shivers beneath the feeling of your wet lips against her hips and as you brush your nose lightly against her core.  

“Oh, god, y/n,” she whimpers.  

“So wet for me, Wanda,” you say. You dive into her core with your tongue. Her folds are intoxicating as you bring her more pleasure than she’s ever felt in her life.  

“I need you,” Wanda says. “Please, baby. Please!”  

You take Wanda’s clit in your mouth and move your fingers into her in tandem. She is writhing beneath your touch.  

“Come for me, Mrs. Maximoff,” you say as you feel her reaching her climax.  

“Fuck!” Wanda comes hard against you.  

You lick her as she comes down and move up her body slowly. You lie next to her and kiss her cheek softly. The juxtaposition of that soft kiss and what you were just doing between her legs makes her heart flutter.  

“Are you okay?” You ask her. She is staring at the ceiling.  

“Yes,” she replies. “Thank you for everything.”  

“Anytime Wanda,” you say. You ignore the ache between your legs, knowing Wanda needs time to process this. “Should we go to dinner?”  

“Oh, I guess so,” she says.  

You sit up, but Wanda grabs your arm before you can stand.  

“I want to fuck you later, okay?” Wanda says. “I just-”  

“Need a minute,” you finish for her.  

“Yeah. Thanks for understanding, sweetheart. It’ll be worth the wait I promise.”  

Wanda kisses you deeply before she gets off the bed to get cleaned up. You watch as she walks with a new bounce in her step that she didn’t have before.  

Maybe this retreat will be interesting after all.  

[bunicate]

omg congrats on pulling bladie!!! big brother blade lives on my mind ngl ik he loves to spoil his lil sister’s pussy the second his parents r outta the houseee ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶

⋆⁺₊❅⋆ ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི ₊˚ 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒃𝒂𝒅 𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒅 𝒐𝒇 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆 . blade x fem reader

warnings ꒱ྀི incest. brief anal. creampie. a litl bit of possessive bladie. he says some dubious things. just a smidge of jealousy. “little girl” usage. breeding mention. unedited ofkurs ﾉ wc ꒱ 1.4k ﾉ 18+ ﾉ if uncomfy pls scroll or block ^_^

muhehe tysm ! ! still trying to build him ! he’s far from perfect but at least he’s at home with me. yk I had 2 pull through nd write smthn icky for him but I did go in a tad bit different direction :<<

you feel it, regret pooling in the pit of your stomach like rocks settling at the bottom of a shallow lake. the beating of your heart stutters out of tandem with the batter of blades hips.

his firm hands anchor themselves on the softness of your lower back, dull nails digging into your skin like thorns.

he fucks you with such depravity, and your obnoxiously noisy cunt salivated in response to the familiar bump of his cock. 

it was far too late for regrets, you knew it well, even as he’s buried himself to the hilt. your parents were a thing of the past, but there’s always the potential of subjecting an innocent passerby to the sight of your brother rubbing your tender insides with his cock. 

despite your roused state, you're still capable of reason, though your brother seemed to have a complete disregard for it.

“b-bladie.”

it’s soft on his ears, polite, although honeyed with a subtle warning accompanied by the slow pulse of your cunt. 

his cock twitches from your quiet plea. he’s close, and at this point, he knows better than to cross the line any further, but you were elusive to your own charms. how could he bury his urges when your round and soft butt continued to smack against his pelvis ? your cunt drooled each time he pulled out.

 its such a sight for sore eyes, and somehow his gaze kept wandering to the tight rim above, making his breathing ragged— almost animalistic.

 he’s seen all of you, sights no older brother should witness, but it didn’t stop him from wanting more.

it should terrify you, the lengths he goes to stake his claim over you. coming as close as threatening to breed you and keep you bound to him like a pet. predators would be wise to never cross the hunter, even they could sense the extent of his prowess. 

blade purposefully keeps you out of his affairs, but you know he’s a fearsome warrior. he’s tall and slender and with each movement, his hulk of muscle flexes. he’s strong enough to drag your body up and down his member, serving as a stark reminder of the gap in strength.

blade's palms, rough from wielding his ancient sword, settled on both sides of your waist, steels its grip. his thumb presses against your back, and the tips of his fingers meet at your belly button.

he bounces you on his cock, using you like a doll factored for fucking. he lifted you repeatedly like you weighed nothing and all you could do was submit to his brutal pace. 

blade bites his lip to prevent curses from escaping.

he feels . . . good, better than usual. your swollen pussy tugs on his length, drawing out the remnants of his willpower. the desire to cum and bury it in your womb causes blood to rush.

like you can sense the danger, you peer over your shoulder cautiously. 

“you h-have to pull out . . y’can’t just cum inside, okay ?”

such a redundant conversation, and he pays it no mind. 

what good would it be to do something so risky—so wrong, but for blade, it would be worth the peril. 

he doesn’t acknowledge your admonition, instead pressing you further into the sheets, elongating the arch in your back.

“stay still.” 

his hand collides with your backside and a startled gasp echoes. the apple of your ass cheek stings, while the damp release between your thighs becomes stickier. 

the weight on the bed dips when your big brother lowers himself. his chest presses to your back when he fucks you again.

roaring slaps of moist flesh lie thick in the air. you’re soft, so fragile in his embrace that he could crush you like a dainty flower trampled from being hidden between shards of grass.

when blade feels that familiar tender pulse of your cunt signaling your finish, he painfully pulls out as per your whiny request. he utterly despised having to separate himself from you, but nonetheless, he obeys your wishes. sort of.

his cock stands tall and thick, cream dripping from the edge of his tip. your pussy is agape in front of him, but his eyes linger on the tight coil of your ass.

rough palms enclose in a tight fist around his shaft. he pumps his cock, staring daggers at the rim until his balls hang heavier.

he wanted to empty them, he wanted nothing more than to milk his cock using your sweet cunt, but the hunger that normally consumed him wanted something else for a change. 

he slaps his tip against your puckered hole, humping the pretty flesh. his leaking head increasingly swells as the seconds pass by, turning bright pink. the hunter groans, and heaves, his sickening thoughts running rampant while he envisions himself filling up his little sister. 

he’s no longer computing, his body moves on autopilot, and he’s wiping his glossy tip over your ass. 

“hnn-! n-no more. not there bladie !”

you squeal. the sensation is new and foreign, and you find yourself torn between begging for more or scrambling away.

a growing smirk settles on his face, and you see a slither of his sharp teeth.

“you're mouthy today. maybe i should put my cock somewhere else instead.”

you tense when his tip probes your tight muscle again, rubbing it in circles. he was stimulating your ass, forcing your pussy to twitch out of neglect. 

he mumbles to himself. 

“such a brainless girl. i thought i made it clear that i take what i want.”

his orbital pools mimicking the color of blood narrow. he’s almost there, sloppily fucking the skin of your ass until the slippery head of his member breaches the tight ring. and then he snaps. 

with a single, calculated thrust, relief rains down in waves. he buries his cock in all the way as streams of his cum spurt out, dressing your walls in milky webs.

it’s warm as it fills your insides and your mind becomes a foggy maze. instead of your big brother cumming inside your cunt, he emptied his load in your ass, and nothing but burgeoning heat swallows you up. 

“thats it . . take what i give you.”

it’s hard to retain anything when his breath tickles the sides of your cheek and his pulsing sack mushes against your clit. 

“no part of you is off limits, little girl.” 

by now, you're writhing, and you can’t think about how full you felt. not when his words had you mewling out of shame and excitement.

blade makes sure to deliver a few more thrusts, just to be certain that he’s been thoroughly drained. his heart thrums against his chest, reminding him that he's real—you’re real, and that his cock is stretching his little sister’s ass.

his breathing becomes uneven, the exhales of air caressing the plains of your damp skin.

he lowers his head, his lips settling by the shell of your  ear. 

“soon . .”

long strands of his hair fall into place , resting on your own skin.

“i'll cum inside this tiny cunt and there's nothing you'll be able to do about it.”

a shiver runs down your spine. equal parts of fear and eagerness for that fateful day of promise.

when he pulls out, his seed drips from your opening down the length of your slit. both of his hands grab your ass cheeks to watch the cum nestle between your lower lips and spill on the already soiled sheets. 

carefully he watches your cunt push out the remnants, watching it cascade in thick dollops. 

“such greedy holes.” 

you puff out your cheeks and move the stringy hairs from your face. 

“stop it . . it’s so embarrassing when you say that .” 

you attempt to kick him off, and of course it’s thwarted by his iron hold on you.

he presses a sloppy kiss on your asshole, uncaring of the mess coating your sensitive parts. 

“eeeeeeeek -! you’re sooooooo gross, bladie ! get away from me !”

he spanks your ass to hush your outburst.

“shut up.”

he kisses you to silence more of your complaints. the faint taste of cum on his soft lips mingling against your spit - slicked ones. 

 he pulls away audibly, taking a calm breath. 

“you're seeing jing yuan tomorrow.”

you raise an eyebrow at the sudden mention of the general.

your brother is nothing less of a maverick, only keeping you close and others at a less than reasonable distance.

jing yuan however complicated things. while they weren't as close, anymore you still made an effort to see him despite their soured relationship.

in his scarce free time when he wasn't resting, he taught you all sorts of things. he helped time escape you when boredom struck in blade's absence. 

you nod stiffly, still skeptical at the hunter before you. you're wary of his intentions, but too stimulated to care. 

blade's face betrays no emotion and so, you’re suddenly startled.

you gasp when his teeth nicks at your neck.

he sucks the skin for a few seconds and then kisses the spot he bruised. proud of his handiwork he pulls away to speak up once more. you can nearly hear his smugness.

“. . . send my regards to the general.”

[kurthorton-moving]

I dont think i have ever mentioned nick on this blog bc hes an oc that has. Nothing to do with kurt or in common w him but looking at him next to kurt actually is so interesting to me because they're both around the same age coming from abusive homes and trying to just do what they have to to survive and theres so many interesting parallels between them