#because the bathroom in the basement didn't have a door

[transgender-catboy]

oh. I'm back in the house where I was stuck in the little room in the basement 90% of the time out of fear of my step grandfather yelling and threatening to make me homeless. that's cool.

[wandussyfantasy]

You Suck, Let's Fuck

Request from anon: g!p reader x Wanda pairing. background: reader and pietro are best friends and have been since childhood. reader and wanda never got along but secretly have crushes on each other. wanda is jealous because reader is a player and has hooked up with all of wanda’s friends, and reader just uses those girls to distract from not being able to have wanda because they don’t want to ruin their friendship with pietro. it all comes to a head when reader saves wanda from a handsy at a house party and the tension between them is too much and they confess their feelings and have sex.

Summary: Y/n is frustrated when Wanda's friends form a pact to not sleep with her anymore.

Pairings: Wanda x NB!AMAB!Reader

Word Count: 4,596

WARNINGS: 18+ ONLY, MINORS DO NOT READ & DO NOT INTERACT!!! smut, gn!reader amab, powerbottom!wanda, fingering, dirty talk, fluff, masturbation, sex toys, public touching, fantasies, and teasing.

𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐄 𝐍𝐒𝐅𝐖 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓. 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐂𝐄𝐄𝐃 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐂𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍.

“Pietro! Y/n! You're both dead!” Wanda screeches from the top of the stairs of the basement. You and Pietro look at each other and laugh. You hand him the joint that the two of you are passing back and forth. Wanda stomps her way down the stairs and neither of you move from your seats. You're on a bean bag chair and Pietro is sitting on an expensive gaming chair. The pair of you are playing a zombie game together. “You idiots think you're so fuckin funny don't you?” She points to her face with sharpie dicks drawn around it. “This isn't funny, I have to go to work unlike you bums!”

“Hey, we work,” you say defensively. Then a mischievous smirk pulls on your lips. “As a matter of fact, we're working right now,” you point to the camera that is pointed at you and Pietro, “say hi to our audience!”

Wanda’s eyes nearly pop out of her head as she sees herself on the computer screen monitoring the live stream. “Ugh! I hate you!” She runs up the stairs feeling completely humiliated. You and Pietro break out laughing. You can't help but check out her ass as she storms off.

“Woah! Hey! What are you doing?” Pietro shouts because your character in the game is being attacked by a hoard of zombies.

“Shit!” You say as you quickly get back into the game. There are crude comments on the stream being left about Wanda and some comments of how they caught you checking her out. You don't notice them as you continue playing the game with Pietro.

••••

“Wanda! Hurry up! We don't have all night!” You shout down the hall. The house you lived in with the twins had four bedrooms and two bathrooms on the main level. It was a small off campus house. There used to be a fourth roommate. She's still Wanda’s best friend but she moved out. You couldn't remember why. Wanda runs out of the bathroom in a little black dress with her hair and makeup done. She usually didn't do this much when going out and her look made you do a double take. This was not the Wanda you grew up with. And you couldn't tell if you liked it or not.

“Alright, let's go,” she says as she walks past you.

“Woah, you're going out like that? Where are you going to put your wallet or your phone? You can't leave like that,” you say as you catch up to her.

Wanda shrugs with a sultry smile, “Do you have a problem with the way I look?”

“As a matter of fact, I do,” you state. “I think you're setting women back a hundred years and quite frankly, I find it offensive.”

Wanda makes a “really” face and scoffs. “Ah so you're a feminist today?” She shakes her head as she opens the front door. “You're such a hey mama sometimes.”

You roll your eyes, you hate being called that. “Why did anyone ever think there needed to be a lesbian version of fuckboi?” You groan as you follow her out the door.

“Will you ladies hurry! I'm not trying to get my rating down because you two take ages to get ready!” Pietro grouches from the backseat of the Uber. He hands the driver a hundred dollar bill to avoid a rating lower than five stars. You lock the front door before you climb into the car with the twins. “You're going out like that?” Pietro asks his sister. “You never go out like that.”

“That's what I'm saying!” You throw your hands up.

“Good for you sis,” Pietro holds his fist of for Wanda to bump. She does so with a laugh. “I hope you feel comfortable and confident because you look great.”

You make noises to express your shock with your mouth open. Wanda smiles at you and puts her fingers under your chin. “Close your mouth, don't want to catch any bugs.”

You clamp your mouth shut and narrow your eyes at her. “I'm not paying for your drinks.”

Wanda shrugs and slips her hand away from you. “I never asked you to.”

“Will you two stop bickering? We're supposed to have fun tonight. So let's just have fun,” Pietro says.

“P, we have been friends since we were five years old. Wanda and I have been enemies for the same length of time. You're still not used to this? It's the dynamic,” you defend yourself. Wanda agrees with you. “See?”

Pietro shakes his head. “It's gotten old. I thought that living together the two of you would at least try to get along.” He crosses his arms over his chest as he grows upset. “But no, all you two ever want to do is fight. It's exhausting living with you.”

“Ooh, I think he's really mad,” Wanda mutters as she looks between you and her brother. Neither of you take him serious and the both of you bust out laughing

Pietro glares at the both of you. “Excuse me, Happy? Do you mind pulling over just up ahead?” The Uber driver pulls over and stalls the car. “Both of you, out,” Pietro says with a fed up tone. You look at him like he's crazy but he doesn't let it go. You and Wanda start to apologize but in doing so, you two start arguing over whose fault it is. So you both exit the car and he takes the Uber the rest of the way to the party.

“Unbelievable,” you mumble as you shake your head. “You couldn't have just not been so irritating for once?” You gesture, frustrated with her and with the situation.

“Me?” Wanda is offended by the accusation and lack of accountability. “You're the one who wouldn't shut up about my outfit. Which by the way, I don't understand why it bothers you so damn much. It's not any different from what the girls who catch your eye wear!”

“Is that what you're trying to do, Wanda?” You ask, annoyed with the implication that you are as simple minded as any guy. If only she knew how you really felt about her. But you couldn't do that to your best friend. You wouldn't.

“Gross, don't think so highly of yourself,” her face is convincingly disgusted but deep down the answer is yes. “I'm just tired of being overlooked! I'm hot dammit and tonight, I'm finally going to get laid!” Wanda starts walking in the direction of the fraternity where the party was being hosted.

You jog to catch up with her, “Wanda, you can't be serious. You’re not that type of girl.”

“What makes you so sure that I'm not? I can be any type of girl I want to be,” she fires back stubbornly. “Tonight, I'm going to be like you.”

“Fine, whatever,” you say, annoyed that she'd use your actions against you. “Just be careful. There are a lot of guys who won't think twice about taking advantage of you.”

“Oh, is that what you do to the girls that dress like this?” She retorts.

You shake your head, hurt by the accusation. “That’s low, even for you. Look, all I was trying to do was prepare you. But you don't want my help. Fine.” You walk a bit faster than her to create a distance between the two of you. Wanda feels stupid for the comment but she doesn't apologize. She just keeps the distance between the two of you as you guys walk to the party.

••••

You are talking with Natasha, Wanda’s best friend, with a flirtatious smirk. She looked like she was on a mission to get someone's attention and though you doubt it was yours, she had it. “Hey, why did you move out? We could have had so much fun together,” you say as you play with her hair.

Natasha rolls her eyes, “We had our fun and then you proceeded to treat me like I never existed to you. Yeah, no thank you.”

You pout, “Oh come on, are you still upset about that? I'm not the commiting type. You know that.” You put your hand on the wall above her head, somewhat trapping her between you and the wall. Your bicep flexes and you catch her ogling you. That gives you the upper hand and you smirk. “If I remember correctly, that's all you wanted because you were trying to get over that Maria chick.” You lean in close and whisper, “I believe I cleared your mind of her for hours that night.”

Natasha shivers at the memory and almost kisses you. But she clears her throat and steps away from you. “No one likes being treated like they're invisible. No matter what the circumstances are,” she says before she walks away.

You frown and shake your head. You look around the room and find Wanda chatting with her friend Carol. You smirk as you recall being able to convince her to join you for a sleepover more than once. You walk over to them with intentions to get Carol to walk away with you. “Hey,” you start as you approach.

“Nope,” Carol walks away from you and Wanda and you frown.

“Damn, two strikes in less than ten minutes. What's wrong with my game?” You ask yourself out loud then you take a sip from your cup.

“They made a pact against you,” Wanda says over the loud music. You make a face, thrown off by the news. “You can't keep sleeping with my friends. They're done with you and your hey mama ways.”

You groan at the term. ��Will you stop calling me that?”

“Sure,” Wanda says simply. “Just stop being one,” she walks away before you can start an argument. You start to look around the party to find someone you haven't slept with that you think you have a shot with. But it was slim pickings. You sighed as you feared that it would just be you and your fleshlight tonight.

••••

As you make your way through the house, you hear some commotion. Instead of ignoring it, you search for the source. “Stop,” Wanda says as a guy pulls her onto his lap. She swats at his hands as he tries to slip them up her dress.

“Come on baby,” the guy says, “you know you want this.” He doesn't let up and puts his hands on her breasts.

You burst through the room and pull Wanda off of him. “Get away from her!”

“Woah chill,” the guy holds his hands up. “We were just having some fun.”

You raise your fist In disgust and Wanda catches you. “Y/n! Cut it out!” You turn around, astonished that even when you defend her she's annoyed with you. “He wasn't doing anything I didn't want,” she says.

You scowl, “Don't defend him! I heard you tell him to stop!”

“He was tickling me, you know how much I hate that,” she raises her voice to match your level.

“I'm just going to go,” the guy says awkwardly.

“You stay,” she points to the guy. “You go,” she points at you.

“No, I'm not leaving you with this guy,” you state stubbornly.

“Get out!” She says as she tries to push you away. “Why do you have to ruin everything for me?”

You don't know what comes over you when you pull her in and plant your lips against yours. She breaks away from your kiss and smacks you across the face. You both stare at each other in shock then she grabs you by the collar of your shirt and pulls you in for another kiss. This one is a lot more aggressive than the previous.

“Now is the time for me to go,” the guy says as he slips out of the room, shutting the door behind him. You and Wanda are too lost in each other to care.

She starts to unbutton your shirt and you're surprised that she is being so assertive. You walk backwards until you fall onto the couch with your lips still attached to hers. She straddles your hips while kissing you. Her teeth clamp down on your bottom lip and you groan in pleasure. You put your hands on her ass and boldly give her right cheek a light smack. She yelps, “No, don't do that.”

“Okay,” you say just before kissing her again. For years you've refrained from doing this. Every time you had the urge, you redirected your attention to one of her friends. Each of them had a few traits that reminded you of Wanda. It felt like since you couldn't have the real her, you could settle for pieces that reminded you of her. Now that you have her, you don't think you could ever go back to before this.

“Do you have a condom on you?” Wanda asks as she rolls her hips on your bulging member.

“Yeah,” you say as if the answer was obvious. You pull out your wallet from your pocket and fish out the prophylactic. Wanda dips her hand between her legs and you thought she was adjusting her underwear but instead she was unzipping your fly. You jump a little when she slips her hand through your boxers and pulls your cock through the hole. You moan as you finally feel her stroke you after years of fantasizing about the day her hand would touch your cock for the first time. You almost cum right then and there.

“Let me see that,” Wanda says as she takes the package from your hand. She tears it open and delicately pulls the condom onto your hard cock.

You slip your fingers up before dress and lick your lips in anticipation to find out what kind of underwear she has on. But as you do, you graze her in a way that makes her squirm. “Stop, I said I don't like tickling,” she scolds.

“I wasn't trying to tickle you. I was trying to pull your panties down,” you state.

Wanda smirks and leans in close to whisper in your ear, “I haven't worn any all night.” Your hips jerk up in response and it makes her giggle. You pull her into another passionate kiss. Hoping to convey everything you feel towards her in the kiss without having to talk about it.

As she kisses you back, she hovers her pussy over your cock and passes the tip of your penis through her folds as she blindly aligns you with her entrance. The feeling of her warm pussy lips against your sensitive tip has your hips rolling instinctively. And you enter her. “Oh fuck! Geez you're so impatient,” Wanda snaps at you.

You chuckle as you start nibbling on her ear lobe. “I can take it slow but,” you push your cock further into her and grunt from the pleasure. “We don't have too long here. You want slow,” you lift her up by her ass to give you room to thrust into her. “Sneak into my room one of these nights. I'll show you a good time for a long time.”

Wanda moans as you thrust your thick dick into her. “Mmm, should I take that as an invitation? Or are you just,” her mouth opens in a gasp as you start to rub her cliterous. Your lips move about the sweaty skin of her exposed chest. Her taste has you feeling more intoxicated than any drop of alcohol ever has.

“It's an invitation,” you whisper against her neck. “You just have to keep quiet.”

“Oh sure you tell me to be quiet but when it comes to every other girl,” Wanda gripes, recalling past arguments of asking you to keep things quiet at night whenever you had a girl in your room. Especially when it was one of her close friends.

“They're not, mph, my best friend's sister,” you moan as Wanda's walls squeeze your dick. “Unless you want Pietro to hear,” Wanda covers your mouth with her hand making you laugh. She joins you in laughing and you stop moving, she sits on your lap with your dick inside of her while the two of you laugh. Wanda removes her hand from your mouth and gazes into your eyes for a moment. She knows that slow isn't the pace you go. She knows that this could be the only time she has your attention. She is grateful for this moment because she can believe that you love her. She can tell herself that this is more than what it is, even though she won't believe it tomorrow.

You get lost in her eyes and in the heat of the moment. You almost confess everything you've been dying to tell her for years. You can feel it on the tip of your tongue as you gaze into her hazel eyes. You don't say anything and hope that your actions speak for themselves. You pull out of her and sit her next to you on the couch. You don't have much time because you don't know what Pietro is up to and the chances of him walking into this room are too high. You do want to have a chance to take your time with her. You have to give her a reason to come to your room.

“What are you doing?” Wanda asks as she watches you pull the condom off and put your erection back into your pants. “Did I do something wrong?”

You shake your head. “Since when have you cared if you’ve done something wrong?” You ask as you get on your knees in front of her. Her curious eyes follow your hands as they force her dress up, causing the tight fabric tear in order to get it over her ass. You pull her closer to you by her thighs. “You didn't do anything wrong, but I need to get you finished off so we can get out of here before we're missed.” You explain as you trail kisses along her thighs.

“Oh,” she gasps out, “Wha-wha-what about yyou?” She stutters as you begin to lick her sensitive pussy.

You smirk and lean back slightly to look up at her, “You've never worried about me before. Don't start now,” you wink at her before you return your focus to devouring her. She tangles her fingers in your hair to keep you close as your tongue enters her. You eat her out like she's the last meal you'll have on earth. If she was, you wouldn't mind one bit. Her hips gyrate as she starts to ride your face. She moans as you expertly move your tongue around, humming a song to make your tongue vibrate.

“Oh god, oh god, oh god,” Wanda cries out as you please her in ways she didn't know possible. You're not the first person to go down on her. But you are the first person to make it enjoyable. So much so that when she reaches her climax, her whole body is shaking for a few minutes. Her pussy twitches as you lick up as much of her juices as you can. You pull away from her and smile at her with your face glistening from her arousal. She giggles as she pulls you up and licks her juices from your face. You groan from how much the action has turned you on. Then she kisses your lips.

“Now it's your turn,” she tries to pull you closer with her hand on your crotch without breaking from the kiss too much.

You smile as you pull away completely, “You'll have to thank me later.” You straighten yourself out and help her fix herself up a bit. She laughs at the red lipstick stains that she left behind on your face and chest.

“You might want to sneak into a bathroom,” she suggests with a smile.

“Good idea,” you nod at her. “I guess I'll see you at home then,” you say as you walk out of the room.

••••

You are sleeping when Wanda slips into your room. You don't sleep in pajamas and this is how she finds out. You're naked when she lifts the covers. She quickly drops the blanket. Startled by the sight at first. She shakes her head, embarrassed by her own reaction. You were inside of her a few hours ago and she slipped into the room with the intention of pleasuring your body. But it's different. She hadn't seen your body until now. Other than flashes from the years she's known you.

She takes a deep breath and lifts the blanket again. Her eyes widen at your size and she's surprised you fit inside of her. You weren't even hard yet. You twitch in your sleep and that causes something next to your leg to fall. She catches it before it hits the floor because she doesn't want you to wake up yet. She looks at it and realizes that it's a fake pussy.

She had no idea that you owned a flashlight. Your cum leaks out of it and she feels herself grow aroused by the idea of being pumped full of your cum. She gulps, surprised by herself. She has never wanted to be someone’s cum dump before but the idea of being yours has her growing hot and bothered.

She keeps the toy in her hand and climbs on the bed. She straddles your legs and starts by licking the length of your cock. It starts to come to life while you continue to sleep. She wonders what you could be dreaming about while she wraps her lips around the head of your penis. She licks and sucks on the sensitive area, trying to wake you up at this point. You thrust your hips up, pushing more of your cock into her mouth but you don't open your eyes or show any other sign of consciousness.

She had no idea that you were such a heavy sleeper. Wanda starts to bob her head up and down on your cock, getting you to stiffen up more. She couldn't believe how much this scandalous act was turning her on. She stops sucking on your cock and shoves it inside of the fleshlight.

Wanda uses the toy to jerk you off. “Fuck, Wanda,” you mutter in your sleep. She is flattered that you're dreaming about her. But she doesn't get too caught up in an idea that it might mean anything other than just sexual attraction.

Wanda giggles as she gets an idea. She crawls up to your ear as she continues to use the toy on you. “Mmm, Y/n,” she moans into your ear. Instead, you smile with your eyes closed. “You're so big. You're bigger than anyone I've ever had. Oh yeah, oh yeah,” she pants and squeaks as much as she can in order to get you to wake up. It isn't until she starts kissing your neck that you startle awake.

“Woah!” You shoot up in the bed and look down to see Wanda’s hand wrapped around the chunky base of your fleshlight. “Woah,” you repeat in a calmer tone as you look over at Wanda. She is blushing. You lay back down with your arms behind your head with your head turned to her. Watching her as she continues to pump your dick. “I'm surprised to see you here.”

Wanda shrugs as if it's suddenly not a big deal. “Eh, I owed you one. I figured that the faster I repay you, the better.”

You chuckle softly. “You do realize that I wouldn't have ever asked you to return the favor?”

“No,” Wanda answers shyly. She stops moving her hand. “Are you saying I should stop?”

You put your hand over hers and start moving the toy again as you maintain eye contact. “Now why would I ever say that?” You lean in and kiss her lips. The kiss is aggressive as you hold her hand still and start thrusting into the toy. Fucking it as hard as you want to be fucking her. “I'm surprised you went with the toy,” you say when you break the kiss.

“I wasn't sure where you kept your condoms and,” she looks over at your bedroom door nervously. “And I don't want to risk Pietro finding out just how loud I can get when the sex is good.”

You chuckle, taking her caution as a compliment. “My condoms are in the drawer by the bed. But you were smart not to look for them because, mmph, you were quite a screamer earlier.”

“Shut up,” she says as she starts to move the pocket pussy faster. She wants to make you cum so badly at this point. “Damn, do you always last this long?” She complains as her hand starts to get tired. She moves back to her position of straddling your lap so that she can use both hands.

“You say that as if it's a bad thing,” you snort as you watch her struggle.

“It is when I have work in the morning,” she complains again. “I should have known your dick would be as annoying as you are.”

“Is it my dick or is it because I'm picturing your grandma that one summer that she wore that one bathing suit-”

“Gross! You're thinking about that?” She makes a face and you laugh.

“It's an old trick, otherwise I'd cum before anyone I ever slept with.”

“Well, can you stop thinking about her and just focus on me?”

You smirk as you sit up. You lift Wanda slightly by her ass so that her chest is in your face. “May I?” You ask, pointing at her chest. She nods her head as she watches you.

You pull her oversized sleep shirt over your head. You kiss up her stomach until you reach her breasts. With your eyes closed your body can't tell the difference between the toy and a real pussy. Especially when you have Wanda's real breast in your mouth. With a couple of rigid thrusts you cum inside of the toy and groan against Wanda’s chest.

You give her breasts each a soft kiss before removing your head from under her shirt.

“Happy now?” You ask as you lay breathlessly against your mattress.

“No,” she groans uncomfortably. “Now I'm too turned on.” You shake your head and roll your eyes.

You climb out of your bed and pull the toy off of your softening dick. You go into your closet and pull out the promotional box that Adam & Eve sent you so that you could endorse their brand and their products. You pull out one of the many new vibrators. It's still in its packaging. “Here,” you say as you hand her the box. “Take this and get out. I'm tired and I don't want your brother to hear you.”

“He's here?”

“Yeah, I helped him get into his bed. So just take this and go.”

“Thanks I guess,” Wanda laughs to herself. “Geez I didn't realize your room was a sex shop.”

“The beauty of influencing. You get free shit and all you have to do is look pretty online,” you hop back into your bed.

“Thank you for this, um goodnight,” she kisses you on the lips one more time before crawling out of your bed and leaving your room.

You sigh happily as you go to sleep, excited for what this might open up for your future relationship with Wanda.

[daintcas]

lady killers ˗ˏˋ rafe cameron !

"man i'm a lady killer, if i want her i'mma steal her" / g-eazy

pairing. dealer!rafe cameron x innocent(ish)!reader

summary. his constant cycle of partying with privilege grants him anything he wants, until you show up to break the pattern.

contains. alcohol and drug use, tension, sexually suggestive, implied age gap, cliffhanger

the lifestyle comes with its perks, constantly surrounded by pretty girls who were more than willing to follow him upstairs. direct access to any substance he wanted, displayed messily across the polished coffee table at all times. not to mention the adrenaline-boosting boom of a surrounding party in some kid's ridiculously expensive house - thrown almost nightly.

it became a normality for him, whether or not he realized how unhealthy his habits may be. blinded by the attention, money, and already through-the-roof addition of popularity, the boy let himself be overcome by it all. but hey, isn't this how you're supposed to live life after graduation?

you, on the other hand, were never overly thrilled at the idea of occupying your time with what seemed to be an endless string of these things. that being said, it wasn't an unfamiliar scene after having wasted a couple of saturdays with friends before.

you also weren't one to deny the opportunity for a good night. which is why you didn't put up much of a fight when none other than sarah cameron insisted on your presence at a party she was hosting in her family's mansion.

she was friendly enough, but not to the extent of being by your side for the duration of the whole night because of an invite most likely given out to everyone in her contacts - that part had you a bit nervous. the idea of being stranded in a room full of highly intoxicated kids you hardly knew.

all precautions were eventually thrown out the window when you found yourself getting all dolled up in the bathroom mirror. mascara turning out perfect over a flawless base, hair down and flowing neatly, a strapless pale pink sundress you'd bought with sarah weeks ago tying it all together.

with one final application of lipgloss over expertly lined lips and a brief pose checking your reflection, you were headed out. fresh acrylics plucking your keys from the household bowl and looking down at your phone to check the time just as it rings, stopping your hand from unlocking the front door.

a sigh escapes you as you juggle everything in your hands to bring the device to your ear after blindly swiping to answer. a loud shout of your name has you flinching and furrowing your brows in confusion - and maybe annoyance. "yeah? hello?"

"c'mon, i'm outside!" a girl all but yells and it isn't until you hear a sweet, enthusiastic laugh that you recognize the voice.

"sarah?" you ask, though already having discarded the keys and slipped on your shoes lying ready by the doormat.

"let's go! i've got a party to entertain," the words are followed by the muffled sound of her shifting around, and you take it as your grace period to get outside before she takes off.

throwing open the door and hurrying down the steps of the front porch, you can't help but smile at the girl sitting in the driver's seat of a black jeep. beaming over at you, she hangs up the phone and ushers you over to the otherwise vacant car with a flailing hand.

the trip to tannyhill is filled with wide smiles and giggles over speakers blaring iconic summer songs. windows rolled down to take in an orangey-pink sky from the setting sun - which almost distracts from how sharp sarah takes what seems to be every turn in town.

the suv eventually comes to a stop after sliding down into the basement garage that screams wealth, right past all the cars lined up along the street. sarah hops out and offers a toothy grin while tossing her sunglasses in the center console.

"i'm so happy you're finally at one of my parties," she says while taking your hand and eagerly leading the way upstairs, her own dress swaying as she walks.

"me too," is all you offer in response, too entranced by the new level of rich that surrounds you while following blindly.

the mansion feels more like a maze as sarah leads you down and around hallways not yet crowded with partygoers. but, the blasting of music that vibrates the house says otherwise.

moonlight quickly replaces the sunshine, making visibility near impossible as you enter where the mass of everyone is. still hand in hand with sarah, you take the chance to look around.

between all the groups in the kitchen and on a makeshift dance floor, it's someone sitting among a circle of couches and chairs that has you doing a double take. turning back the second time is when you recognize the boy with his eyes still glued on you, wiping under his nose, to be rafe.

you don't miss the lazy smirk he shoots before sarah tugs you back to reality, finally dropping your hand and turning to stand face-to-face with the same excited smile.

"you'll be fine if i go say hi to a few people?" she asks, glancing across your face to genuinely gauge your feelings.

"'course. thanks, sarah," you answer convincingly enough that she's scurrying off to talk with whoever awaits her presence.

the best option you conclude is to go straight for the drinks. a quick scan of the counter and you're grabbing a red solo cup to fill with the first bottle you can get your hands on.

"better take slow sips of that," a voice behind you says, low and close enough to know it's you they're addressing. startled, you turn around, only to be face to face with rafe cameron. he must notice the way you tilt your head up with wide eyes, because he takes the opportunity to eye you up and step closer.

"you friends with sarah?" he asks as you set down the bottle of alcohol on the counter behind you, nodding casually - even with the way he's watching your every move so intently.

"mhm," you muster up, naturally a bit nervous standing under the mercy of 'kook prince' himself.

"yeahhh.." he draws out while taking a greedy eyeful of your whole being, tongue pressed to his cheek and making no effort to hide his arrogant smirk. there's a pause before he's nodding back towards the lounge he was previously sat without taking his eyes off you - your body. "y'wanna come with me and try the good shit?"

you look down at your cup when he taps it, swishing the cheap liquid while thinking over his offer. it doesn't take long before you're looking back up with a hesitant shake of your head and a small smile, murmuring, "don't think so.. not really my thing."

he tsks and shakes his head, taking it upon himself to ease the cup from your hand and positioning himself closer. he tilts his head to purposefully look down on you and get in your face, a smirk still present as he speaks lowly, "aww, c'mon. i'll keep you safe."

a nervous laugh and involuntary flush of your cheeks has you unable to refuse. rubbing your lip with a shy nod - admittedly not the most well-thought-out decision - and he's got a hand on your lower back to guide you, following close enough behind to allow his eyes to flicker subtly below your dress.

you approach the collection of seats, wary but not completely oblivious. rafe sits you down on a loveseat, hand moving to wrap around your waist and pull you to his side. the attention from this boy blurs the scene around you, rolled bills on the table, and various baggies with a particular white substance.

"so, um, what's the.. 'good' stuff?" you ask tentatively, looking up at him and shifting in the seat.

"'s all right here, baby," his grin is almost malicious and his eyes shamelessly drop to your lips. removing the arm around you, he spreads his legs and lifts his hips to fish for something in his back pocket.

you take the opportunity to look around at his company and it's no surprise to find topper and kelce among other random guys - even a couple girls who admittedly look a bit older than you and sarah. before processing the thought, you're looking to rafe for reassurance.

he, however, is focused intently on setting up a line of powder on your side of the table with a sharp black card. he sits back with a satisfied grin and looks over at you. "first one's free."

you stare up at him with big, cautious eyes for a moment before turning to the intimidatingly thick string of white.

he chuckles and uses a finger to smudge the neat line, collecting a less daunting amount on the digit. a nod of his head signals he wants you closer, so you do, positioning your body to face him.

snaking a hand to hold firmly behind your neck, he tilts your head back only slightly and prepares to bring his finger to your nose. a raise of his brow asks for permission and you nod.

the substance shoots through you unexpectedly quick which has you screwing your eyes shut and wincing. the reaction only amuses rafe and he moves the arm around your shoulder and tugs you into him once again.

finding solace in the embrace, you allow yourself to sink into his chest - an unsafe level of vulnerability. everything is loud, the booming of music and people feeling increasingly suffocating.

rafe laughs again, smirking in a way that now seems taunting. he takes a good look at you before leaning in to let his warm breath brush against your ear. "y'know, you're real pretty."

that's when you really think about what's happening right now. laying against rafe cameron - who for one reason or another seems to have taken a liking to you. the drug pumping through you and butterflies in your stomach has your heart beating with excitement.

it also has you fluttering your lashes up at rafe with a dopey smile, telling him all he needs to know. all it took was a dot of coke and he's got you right where he wants you.

"why don't you let me take you upstairs?" he presses in a way that shows the line has worked a million times before.

but who are you to turn him down? there's no denying how tempting he is and your attraction towards him. but instead, you shrug and look around in search of sarah.

it takes a minute before you catch her eyes and are met with a concerned yet angry expression. she's quickly by your side and pulling you up from the couch, glaring down at her brother.

"leave my friends alone, rafe." with that, sarah is tugging you away and back through the crowd. your hazy state makes it hard to resist, but you manage to look back at the boy on the couch. he's sitting back, clearly amused but not deterred.

a wink is all he gives before paying his attention back to his friends, leaving you to wonder what all of this meant.

one thing about rafe, though, is when he sets his sights on something - someone - he gets what he wants. he knows he will, and you're no exception.

[httpkaulitz]

playing with fire

PAIRINGS: Gangster!Tom x Female reader

CONTENT: Smutt

SYNOPSIS: You're obsessed with Tom and there's nothing you wouldn't do to get his attention.

WARNINGS: dom!tom, sub!reader, mention of drugs drinking and guns, violence, pyromania, p in v, oral (m reciving), public sex.

You went to the bar that night with one thing on your mind. You were already floating after using some good shit you bought a few nights before - the same thing you used to seduce him into going to the bathroom with you, the same thing you slapped your tits and shoved in Tom's face before he fuck you quick and dirty against the sink. You were drunk, but not as drunk as him. He almost immediately regretted it, but you didn't. You've wanted Tom Kaulitz balls deep inside you for as long as you could remember, and now that you've tasted it, you want more. You needed it, because once your twisted mind fixated on something, nothing else mattered: no consequence was too severe, no method was too strange.

You were wearing the tiniest blouse and shortest skirt you had. You knew your body was attractive and you knew that was how he liked it. The way he fucked you with one hand full of breasts and the other full of ass told you that, but even before that you caught him staring. You wanted to feel more than his eyes on you tonight. You wanted him to want you as much as you want him, to give you more than five minutes in a bar bathroom so you could show him that you could really rock his world. You thought if you could fuck him enough, you would hook him. He was already like a drug to you, had been for years, and in your fucked up head you thought maybe the two of you together were perfect: the very definition of two wrongs making a right. Because you were crazy and you knew it, and Tom... well, Tom was Tom.

You paused briefly at the door, taking a minute to roll your eyes at the tight-clothed sluts playing hard to get, before heading down the stairs to the basement. That's where his kind of action was, and that's where he would be, because it was Friday night and that's the way it was. It's always been that way, and it always would be until everyone was on the ground. As you turned the corner, the stench of alcohol flooded your senses. The bitches up there would have covered their noses, maybe even choked, but to you it was a comforting, familiar smell. You wouldn't want it any other way.

Georg was at the jukebox, no doubt playing U2, and he was definitely too distracted to even notice you. And that was a good thing, since he took a kind of sick pleasure in cock-blocking anyone who tried to get close to you. The whole overprotective brother thing bothered you, but for some reason, there wasn't no one in town that he considered good enough to lay they hands on you. Not even his best friend Tom.

You scanned the room from ceiling to floor, even though you didn't need to. You knew where he would be: at the bar with his group, a bottle of beer in his hand. You went straight to him. There was no point in playing. The dirty mirror behind the bar was tilted and stole the element of surprise as you approached. You made eye contact with him in the mirror, but he didn't turn around. He looked irritated, but it didn't faze you. Bill and Gustav were kind enough to greet you, but Tom was silent. You just stood up to sit on the bar stool next to him, letting your skirt ride up and your breasts bounce as you made yourself comfortable. You turned to him.

“Buy a girl a drink?” You asked in a falsely sweet voice.

Tom sat hunched over his beer. He didn't look at you when he spoke. “We’re in the middle of something.” He didn't try to hide the displeasure in his voice. "Go stick your tits in someone else's face, okay?"

"You seemed to like it the other night." You leaned in and spoke deep and husky into his ear.

You let your hand wander to his thigh, and his hard muscles clenched beneath the thin fabric of his pants when you touched him. Tom grabbed your wrist tightly and turned to face you. His huge hands wrapped around your wrist like a steel trap and you bit your lip to keep from moaning.

“I said fuck off. I have business.” He released you and turned to face Bill.

Tom had his back to you and was wearing his black t-shirt, you could see every tense muscle underneath. You couldn't contain yourself. You ran your hands over the fabric from the middle of his back up and over his bare shoulders, all rock hard, and he jolted forward as if you were made of fire. He turned around with his jaw clenched and leaned over.

“I swear to God, if you don’t get away from me right now…”

“You're going to do what, Tom? What the fuck are you going to do if I don’t leave? I’m just trying to get a drink.”

Tom picked up the bottle in front of Bill, the one Tom always bought for him, the one Bill didn't drink, and threw it on the bar next to him. Foam came out of the top and you could feel the liquid splash onto your bare shoulder. “There’s your fucking drink. Now go."

You took it with a smirk. "What a gentleman." You said, and you wandered off towards the bathroom.

You liked him angry; you liked the way the muscles in his arms tensed and his thick veins bulged with hot, angry blood pumping through them. You enjoyed irritating him and watching the pressure build until he broke. You would break him this night. You were sure of it.

You went to the bathroom, the same room he had fucked you senseless in a few nights before, and took the bottle out of your bag. You put some in your mouth and chewed the residue until you were good and excited. The cold beer felt good as it washed away the dull tingle in your mouth and mixed with the slow drip down your throat. You drank the beer to the end and smiled at yourself in the mirror, touching up your makeup a little. With your beer empty, you had an excuse to go back to the bar. The drug was fueling a deep desire for whiskey. You always thought beer was for sissies, anyway.

When you came out of the bathroom, you saw that Tom was alone. Where the hell where Bill had run off to and Gustav was in the corner with his hands on some random slut's ass. You scanned the area for your brother, but he were still clinging to the same girl. Tom was all yours now, there was no escaping it. You sat next to him again and ordered a double whiskey, waiting for him to speak. He didn't, and when your drink arrived, you took a large gulp and turned to him.

“Deals closed?” You asked.

He clenched his fists on either side of his beer, looking down and taking a deep breath before turning to face you. His eyes were on fire and you felt the heat hit your core.

“I'll tell you once. It's not going to happen, not tonight, not ever again, understand? Now get off your ass and take your madness elsewhere. I'm serious. I won’t tell you again.”

You started to feel it, that familiar tingling in the back of your neck that usually precedes some kind of irrational decision, you felt the anger rising and there was no stopping it once it started.

“What the fuck do you think you’re scolding me for?” You spat every word. “You think you can just fuck me and walk away like I’m trash? Do you think you're better than me? Fuck you, Tom. We’re not done yet.”

He banged his fists on the bar and despite the noise of conversation and loud music, everyone nearby turned to look.

Something about the way he used you full name irritated you even more. “Stay the fuck away from me. Don’t make me say that again.”

You pressed a button then, and your mind jumped to the nooks and crannies where you kept your darkest desires hidden. They were bubbling now and it was only a matter of time. You kept your voice steady, but your mind was already thinking about the details.

“Alright, you son of a bitch.” You said. “I will. But give me your lighter. I need to smoke.”

Tom hesitated, but finally decided it would be a small sacrifice to pay to get you out of his sight. He took his lighter out of his pocket and slid it across the counter to you, skull design facing up.

“I will bring it back.” You said, even though it was a lie.

"Don't worry." He replied. “Consider this a parting gift.”

"We will see." You said, and downed the rest of the whiskey in two big gulps before heading up the stairs and leaving.

It was hot as hell outside, but the basement bar was so humid that the night air felt good on your drug-flushed face. It was even invigorating, and that was good, because you had plans to put into practice and you didn't have time to waste. You called your friend. He was the only one you knew wouldn’t ask questions. Besides, he owed you one.

“I need a kit.” You said. “The complete package. I’m in the back of the bar.”

"What the hell is that?" He said.

“Just bring me that shit and shut up about it.” You were losing patience and time was passing. “Or do I need to remind you that you owe me a favor?”

“I’ll be there in ten minutes.” He said, and hung up without saying anything else.

Your friend was in the family business, like the rest of his brothers, his father before them and his father before him. They were torches, mostly cars, with some occasional buildings being used for insurance scams. Arson was their business, and although your brother Georg had always made it clear to your friends that you should never get involved, you knew the business inside out. You clearly remembered the first time you saw them set a car on fire. You shouldn't be there. They took you for a walk and told you to close your eyes. You didn't do that, of course. You peeked through your little fingers and watched them douse the van with gasoline before turning on the Zippo lighter and throwing it inside. You remembered the thrill you felt as you watched the lighter fly through the air towards its final destination, the rush of adrenaline as the van exploded in a ball of fire. Even through the closed window, you could feel the heat emanating from it or maybe it was just your blood boiling at the sight of it Either way, from that day on you couldn't resist the pull of a flame. You started smoking at age 12 just to have an excuse to use a lighter and watch the fire dance at the end of the cigarette as you lit it. Sometimes you would light a cigarette and not even smoke it, just watch it burn down to the filter, the smoke rising as it burned. The fire was in your blood, in your bones. Even if you weren't in the car that day, you would eventually figure it out.

Your friend showed up with the necessary supplies: all the shit for a quick hotline, two cans of gas, some bleach, and a crowbar to break the windows, you wouldn't need that last one, but it might be useful to have close by. The fire cannot go out too quickly. There's no point in that. He put the things in the trunk of your car and closed it, looking for answers he couldn't get from you. If he had seen the bike parked out of sight, everything would have made sense, but he didn't.

“Do you need help?” he asked.

"I got it." You answered. Your friend was quicker than you to start, but if he knew whose bike it was, he would never let you do it. You had to go it alone.

“You better know what the hell you're doing. We can’t take any pressure now.”

“I told you I’ll take care of this. Now go home.”

He threw his hands up, resigned to the fact that you would do what you would do and there was nothing he could say to make you change your mind. You were stubborn as a mule and completely off the rails, but he loved you just the same.

"Just be careful." He said as he got into the car, but he knew caution wasn't your thing. You were reckless as fuck and he could only hope that the family way was strong enough in you to keep you out of trouble. He knew you were educated on how to do it right, but it was the why that bothered him on the way home. If it was what he suspected it was, who he suspected it was, there was no telling what might happen. He put it out of his mind because he needed to. He couldn't get involved in whatever shit you were up to. He said a silent prayer for you as he pulled into the garage.

The minute his car disappeared from sight, you sprung into action. You parked your car next to Tom's bike and parked there before grabbing your supplies from the trunk. You stopped for a minute to observe, running your finger over the details and smiling. You would have liked him to fuck you by pressing your body against it. Too late now.

You took a quick look around before grabbing your blood red lipstick from your bag and scribbling the name of a street on the driver's window of your own car. He would know what that meant; he would know exactly where to go. You got back on the bike, slowly but surely starting it. You were proficient but not fast when it came to stealing, but luckily the night was still young and no one was leaving the bar at that time. You scanned the parking lot one more time before exiting out the back. Tom's bike wasn't exactly discreet, and you'd be damned if anyone up front saw it. You knew exactly where you were going - just a few blocks away, the end of a street full of decaying, abandoned three-story buildings. You could feel your skin crawl with anxiety at the thought of what Tom would do, since like you he had a certain level of psychosis and a propensity to cause trouble.

When you reached the end of the street, you parked right in the middle and began making preparations with almost uncontrollable excitement. You grabbed the gas cans and placed them next to the bike before reaching into the seat compartment and grabbing Tom's gun. You didn't know what to do with it, so you just stuffed it in your bag and placed it in the ground before picking up the crowbar. A quick glance at the street told you, you was alone; all the houses were dark and abandoned except the occupied one at the other end, squatters you knew, and they didn't call the police for anything. The only light was provided by flickering street lamps, but it was sufficient for your purposes. You took one last look at the bike before breaking the mirrors one by one. You picked up some shards on your arm, but nothing too serious. You liked the pain, anyway; you liked the smell of blood.

When the glass was good and ruined, you started with the gas. You took special care not to get anything dirty, but you knew what you were doing and managed to maintain it without much effort. When it was soaked and ready, you bleached the cans and crowbar and threw them over the chain link fence into the ocean of weeds growing in the abandoned lot beyond. You went back and grabbed your bag, taking out Tom's Glock and tucking it into the waistband of your skirt. You didn't know why you did it, but something inside you wanted it there, out in the open, where he could see that you had claimed it. It was cold and hard and having it pressed against your warm skin made your anticipation almost unbearable. You retreated into the shadows, pulling Tom's Zippo lighter from your bag and rolling it over and over in your hand, waiting.

Tom was almost done. He was trying to control the next thing, but Bill was in a bad mood and being difficult. And then there was you. He dismissed you immediately, but something in you crawled under his skin and wouldn't go away. You were like a damn rash. He should have never fucked you and he knew it. Don't dip your dick in madness, every idiot knows that. But you were ruthless and shameless and always have been. You were also smart, even though you were crazy. You saw how low his defenses were that night and went for it. It didn't hurt that you had a pretty face and a body built for sin, but still. He should have known better. Now you were an itch he couldn’t scratch.

He threw a wad of cash on the bar to the bartender and left, forgoing goodbyes because he simply didn't give a shit. He walked to the back parking lot, trying to decide what to do with the rest of the night. He was turned on and irritated and knew he would end up either pumping some iron or pumping his cock until he was tired enough to sleep. He took his keys out of his pocket and looked up as he turned the corner, but his bike wasn't there. He took a quick look around, he wasn't drunk, not by a long shot, and he could have sworn that's where he parked, because that's where he always parked. That's when he saw your car, that horrible thing you were driving, and the note you had left in the window for him, scrawled in that whore shade of red you always used to draw attention to your lips, not that you needed it: those lips were made for sucking cock and a blind man could see that. It was just the name of a street, but he knew the place. It was only a few blocks away, but it was no fucking man's land, and he had a nagging feeling that he'd better get there quickly. He got scared and kicked the rusty covering on your car door before running away. He didn't stop until he saw his motorcycle, broken glasses everywhere. Then you stepped into the light and he saw it in your hand, his lighter with the skull design on it.

You wouldn't do that.

You flicked your thumb and the Zippo lighter came to life. You watched the flame dance for a moment and smiled. You were in a kind of trance and didn't hear Tom shouting useless orders for you to stop. You saw him when he looked up, though. He was heading towards you, so you let it fly. He stopped suddenly, the two of you watching the lighter sail in slow motion through the air and land straight on his bike: perfect aim, impeccable execution. The bike started with a hiss and a roar, and for a moment all Tom could do was look at it, his face blank, hard and emotionless. Not that you would know. You were paralyzed by the bright rising flames. The heat from the flames warmed you all over, and your insides were also on fire. Your blood was boiling with the adrenaline of the act, your pussy was throbbing as it sometimes was, Tom's proximity was just a small part of that; it was the exhilarating danger of the fire that really motivated you. You turned to Tom and for the first time his eyes dropped to your waist. He saw his Glock appearing, taunting him.

He crawled towards you, closing the distance with a few purposeful steps, and then he was upon you, malice tearing lines across his forehead. He pulled his Glock from the waistband of your skirt and brought it straight to your face, hard enough to leave a mark but not break a bone. You stood and turned your head to face him. You looked deep into his brown eyes, the glow of fire playing with the golden flecks in his irises, and slowly licked the blood from your bottom lip.

So you went ahead, indifferent as could be. “Hey, Tom.”

He grabbed you by the shoulders and shook you violently, shouting "Hey? HEY? Is that what you have to tell me?"

“What do you want me to say?” The heat from the fire was licking at your legs and you couldn't help it. “I had to get your attention.”

"So you set my motorcycle on fire, you crazy bitch?" Tom's voice kept rising until he couldn't take it anymore.

He grabbed your throat with one hand and dragged you across the lawn of the last house on the street, around the corner and throwing you against the rusty fence. It squeaked under your weight as you bounced off and fell to your knees in the dirty grass. You looked at him for a minute, saw his Glock raised for another try, and laughed like a maniac.

“You’re sexy when you’re mad.” You said, then let your gaze wander to the bike, taking in the flames biting the air and sending small sparks everywhere. You were warm everywhere and ready for whatever punishment Tom had to dish out. You stood up and shook yourself.

"Sorry about all this." Your sweet voice was as fake as your apology.

“What the fuck do you say, bitch? Are you sorry?” He grabbed your throat again and pushed you hard against the fence, your face burning with rage as he pointed the gun under your chin. "Sorry is what you'll be."

But you didn't regret it, not one bit, and you never would. You looked into his eyes and a hint of a smile touched your lips before spitting straight into his face.

"Fuck you, Kaulitz."

Hearing his last name pass your lips made his skin crawl. Tom removed his hand from your neck and slowly wiped the spit from his forehead, laughing to no one in particular before pinning your arms above your head and moving the gun to your temple.

All it took was the rough skin of his fingers, the blunt pressure they were capable of. For your panties to be soaked, the grip he had on you was sweet agony.

“Now you’re really fucked up.” He said, and you just smiled again. “I’m going to wipe that shitty smile off your face. Do you think I give a shit about you being a girl? Because I don't give. You’re fucking crazy and you need a lesson.”

He threw the gun aside and grabbed your hair tightly, pulling your head back. You arched your back into the movement until your body was pressed firmly against his and he was looking straight into your eyes.

“You will learn to keep your madness away from me.” He said. “And that’s me being nice.”

Your eyes rolled back. It was everything you wanted. It was everything you had ever wanted for as long as you could remember. Every calculated move, every preparation, every little detail, all leading up to this moment:

“Hit me, Tom.” You said, breathless and anxious. “Go ahead, do it.”

Tom considered it for a moment, his head tilted slightly to the side. You were crazy, no doubt, but you were fucking hot and for some reason he couldn't push it away, he felt bad for destroying your face. The animal part of him, the one that was about to take control, would love nothing more than to hit you on the head and watch it explode like a watermelon, but he couldn't. He didn't know if he could put a girl down, especially one with boobs like you had. When Tom first hit you, he hadn't quite decided whether he was going to kill you, but one look over his shoulder at the burning wreckage and he knew he would definitely set you right good and proper.

You fell to the ground after the first punch and, in the next few blows, Tom only saw red, heard only his anger echoing in his ears and the crack of fire engulfing his bike. Something made him stop, however. A strange sound coming from the bloodied girl beneath him: a moan, and not the kind that comes with a busted-up face. It hit him then, this crazy slut was enjoying it. You looked at him and your eyes darkened. You were smiling, licking your busted lip. And then you laughed, that horrible, evil laugh. You were like a fucking witch, using some kind of fucked up dark magic to make his dick hard. And it was hard, hard as a rock, there's no denying it. Your breasts were bursting out of your blouse and your legs were spread wide, your short skirt riding up to reveal your barely there panties. There was a heat coming off of you too, and it wasn't from the bike burning brightly behind him. The thin fabric of his pants was doing nothing to hide the bulge there, and you noticed. Of course you fucking noticed.

“Do you get turned on by this shit, Tom?” You asked, teasing him. "Let's go then. Hit me again.”

"You're crazy, you know that?"

You laughed again. That shit laugh. You had your tits out now and were playing with them, as if his dick wasn't already hard enough. He hated himself for it, but he knew he would end up giving you what you wanted. But he wasn't done with you yet. Not by far. He grabbed you by the hair and pulled you to your knees, pulling your face against his crotch.

"Do you feel it, bitch?" He heard you moan against him, felt your hot tongue licking the fabric. "Well, prepare to choke on this."

He let go of your hair and bent down to pick up the gun, tucking it into the back of his pants as he took a condom out of his wallet and handed it to you. He pulled his pants down to his thighs and pointed the gun at your head.

“Put it on and open your whore mouth.”

You licked your bloody lips at the sight of his cock, long, strong and full of veins before rolling the condom down its entire length. You had barely reached the base when you felt one of his strong hands grab your hair and pull you closer. You stuck your tongue out to tease his tip, but he pulled your head back and let go. He pulled the slide on the Glock and you heard the click as he placed one in the chamber. He pressed the barrel to your forehead and smiled at you.

“Bite me and I’ll fucking kill you. Now open it.” He grabbed your hair again and you opened your mouth, taking the length of his cock deep into your throat.

He held the gun just above your head as he fucked you and if you hadn't had a face full of cock you would have smiled; you knew he assumed you would have a gag reflex and you knew it irritated him to find out otherwise.

He wanted to hear you fight and was fucking a hole in your head trying to get you there. Tears were streaming down your face from the grip he had on your hair and the cramp in your jaw, but you were able to breathe well through your nose. You knew how to take dick, and it was very frustrating for Tom. He was really giving it to you now, and when he realized that fucking you in the throat wasn't going to get him anywhere, he pulled your head so close that your lips were in his balls. He held you there with his armed hand and brought his other hand to your nose, closing your nostrils with his thumb and forefinger.

"Try to breathe now, you slut." You looked up and could see the sarcastic smile on his lips.

Now you would fight, he knew. You were all kinds of stuffy and when you started squirming and clawing at his legs, he just laughed at you. He wasn't going to let you choke, but you didn't know that, and he let it continue until he felt your throat closing around his dick and heard your muffled screams. He pulled out of you with a wet pop and you choked on as much air as you could, gasping and coughing into the dirt beneath him. He just stood there with his dick out, watching you. You were like a strange bird, and he honestly had no idea what you would do next. He wanted to know, so he waited.

You finally caught your breath, but you weren't looking at him. It wasn't that you were ignoring him exactly, it was more like you forgot he was there. You were on your knees, entranced by the sight of the burning bike, and before Tom realized what was happening, you were on your feet, taking off your panties and throwing them over the fence.

"What are you doing?" He asked, because he really didn't know.

You turned to him. "Is not it beautiful?" You asked.

“My damn bike on fire next to an abandoned shack? No. That’s not the word I would use.”

“I mean, if it weren’t for your bike, would you think it was beautiful?”

"Well, it's my bike, and you set it on fire, and I'm not done with you yet, so if you wanted to stop and smell the damn roses, you picked the wrong time."

You slowly walked towards him, lifting your skirt inch by inch until it was caught around your waist and he could see everything. A little more light on the matter and he would have been able to see your thighs glistening where you soaked yourself. He could see your hot little clit, and if he hadn't noticed before, he definitely noticed when you lowered your hand and started stroking it. He didn't know he was holding his breath until he had to let it all go at once.

“Just fuck me, Tom. You can kill me later, but fuck me now.” And he wanted to kill you. He wanted to strangle you to death because you were a psychopath and you set his motorcycle on fire and you were a fucking stain on his life.

But most of all, he wanted to kill you because he wanted to fuck you. He wanted to kill you because you had played this dangerous game with him, and you fucking won. He had to laugh, and it was longer and louder than he expected. He laughed because, in some fucked up way, he was impressed. You were twisted as fuck and belonged locked in chains in a padded room somewhere, but you had gone against him alone, and you had defeated him. Few could say that, certainly no one who was still breathing, but you could.

When he composed himself, you were on top of him, stroking his almost painfully hard cock against your clit. Even through the condom, he could feel how hot and wet you were. You were tight too, he remembered. He had been pleasantly surprised. Thinking about how your pussy felt made him angry, because he didn't want to want you. His cock wasn't having any of it, however, and when you spread your legs and rubbed the tip of it against your pussy, he lost whatever control he had left.

“Do you want to get fucked for real this time?” He growled. “I will break you in half.”

“Fuck, do it.” You screamed. And you were begging for it, with every cell in your body you were begging. “You can fuck me to death. I don't mind. Just do it."

Tom cornered you against the fence and drove his dick into your stomach. You reached above your head and grabbed the rusty fence, and when he brought his lips to your ear, you shivered at the feeling of his stubble scratching your cheek. “Come on up and enjoy the ride, bitch, because I’m going to put a bullet in your head when I’m done with you.”

You just looked at him and smiled before jumping into his arms. You hung onto the fence and wrapped your legs tightly around him and he positioned you just right. One strong thrust of his hips and he was deep inside you. You made some kind of animal fucked up sound and he knew it hurt, but you liked it, it was all over your face and the way you moved your hips against him. He wasn't playing well, though. He didn't care if you liked it or not.

He used his cock on you like it was a fucking samurai sword, pretending that each cruel blow was a new, deep gash in your flesh, and that your pussy juice was hot, viscous blood flowing from the wounds. He couldn't kill her; he knew that now. But he could fake it and he could put the fear of God into you while he did it. You were clinging to him like a damn monkey, writhing beneath him as he pounded into you mercilessly. You were gripping and shaking the fence so hard he thought you were going to knock it over, and he could see that your hands were cut and bloody from the rusty metal. Maybe he would remind you to try that, maybe he wouldn't. Now all he could think about was the grip you had on his dick and the look in your eyes as you looked over his shoulder into the fire. The light from the flames flickered in your face and he couldn't see the damage he had done to you. He was grateful for that; made it easier to fuck you until the end of your life. In broad light, the mess he made would have repelled him, regardless of how good the rest of your body felt. And you felt good, better than good, even though he knew he was traveling on a crazy train. It didn't matter, though. You may have won your little game, but he was in charge now. He fucked you with a fury he didn't know he had and your screams became more and more insistent. He knew you were close to cumming, and part of him wanted to be a sadistic jerk, pull out, make you wait and beg for it, and then cum all over your face. But he remembered the way your pussy felt when you came on his dick the last time, so he let you get there, not for your pleasure, but for his.

"Are you going to cum on this dick?" He growled. "Are you going to cum one last time before I kill you, you psycho slut?"

You threw your head back and screamed at the night sky. "Fuck yes. Fuck me harder, Tom."

“What if I stopped right now?” He said. He wanted you to beg for it. “What if I got you all hot and bothered and put a bullet in your head?”

You looked at him, and he was fucking you as he asked, and your eyes got glassy and crazy-looking. That made him slow and he almost stopped, but then you spoke.

“Then choke me.” You whispered. “Choke me and let me cum and then keep squeezing.”

“You’re too crazy, bitch.” He said, and kept his hands firmly placed on your hips as he fucked you.

But now it was all he could think about. You didn't need his hands to hold you down, you were covered between the cruel grip of your legs and the fence you clung to. It would be so simple, really. You were a little thing. He could break your neck if he wanted to. But he didn't want to, not really, not anymore.

"Do you really want me to strangle you?" He asked, and I couldn't believe he was asking the slut who set his bike on fire how you wanted come, but he was.

"Yes." You said. "Please. Do it. I’m going to cum so hard and then you can finish me.”

And you would have died happy with his strong hands around your neck and his cock trapped inside you. You knew he wouldn't kill you now. He would have already done that. He could have done this many times before, but he didn't. And he was looking at you in a way that told you that you were fucking him the way he liked to be fucked, letting him take control, making him feel like he was the king of the fucking world. And to you, he was the king. Other punks could run around all they wanted, pretending their dicks dangled lower than his, but everyone knew Tom was the man. He was the guy you should be afraid of, the kind of guy who would put you down if you looked at him funny. And here you were, watching his bike burn by your own hands and getting fucked for your trouble. You couldn't help but laugh.

“What the fuck are you laughing at?” He retorted. “Do you think I won’t do it?”

And then, just like that, his huge hands were around your neck and squeezing. You were already so close to cumming, but between the anger on his face, the fire dancing in the distance, and the lack of oxygen, you came like a rocket. Your pussy clamped down hard on his dick and you bucked so hard that his hands lost control of your throat, and the rush of air that hit your lungs made you twice as excited. You screamed like you were dying, and thought in the back of your mind confused that you might be climaxing, but you didn't give a damn because you couldn't stop cumming for what felt like a year and he fucked you so hard and completely that you were essentially dead when it was over. Your body was jelly and you couldn't hold back any longer and he knew it so he pulled out and threw you in a heap on the floor.

“I hope you enjoyed this.” He said, ripping off the condom. “Because this is going to hurt.”

You thought for a moment that he could fuck your ass without a condom, and if you were honest, you would have let him, but that wasn't what he had in mind.

“Sit down and look at me.” He said, and started jerking his dick. He slapped your face a few times between thrusts and you smiled and opened your mouth.

"Are you going to swallow it all?" You nodded and stuck your tongue out as far as you could. You wanted to taste him so much you could have cried.

“Get ready for this.” he said, and you watched the veins on his arms ripple as he pumped himself until he came. You would have liked to do this for him, but you stood still, on your knees, with your hands behind your back and your mouth open and ready for him. “Open your eyes, bitch. Keep them open.”

You moved your gaze between his face and his cock; you couldn’t decide which one looked angrier. They were both beautiful, though, and that's what you were thinking about when his free hand grabbed your face and held your right eye open while the other masturbated right into him. The first explosion was strong and hurt like hell, but the next jets streaked your face. You smiled even though your eyes were on fire. You wish you could see his face when he came, but you could only imagine the evil grin he must have worn as he blew straight into your eyeball. He gave you a solid fuck you at the end, and you respected him for that. He certainly deserved it, and you found it almost artistic in its execution. You squeezed your eye shut as hard as you could, and laughed because you knew you were crying cum and it was the funniest thing you had ever imagined. Only you weren't imagining it; it was happening, and you reached up to wipe away your milky white tears. You couldn't see out of your right eye, but your left was working just fine, so you used it to stare at him as you sucked his juices off your fingers. You could taste the strong taste of him even through the dirt and blood and rust, and you moaned into your fingers. You must have been a vision, one eye tightly closed and the other bulging because he couldn't stop laughing at you. But you didn't care. You were happy.

Funny that you shouldn't be happy at a time like that, but you were. If what he said was true, he was just moments away from killing you. Your face was bruised and something was probably broken, your hands were cut, your knees were scraped, you looked like you had gone to war, and in some ways you had. You had won some battles, but in the end Tom held all the cards. He composed himself and grabbed his Glock from the grass, returning to kneel in front of you, your forehead pressed to his.

“Any last words?” He said, his face set in an evil smile.

"Marry me." You said it, and you meant it.

He burst into laughter and stood up in front of you. He pointed the gun at your head and moved his finger to unlock it. One movement of his thick finger and the lights turned off. You heard the deafening crack of the gun and saw the barrel glow and closed your eyes but felt nothing but splinters of wood from where the bullet entered the side of the house a foot to your right. You opened your eyes and he was smiling at you, that shit-eating Tom smile you loved so much.

"If you mess with me again it will be right here." He bent down and pressed a dirty finger to your forehead.

Tom patted your cheek twice in a row and ran towards the bar. You stood there for a moment, but you knew it was past time to get the hell out of there. If you were caught on the spot, it would mean trouble for your entire family. You couldn't allow that. You pulled your blouse up over your breasts and your skirt down. Your panties were long ago left to the weeds and you never lost your shoes. You left in the opposite direction from Tom, even if it meant heading home instead of taking the car. You wouldn't go to the bar now, not after what happened, not in the state you were in. You knew Tom wouldn't say a word about what really happened to his bike. He'd say it was some punk fucking him, and he'd probably savage some random kid for good measure, just to make a good show of it. You would say you were attacked, but managed to escape. You would get ready in the morning and take care of your business as if this whole mess never happened.

Except it had happened, and you would never forget it, and even though he almost put a bullet in your brain a few times that night and threatened to do it for real, you knew you wouldn't be able to let him go. Not now, not ever. You smiled. He was like fire to you: powerful, beautiful, deadly dangerous, and easy to unleash. You'd be happy to watch the world burn just to have him again.

[m3ridiem]

“need you, felt you, saw you, love you.” —caitlyn kiramman.

warnings: dark romance, violence, cannibalism, manipulation, murder, obsession. if you're not into these things please skip it. xx

notes: no proofreading because i was too lazy to do it so... yeah;)

word counts: 1634 words.

caitlyn, caitlyn, caitlyn, where are you?

what had just happened? you had no memories left in your brain, you don't know what happened to you before you're here, laying down in a metal cold chamber with no space left in there, it's so small, narrow, just only fits to your body. yet, somehow, you managed to get up from the chamber, somewhere in kiramman's manor, maybe in basement, you could tell by the rotten red brick walls. you noticed that your whole body was numb as you walked out of the room, naked and dren, leaving watery footprints with every step you took.

the dim lights in basement led you to the upstairs, there's no one there, not even the maids. you straight up walked to her room so easy since you already memorized inside the manor. those footprints you left start to fade step by step, completely gone when you reached your girlfriend's room.

“... cait?” your feet stopped at the open-door frame, calling her name so sweetly, full of love, and carefully because you were afraid of waking her from bed. but you found silence in the room, no answers, no groans, just a little noise from the bird outside.

you made your way into the bedroom slowly, discovering that there was no one in bed, empty with the pillows placed so tidy. your gaze looked around, wondering where she could have gone at this hour, and minutes later you continued your search through the bathroom, hallway downstairs, and the main living room of the manor, just to find no trace of her.

an hour to two hours, two hours to three hours. it's probably so late at midnight, but you still couldn't find where was caitlyn gone. each room you came to, calling her name several times, hoping to see her in anytime you called.

boredom hits you so hard after hours of walking around, your gaze fixated on floor, didn't have any clue where you're gonna go, maybe bedroom again, or main living room again, or kitchen—

suddenly you heard some noises from the kitchen, unfortunately you couldn't tell whose voice was that since there's dividers between kitchen and dining room. but the noise sounds so... familiar, too familiar to guess even.

until you heard your name.

“i swear to god— hahh.. you look much prettier when you closed your eyes...”

the second you heard the sound, you already could guess the owner of the voice. your girlfriend. you're scared, hearing your name being called in between kisses, huffs, gasps, and whimpers. you're here, in the dining room that only separates the kitchen by two dividers. dirty thoughts and even the worst flooded your brain. caitlyn wouldn't do that... right? she would never, ever.

“my pretty baby... no one's gonna talk to you again, right? no one's ever gonna see your pretty face but me. you're safe with me... you're safe...”

of course the curiosity in your body wins over the fear. you took step by step, approaching the kitchen. caitlyn's voice became clearer and louder. you peeking out, hiding behind the divider and looking at her figure slightly, she's holding someone's unclothed body.

whose body is that? why did she called my name to the body?

a quick gasp escaped your lips as you widened your eyes, mouth began shaking with uncontrollable breath. caitlyn kissing all over your face, her hands carefully caressing your breast and trailing down to your stomach.

suddenly you caught a flashlight through your eyes, it was so bright, so bright that you couldn't even see anything. the light faded after 20 seconds, but you, you weren't in the kitchen anymore.

the room was so familiar, the walls, the ceiling, the bed. this is... caitlyn's bedroom.

“my pretty little thing... you know i love you, right?”

in a matter of seconds, you changed your direction to your front—where caitlyn sat on your thighs. you couldn't see her clearly due to darkness, the only light is from the outside. your breath caught in your throat, confusion started to come on your head.

her hand holding something, caressing it so dearly with slight smile. what is she doing?

“tell me you love me.”

“huh—” right before you could think, she yanked your hair so tight, and it hurts so bad. “cait, what are you—”

“tell me you love me, tell me you won't leave me, tell me, tell me, tell me, tell me.” her breath was heavy like a predator caught its prey after hours of chasing. “tell me you won't talking to another girl but me. fucking tell me!”

she leaned forward to you, you saw her grin growing wider, her hair strands messily placed on her forehead and cheeks. “you won't, right? you promised me.” her hands gripping your both wrists, a cold metal touching your forearm making you shiver.

turns out that it was a knife she had been holding on her hand.

her face expression was like demanding your answer.

you shake your head, “i won't, cait. i love you, i do love you so much.” fears flooding through your veins, tears began to pour down from the edge of your eyes. “i won't leave you, i—”

your breath hitched as you felt a painful sensation on your stomach, the feeling going deeper as you tried to continue your words.

“don't look away, look at me.” her voice was sharp as a knife, the same knife that she stabbed into your lower stomach. “aw... i know you won't baby. i know, you will never leave my side. not even a single chance.”

you gasped when she pulled out the knife, along with her hand choking your neck, preventing you from saying another word. “but i fear you're lying to me. can't trust people that easy, right?”

another stab in your stomach. you swore it was the most painful feeling ever, and the worse, you couldn't even scream or move or fight back.

“you will stay with me, forever, even when i die someday.”

stab, stab, stab, stab, stab, stab.

“say i love you and i'll stop.”

each of your breath becomes struggle as if the air starts to running out from your lungs. you feel numb, lightheaded, the strength drained from your body. your blood scattered here and there, ruining caitlyn's deep blue turtleneck and her leather pants, staining your white nightgown.

but somehow, after what she did to you, you managed to let out a sweet pretty line from your mouth.

“i love you, cait. i love you so much.”

your visions become blurry, seconds after that the light in your eyes is gone. there's no heartbeat working anymore. your eyes looked so empty as you stared at caitlyn.

caitlyn definitely has something to do with her bloodstained bed and your lifeless body. she has so much something to do.

she didn't regret what she had just done to you. her eyes were fixed on your cold body, the only part of you that remained because you were no longer alive. she let out a soft chuckle, her hands caressing your cheeks, leaving some blood behind.

“glad to know that i can keep you safe from everything now. they won't hurt you anymore, baby. and you'll never leave me again. you're safe with me. you're safe.”

she picked up your figure, bringing to the basement, laying you down on the big yet small refrigerator that only fits your body, preventing it from getting rotten.

sound of someone chewing something echoed through the kitchen. the flashback you had seconds ago realizing you that it was your last moment.

you were killed, by your own girlfriend, in her manor.

the fact that she killed you, couldn't even make you less loving her. you don't know why. perhaps because you loved her too much that you didn't even care for what was she doing to you, or perhaps her actions of manipulation towards you made you think that you were really safe with her, even when you're dead on her hands.

you're back at the same place before you had the flashback. caitlyn was no longer holding your exposed lifeless body like before. instead, your body was laid down pretty on the large countertop.

but something feels off.

you found caitlyn sits on the bar stool, devouring something so messy like she eats a whole thanksgiving dinner. you braced yourself to walk towards her, just to see her face, maybe.

“caitlyn...?”

smile on your face dropped in a second after you faced her. your breath shaking, eyes scanning her and your body that has been lost a little piece of it—your calf. half of your calf has been eaten by caitlyn, raw. she devoured it, taking a little break to breath every ten seconds, then eating the calf again.

you glanced at your body, it didn't get rotten like it supposed to. your body still remains the same as when you were alive. the only differences are those stabs artwork by caitlyn was covered by bandages, and of course, your half-eaten calf.

and soft sigh of relief comes out of your mouth. realizing that you'll live in her body, her stomach, her veins, until she dies one day. you always be with her. and you'll never leave her side, and her body. no one's gonna hurt you, or trying to separate you from her. hell, even when you're already dead, her manipulation still works on you without you knowing.

she looks so beautiful under the moonlight, gorgeous even. peacefully eating your pieces raw so dearly, full of love as you could tell by her small grin when she took a piece.

she's glad to have you in her stomach, and you're glad too, because you know you will never ever leave her alone forever, even if her body is buried under six feet deep inside the ground.

[domoriu]

okay but this riwoo… office crush/fling riwoo…. walk with me

cw. nsfw mdni !! riwoo x gn!reader, no smut but sex mentioned (?), suggestive wc. just barely under 1k (i think)

riwoo watches you walk past his desk, he tries not to be too obvious with the way he turns to follow you with his eyes. he adjusts his glasses as he turns back to face his computer, tapping his finger anxiously against the desk as he awaits your text.

you work on a different floor in a different department than riwoo, so there was no reason for you to be passing his desk. but you always find your way downstairs, bothering the cute boy who works in the IT department with your useless questions about something on your work laptop and giggle over how visibly nervous he gets in your presence.

the boys in the IT department all tease riwoo, the way you walk around and say hi to everyone before closing in on the brown haired boy. they have no idea how he managed to catch your attention when he was just so shy. not to mention how everyone in the office thought you were attractive, surely you were just playing around with him.

you were playing with him, just not in the way they think.

y/n: meet me in the bathroom in the basement

riwoo didn't hesitate to stand up and make his way to where you were the moment he got your notification. muttering a quick "i'll be back" to sungho before he disappeared. sungho just shakes his head knowing what his friend is up to.

5 rhythmic knocks let you know that it was riwoo knocking on the door, you creak open the door and swiftly pull him inside, pushing him against the door which makes riwoo yelp in surprise.

"you left without saying bye this morning" you pout, watching riwoo's face turn red at your complaint. he woke up earlier than you did, and he still had to run to his apartment to change. the boy always came in wearing nice suits even though he didn't really need to - the office dress code was mostly business casual and everyone else in his department definitely didn't wear suits. but you thought that made riwoo endearing, and he always looked so cute in his little suits.

"s-sorry... i didn't want to wake you up before your alarm" he stutters, your hands trail from his chest up to his shoulders, rubbing him over his clothes like this to rile him up a little. it always works, never takes long to get him going when it comes to you.

"you're so sweet, how's your day been pretty boy?" your lips attach to the exposed skin on his neck right as you question him, and he swallows before he finds the right words. but you never make it easy for riwoo, your endless teasing was so evil but he couldn't say he didn't like it.

"been o-okay- mmmh- had lunch with sungho and jaehyun" riwoos words were just above a whisper, not wanting to accidentally be too loud. he was too sensitive everywhere, and you use that to your advantage when you lick a stripe on the sensitive part of riwoos jaw.

"will i see you again tonight?" riwoo nods, knowing his voice will betray him if he tries to say anything. you hum against his throat and his hands find your waist, grabbing at you like he’s trying to hold himself up.

"good, its the weekend so i get you all to myself" you smirk as you remove yourself from riwoos neck, before grabbing him by his collar to pull him in for a kiss. he whimpers the moment your lips meet his, not able to hold himself back anymore. the kiss is hot and desperate, riwoo holding onto you impossibly tighter while you slip your tongue into his mouth. he was lucky you chose the basement bathroom, because you definitely would’ve gotten caught together with the way riwoo was whining into the kiss. you press him harder against the wall with your body, kissing him deeper while your hands roam his waist and chest.

its only when you feel riwoos growing hard on pressing against you that you pull away from him, his lips blindly chasing yours before he finally opens his eyes. "i should go, but i'll see you tonight pretty boy"

it takes riwoo a moment to process what was happening, you were now out of his hold and fixing yourself up in the mirror while he stood there with his glasses foggy, hair disheveled and lips swollen. as well as the growing tent in his pants all while you started to make your way to the door to leave.

"wait-" he could barely get a word out before you blew him a kiss and walked out of the bathroom, leaving him alone and horny. there’s no way he could go back to his desk like this.

a/n: first thing i’ve written in 3 weeks do we fw it chat 😅 i missed writing so here’s a small domoriu meal for u guys yay

[essmeow]

CHAPTER FIVE : NO. 1 PARTY ANTHEM

prev , next , masterlist

its a written-only ones guys !! enjoy cw: underage smoking ⋮ song inspo !

"hey, uh—do you know where the bathroom is?"

you tapped maki on the shoulder, she had just gotten up from her turn playing mario kart on the couch.

"yeah, go up the stairs and then take a left down the nearest hallway."

you give her a quick thank you smile as you exit up the basement stairs.

you didn't really have to go the bathroom—in all honestly you just needed a breather from the loud action-packed space. afterall, you weren't used to this much social interaction...

though, you had been having a good time—yuji's friends were nice, really nice. you felt like you fit in, thankfully.

as you walk up the stairs, you turn your head down to the hallway on the left—it was a picture-framed wall. there were many diffrent family photos that aligned the space, photos of satoru and his husband, photos of who you assumed to be megumi's older sister, megumi's younger sisters, vacation photos—

"hey, you! who are you? i don't think i've seen you here before—didn't know 'gumi was that good at making new friends..."

your eyes widen as you heard someone talking to you, you turn your head—slightly embrassed at being caught looking at someone elses family photos.

"nanako, that was rude."

you turn to fully face the two girls standing beside you, these must be megumi's younger sisters.

the first one that spoke to you, nanako, was blonde with her curled hair tied up in a messy bun—the second sister was shorter with long brown hair and tired looking eyes. at first glance the two seemed to be around middle school aged, but you weren't completely sure.

"oh! i'm sorry, i wasn't meaning to snoop around—i was just taking a quick breather from downstairs."

you respond awkwardly, giving the two girls a shy smile.

"no don't apologize, we didn't mean to come off as hostile. i'm mimiko, and this is my sister nanako—were megumi's younger sisters."

"oh, well—nice to meet you, im yn—you haven't seen me before because i just moved back here. im yuji's sister."

"ohmygosh! i love yuji! he's soo funny, he's here lots—you guys do look alike, if you squint. anyways, if you're looking for 'gumi—he's upstairs. pretty sure he said the same thing about needing a 'breather'"

nanako responded, giving you an enthusiastic smile. you weren't really looking for megumi—but maybe it would be nice to have someone calm as company for a bit. you smile back and give them a quick goodbye as you start to walk towrds the stairs where the girls pointed.

you weren't really sure where you were going, his house really was huge. you went up the stairs and stood there for a moment, looking around. you were about to give up until you spotted a pair of glass doors at the end of a long hallway.

your curiosity got the best of you and you started to approach it, you saw a narrow baloncy outside of it. it was dark out tonight, and you were hoping that maybe there would be stars out.

as you approach the door, you place your hand on the door handle—opening it up and letting the cool breeze flow onto you.

as you walk out onto the balcony, you feel someone there—watching you. you quickly turn your head to the right, just to see megumi there. he was sitting on a wooden chair and had a cigarette hanging from the corner of his mouth—you didn't know he smoked.

"sorry, i wasn't poking around in your house...just wanted a breather."

"you're good."

he replied, tilting his head to the chair next to him—beckoning you to sit with him.

"ditching your own party huh?"

you speak, sitting down on the chair and moving your knees up to your shoulders for warmth—placing your feet on the chair.

"i guess. just needed a breather—you can probably tell but i don't like that much social stuff."

you give him a small laugh as he pulls his lighter out of his pocket—he lights his cigarette from his mouth before turning his head to you.

"want one? i don't usually smoke that much but like i said i needed to relax."

he reaches for his other pocket, pulling a box out.

"smoking kills y'know, but yeah."

and then, megumi fushiguro laughs he actually laughs. you weren't even sure if this boy could smile up untill tonight. maybe yuji wasn't completely stupid for hanging out with him.

he grabs a singular cigarette from the box before lighting it and handing it to you. you bring it to your mouth, puffing it. the cold wind slices through the air like a knife, making sure to remind you that falls getting colder—and that it was a stupid idea to wear a tank top.

"you shouldn't have worn a tank top, it's already october"

then in one swift motion, he unzipped his sweatshirt—leaving him in a t-shirt, he tossed it to you—you almost not even realizing what he was doing for a moment.

"oh—thank you, you didn't have to."

"'s fine."

as you put on megumi's zip up, you check your phone—seeing a few texts from your brother asking where you went. you check the time, it was almost 10. how long had you been out here?

"i think my uncles here, i should get going—yuji's waiting for me.."

he looks up at you as you stand, tossing his burnt cig onto the ground and silently stepping on it.

damn, he had pretty eyes—they were blue with a spark of green, his long eyelashes fluttering up at you for a second almost made you want to stay.

"alright, i'll walk you to the front door then."

he replies, getting up and heading to the balcony door, you stand there for a second—blinking and trying to realize why you just were so...captivated by him.

the two of you walk in comforting silence down the stairs and to the front door, you see yuji waiting by it—talking to nobara.

"there you are! thought you went missing or something, and you missed me kick ass in mario kart!

"what were you two doing anyways, gatekeeping secrect hangouts?"

nobara and yuji looked at the two of you, curiosity filling their faces.

"we were just talking, getting a breath of fresh air."

megumi responds, crossing his arms as yuji opens the wide front doors—nudging your arm so you would follow him.

"bye guys, thanks for having us megumi!"

you qucikly get out as the doors close behind you and your brother, the night sky darkening both of your faces.

"is sukuna here?"

"yeah—he insisted in parking on the road though, said he 'didn't wanna go through the gate' again—wait...when did you get the sweatshirt?"

"oh, it was cold and megumi gave me his."

"wow—in my years of knowing him i've like, never seen him be nice to someone, crazy—maybe his puberty hit or something."

you laugh as the two of you walk down the long drivway.

A/N: wooo i finished writing this! i also finished the outline for this so hopefully expect chapters coming out quicker :p tbh idk if i like this fully but oh well, im just kinda worried i haven't given yn that much personality but TRUST guys its coming !

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[wirewitchviolet]

That thing about 'the arc of history bending towards justice...'

I'm pretty sure I've gone on about this before, and I'm pretty sure I'm preaching to the choir, but I just had a well-intentioned acquaintance try to give an inspirational speech about American trans people's fears right now, and his heart was in the right place, but all his facts were wrong, in some really important ways. I feel like the perspective he has is the same one as... basically every decent person who isn't like, intimately familiar with WPATH, so please spread this around, and please if you only read one rambling history lesson from a trans person about the current state of things, make it this one.

So here's the big problem. Trans people get brought up in the mainstream media a LOT these days, but the framing is totally wrong. The impression people get is that there is presently a big push for new trans rights, where we want proper government recognition, and trans women in particular want to be able to use public women's restrooms, and play on girls-only sports teams, and a dozen other things. That is a lie you are being fed. These are all rights we ALREADY HAD, for decades. Possibly centuries depending what we're talking about specifically and where we're talking, even. The big issue right now is that a bunch of bigots just woke up one day about 10 years ago and decided that nothing else they were angling for was getting them anywhere with the general public, so hey let's make a boogieman out of this minority of a minority nobody knows the first thing about and act like all the horrors they're inflicting are just them enforcing some totally fictional status quo.

Speaking personally, I can say that The Trans Agenda in like 2014 was something like: 1- I'm gonna make a nice big pot of chili. 2- I'm gonna maybe replay some old video games from the '90s I haven't taken down off the shelf in a while. And OK maybe 3- It'd be cool if it weren't just the medical professionals who specifically specialize in trans stuff had enough of an education to know that when there's a difference in how a drug is going to effect men vs. women, it's for reasons directly tied to the levels of various hormones, or would at least trust their trans patients to know what we're talking about and not give us the wrong doses of things and maybe kill us as a result. And also like, treat us for regular things like broken arms (real example) without weirdly panicking about some prescription we're on they don't recognize.

There was absolutely not a point where some trans woman started petitioning the government or whatever to let her pee in a toilet with a little placard of a stick figure in a dress in front. We've just been doing that the whole time. Nobody's ever had a problem with that. You didn't know we were in there? OK. If I'm like at a restaurant and have to use the bathroom, I don't know how many of the other women in there have like, type O blood. I also don't care, and I think everyone would agree it was weird if I suddenly did care, and demand they post a guard out front asking to see driver's licenses. Just completely out of the blue some nutcases from the UK started foaming at the mouth and writing weird tabloid articles about their completely unfounded fears that... I don't even know. Buffalo Bill from Silence of the Lambs might put on a wig and follow them into the bathroom, dose them with chloroform, and drag them to some basement dungeon through some series of secret passages or something.

This was based on literally nothing at all, to be clear. Like, people pushing for this went and did serious research for anything even anecdotal to back them up on this, and didn't actually find anything. Then they started walking into public restrooms with cameras throwing doors open on people and going "see? See? Some creep could totally do this if we don't ban trans people from using bathrooms!" And... somehow this got traction? I figure it's because coincidentally there was this whole other thing going where people were looking at how every building had equal numbers of men's and women's rooms and saying "you know, like, 90% of people who come in here are the same gender and we end up with really long lines, what if we just took the signs down and told everyone to just use whichever?" which... when it's happening at the same time Chicken Little is ranting and raving about the boogieman wearing a cheap wig, wires got crossed? And suddenly we've got waves of legislation passing all over about who's allowed to use what bathrooms with weird standards that'd involve like DNA tests to actually enforce properly. Absurd stuff.

Meanwhile, your average trans activist at the time was just like... sitting there eating a sandwich and going "huh, they're making a TV series based on Fargo? That's an odd thing to happen out of the blue. And yeah we started going "hey, what the hell?" when this stuff started passing because like... yeah that's what you do when you see an article in the local newspaper that says you can't go to the bathroom at work or whatever without swabbing your cheek and waiting for lab results for 3 weeks first or whatever.

Same deal with sports. Major sports organizations like the Olympics have been weirdly paranoid about men pretending to be women since 1950. And there have been, to the best of my ability to research... zero men who have actually done this. And while the weird standards used for this have been used to kick a good number of women out over the years, none of those women have been trans, for what that's worth. Really, the whole gender testing thing has only ever been used for horrifying stuff like forcing women to strip in front of random creeps, or let them do "invasive internal exams" and of course so many incidents where some woman who isn't white wins at something and people move the goalposts to in some way to get her specifically banned. You may be thinking, "wait didn't I just see a whole bunch of news coverage about someone getting banned after some gender testing thing? She was trans right?" No. You're thinking of Caster Semenya. She's a woman. A cis woman. F on her birth certificate, born with standard issue female genitals, has periods, all that. People are just being weird racists there and crossing the streams with random transphobia. That and just... half-reading stories and making stuff up.

To the best of my knowledge, the total count of trans athletes who have competed in the Olympics would actually be... three nonbinary people, who so far as I can tell all competed against people with the same gender they had on their birth certificates, nothing done medically, so, nobody should have any problem there. Caitlyn Jenner, who didn't come out as a woman until like... 40 years after competing, on the men's team, and Laurel Hubbard, the first and only trans woman to compete at the Olympics as a woman, who placed... dead last, flubbing all three of her lifts.

If we just look at sports in general, OK, there WAS one big famous where a trans woman wanted to compete in a major sporting event, was banned from it, took the organizers to court over it, and the eventual ruling was there was no reason at all she shouldn't be allowed to play against other women. Renée Richards. And this was all the way back in 1976. Nearly 50 years ago now.

And of course in more recent years, again, after a bunch of random bigots just completely out of the blue started losing their minds about trans people with no prompting and started lobbying for new laws banning us from all kinds of things nobody had had a problem with us doing forever, there was Mack Beggs, a trans guy, who was forced, by one of those aforementioned baffling reactionary new laws, to compete on his high school's girl's wrestling team. He didn't want to be there, they didn't want him to be there, but the law said hey, F on your birth certificate, we're classifying you as a girl despite how clearly wrong that is. And then there's been a bunch of other weird cases like that like one state banning trans girls from playing any sports with other girls which only affected one single girl in the entire state, who was playing lacrosse on a team that wouldn't have even existed if she hadn't personally organized it.

But the point here is, trans people aren't asking for anything here. We're just standing here, and people are flipping out and banning us from doing all these things without any prompting. And hell, I THINK this one got shot down in higher courts, but when Florida got the brain worms on this and started passing all the anti-trans legislation they could think of, they actually included a ban on us just standing there! The wording was something like (and I apologize that I can't find it, search engines are useless now), "if a child can potentially see someone who was assigned male at birth who is wearing women's clothes, it's considered sexual assault."

It's important to understand what's actually going on here, both because what's going on here is just plain terrifying, but also because there is this huge segment of the population who has this weird idea that people's rights only ever get better, there's just some weird arbitrary ratcheting where you have to take a number and get in line. Like, "hey, used to be only white men could vote, then eventually the Progress bar filled enough that we let white women start voting too. Then we had to wait for it to fill up again, hey, we're ending this whole segregation of black people thing. Gotta give it another 30 years or so to fill up, now hey, gay people can get married! Don't be impatient trans folks, you just need to stay in line and wait for it to fill again for your turn!"

That's not how anything has ever actually worked. It would frankly be absolutely insane if it actually did, but like, this is an idea people get in their heads because history textbooks really like to gloss over all the stuff that makes the country look pretty bad and promote this whole "stuff is just always getting better!" vibe. But no, sometimes, things just straight up get worse for people. Ten years ago I could go to the damn bathroom, I could have social media accounts, I could access all the medications I need to live, I could safely set foot in any given state in the country... at least if I kept some witnesses around at all times to verify I was not in fact hitting on my would-be murderer in any of the black states on this map.

The problem is NOT that with Trump in power, the pause button is getting hit on trans people climbing towards some state of finally getting to be regular people. We were (largely) already there, and there's been a huge push over the past decade to strip that away from us. And Trump plus the rest of the Republican party in general have made very specific promises to make that way worse real real soon, including several things that will straight up kill a ton of us.

Like, when I'm talking about losing access to necessary medical treatments, I'm not talking about "THE SURGERY" and magic pills that give you boobs or beards. A lot of trans people are trans because there's weird medical stuff that in addition to messing with what does and doesn't grow mess with things like whether your blood flows properly and whether various organs do what they should. Just one of those many things the average person doesn't know, because everything written about us is from deranged bigots making crap up.

[gerec]

Do you have any Cherik fic recs where Charles was abused as a child and Erik finds out about it? I feel like I’ve read them all but on the off chance that I haven’t, I would owe you my life ;w;

(Thank you for doing these btw, your rec lists have fueled my revived Cherik obsession for the last several months!)

Hi Anon! I don't know if you'll find anything new on this list (I hope so) but here are some great fics that meet your requirements. Happy hunting :D

sins of the father by faerie_ground

Brian Xavier experiments on his only son, believing it will make him powerful. Years later, Charles Xavier still suffers from the aftereffects.

How to Successfully Ruin Your Life by Anonymous

Seventeen-year-old Charles Xavier accepts a job at his local café, expecting nothing more than a fun, new pastime. What he gets is a mysterious customer and a schoolboy crush.

Divergence by Lynds

Universes and timelines collide, dropping two younger versions of Charles Xavier into the midst of the hunt for Sebastian Shaw. Now the newly formed X-men have to deal with a strangely quiet and self-reliant six year old, and a sixteen year old covered in bruises.

Erik, in particular, has to accept that the man he loves hasn't had the kind, happy upbringing he wished for him. But these children are here now, and Erik's not going to let anyone hurt them this time.

Close to you, I'm home by OneWithoutAName

As Erik is searching the manor, he finds something strange in the attic. He knows that he needs to go to Charles, if he wants some answers. After all, why would there be a nest in a small dusty attic room, when there were countless rooms with ridiculously soft beds all around the manor?

how near to fairyland by ikeracity

Since childhood, Charles has kept all the things he can't let go of in a beautiful room in his head. Cuba brings his precarious balancing act crashing down.

Gin and Tonic by JackyJango

Charles takes a deep breath to steal himself and nearly collapses on the floor out of the sheer pain the motion tugs out of his bruised ribs and stomach. Tears crowd his eyes, and even that, causes his left cheek to throb. He takes another breath despite the pain and leans on the counter for support. He feels lightheaded and dizzy. The tears threaten to surpass the barrier of his eyes and flow down his cheeks. No, he won’t cry. He can’t; because he doesn’t think he’d stop once he starts. Besides, crying will only empower Kurt further. He can’t let the man break him in every way possible.

Just as he’s about to open the tap to splash water over his eyes, the door to the bathroom bursts open and Erik enters through it.

Shit. What is Erik doing here? Shouldn’t he be in a lecture? Even if he wanted to just use the urinals, there’s already a toilet on their floor. He needn’t have walked across the campus to use the one specifically Charles is in. But before Charles could voice any of those thoughts, Erik asks in a voice as hard as steel, ‘What happened to your face?’

and the flesh searches for more than flesh by Anonymous

Charles is barely legal, and, despite his better judgement, continually uses his telepathy to get himself into the club near his house in a bid to get away from his abusive step-family. He lets himself get picked up by older, slightly creepy men if it means he gets somewhere to stay that isn’t the mansion in Westchester.

He didn’t expect to actually meet a decent guy one night, someone he could truly see himself having a relationship with. He doesn’t quite realise that’s what he’s been looking for the entire time – someone to make him feel a little less alone.

what a lovely way (of saying how much you love me) by Katbelle

There are ghosts buried in the walls of Westchester Mansion. Secrets locked in Kurt Marko's lab in the basement, Brian Xavier's west wing study, in the only east wing bedroom that Erik claimed as his own. And the thing is, Raven never knew and Cain didn't want to know, Erik doesn't understand and Charles just wants to forget what happened behind those closed door.

It's been fourteen years and it still hurts so much, claws at his insides whenever he lets himself think about it. And that's why he pushes Erik away, because Erik doesn't understand and Charles can't go through that again.

Scars by blackash26

In the heat of the moment Erik discovers that he was mistaken about a few of his assumptions regarding Charles’ life.

jigsaw puzzle; pieces that fit together by zombieinyourhead (vinndetta)

Erik doesn't hide the fact that he sees Charles as a rich, privileged kid who hasn't seen horrors like he has.

What Erik finds out during his stay at the Xavier Mansion is very contradictory to his own beliefs about the telepath.

Good Little Boys by Alex_Sage

Charles mind is shattered. Erik and Raven must wade into the darkest corners of his mind to piece him back together. Will any of them be the same when this is over?

Lightning in a Metal Conductor by cytheriafalas

Erik thinks something is wrong with Charles and he goes to find out what it is. Non-graphic, but still potentially triggering, mentions of child abuse.

As the Shell Cracks by Quietbang

Sometimes, he could be okay.

The Primal, Eldest Curse by flowermasters

Erik has Herr Doktor and the coin; Charles has Cain and the memories.

Childhood by ximeria

Charles grew up in a big house with a wealthy family, his childhood was by no means a bed of roses.

Sham by OffTheRocks

As they settle in Westchester, Erik finds out something disturbing about Charles' history in that house.

Charles is a clever child who wants to be a grown-up. Harry simply offers to teach him.

Let the Swing Complete Itself by Anonymous

Charles didn't want to settle for never.

misaligned (the divergence remix) by homosociality 

Charles Xavier, 16, is in the future now, and he's determined to seduce his older self's lover. It... doesn't go quite as he suspects it will.

[kelliealtogether]

So I can't get enough of the fanart of Adam with a beard that @try-set-me-on-fire has been blessing us with, and I wrote a little something inspired by this art of theirs because we love a beardy, unkempt, mysterious Adam Parrish.

Adam Parrish never anticipated growing a beard would itch.

Before averting the end of the world, he always shaved before his facial hair made it past the stage of stubble. Unlike Gansey, Adam had the capacity to grow something other than a scraggly tuft on his chin, but — as evidenced by Ronan when he lowered himself to show up for classes prior to dropping out — scruff took the dignity of the Aglionby uniform down a peg. Dignity being an aspect of the school uniform he needed most, Adam lathered up every morning with dollar store shaving cream and used a dollar store razor to clear his jaw, cheeks, upper lip, and chin of the faint blond fuzz that appeared overnight. It was the last step of the perfunctory routine he’d crafted to get ready with minimal effort and time, a step that often left his face dotted with bloody bits of toilet paper, the quantity driven by how much sleep he’d stolen the night before.

That routine followed him to Harvard, moving from his tiny, antiquated bathroom in his apartment above St. Agnes to a shared dormitory bathroom, where it stuck around until Adam returned to campus after a two week leave of absence because reacclimating his soul with his body was a lot more difficult than he initially planned. 

Not to mention with Ronan back from the sweetmetal sea, and with every ley line everywhere awake, Adam wasn't exactly rushing to return to classes.

But when he did, the Adam Parrish who returned to Harvard wasn't the same Adam Parrish who had left campus one evening to scry and find his boyfriend. The Adam Parrish who returned to Cambridge for his final semester in the Ivy League aligned closer with the Adam Parrish he'd been the past summer at the Barns. An Adam Parrish who didn't have to perform, not because it didn't matter, and not because he didn't care, but because he didn't want to. He didn't have to. The past few weeks had given him some perspective on what really mattered, on the fragility of not just his own body and mind, but the whole world, and as soon as he admitted that he didn't want to stay at Harvard and that he didn't want to keep acting like a cut-rate Gansey, he reached a level he'd learned about in his first semester psychology class but never personally experienced. 

The morning he returned to campus, Adam put the picture-perfect student who looked like he belonged on brick-paved walkways and around stacks of leatherbound library books on a shelf behind his closet door. He donned flannel instead of tweed. Jeans instead of slacks. He shoved his feet in old, scuffed sneakers instead of pristinely polished secondhand brogues, and he wore an old oversized Harvard sweatshirt Blue had found him in a thrift store after he’d gotten his acceptance letter instead of plain, drab sweaters Adam bought because he thought they looked academic. 

In the end, he returned to wearing all the clothes he’d initially left behind at the Barns when he’d driven away in August because they didn’t match who he’d wanted to become at Harvard. 

He’d really been such a fool not all that long ago. 

Without cuffed sleeves and cuffed hems, he became almost unrecognizable. Unimpressive. Unremarkable. The dorm proctor stopped him and asked him who had signed him in as a guest before realizing she was talking to Adam. Professors did a double take when he stopped by during office hours to turn in make-up assignments. Classmates who always asked him to study with them hardly looked his way. Just a change in wardrobe alone — from classic to comfort — stripped away so much of the false front he’d put up for months, enough that the Crying Club didn't notice him waiting for them when he asked them to meet him in Thayer's basement so he could provide an explanation and attempt an apology.

Then Adam’s already-perfunctory morning routine became impossibly more perfunctory when, first, he ran out of the styling paste he used to wrangle his self-cut hair into something presentable, and then — a few days later — ran out of shaving cream. 

Unless he looked closely at himself in the mirror — steam swiped away to make a lopsided circle large enough for his shower-pinked face — Adam couldn’t tell he hadn’t shaven. In the thin, sickly gray of the bathroom, he had to tilt his head one way and lift his chin before the coarse, fair hair on his jaw caught a little bit of light. Straight on, he looked the same as he always had: feather boned, gaunt cheeked, thin lipped, wary eyed. 

Except those wary eyes had recently lost their dark circles. 

That first morning, Adam told himself he’d stop by a drugstore and pick up more shaving cream, but he didn’t. And he didn’t the next day. And he didn’t the next day either. By the fourth morning, he finally began looking slightly scruffy. Or maybe slightly rugged. Nothing like Ronan — who grew a five o’clock shadow by noon — but when Adam ran his hand across his jaw, rough hairs scraped his palm, and he didn’t have to move his head a certain way to see the stubble on his face. A distinct coating of fair hair covered most of the bottom half of his face, a subtle shadow Adam didn’t totally hate, and if he left it alone, he’d save himself five to ten minutes every morning. 

So he left it alone. 

But then it started itching. 

“The fuck is that sound?” Ronan asked during one of their nightly phone calls. 

While Adam sat on his bed in his Harvard dorm, Ronan sat in a hotel room somewhere in the Great Smoky Mountains, priming to track down a dreamer he’d been encountering in dreamspace the past few days. In an effort to help, Adam had flipped some tarot cards onto his comforter, and while figuring out their meaning, he’d started absently scratching his jaw right by where he held his phone to his right ear. 

“What?” Adam replied, hearing Ronan’s question but not picking up its meaning, too absorbed in figuring out how Temperance fit into any kind of reading involving Ronan. 

“That sound,” Ronan said. “It’s like I’m in a damn cabin in the woods and the monster of the week’s trying to get through the door.” 

Adam furrowed his eyebrows, still focused on the wispy figure pouring smoke-like water from one cup into another. “The monster of the…” Slowly, Ronan’s words sank in and Adam stilled his fingertips on his face before dropping his hand into his lap. “Oh.” 

“Oh?”

“I was scratching my face.” 

“Why? Do they have fleas at Harvard? Bed bugs? Magical mosquitos?” 

“No,” Adam said flatly. “I ran out of shaving cream and haven’t shaved in a few days and my — beard? I guess it’s a beard. My beard itches.” 

Silence stretched across the phone line for so long Adam checked to make sure the call hadn’t disconnected because Ronan’s phone died, but the time still ticked upward on the screen of his phone. He’d simply rendered Ronan speechless for a few moments because he hadn’t picked up a razor in a week. 

“You have a beard,” Ronan said when he finally got his wits back about him. 

“It’s not really a—” 

“Don’t tell me it’s like that little soul patch thing Dick tries to grow everytime he has ideas about being manly.” 

Laughing dryly, Adam gave up on interpreting Temperance and laid back on his bed, rubbing his hand over his cheek to ease the itch instead of scratching as he replied, “It’s not like that. But it’s not a beard beard. I said it’s only been a few days.” 

“Send me a picture.” 

“I’m not sending a picture.” 

“Because it’s coming in uneven. I bet you look mangy.” 

“I do not look mangy.” 

“I bet you do. That’s why you won’t send me a picture.” 

“I do not look mangy,” Adam repeated. “Jesus, Ronan. If I send you one, will you quit saying that?” 

“I make no promises, Parrish.” 

A half hour later, after they finished their call, Adam did take a photo of himself. Mostly because when he sent a rare selfie to Ronan, Ronan sent one back, even if it was only one side of his face or a close up of an eye. And because it was for Ronan, Adam put a little effort into the photo, shifting his head on his navy pillowcase until he found a good angle and smiled a little when he hit the shutter button. He looked at the photo briefly before he sent it to Ronan, and it surprised him that his facial hair wasn’t growing unevenly at all. One spot near his left ear was a little thinner than everywhere else, but his facial hair was an otherwise perfectly even layer half a shade lighter than the hair on his head.

Yet this did not stop Ronan from sending Adam a picture of a mangy dog instead of a selfie, followed by a single-worded message moments later. 

Shave. 

Usually, Adam left contrariness to Ronan, who had perfected the art of antagonism a long, long time ago. But something about the single-word reply irked Adam. It came across as a directive, an order, even though Ronan would never mean it that way, and it tightened Adam’s jaw, making it ache as well as itch. He closed out of the message and willfully ignored it the rest of the night and into the following morning, when he found himself in Walgreens to pick up a new tube of toothpaste. 

On his way through the store to the register, Adam didn’t avoid the shaving aisle and instead paused in front of the cans of shaving cream for a long minute. He stared down the red, white, and blue cans of Barbasol, and leered at the far fancier cream-and-navy Aveeno Therapeutic Shave Gel. 

Shave. 

It seemed like only yesterday they’d made up in the sweetmetal sea, where the two of them had intertwined and recounted their rights and wrongs, made their admissions and their apologies. And Adam wasn’t mad at Ronan. A year or two ago, he would have been, and receiving a photo of a scabby, patchy-haired dog would have sent them straight into a fight. Now, Adam well understood it was Ronan being Ronan, which meant he was being a dick despite the fact he loved Adam. So Adam wasn’t mad, but he was a little peeved. 

Just peeved enough to be petty. 

He turned away from the myriad shaving creams and shaving balms and aftershaves and headed to the front of the store to buy his single tube of toothpaste. Then he walked back to campus, let himself into his dorm, and — wastefully — threw away the last of his razors. 

The next few weeks, neither of them brought up the beard thing. Once, Ronan asked if Adam got shaving cream and Adam indirectly answered that he’d gone to the drugstore. However Ronan interpreted that was up to him, but he didn’t ask about it again, leaving Adam to assume he’d interpreted the response as a positive toward Team Shave. They exchanged photos but no selfies, simply snapshots of tangled roots obstructing a ley line or reawakened Rockefeller beetles crossing Harvard Square in a tidy single-file. And when they talked, Adam did everything he could to keep his hands away from his face, even going so far as sitting on his hands after putting Ronan on speaker. 

Finally, in the fourth week of not shaving, the itching waned, and when Adam looked in the mirror, the hair on his face had definitively turned into a beard. Thick, blond hair covered his jawline and chin and it crept toward his cheeks and down his neck. A full mustache crossed his upper lip, and the space between his bottom lip and chin had filled in almost completely without bare spots beneath the corners of his lips he’d seen on other men. All together, it served to make him look far older than nineteen. Wiser. A little mysterious. Rough and rugged and a little unkempt — something he’d never been before — like he’d been put through the wringer. 

In a lot of ways, he had. 

And the worst — but probably easiest and most bearable — wringer was yet to come, because as spring break loomed ever closer, Ronan reminded Adam of the plans they’d made long before Adam had returned to Cambridge. “You’re still coming to the Barns, right?” 

“Yeah,” Adam told him. It wouldn’t be like last summer, when the Lynch family farm had been paradise for Adam and Ronan. Mór Ó Corra and the New Fenian would probably be there if Ronan didn’t force them out of the place for a few days — for entirely selfish reasons, Adam hoped he would — but Adam would never turn down the chance to go back to the Barns. To go home, though that location constantly changed depending on where Ronan was any given day. “My last midterm is Thursday and I’ll ride down Friday.”

“You’re taking the bike instead of the shitbox? Are you gonna return the favor?” 

“I’m planning on it.” 

Adam could hear the devil of Ronan’s smirk when he said, “Good.” 

Midterms raced by despite long nights, long papers, and long exams, and Adam cleanly survived them. He even thought about leaving for the Barns on Thursday night until he remembered his journey back from Virginia on his dreamt motorcycle. Exhaustion on that ride had done him no favors despite having a lot to think about, and he’d rather get to the Barns in one piece than be scraped off the road somewhere in New Jersey. Catching up on sleep could wait until the Barns though, and Friday he woke with the sun so his wheels hit the road before rush hour, his new facial hair adding some padding and warmth beneath his helmet that hadn’t been there before. 

Nine hours later, when he turned up the Barns’ rutted driveway, Adam knew he’d find Ronan waiting for him on the farmhouse’s front porch. Probably leaning against the same pillar he’d leaned against the night of his birthday when Adam joined him outside and they’d kissed for the second time. Thoughts of that night, of getting his hands on Ronan again, of kissing him again carried Adam down the driveway, and when the woods opened up into the rolling fields of the farm, the first thing Adam saw was Ronan, a dark silhouette against the whitewashed house, leaning against the exact same pillar. 

Only the BMW occupied the gravel parking area in front of the house — Mór Ó Corra and the New Fenian presumably made to temporarily flee — and as Adam nuzzled his motorcycle next to Ronan’s recovered car, Ronan started his slow descent from the porch. 

The reckoning came as Adam slowly unbuckled the strap beneath his chin and lifted his helmet from his head, and he hadn’t fully freed himself of it when the crunch of gravel beneath Ronan’s boots stopped and Ronan said, “You shitbag. You said you got shaving cream.” 

“I said,” Adam started, pulling his helmet all the way off and setting it on the motorcycle’s seat before he looked at Ronan, “that I went to Walgreens.” 

Ten feet away, Ronan stood with his arms crossed over the front of his black zip-up hoodie, his pale blue eyes narrowed to slits as he looked at Adam. He looked no more indignant than normal with his lips pressed together in a thin line and the fingers of both hands curled into the sleeves of his sweatshirt, but for a long minute, he just looked, and Adam looked back. He wanted to close that ten feet between them — badly — and throw his arms around Ronan, get him close again, but Adam had lobbed the ball over the net by not picking up a razor in six weeks. It was Ronan’s turn to volley. 

And volley Ronan did. 

Throwing his arms down at his sides, he stalked across the gravel left between them and instead of pulling Adam into a hug, he took hold of Adam’s cheeks. “What the fuck, Parrish?” he growled, thumbs beginning to brush over Adam’s beard, from his cheeks down to his jaw, over and over again. 

For the first time in his life, Adam understood why cats and dogs liked being pet. All the tension from nine hours on a bike melted from his muscles as Ronan’s thumbs skimmed across his beard, and Adam almost closed his eyes and sighed. He didn’t, because he wanted to watch Ronan as his gaze traveled over Adam’s face, assessing his sideburns and mustache and neck line. Finally, Adam replied, “I thought it’d be funny. You pissed me off. With shave.” 

“You asshole,” Ronan said, thumbs stopping but still holding onto Adam’s face. “I didn’t mean it.” 

“I know.” Adam had always known. Things weren’t like that between them, except for when Ronan wanted them to be. “Do you like it?” 

“Yeah,” Ronan replied, nodding as a slow smile crept across his lips. “Yeah, I think I do.” 

“It’s not mangy.” 

Ronan laughed loud enough it echoed off the farmhouse and startled Chainsaw — perched on the porch railing — into flight, and as she soared circles overhead, Adam and Ronan wrapped their arms around one another and pulled each other close. 

“No, it’s not mangy, Parrish,” Ronan said, and just before he put his lips to Adams, he added, “It’s a damn nice beard.” 

[carlsdarling]

HEAR ME OUT (up to you!!)

Part 4 to no mercy where they had the baby and they can actually resume to being rough and negan is just being an overprotective grandpa😭😭

No Mercy Part IV

Carl and Y/N have their son and are finally back to enjoying rough sex after a jealousy drama with Enid. Everyone is 18 or over.

WARNINGS: smut, nsfw, slightly violent sex (consensual)

After your and Carl's son Jamie was born, you had moved out of Rick and Michonne's household and had been assigned your own house in Alexandria. By now Jamie was three months old and you and Carl still hadn't resumed your sex life; mostly you were too tired because of the baby, you were still breastfeeding, plus you were still showing your pregnancy and that affected you because you were unsure if Carl would still find your naked body attractive. There were veins on your legs that hadn't been there before, and your stomach was softer and less firm than before, and milk came out of your breasts at the slightest touch.

Carl was on guard duty and you were taking care of Jamie and tidying the house. You decided to do some laundry.

You froze as you emptied the laundry basket from the bathroom. There was something red dangling from the pocket of one of Carl's jeans. You pulled it out and frowned at it: it was a thong, and it wasn't yours. Jealousy seized you painfully, because you immediately had a hunch who the owner of the panties was: Enid. The thong had a golden butterfly embroidered on the top edge, and you had seen it often enough over the hem of Enid's jeans.

Enid had also made no secret of how angry she was that Carl had ended the relationship with her after you returned to Alexandria and revealed to Carl that you were pregnant by him. She didn't respect Carl's relationship with you and took every opportunity to try to sabotage you. She kept stalking Carl somewhere and trying to change his mind; to get him to leave you and get back together with her. There had already been several bitter arguments between you and Carl about this. Carl swore he was no longer interested in Enid, but Enid just wouldn't give up, and apparently she had succeeded. It hurt so much.

You stifled your tears and quickly stuffed the panties into your own pants pocket as you heard footsteps approaching the bathroom, then your father Negan appeared in the doorway. Ever since Jamie was born, Negan had been paying you regular visits - much to Rick's annoyance. But Negan was completely in love with his grandson. Even now, he carried Jamie in his arms. "Jamie can already turn himself around," he announced proudly, as if this was his achievement. "He'll be a leader one day. He'll be just like me."

You preferred not to comment on it - firstly, Negan wasn't going to change his mind anyway, and secondly, you had other things on your mind. Your father seemed to pick up on your bad mood, and he looked at you inquiringly, asking what was wrong.

"Nothing, I'm just tired," you mumbled and gathered up the dirty laundry to put it in the washing machine. On your way to the basement, you saw a silhouette on the porch, you pulled back the curtains on the front door and recognized Enid, so you dropped the laundry to yank the door open. "What do you want?" you asked rudely. You would have liked to scratch her eyes out, but it wasn't her who had betrayed you, it was Carl.

Enid tilted her head and smiled sweetly. "Is Carl here?"

"No," you replied dismissively. "He's on guard duty."

"Oh, it's just... He left this at my place recently." With an innocent face, Enid handed you one of Carl's boxers.

There were a few telltale stains on the light blue fabric. Your face turned red with anger and pain. Carl hadn't had these underwear for long, so he couldn't have forgotten them during his relationship with Enid. And then there were the red undies in his pocket! The evidence was clear. Enid was obviously hoping for a reaction from you, but you didn't want to give her the satisfaction, so you grabbed the boxers and slammed the door in Enid's face. Now you couldn't stop hot tears from running down your cheeks.

Negan heard you crying. "Tell me what's going on, Y/N," he demanded angrily. "What did that girl want?" Then he spotted the boxers in your hand and put one and one together. "Are these Carl's?" he asked sharply, reaching for them. You nodded. Negan's expression darkened menacingly as he eyed the stains on the fabric. "So Carl's cheating on you. That little bastard; I'm going to kill him," he threatened.

"No, do not get involved," you ordered brusquely. "Please take the baby carriage and go for a long walk with Jamie." Carl would be home soon and you wanted to talk to him alone - even if there wasn't really anything more to discuss.

When Carl entered the house a little later, sweaty, dirty and exhausted, you were waiting for him with teary eyes and arms folded across your chest. When he tried to hug you to say hello, you pushed him away. "What's wrong?" he asked, puzzled.

"You're the one asking?" you shouted at him and threw the red thong and his stained boxer shorts to his feet. "You're cheating on me! You are a liar and a cheater!"

Carl looked completely taken aback. "What?" he asked confused and bent down to grab the underwear. He held up the red slip. "I've never seen this before," he said, confused. "What does that mean?"

"Oh, don't play dumb, Carl! You're cheating on me with Enid!" you accused him. "These are Enid's panties, and they were in the pocket of one of your jeans!"

"But that isn't possible," Carl claimed, ruffling his hair. "I swear I've never seen those panties before and I'm not cheating on you!"

"Oh yeah? And why did Enid just come by and bring your boxers that you left at her place after you fucked her? Those are yours, aren't they?" You pointed your finger accusingly at the boxers.

Carl picked it up and inspected it. "Yes, it is," he admitted. "But I don't know how Enid got hold of them, I..."

"Stop lying to me!" you shouted. "Enid had your underwear! And there are cum stains on them! The case is very clear!"

Carl turned red with embarrassment. "I can explain about the stains," he mumbled ashamedly. "It's... the thing is, we haven't had sex since Jamie was born, and... and I... I still have needs, and that's why..."

"That's why you fucked your ex," you said coldly. "Great, Carl."

"No!" protested Carl outraged. "Why won't you let me speak? I wanted to say that... well, I have no choice but to pleasure myself at the moment. I was on guard duty alone recently and... well... I thought of you, and then I... and I didn't have a tissue to clean myself afterwards, and that's where the stains in my underwear come from." With bright red cheeks, Carl looked down at his feet.

"Bullshit!" you snarled. "None of this explains how Enid got hold of your underwear."

"But I don't know that either," Carl tried to defend himself. "Any more than I can explain Enid's panties being in my pocket! All I know is that I tossed both the jeans and the boxers in our laundry basket! Last week already!"

"I don't believe you," you cried.

Carl held out his hands to you, looking desperate. "Please, Y/N, I love you, I would never cheat," he pleaded. "Enid's just jealous, she orchestrated this somehow."

The doorbell rang. "We'll continue talking in a minute," Carl promised and opened the door.

Michonne stood on the threshold. She looked suspiciously from one to the other. "What's going on here? Are you two fighting?" Carl sighed and gave a censored version of events. He left out the part about the stains in his underwear. Michonne frowned. "That's strange," she mused, "because a few days ago, on Monday, I saw Enid come out of your house. From the back door, to be precise. You weren't home, and when I asked her what she was doing in your house, she looked caught off guard and claimed she'd just wanted to return some comics to Carl."

"But I hadn't lent her any comics, and there weren't any comics there either," Carl said immediately. "Enid must have gone into our bathroom to steal my underwear and put her panties in my pocket," he stated angrily. "She wants to break Y/N and me up. That bitch!"

"I want to hear it from Enid herself," you insisted. But on the day in question, you had been home before Carl, and you hadn't actually noticed any comics anywhere.

"Let's go to her and confront her," Michonne suggested. "I can confirm that she was in your house."

The three of you went to Enid's house. Enid grinned gleefully at first when she saw your tear-stained face, but when she spotted Michonne, she suddenly looked panicked. Michonne spoke up. "So, Enid, spill the beans," Michonne said angrily. "What were you really doing at Y/N's and Carl's house a few days ago?"

"I...it was like I said...the comics..." stuttered Enid.

"That's a lie," Carl cut her off, upset. "I didn't lend you any comics."

"Yes, you did," Enid contradicted stubbornly. "You just don't remember."

" Oh really? What comics were they, and where did you put them?" Michonne questioned.

"I... I..." stammered Enid. "On the stairs," she then said.

"But I was home before Carl on Monday, and there were definitely no comics on the stairs," you replied.

"Then... then I put them somewhere else, I can't remember exactly..." Enid squirmed.

"Just admit that you wanted to cause trouble between Carl and Y/N," Michonne demanded angrily. "You could have given the comics back to Carl at any time without going to his house, that's a lie, Enid. I'll tell you what you actually did. You rummaged around in their laundry basket and put your panties in Carl's jeans pocket, and you stole one of his boxers. All to pretend that Carl was sleeping with you and cheating on Y/N. That is so vile, Enid. They have a kid together. Don't make it worse, admit it."

Enid blushed crimson and clenched her fists. "All right, yes, that's how it was!" she hissed, "But it's not fair! Carl should be with me, not her! He just ditched me when Y/N came back and announced she was pregnant! Even though she left Carl without a word!"

"That's not true," you said furiously. "I was sent back to my dad all of a sudden! I didn't even get to say goodbye to Carl! I didn't want to go, I didn't leave him voluntarily!"

Enid didn't respond. "And who knows if your brat is even Carl's? Probably not! You foisted it on him! I'm sure you've fucked several guys!"

Carl stepped forward, his teeth clenched. "That's enough now, Enid," he growled. "You apologize to Y/N right now!"

"'Forget it, I only had your best interests at heart, Carl. She's not good enough for you," Enid raged, slamming the door, but you didn't care if she apologized or not anyway - it had been proven that Carl hadn't been unfaithful to you, and you didn't care about anything else.

You and Carl returned home. Negan was still out with Jamie. As soon as you closed the door behind you and realized the two of you were alone, Carl grabbed you roughly by the wrist, kicked off his shoes and dragged you up the stairs to your shared bedroom, where he pushed you onto the bed and began to undress. "Carl!" you protested, "What..."

"Shut up," he said impatiently. "I want you now." He carelessly tossed his flannel and shirt aside and undid his belt, then unbuttoned his jeans and pulled them down and off, along with his boxer shorts. His cock sprang free, hard as a rock and the tip glistening with precum, veins protruding. The sight and scent of it made you tingle with excitement.

You tried to get up from the bed, but Carl immediately pushed you back and pressed you into the pillows, hastily fumbling with your clothes. "Carl, I'm sure my dad will be right back with Jamie, and I really don't feel like it, it's too soon, I'm still breastfeeding, and..."

Carl leaned forward and bit lightly into your neck, then sucked hard and left a hickey. "I don't care," he murmured, his voice hoarse with excitement. "It's been months since I've been able to fuck you. I can't take it anymore. And I don't care if your body has changed. I miss you, Y/N." He tugged at your clothes, dropping them on the floor beside the bed and ripping your lacy panties in his hurry; he held your wrists together above your head with his left hand and spread your thighs with his right. Carl was so needy that he wasted no time with foreplay, he slid his glans over your clit and the opening of your pussy a few times, then pushed his hard shaft into you, moaning.

You let out a soft cry of pain as Carl's dick suddenly stretched your walls, you weren't used to his size anymore and you weren't ready at all, but at the same time, it felt so amazing. It was so intense to finally be intimate with Carl again.

Carl forced himself to wait a moment for you to relax, then he let go of your wrist and began to thrust hard and fast. "There you go," he gasped. "You're getting wet."

You promptly slapped him across the face. "How dare you just fuck me?" you hissed.

Carl grabbed your throat and gave it a quick squeeze that made you black out for a few seconds. "'Slap me again and I'll turn you on your stomach and take you from behind so you won't be able to walk for days," he whispered. "I'll fuck you whenever, however and whereever I want. Remember? Got it?"

Excited to the extreme, you caught your breath as Carl took his hand off your neck; it was true, you were reacting to him as you always had: With every second he was inside you, the wetness between your legs increased. You began to whimper and moan, digging your fingernails into Carl's back. "Oh my god, Carl. You're so good." You put a hand on his firm butt, feeling the motion of his muscles as he thrusted into you.

Carl propped himself up on his elbows and pulled out of you for a moment. He licked off the milk that had leaked from your breasts and sucked and nibbled a little on your nipples. His cock was dripping wet with the fluid from your pussy, even his pubic hair and the area up to his belly button were wet and slippery. "Look how horny you are for me, Y/N," Carl whispered, grinning naughtily.

"Put it back in," you moaned, writhing on the bed. "Please, Carl."

Carl did you the favor, penetrated you again and increased the speed and intensity of his thrusts. Your pussy was on fire, throbbing, you wrapped your legs around Carl's hips, only now realizing how much you had missed having sex with Carl. The room was filled with both of you moaning, sighing and the wet sounds your bodies were making.

"Cum with me," Carl gasped; pounding even faster, unable to hold back any longer. The orgasm swept over you like a hot tsunami, you screamed out, arched your back and buried your teeth into Carl's left shoulder as your muscles spasmed. Carl shot his load into you, collapsing on top of you, quivering with arousal and exertion. You both were totally breathless, Carl's heart beating hard right next to yours. His weight pressed you deep into the mattress, and you languidly stroked his back. You both enjoyed the afterglow, you kissed and looked deep into each other's eyes. "I love you," Carl whispered. "Only you, Y/N. Just you and me, no one else."

"I love you too, Carl." You feathered kisses on his neck and on the red teeth marks you'd left on his shoulder.

After a while, Carl lay down next to you and you snuggled together under the covers, exhausted, sweaty and happy. "Y/N? Are you home?" you suddenly heard Negan's voice. Before you could react, he appeared in the bedroom entrance and stared perplexed at the scene before him - you and Carl in bed in the middle of the day, the smell of sex in the air and your clothes scattered all over the floor. Negan cleared his throat sheepishly. "I'm... glad to see that things seem to have gotten sorted out between you," he mumbled, rubbing his chin, preferring to retreat to the living room.

Carl looked at you mischievously and you both burst out laughing.

--

Tags: @knochentrocken0808 @taylormarieee @xxcarlswifexx @tessasweet @richardsamboramylove55

(Sorry that this took so long. I was simply never completely content with the fic)

[star-dust-stuf]

Albert Shaw x period!reader

title: im a baby you're holding

warnings: descriptions of blood, nudity (not sexual), pain, fluff that will make your heart ache!

a/n: sorry not sorry, this is cute and I know I should've done a period comfort sooner. posted this at three am btw. as always sorry for typos, this has nothing to do with sex or abuse. enjoy babes.

-

It as rainy out, I could tell by the small window up by the ceiling of the basement, it was grey outside, the sky and the clouds gave me a feeling of home along with the smell of dirt. I was huddled against a corner of the basement, my knees to my chest and my arms wrapped around them, I was bleeding... Yes it is as it may seem. I moved to the cold uncomfy ground because God knows how Albert would respond if I had bled on the mattress.

Though the mattress is already quite dirty, I didn't want it to be blood. He could think so many things and one of them would be my self harm, he didn't believe me when I said I wanted to stay with him, at least not yet, and time again he'd show me how much he trusted me and id show how much I trusted him. But today was different, I was waiting for dinner, for him to unlock that door and see the bloody mess on the blood.

Would he get mad? Hed punish me by leaving me alone in the dark in which he knew I feared, but only time will tell how he'd react and I waited, my heart calm pounding in my chest. But then I heard that door unlock it fluttered like a moth, it wanted out. I flinched but kept my head down. He entered, he set the tray down on the hard floor and squatted down to my level, he was close I could hear his breathing through the mask.

He pet my hair, he hummed softly. "Hmh, bunny?"

I looked up my eyes teary and glossy as I did, his eye grew soft in his mask and looked down to the blood below us, I immediately felt the tension and guilt. He titled his head at this but didn't say anything about it. But he spoke once again.

"You've earned so much trust from me, I don't want you to be scared over something that is bound to happen." I couldn't help it, I started crying even more. He sighed and pulled me close. "Shh, I gotcha." He put my head on his chest, he rocked side to side gently.

"I suppose you'd want to get cleaned up?" I nodded a little, his voice became lighter like he was happy and almost amused. "Yeah?" I knew he was smiling under the mask.

He helped me up to my feet, it was clear I was sitting in the same spot for a while, my nightgown was soaked in blood. He walked to he basement door and opened it, he looked back at me. "Come on... I promise it's alright." 

I walked towards him and as we walked up the steps he kept his hands over my eyes, making sure I didn't trip over a step and made sure I walked to the bathroom without looking, I understood why he didn't want me to. There was a flick of a light switch and a closing of a door. He uncovered my eyes. I was in a bathroom, the toilet next to the sink and in front of the sink was the bath, he turned on the water. 

He put the plug in the drain, "I'll have to stay here with you while you bathe. I can't have you trying anything can I?" He patted my head.

I titled my head a little, he laughed at this. "Don't worry Bunny, I won't do anything you won't like. What's important is we get you clean." 

The water went, I was feeling a little shy, he sighed at this and spoke once again. "I'll be back. You get undressed and in the water."

He left the bathroom, I did what I was told. I got undressed and slipped into the hot water it made my body relax and I settled but I kept my knees pressed against my chest. He came back in with a new nightgown. "I suppose I can say I was prepared for this." 

He also had some new underwear for me... And a pad. I felt loved, so loved. He crouched down from the outside of the bath and grabbed a bar of soap. "Now, I can't do this unless you tell me it's alright." His voice was stern like he meant it.

"It's okay..." I said. He looked at me to double check it was really okay before he started to rub my back with the bar of soap, and brought it to the front of my chest on my collarbone. I slowly put my knees down. 

It's not like I felt uncomfortable but I was in a vulnerable state. He didn't want to make me uncomfortable nor did he have any intentions of it. He just made sure I got clean before getting my hair wet and he was trying to be very gentle, he's never done this before and it showed. I giggled a little and I saw his eyes look at me through his mask. 

He didn't say anything but I knew he smiled a little as he continued to wash my hair. He rinsed me and that's when he started speaking again. "Feel good?" His voice was light. 

I nod a little and once he got me rinces he stood up, putting his hands on his knees and he grabbed a towel... His towel from the wrack and held it open. "Let's get you dry." 

I stood up slowly, it was clear I was in some pain, he dried me gently and he me some privacy to get dressed and situated. Once I was done he sighed. "I understand... Cramps may be a problem."

I didn't say anything but he knew it was a very likely possibility and didn't need my word to take action. He held out his hand for me to take. Almost like you would a child, and I took it. He led me back to the basement and got me back on the mattress. 

He sighed, "I'll get you something for the pain." He whispered like he didn't want me to hear but at the same time he did.

When he came back he had a hot water bottle, he sat next to me again. "lay down." His voice is soft once again, I do so. He gently placed it on my lower tummy and rubbed the side of my hip. 

He didn't want to leave me alone, he felt so sad I had to stay down here in the dark, in pain. He knew periods weren't fun and he just had a spot in his heart to want to stay, so he did. He lied next to me but he didn't touch me, not wanting me to be uncomfortable but I didn't want him to think it would so I scooted closer to him.

I knew he was smiling a bit under his mask. He put his hand on my forehead and stroked me gently till I was able to relax from the pain and go to sleep.

And through the night he made sure that hot water bottle stayed warm, even if it meant him having to get up the stairs and all the way back down. 

He kissed my forehead and slept next to me, he was a light sleeper and when he heard me start to whine from the pain he immediately woke. "Oh. Shh, shh, shh." He cooed.

He stroked my cheek, he whispers gently. "Breathe, focus on my voice."

I sniffled, I was subconsciously holding onto his sleeve but he didn't mind. He smiled at how much he was able to help and he kissed and rested his lips on my forehead for about five seconds before rubbing my tummy gently. Making sure I fell asleep once again.

[moongreenlight]

Nanny!Reader x John Price hnnnnngh

Tw/Cw: Cheating, mentions of drug use and abuse.

@ceilidho put the words ‘marriage kink’ and ‘ambiguous gray blob wife’ into my head and it has been eating away at my psyche for DAYS.

The Maddie from Euphoria of it all, honestly.

Getting the job through a Craigslist ad because it pays better than some of the office jobs you’d been perusing and it comes with free housing and a car to use? It’s a no brainer.

The kids are alright. Spoiled, but not entirely obnoxious. They’re school-age, so you really only deal with them for breakfast and a few hours after school. Their mother is absent. Some sort of philanthropist who travels for work and prefers to jet-set instead of sitting home. Their father is lovely. Truly picture perfect.

He only brought you on because he couldn’t step away from work, and he wouldn’t hear of sending his children to some daycare. Too impersonal. He prefers to get to know the person raising his cubs. He’s sweet like that.

John doesn’t expect much of you. Decently tidy house. Well-tended kin. A pot of coffee in the morning before he’s off to work, and a hot supper if he’s home late.

Leaves you to your own devices while the kids are at school. What’s his is yours. At first, you mainly stuck to your quarters and the living room, but after so long, you got a little lax.

Started wandering the house. Awfully fucking big for a philanthropist and a military man with three kids, but you’re not one to speculate. You try out the hot tub. The jacuzzi bath in the primary en-suite bathroom. The home gym in the basement.

Even that gets boring after some time. Too routine. So you get adventurous. Get your paws on the mother's medicine cabinet. Take a cocktail of her nearly expired prescriptions and take a few hours to yourself in the bath.

You must have fallen asleep, because the snap of a door closing makes you jerk your head up off the cold rim of the tub.

"Hello?" You're trying to figure out who exactly would be home. Scrambling to yank the plug out of the drain with one hand and track down your phone with the other. Suddenly very worried you slept through school pickup.

But when your pruny fingers finally swatted at the screen hard enough, you were grateful to see you'd only really dozed off for twenty minutes or so. Still no response even though you were fairly certain you heard the door come from somewhere upstairs with you.

"Someone home?"

The drain was loud. A dead giveaway of your neglecting your job. Gargling as it sucked away the evidence of your lavender-scented bath. What's worse? You'd forgotten a towel. Mind fogged by some desperate housewives-adjacent combination of stimulants and muscle relaxers.

You nudged the bathroom door open with a dripping wet toe, poked your head out to see what was going on. Seeing nobody, you decided that maybe you were just hearing things. Just the house settling.

So you inched forward, cringing at the trail of wet footprints you were leaving on the carpet of John's bedroom floor. You made a mental note to tidy those somehow before you went to get the kids. It wasn't until you were out on the walk over the living room that you heard someone clearing their throat in the kitchen.

It made you whirl your head around, scrambling to cover your modesty as best you could. Maybe it was a contractor? John had a bad habit of not reminding you that his buddies were coming over to do some project or another.

"That how you dress when you've got the place to yourself?"

You wouldn't be so lucky.

"J-John?"

A chuff from just beyond the wall downstairs. Strategically positioning himself where he could see, but wouldn't be seen.

"I-I didn't know you'd be home. God- I'm so sorry."

You weren't sure if it was better to run to your room or stay where you were. This was uncharted waters, after all.

A tsk, like he was sucking his teeth to keep the smile from creeping into his voice.

"In my room?"

Your mouth is painfully dry. You can't even manage to swallow.

"I'm so sorry, John. So sorry."

"Why don't you dry off and then we'll chat?"

[kpop---scenarios]

Monster (9) - FINAL

Pairing: Chan x Reader

Warning: Mentions of blood, Murder, Swearing etc

Word Count: 2.8k

Taglist: @bluebeard67 @stephanieeeyang @mouseyboo @stayatinykatsy @thicccurls @thecutiepieme @kayleefriedchicken @msauthor @purple-bell @bluesiebirdie @jisunglyricist @skzdust @hash2013 @skzooluvr @minh0scat @kkamismom12 @xxeiraxx

@jiminssluttyminx @chloe-elise-2000

@maisyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy

@gloriajovicc

Previous Chapters

“You're… you're in love with me?” You breathe, your heart pounding, almost out of your chest. You can feel the blush spreading across your cheeks as Chan stares at you, slowly walking over to you as you sit up in his bed. He crawls onto the bed, towards you. You lay down, trying to cover your face but Chan rips the blankets from your body, smiling down at you. . You want to respond. You want to tell him you feel the same about him, but you can't. In seconds his lips are latched to yours, swiftly deepening the kiss, slipping his tongue into your mouth. You grab his head, pulling him in closer, wrapping your legs around his waist. You want it to go further, but you're interrupted.

Ring.

Ring.

Ring.

“I'm sorry, this might be the info we're waiting for.” You whisper, reaching for your phone. Chan sits up, laughing.

“Go ahead, princess.” He chuckles.

You place your phone to your ear, Chan gets off the bed, walking to the bathroom.

“Hello?” You answer.

“Y/N.” A voice breathes. A voice you absolutely recognized and wished you didn't.

“What do you want, Seojoon?” You snap.

“If you want this to end, I need you to do something for me.” He snaps. “Meet me in the tunnels of your dad's house. Come alone.” He says.

“What makes you think I'd ever meet you or do anything for you?” You snap back. “Get your girlfriend to do your bidding for you.”

“If you care about Chan…or Felix at all, you'll fucking meet me.” He snaps. “Unless you don't care… In that case I'll just take care of Felix now. Or maybe I'll have him take care of Chan.”

You still cared about Felix, even if he was on Mia's side. You knew either yourself or Chan would be able to get through to him. You couldn't let anything happen to him.

“Fine. I'll be there soon.” You whisper, hanging up the phone.

You knew going alone was probably a very bad idea, you knew this. But you didn't want to risk Chan getting hurt because of you, and you'd take something to protect yourself. You get out of the bed, hearing the shower starting. You open Chan's bedside drawer, grabbing his gun, placing it securely in the waist of your pants before grabbing your jacket to sneak out. You knew Chan was going to be mad at you, but sometimes it's better to ask for forgiveness than permission.

You take a deep breath outside your father's house, you had parked in the back so none of his guards would be able to see you. You go in the back basement door, being as quiet as you can, heading for the tunnels, ones you knew all too well.

“I'm surprised you came so quickly.” Seojoon chuckles. “Shall we go for round two with the chains?” He laughs.

“What do you want from me? Where's Felix? Is he okay?” You ask.

Seojoon completely ignored your last two questions.

“Your father. He has a lot of fucking information about me on his computer, and I need it wiped. That's where you come in.” He says. “You need to get rid of it.”

“And why should I do that for you?” You ask. “What are you going to do for me?”

“I'll make sure nothing happens to those two you care for so much. Everything has gone fucking sideways and I need to save my own ass. Once you have that info I can disappear.” He says.

“What about Mia? What are you doing with her? Is she disappearing with you?” You ask.

“I'm surprised you care about what happens to her.” He chuckles.

“I don't. She's gonna get what's coming to her, but it'll be more fun to watch you fuck her over before I take care of her.” You murmur.

“If you're asking if I'm gonna throw her under the bus, then yeah I fucking am. Now. Are you in or are you out?”

“Why the fuck would I help you? There's no way you can do anything to Chan, he'll kill you the second he sees you.” You scoff, turning to walk away.

“Is that right?.” Seojoon chuckles. “See for yourself.” You turn around, looking at the phone screen he was holding up. You see Chan laying in his bed, sleeping, his back to the door. You watch as Felix creeps inside the room, holding a gun, pointing it to the back of Chan's head.

“Chan!” You scream, in hopes that he'll hear you through the screen but you knew better than that.

“You help me or I'll fucking tell him to pull the trigger. Don't fucking test me, Y/N. I'll do it.”

“Why? Why are you doing this?” You cry.

“Your father's turning on everyone. Any day now the goddamn FBI are gonna be tearing this house apart, and I can't have my shit on there. So take this flash drive, pull the information and delete it and I'll disappear from your life. Or he dies.” Seojoon yells, shoving a flash drive towards you.

“Fuck. Fine.” You cry, grabbing it out of his hands. You turn around, heading towards the space in the basement only weeks ago he had been torturing you in. You take a deep breath, walking through the space as fast as you can towards the stairs. You creep up the stairs as quietly as you can, you truly don't want to be seen by anyone, or have anyone see what you're doing. You open the door, peaking out into the living room, making sure no one is around. The house is eerily quiet, you can hear the ticking of the clock that hangs above the fireplace. The low hum of the radio left on fills the room, as you sneak through the living room, trying to avoid the known creeks of the floor. You finally make it to your father's office, quietly opening the door, making sure he wasn't in there. Thankfully he wasn't.

You close the door, locking it as you put the flash drive into your father's computer, finding the file named Seojoon. You opened it, beginning to transfer the files but not before reading some of the things he had about Seojoon, And you apparently. He had notes about your relationship with Seojoon, the things you did, things he told you and things he did not. Listed were all the things he did for your father, unfortunately for you, it was written in detail, so much so, it made you nauseous. You didn't know how someone could do these things to another person. It was no wonder he wanted this information off your father's computer, it would put him away for life.

As the files finish downloading, you start to delete them all off the computer, until you hear footsteps and your stomach drops. You try to move as fast as you can, taking the flash drive out of the computer, slipping it in your pocket before the door is kicked in, guns pointed directly at your face.

“FBI! Put your fucking hands up!” He yells, rushing towards you. Your hands go up before he pulls you out of the chair, slamming you down onto the floor, his knee digging into your back. He grabs your arms, cuffing your wrists behind your back before he helps you up, shoving you to another agent. No one says anything to you, but you see others in handcuffs, being taken out of the house. You're put into a black SUV, sitting there, watching the agents seizing your father's property. They're taking his computers, written files, and safes. Anything and everything they can take out of the house as evidence, they are.

Your anxiety takes over your body as you watch, waiting for someone to get into the car to take you away. You had nothing to do with any of this, you knew you didn't, but you didn't know what else was on those files, and if your father had your name anywhere in there you could be in so much trouble and you'd have a hell of a time trying to clear your name.

You sat for, you didn't even know how long. Watching agents go in and out of the house, carrying objects, sometimes files. Some of the things they were bringing out, you didn't even know your father was in possession of until you saw them being carried out. You knew this wasn't going to end well for anyone involved, and you knew that somehow your name was going to be in some of those things.

Finally, a while someone gets into the car. You barely notice the person, only seeing the blue FBI jacket. He begins driving away, and you were too busy looking out the window, slightly panicking about the fact that you were arrested and you were sure if they were caught, Mia or Seojoon would be throwing you under the bus for their crimes, somehow. It wasn't until the driver stopped the car and looked at you, did you realize.

“Chan?” You gasp.

“Really princess? Getting arrested by the fucking FBI? What the fuck were you doing here?” He asks.

“Seojoon…” You begin.

“Oh fuck. You were arrested helping that motherfucker? Everyone thinks he's dead.” Chan snaps.

“He was going to kill you if I didn't!” You yell. Chan pulls the car over, climbing into the backseat, uncuffing you. “Felix was in your room with a gun pointed to the back of your head.” You whisper.

“Oh baby, you don't think I knew about that?” He chuckles, caressing your cheek. “We had a plan, but now things are gonna have to change with the FBI involved.”

“Wait. What do you mean everyone thinks that Seojoon is dead?” You ask.

“They found a body this morning. Somehow he made it seem like it was himself. He faked his death, that fucker.” Chan sighs. “Why do you think he asked you to meet in the tunnel? He can't be seen.”

“So that's why he said he'd disappear from my life once I gave him this.” You gasp, pulling the flash drive from your pocket.

“What is that?” Chan asks.

“Everything on Seojoon from my father's computer.” You say.

“That'll come in handy.” Chan says, taking it from your hand. “I do have bad news though. From what I've heard from a few sources, they found your fingerprints on the gun that he used. He's trying to pin his death on you.”

“Well fuck, this day just gets better and better.” You sigh. “What do we do now?” You ask.

“You need to go into hiding. And I'm going to take care of that son of a bitch.” Chan says.

Chan gets back into the driver's seat, taking you and the car to a warehouse, where he has another car parked for the two of you. You get out of the SUV, moving to the other car.

“How did you know? Where I was? What was happening?” You ask.

“I hear and know a lot of things, Y/N. I have eyes everywhere.” He says.

“So are you mad at me?” You ask. “For going to Seojoon without telling you?”

“I mean yeah, but also I know why you did it.” He sighs. “You're trying to protect me, but princess, I don't need to be protected.”

“I know you don't. But I love you and I need you to be okay.” You murmur.

Chan smiles widely. “You love me?” He asks.

“Now's not the time for this.” You laugh. Chan pulls into the driveway of his house, and you see Felix standing out front, waiting for the two of you.

“Before you get mad at him. He knows that Mia was lying. He's only pretending to be on their side. He knows you never did anything Mia said.” Chan explains.

You get out of the car, and Felix rushes towards you. He wraps his arms around you, holding you tightly. “I'm so sorry, Y/N.” He whispers in your ear. “For everything. For not believing you about Mia, for believing all the shit she was saying about you.”

“It's okay.” You laugh, hugging him back. “I'm just glad you're back.”

“And we're gonna take all those fucker's down.” He says, releasing you, taking you and Chan back inside.

You sit on the couch in the living room, pulling your legs into your chest. Your head spinning with everything going on in your life. Chan and Felix stand, talking about whatever. You couldn't hear them properly, not that you were trying, until you heard Felix calling your name. You look up, seeing him hanging up his phone.

“You should rest.” Felix says, sitting next to you. “If we hear anything about anyone we'll let you know. Okay?” He smiles. You nod your head, shooting Felix a half smile as you stand up, making your way to Chan's room. You crawl into his bed, snuggling under the blankets, and sleep quickly takes you. It had been a long day and you were exhausted. You really hoped at some point you'd feel the bed dip, having Chan come and join you but it never did.

You woke up in a panic, what felt like only mere seconds later. You looked at the clock, 3:00am. You felt beside you, Chan's side of the bed still cold. He had never come to join you and that was unusual for him. You grab your phone from the night stand, quickly dialing his number. The phone rings. And rings. And rings, until the call ends. You were about to call him again, when your phone began to ring, Chan's name popping up on the screen.

“Hey, where are you?” You ask.

“I had some business to take care of.” Chan chuckles.

“Where are you?” You ask, even more concerned now.

“It's time we take care of Seojoon. Y/N I can't go on knowing he's still fucking out there. I'll never feel like you're safe.” Chan says.

“Chan.” You whisper into the phone, as the bedroom door slowly creaked open.

“What's happening?” Chan asks. You watch the door frame, seeing a foot step in front first before the shadow of a body standing in the doorway. You recognized it immediately.

“He's here.” You say, just as the phone call cuts out.

“I want my flashdrive, Y/N.” Seojoon laughs, gun in his hand. He comes out of the shadows, blood covering his hands, a sinister smile on his face.

“You think I'm gonna give you fucking anything after you tried to frame me for murder!?” You yell. He laughs. “Ah, you heard about that?” He asks. “Pretty smart huh?”

“Something's wrong in your head.” You say. He quickly stomps towards you, pointing the gun at your head.

“I'm so tired of you and your fucking family.” He yells.

“And I'm so fucking tired of you.” Chan snaps, rushing into the room, gun in hand. Seojoon turns around, a shocked look on his face. “Surprised to see me?” Chan laughs, pointing his gun at Seojoon's chest, pulling the trigger swiftly. Seojoon drops to his knees, gasping as he clutches his chest, while Chan points the gun at Seojoon’s head, pulling the trigger one more time, hitting him directly between the eyes.

You sit in the bed, still clutching the bed sheets while you watch the blood pool around Seojoon’s body.

“You okay, baby?” Chan asks, rushing towards you. You take a deep breath, gulping as you try to catch your breath.

“Your father and Mia have been arrested.” Felix pipes up, showing you the message he just received.

“So…it's over?” You whisper, looking at Chan.

“Yeah, princess. It's over.” Chan says, pulling you into him, holding you tightly.

**

10 months later, you and Chan were thriving. You were happy, healthy and the business had been left in the hands of Felix and Chan as the heads. The two of them were taking the organization to a new level and you were so happy to be a part of it and helping in any way that you could. Felix had met someone a few months after Mia and your father had been arrested, and he was happier than you had ever seen him before. Luckily you and her got along great. You were all like one big happy family.

“No, babe, you can't do that.” You laugh, placing your left hand, with a large engagement ring showing on Chan's shoulder.

“Come on, princess. It would be a good idea.” He smiles.

Before you can respond, you hear a knock at the front door. You get up, heading towards the door, opening it and you see a package. You pick it up, opening the note, turning around to face Chan, who was coming up behind you.

“What is it? Who's it from?” He asks.

“It's nice to see you so happy. Too bad it won't last.” you read out. “I'm coming for you.” You finish, your face white as a ghost. There was only one person you could think of to do this. You and Chan stare at each other, whispering the same name at the same time.

“Mia.”

[archangeldyke-all]

sevika with a daughter has been plaguing my minddddd;

sevika with a daughter who’s going through her first heartbreak omg. sevika would be so clueless on how to help but she would still go to war and die for her little girl, so she’s still right by her side as she cries her eyes out 🥲🥲

oh no poor baby little fucker :(((( yes this is so cute lets do it

men and minors dni

you and sevika are making out on the couch, your glasses of wine and plates of pizza abandoned on the coffee table, the movie you'd put on forgotten.

the kid's out on a date with her girlfriend, which means you and sevika have the entire house to yourself. it's rare these days that little fucker isn't just around the corner, waiting to cockblock the two of you, so you've both decided to make the most of it.

"fuck, i've missed you." sevika mumbles against your lips. you hum and pull away from her to smile.

"we had sex last night!" you say. sevika giggles.

"well, yeah, but it was a fuckin' quickie in the basement. i like takin' my time with you." she says with a shrug. you snort and lean back in to kiss her again.

"you're such a romantic." you say. sevika chuckles.

"only for you."

behind you, the front door slams open, and your daughter comes storming into the house. you both jump off of each other, turning to look over the back of your couch as little fucker sobs and flings her shoes and coat off, before running up the stairs to her room. you blink, then look at your wife.

"rock paper scissors?" you offer. sevika snorts then nods. you both smack your fists against your palms three times before you shoot. sevika sticks out scissors, and you stick out paper. you groan. "fuck." you say. sevika just chuckles and shrugs, leaning forward to press play on the movie and bring her pizza back in her lap. you huff as you get off the couch, pressing a kiss to sevika's scalp, before running up the stairs after your daughter.

there's music and sobbing coming from the other side of her door. you knock softly. "baby?" you call. "can i come in?"

the music lowers to a gentle hum, and you can hear your daughter sniffle. "y-yeah." she mumbles.

you gently push open her door, your heart breaking at the sight of her. she's curled into the middle of her bed, a stuffed animal clung to her chest, a pile of blankets wrapped around her as she cries. the mascara and eyeliner she'd put on for her date have all dissolved into black tear tracks down her cheeks. your poor fucking baby.

you quickly rush over to her bed, wrapping yourself around her where she's crying, pressing a kiss to her head and wiping up her tears. "what's goin' on, baby?" you ask.

"she broke up with me!" your girl cries.

oh fuck. you think.

"she broke up with me in the middle of dinner! in the middle of the restaurant! and then she made me take a fucking uber home because she didn't want to give me a ride while i was crying!"

"what the fuck?" you ask.

"i know!" she wails. you kiss her forehead again and hold her as she shakes.

"what happened, honey?" you ask. your girl sobs.

"sh-sh-she's been cheating on me! with wendy mcpherson--the star of the soccer team." she cries.

your heart shatters in your chest, and you let out a shaky sigh as you pull your kid impossibly closer to your chest.

"that fucking asshole!"

"i know!" she says. "and it's our six month anniversary!" she wails.

you try to blink back the tears that well up in your eyes as your heart breaks for your baby. you sniffle as you begin to pet her hair, letting her tears soak your shirt as she cries against you.

"she-- she went to the bathroom before our food came." your daughter starts. her voice gets wobbily as she continues. "and her phone started blowing up, so i checked it! i was worried it was her mom-- she's always worrying when we're out, and i was just gonna text back and say hello! you know mrs. gardenia likes me, i was just going to re-assure her we were safe. b-but it wasn't mrs. gardenia." she whimpers. "i-it was wendy."

"oh baby." you whisper.

"sh-sh-she was sending all these flirty picutres in her bra-- at first i thought it was a mistake-- but i scrolled up on their messages and apparently they've been talking for a month." she cries.

"fuck." you whisper. your daughter cries and nods.

"and wendy's so fucking pretty, ma. she's got this perfect long hair and washboard fucking abs and huge tits... of course she'd choose wendy over me." she cries again.

you sigh shakily, and press a firm kiss to your daughter's head.

"wendy mcpherson's got nothing on you, baby, you hear me?" you ask. "you're beautiful. you're the specialist, smartest, funniest kid i know. you've got a great sense of humor, and the prettiest eyes, and a great ass-- you can thank your mom for that-- she's a fucking idiot for dumping you. she's an idiot for cheating on you. i'm gonna fucking kill her." you whisper that last part, but your daughter hears, and luckily, it makes her laugh. you kiss her again. "i'm so fuckin' sorry, kid. this sucks."

"it sucks so bad." she agrees. "i feel like i'm dying." she mumbles. you pout.

"what can i do to make it better, babe?" you ask. she shrugs.

"i dunno."

"we got that triple chocolate icecream you like in the freezer? i can bring up the whole carton and a spoon?" you offer. your girl peeks her head out from your chest to blink up at you.

"can you bring the whipped cream too? and maybe some hot chips?" she asks.

"i'll bring you the whole fuckin' cupboard, baby. just wait here, okay?" you ask. she nods.

"thanks, ma." she whispers.

you press another kiss to her head, wiping up her tears, before you disentangle yourself from her and crawl out of her bed.

as you walk back downstairs, sevika looks over the back of the couch at you.

"what's goin' on?" she asks. you sigh and wave for her to follow you into the kitchen.

"that stupid fucking kid cheated on our girl." you growl. sevika gasps.

"she did not!"

"dumped her in the middle of fucking dinner when she got caught. then she made her take an uber home so she wouldn't have to deal with her tears." you say as you pull a tray out of a drawer, before turning to the freezer.

"what the fuck!?" sevika shouts. you nod.

"that's what i said."

"she probably made her take an uber home so she wouldn't have to deal with us." sevika growls. you nod.

"i know, right? i never thought i'd feel murderous toward a fucking kid but fuck." you say as you load up the tray with the ice cream and whip cream. you close the fridge and walk to the pantry, pulling out a big bag of hot chips and tossing it onto the tray. you sigh, and then reach for a bag of gummy worms, a box of cheesy crackers, and a bottle of cran-pineapple juice, piling it on top of the tray.

"i know a guy who could make it happen, you know." sevika mutters, glaring at the floor. you laugh and hip check her as you leave the kitchen.

"i think a mom in prison'll fuck her up more than a broken heart, but i like where your head's at." you say. sevika snorts, then follows you up the stairs to your daughter's room.

you and sevika spend the evening curled around your girl, taking turns holding her as she cries, while the other lists off less-than-desirable qualities about her now ex-girlfriend.

little fucker eats and laughs and cries, and eventually, she slumps to sleep on sevika's shoulder.

you sigh as you look down at her.

"poor fuckin' kid." sevika mutters. you nod.

"she'll be okay, right?"

"'course she will." sevika says, nodding and rubbing your sleeping daughter's back. "it'll suck for a bit, but she's gonna be fine. she's strong-- she's your daughter." she says, smiling at you. you chuckle.

"i think she gets that from you sev." you say. sevika chuckles, then reaches out with her free arm to grab your hand.

"go sleep in our bed. i'll stay here with her." sevika says. you pout.

"and leave the family sleepover? i don't think so." you say, settling down in the small bed beside sevika. she chuckles.

"our backs are gonna kill tomorrow." she mumbles. you laugh.

"worth it for her, though." you say. sevika hums.

"definitely."

little fucker sleeps through the whole next day. you wake her up in the morning for pancakes-- her favorite-- and she eats and sniffles, before going back to bed.

sevika comes home from working in the yard and frowns when little fucker isn't sitting on the couch like she usually is, flipping through the tv channels as she 'does her homework.'

"she's still in bed?" sevika asks as she kisses you hello. you sigh and nod.

"she got up for lunch a few hours ago-- i made her grilled cheese and tomato soup. she started crying half way through. apparently she who shall not be named liked grilled cheese too." you say.

sevika hums, a concentrated expression on her face. you smile.

"what?" you ask. she chuckles and shrugs.

"i... i had an idea while i was out gardening. might help her feel better." she says. you raise an eyebrow at her and she smiles. "do we have any eggs?"

a few hours later, the three of you are dressed in all black, cruising through the city streets in sevika's car. your daughter is guiding sevika toward the gardenia's house, a nervous smile on her face as you get closer and closer.

"i can't believe we're doing this." she giggles. you smile.

"it was your mom's idea." you say. she grins.

"mom! you're an evil genius!" she shouts. you laugh, and sevika smiles proudly.

"trust me kid, this is tame in comparison to some of the shit i was thinking up this morning." she says. you and your girl laugh. "i was diggin' to plant those new tulips, and i had to keep remembering i wasn't digging a grave." she says. you snort and elbow her and she winces. "ow! what, i'm serious!" she says. you just roll your eyes as your kid laughs.

"it's up here on the left." she says. sevika slows the car down to a crawl, turning the headlights off as she pulls up in front of the gardenia's house.

it's dark inside-- hopefully, they're all sleeping.

you all tumble out of the car, giddy and nervous as you round the car to open the trunk, pulling out three cartons of eggs and a package of toilet paper.

little fucker squeals.

"i've never done something so stupid and fun before!" she whispers. you laugh.

"c'mon." you whisper, running onto their front yard. your daughter giggles as she follows you, sevika following behind her.

sevika throws the first egg, and you all giggle as it hits and splatters all over their front door.

you go next, aiming for the roof. you miss by a few feet, hitting a wall instead, but it's just as satisfying as the roof would be.

finally, it's your daughters turn. she pulls an egg out of her carton and kisses it, before sending it flying through the air. it smacks against a window, yolk and shell streaking down the window pane. you all laugh.

"nice one baby!" you shout. she snorts.

"okay, hurry up before they wake up." sevika whispers.

you all start lobbing egg after egg at the house. most of yours miss and land on the yard, so you hand your girl your carton so she can double fist 'em, while you tear open the pack of toilet paper and start throwing the rolls up into the tree branches above you.

sevika and your kid are both giggling like kids as lob eggs at the house, and sevika even manages to get one up into the chimney. they both holler in celebration.

the front porch light comes on, and you all scream.

sevika launches the last few eggs at the front door, while your daughter takes off toward the car. you throw the last few rolls of toilet paper into the tree before taking off after her, grabbing sevika's hand and dragging her behind her as you run.

"what the fuck?" a voice calls out as you all flee. sevika turns over her shoulder to shout.

"your kid's a fucking asshole!"

you're all giggling and huffing for breath as you pile into the car, and sevika pulls off with a whoop of victory, honking her horn all the way down the street. in the backseat, your kid's laughing so hard she's silent, and you reach back to grab her hand.

"feel better?" you ask. she wipes away her tears and nods.

"so much better." she says, giggling. you smile.

sevika drives you all through a drive thru, ordering burgers and fries and milkshakes, before she takes out out of town and drives the car up onto a lookout over the city. the three of you get out of the car to sit on the hood, little fucker squished between you as she stuffs her face.

"they're never gonna get that toilet paper outta their tree." she says, smiling. you laugh.

"you've got a fuckin' arm on you, kid." sevika says, ruffling your daughter's hair. "a couple of times i thought your eggs were gonna break their windows!" she says.

little fucker giggles, before resting her head on your shoulder. you press a kiss to her scalp.

"i love you kid. i'm sorry your first girlfriend was a bitch." you say. she sighs.

"i love you too ma. and you mom." she says, reaching out to grab sevika's hand. sevika smiles, leaning down to smack a slobbery kiss to her cheek, making her squeal.

"someday you're gonna meet someone who sees what a fucking catch you are, kid. until then, you got me and your ma to take care of you, okay?" she asks. your daughter nods, tears brimming in her eyes.

"you guys are the best." she says shakily. you smile against her. "and... so much fucking cooler than i thought." she says, giggling.

you laugh, and sevika's jaw drops in faux-offense as she reaches out to tickle your kid.

"you little shit, we've always been cool!" she says. your daughter squeals.

"ah, mom, stop!" she laughs. sevika stops, but presses another wet kiss to her forehead. little fucker groans and wipes her face clean.

"so you just thought you were cool outta nowhere? no way kid, you got it all from us." you say. your daughter snorts.

"whatever you say, ma." she laughs.

you just smile and kiss her forehead again.

taglist!

@fyeahnix @sapphicsgirl @half-of-a-gay @ellabslut @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner @shimtarofstupidity @love-sugarr @chuucanchuucan @222danielaa @badbye666 @femme-historian @lia-winther @gr0ssz0mbi3 @ellsss @sevikaspillowprincess @leomatsuzaki

[just-my-latest-hyperfixation]

Punch me out

Written for the @steddieholidaydrabbles, day 4

Prompt: Meet-cute at work

Rated: E

CW: Blowjobs, dirty talk, slight degradation kink

Tags: No UD AU; company Christmas party; bathroom sex; blowjobs; dirty talk; Eddie is a disaster and Steve is a slut and they both love it; inappropriate use of vending machine drinks

Eddie shouldn't have gone to the company Christmas party. The few weeks he's worked here taught him a bunch of stuff. 

The CEO? Asshole. 

The management? Spineless lickspittles.

The corporate culture? A conglomerate of bullshit. Eddie’s position is called Facility Manager - the most ridiculous euphemism for Janitor ever.

Anyhow!

He shouldn't have come, but Gareth insisted that was exactly what those tie-wearing douchebags wanted, so they went. 

Only that Gareth has disappeared with the receptionist, leaving Eddie to aimlessly meander while the tie wearers got progressively more drunk. He should probably have gone home.

Only he didn't. 

So he kind of brought this upon himself, he thinks, while a puddle of punch soaks into his crotch and laughter wafts all around him. 

The only one looking equally horrified is the guy the punch belonged to. He’s still holding the empty cup and blushing from his chestnut hair all the way down to his business shirt. 

“Shit, sorry!” he babbles. “Didn’t see you there-” 

“Don’t sweat it, Stevie,” Tommy Hagan guffaws. “I’m sure he brought his mop.” 

Stevie’s face grows stony. “Shut it, Tommy.”

Hagan does. 

Before Eddie can feel confused, one large hand takes him by the shoulder and steers him away. 

“Sorry again.” 

“‘s alright,” Eddie shrugs. “Was just heading home-” 

“Oh, no.” A pair of big, sad eyes fixes him from behind wire-frame glasses. “At least let me make it up to you? Please?” 

How could Eddie say no to that? 

*

"Fuck, princess," Eddie groans, head thudding against the bathroom wall. "If that's you apologizing, you can spill stuff on me more o-ooooh …" 

Stevie doesn't answer, which … okay. That would be quite the feat with Eddie’s cock down his throat as it is. 

He looks up at Eddie from where he's kneeling, and fuck, the sight of him! Hairdo ruined, lips stretched obscenely wide, eyes glassy with arousal. The picture is almost enough to do Eddie in, so he tangles his fingers in that hair and yanks that warm, wet mouth closer. Stevie's eyes roll back and he moans, and that's all it takes before Eddie is coming down his throat. 

Stevie doesn't so much as whine, just swallows. God, he's perfect. Eddie wants to take him home. Tie him up in bed. Never let him leave. 

"Wow," he murmurs as Stevie pulls off, slack-jawed and starry-eyed. "Are you always such a cockslut, or was that only for me?" 

Stevie smiles up at him. The glint in his eyes is smug. 

"Only if it's such a nice cock," he hums. "What's attached to it isn't bad, either."

Pretty, slutty, and a little bratty to boot? Eddie will just have to keep him. 

"Give me your number?" he mumbles as Stevie staggers to his feet, and leans in for a sloppy kiss. 

Stevie dances out of his reach. 

"No need to," he winks, unlocking the door and skipping his way out. "We work in the same office. I'll find you." 

*

Stevie does not find him, of fucking course. Eddie tries to put it out of his mind, goes to work as usual and does definitely not scan the crowds for that voluminous shock of hair. 

He's actually relieved when the holidays come. The floors are empty and nobody calls because they need their door oiled or their light bulbs changed. Eddie holes up in his basement and starts working on that new campaign. 

Until the phone rings and a bored receptionist informs him Mr Harrington's height-adjustable desk is broken. 

"The CEO?" Eddie asks dumbly. 

"No," drawls the receptionist, "The son." 

*

The office is spacious and bright and tastefully decorated. Eddie hates everything about it. The fancy adjustable desk is not plugged in. 

He's just under it on all fours, ass in the air, fingers desperately stretching for the socket, when the door opens. He quickly shuts down his monologue about overpaid dumbasses. 

"Hey, man. I'll be out of your hair in a second." 

"No need to hurry," says someone. "I'll just enjoy the view." 

"What the- ow, motherfucker!" Eddie whirls around so fast he cracks his head on the desk. "Stevie?" 

Stevie kicks the door shut, sips idly on his vending machine drink, and observes how Eddie clambers to his feet. 

"Said I’d find you," he smiles. Before Eddie can form a reply, he's being pushed against the desk and there's a tongue down his throat. 

"I- wha- wait!" He tries to pull away. Stevie keeps nipping at his throat. "Are you crazy? Harrington Junior could be here any second." 

"He already is." 

Eddie yelps and looks around frantically, half expecting to see someone lurking behind a potted plant. There's nobody there. 

"But it's just me and-" 

And then it clicks. 

"Oh my God," he groans. The mouth against his pulse grins. 

"Steve is fine." 

"You're the CEO's son," Eddie babbles. "I called you a cockslut, I-" 

Stevie - no Steve, Steve fucking Harrington, Eddie is so fucked - just shrugs. 

“I am,” he says easily. 

Eddie gapes at him. 

“The CEO’s son or …” 

Steve laughs in his face. It’s bright and cheerful and adorable and so fucking cheeky, Eddie wants to teach him some manners. Long, graceful hands are fiddling with the zipper of his overalls. 

“Listen,” he sighs when Eddie doesn’t react, just keeps gaping at him like a fish out of water. “I’m sorry it took so long. I had an unexpected business trip to go on, but … I’ve been thinking about you the entire time. Let me make it up to you?” 

“I …” Eddie nods dazedly. Their lips brush with the movement. “Yeah, okay.” 

“Brilliant,” Steve says. Then, in one swift movement, he takes his drink and upends it in Eddie’s lap. 

Eddie gawks, heat pooling where the stain is spreading, tight and urgent. 

“Oops,” Steve Harrington deadpans, and gets on his knees. 

Maybe going to the Christmas party wasn’t such a bad idea after all.

All my holiday drabbles