#but also they were just hard hitting for me

[aureatelys]

nobody does it like you do

pairing: dbf!aaron hotchner/fem!reader rating: explicit w.c.: 10k.... a/n: dbf!hotch party ended months ago but im still here

summary:

You don't mean to start something with your dad's best friend during your summer break.

c.w.: 18+ MDNI PLSSSS, dbf!hotch yippee, no y/n, reader is mid-20s and hotch is mid 40s, reader is kind of a brat and also very sexual and forward :), car sex, handjobs in car, v fingering, dom/sub, dirty talk, light degradation kink, size kink if u squint, light choking at the end!, unprotected sex, tbh some plot to mostly porn

read below or on ao3 here <3

You’re nearly half-naked when you first meet him.

It was the first morning back at home during your summer break in your first year of your Master’s program. You hadn’t been home in several months, blaming your rigorous coursework and the full-time job you had, but luckily you were able to use nearly a month’s worth of PTO to coincide with your summer off.

You had gotten in late after flying across the country, but your body still woke up like clockwork just before 9 am.

Currently, as you make eye contact with the tallest and most attractive man you have ever met while wearing a tank top and shorts that barely covered your ass, you couldn’t tell if that was a blessing or a curse.

You had heard your dad rave about what basically sounded like a crush he had over the phone for nearly a year. Aaron Hotchner apparently works with your father at the FBI, albeit in a different department, and they hit it off at a recent gala by discussing golf, expensive scotch, and being annoyed about the latest budget cuts. One Saturday at the country club’s golf course later, your father was hooked, and Aaron has been over at the house nearly every weekend since.

You remember your dad saying something about how he’s hardworking, better than he is at golf, and much nicer than he looks. He didn’t say anything about how hot he was.  

You were stumbling out your bedroom and rubbing at your eyes when you had nearly run into him on the way to the bathroom. You’re still waking up, but you see the genuine surprise and something like want on his face before it’s gone, a neutral expression taking over his handsome features. The clench in his jaw betrays him.

“Excuse me,” he says. His voice is low, deep in a way that sends a shiver down your spine. “I was just heading into the restroom.”

You blink at him, your mind still not having not caught up yet. “Uhm.”

“I can just go to the one downstairs,” he says, giving you an easy smile. It makes him look even more devastatingly attractive and you feel dazed. With that, he turns on his heel and makes his way back downstairs without another word.

You distantly hear your father downstairs calling your name and asking if you’re awake. You feel rooted to the spot, flustered.

You try your best to go through your normal bathroom routine, but your heart still hasn’t calmed down yet. It’s been a while since you’ve dated and even longer since you’ve slept with someone, thus you’ve had a lot of quality time with yourself recently, so seeing the way this older man reacted to you was enough to have you preening a bit. You weren’t imagining it, right?

You tell yourself that you’re feeling lazy after a long day of traveling and not wanting to change yet as you head downstairs into the kitchen, absolutely not hiking your shorts up a little and shimmying your tank top down.

“Good morning,” you chirp as you step into the kitchen. Your dad is already sitting at the dining table, most likely finishing his second cup of coffee, and his face lights up when he sees you as if he wasn’t the one to pick you up from the airport late last night. Aaron is standing in the kitchen next to the coffee machine, pouring into a travel mug.

You ignore the way you can feel Aaron’s dark eyes rove over you; the top of your breasts nearly threatening to spill out, your hard nipples poking through your top, and the curve of your ass peeking out from underneath your shorts.

“Morning, pumpkin,” your dad says cheerily, clearly oblivious to what’s going on between his friend and his own daughter. “This is Aaron, he works at the Bureau with me, I told you about him?”

You vaguely remember when you stalked through his Facebook profile several months ago after your father was tagged with him multiple times. The pictures of him were always blurry, never giving you anything to go off of.

As you stand next to him in the kitchen and crane your neck up to look at him, you realize the pictures really don’t do him justice. He’s handsome, almost boy-ish with the way his hair is clean and not gelled down like in the pictures, flopping in front of his forehead. He’s wearing a tight red polo, showcasing his broad shoulders and forearms in a way that makes you want to drool a bit. His brow is pinched, jaw tense, and you almost think you can hear his teeth grinding when he attempts to keep his eyes on your face and not on your chest.

“Nice to meet you, Mr. Hotchner,” you say, giving him an innocent smile. You ignore the mug your dad must have left on the counter for you and stand up on your tiptoes to retrieve one from the overhead cupboard.

You feel a rush of exhilaration when you hear Aaron suck in a breath at the way your tank top hikes up your stomach. When you turn back to him, because he is technically in the way of the coffee machine, you catch the way his eyes sharpen and the way his hand grasps at the edge of the counter, knuckles turning white.

And then it’s gone, just like earlier, replaced with something almost professional, probably the same expression he makes when something ticks him off at work.

Interesting.

“Aaron is fine,” he says, stepping out of the way of the coffee machine and then holds his hand out for you to shake.

You can feel your dad watching you, so you make an effort to tone it down a bit. You put your hand in his, swallowing when you notice just how large his hands are and the way he grips you a bit tighter than what would be considered professional. When you look back up at him, there’s something almost like a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“Nice to meet you, Aaron,” you repeat. It’s worth it to see a smile grace his face, replacing that smirk, and causing something fuzzy settle in your chest.

When he lets go and makes his way to sit across your dad at the table, you ignore how your hand suddenly feels like it’s burning.

“We’re about to head to the golf course here in a couple of minutes if you wanted to join?” your dad asks as you pour your coffee and sit down at the head of the table.

You hum and experimentally kick your feet out in Aaron’s direction to where he sits to your left. You make contact with his knee, and you watch almost gleefully as Aaron just barely jumps in his seat. He doesn’t make eye contact with you, just quietly sips at his coffee. It really shouldn’t turn you on the way it does. “I’m okay, I was just planning on hanging out here and catch up on my shows.”

“You sure, pumpkin? I know it’s been a while since you were out on the course but…”

“I think that’s exactly why I shouldn’t come with you,” you laugh. You pull your chair up closer to the table, making it look like you were just trying to get comfortable, when really you just wanted to cop more of a feel of Aaron’s thighs.

“Alright, alright,” your father says, putting his hands up in defeat. “But don’t forget about the retreat later this week with the guys.”

You pause from where you were just about to dig your toes underneath his thigh. “Retreat?”

“I told you about it when I picked you up last night!”

“I think you forgot that you picked me up at one in the morning and I was half-asleep in the car,” you roll your eyes. “But of course I’ll go with you.”

“Great!” Your dad says with that big smile on his face that always makes you feel nostalgic. You don’t really want to go, was honestly just planning on relaxing at home, but if it makes your dad happy and you get to spend more time with him, then you’ll do almost anything.

And if Aaron’s coming too, then well…

Your dad gets up to put his mug in the sink and starts making his way out of the dining room. “You ready to go, Hotchner?”

“As ready as I’ll ever be,” Aaron says, a barely detectable rasp to his voice that has you hiding a smile in your mug.

You’re about to put your foot down when you feel thick fingers circling your ankle and lifting your leg up until your ankle is resting on Aaron’s knee. You nearly squeak in surprise, but the look on Aaron’s face stops you.

He would look calm, composed even, if you didn’t pay attention to the way his eyes have darkened. His brow is pinched, lips pressed into a thin line, as he tightens his grip on your ankle and asks in a low voice “What kind of game are you playing here?”

Not expecting confrontation, you don’t know what to say. Your breath gets stuck in your chest, something about the glare he’s giving you keeps you rooted in your chair.

Because there’s really only two options here. He’s your dad’s best friend, at least 20 years older than you, and you really have no business in sexually riling up this guy you’ve never met before until today. You can apologize, give him a genuine and friendly smile, and go back to your room and pretend this never happened and you weren’t just throwing yourself at some hot older man.

But there’s something about Aaron that you can’t quite put your finger on. You wonder what it would be like to see him without those walls he undoubtedly keeps up all the time, see him come undone. You can tell from his Facebook pictures that he’s a bigshot of some kind, always wearing a fitted suit and not a hair out of place. You can see that now, in his pressed polo and matching belt, that he likes control, his skin nearly thrumming with it. And that’s something you’ve always enjoyed playing with.

You noticed the lack of a wedding ring on his finger, and the way he’s gazing into you now. The hot trail his hand leaves behind as he starts running up your shin, past your knee, and grip at the meat of your thigh says all you need to know.

“What game?” you say, innocently. You even play it up a bit by batting your lashes at him.

His grip on your thigh tightens, and it feels so good, and it’s been so long, you resist rolling your eyes back and instead spread your legs just a bit underneath the table.

“Your father didn’t tell me you were such a brat,” he mutters.

“What he doesn’t know won’t kill him,” you say, hoping you don’t sound as out of breath as you feel.

Aaron doesn’t say anything at that, just hums thoughtfully. You don’t have a chance to backpedal, redirect the conversation if you were reading the whole situation wrong, before he’s placing your leg back on the floor with a gentle hand on your ankle and getting up.

“We can talk more about what you want to do after school later,” he says, raising his voice a bit in an effort to appear like he wasn’t just groping you underneath the table.

You almost don’t hear what he says because your gaze is fixed on the obvious tent in his khakis. Your mouth nearly waters, and just knowing that you’re having the same kind of effect on him as he has on you has heat pooling between your thighs.

You shake your head, resisting the thoughts of throwing yourself on your knees in front of him and taking him in your mouth right in the dining room. You grin up at him and, in an impulsive decision that you’re secretly proud of, you reach over to put a hand on his thigh, dangerously close to his crotch.

“Absolutely, Mr. Hotchner.”

Your smile grows wider at the stormy glare he gives you before he heads out of the dining room, imperceptibly adjusting himself in his pants. Your eyes follow him out, cheeks nearly starting to hurt from how hard you’re smiling because damn, does his ass look good.

It’s your summer vacation, you may as well have some fun, right?

-

Since then, you’ve barely seen Aaron.

You had made Aaron and your father sandwiches, knowing they’d be home by the afternoon. You tried not to let the fact that you were upset, disappointed even, show on your face when your dad came home by himself and told you that Aaron got called for a case.

You knew from your dad that this was a normal occurrence for Aaron and that they’ve both gotten used to it. So many times there would be a gala or a party at the house and he would be called away to chase down a murderer or a rapist or a combination of the two.

You tried not to let it get to you, because seriously, you just met him, but also, it’s not like he owes you anything. But you really hoped that he wouldn’t miss the retreat later that week. Just imagining spending time with him in your lone hotel room was enough to make you dizzy.

So, you distracted yourself. You caught up on your emails, watched those shows that had been piling up in your watch later list, and spent time with your dad at the golf course or whatever else he wanted to do that day. It was nice spending your summer vacation with your dad and catching up on what he does at his boring administrative job and the lack of both of your love lives.

By the time Friday rolled around, there was still nothing but radio silence from Aaron, at least you assumed since your dad hadn’t mentioned him. You almost wish you had asked for his phone number before he left, but it wouldn’t have done you any good to waste a whole week sitting by your cellphone, waiting for a probably dry text from some guy.

A really hot, older guy that definitely has control issues and could toss you around like a ragdoll.

You’re throwing your bag in your car’s backseat and was about to admit defeat, that maybe he really wasn’t going to make it, when a black Range Rover comes skidding down your street and into your driveway.

“There he is,” your dad said in a sing-song voice, sounding about as giddy as you felt.

Your breath catches in your throat when you see him stepping out of his car, because how the hell is it possible for a man to look so attractive doing something so mundane?

And then your eyes nearly bug out because he has his suit jacket hanging from his arm, a duffel bag in the other, and is wearing a white dress shirt so tight that you could see the bulge of his biceps and the softness of his stomach.

“Sorry I’m late,” Aaron says, jogging up to where you and father were. “We just got back a couple hours ago.”

He looks at you then with those pretty brown eyes, looking genuinely apologetic, and the disappointment that you were afraid was going to take a permanent place in your chest gently unravels.

“It’s no problem, Hotch,” your dad waves him off. “We’re still waiting for some of the other guys, so you made it just in time.”

“Great,” Aaron breathes in relief. “I’m going to go change then, I’ll be right back.” His eyes flit towards you again, and you would’ve missed it if you weren’t still staring at him. They’re piercing, undoubtedly beckoning you to follow him, and there’s a hint of a smirk tugging at his mouth.

You feel a rush of excitement shooting through you as you watch him head towards the front door, eyes fixated on his hips. There was no clearer sign than that one, though you try not to roll your eyes fondly at the fact that your dad evidently did not notice as he goes back to playing Tetris with his bags in the trunk.

You wait a couple of minutes, pretending to play on your phone, and then exclaim “Oops, I almost forgot my phone charger! I’m going to run upstairs and get it.”

Your dad just gives an “Okie dokie, sweetie,” and then his phone rings with who you assume is one of his friends you’re waiting for.

You try to not sprint to the front door, instead taking a deep breath and walking in what you hope looks like a normal pace. However, as soon as the front door clicked shut, you run up the stairs, hoping Aaron chose your bathroom rather than the one downstairs.

Not spotting him waiting outside the bathroom, your heart nearly drops out from underneath you, however you notice the closed door and the soft golden light from underneath telling you that you were right.

You were right and maybe you weren’t imagining things. He knew you would listen to his unspoken instructions and follow him. You weren’t a profiler like him, not an expert at studying other people’s body language, but there was nothing fake about the fact that he got hard at your dining room table and you had only known each other for 10 minutes that Sunday.

The click of the door opening disrupts your thoughts. You’re about to grin up at Aaron, say something cute like how you’ve missed him or something more playful like asking why he hasn’t called you.

But you don’t get the chance because you’re suddenly being pressed up against the wall, warm hands on your hips, and Aaron’s soft mouth pressing into yours.

He swallows your gasp, his fingers inching up the hem of your tank top to touch the skin of your waist and kisses the life out of you. His lips are chapped and he tastes fresh, like he had a breath mint on the drive here, and the thought that he had that foresight just for you makes your knees weak.

He kisses you deeply, not even bothering to start gentle like so many other boys have tried before, and it’s overwhelming and not enough at the same time. You’re helpless to kiss back, your body finally catching up, and your hands come up to tangle at the soft strands at the nape of his neck.

He hums against your lips at that, his hands starting to move underneath your shirt to trace the swell of your breasts through your bra. It tickles, and you squirm a little and huff a laugh against his mouth before you can help it.

Before you could apologize and tell him to stop tickling you, his hands press your hips harder against the wall and his lips break away from yours. You attempt to chase him, because you were definitely not done making out, when Aaron tuts at you.

“Behave,” he warns lowly, but he has a full-blown smirk now. His eyes are dark, pupils blown, and his lips red and glistening. He looks so unbearingly sexy when he’s reprimanding you, he just makes it so easy for you to tease him.

“Or what?” You ask, smiling up at him. You watch as his smirk falters, brows furrowing, and something like frustration and exasperation blooms on his face.

“You’re ridiculous,” Aaron breathed, before he’s leaning in and pressing open-mouthed kisses along your jawline and down your neck. He scrapes his teeth against the spot where your shoulder and neck meets and your knees actually buckle this time, something like a strangled moan coming out of your mouth and catching you by surprise. “Looks like you do know how to watch that mouth of yours.”

Any snarky comeback you have dies in your throat because you did not expect Aaron to have that kind of dirty mouth on him. Molten heat starts to pool at the bottom of your stomach, between your thighs, as he slips the strap of your tank top down your shoulder to trace your collarbone with his lips.

“Aaron…,” you whisper, letting your hands fall from his nape to grab at his shoulders, trail down to grope at his biceps. The sleek muscle you can feel even through the fabric of his polo that he changed into, tensing and flexing as he pushes at you, sends your mind reeling.

“What is it, sweetheart?” he mutters against your shoulder, his warm breath and the pet name making you feel paralyzed. “Cat got your tongue?”

Your eyes roll back as you feel him biting a mark onto your chest, right underneath your collarbone, the pain and pleasure tingling all the way down to your cunt. You say something unintelligible, brain feeling muddled, because holy shit.

“Hey pumpkin, did your find your charger? We have to get moving!” You hear your dad’s voice from downstairs and barely swallow back a gasp before Aaron’s hand is pressed over your mouth to quiet you. You hate that that does absolutely nothing to help the growing arousal between your thighs.

Aaron’s eyes meet yours. His eyes have gotten impossibly darker, soft hair falling against his forehead. The wild desire and excitement are clear on his face, but he raises his eyebrows at you to signal you to behave before he lifts his palm off your face.

“Coming!” you yell back at him, hoping the strain in your voice isn’t as obvious to him as it is to you.

Aaron hums, something smug playing at his lips. “Maybe later.”

And it’s ridiculous. Aaron Hotchner, stoic Unit Chief of an FBI unit, best friend of your dad, and 20 years older than you just made out with you so hard that your knees buckled and made a joke about making you come?

You huff a laugh, pushing at his shoulder so you can wriggle out of his grip. He lets go immediately, stepping back to give you several feet of space, and you try not to think about how you already miss the heat and weight of his body against yours.

You’re about to run downstairs, an excuse about realizing you already packed your charger on the tip of your tongue, when Aaron is circling his fingers around your wrist. You look back at him curiously, because as much as you want to, there definitely isn’t time for him to ravage you in your bedroom.

He looks much more composed now, more like his professional SSA Aaron Hotchner self, but you catch the way his eyes linger on the way your shorts ride up high and the soft expanse of your thighs. “I’m serious. We’ll finish this later.”

And it’s the way he doesn’t pose it as a question, but rather a guarantee. Like nothing is going to stop him from having his way with you.

The thought of being completely at Aaron’s mercy has you breathless, feeling a flush rise on your face and your pulse between your legs. He has you stunned speechless, because you’ve never been with someone who has made you feel complete and utter want. You look at him now, chest imperceptibly heaving and making that olive green polo tug across the wide expanse of his chest, you realize that he may just ruin other people for you completely.

Your throat clicks when you clear it, and you only feel a little embarrassed when Aaron doesn’t hide his smirk at you. All words have died in your throat, so you nod instead, hoping that he will take that as an answer.

If possible, Aaron looks even more smug at that.

“Good girl.”

-

The drive to the hotel where the retreat is being held is only 2 hours away, which would’ve been perfectly easy, if you weren’t stuck in the car with Aaron.

You were planning on driving your own car with the top down, wind in your hair, and music blasting. You wanted to spend at least part of your summer vacation doing girly summery things, such as driving into the night with your hair whipping your face and feeling the humidity making your tank top stick to your back.

You also thought you would have time to yourself to think about Aaron and what the hell you got yourself into.

Instead, because you can’t tell if the universe loves or hates you, you have to take Aaron’s Range Rover because everyone else’s cars are packed full, and your dad wouldn’t let you drive by yourself. You tried not to show the excitement bloom on your face when your dad told you, but by the pointed look that Aaron gave you, you didn’t do a very good job.

So, it’s just you, Aaron, and the incredibly tangible sexual tension between you.

The first 30 minutes was easy. It took a while for everyone to find the correct route and there was a lengthy discussion over the phone about whether anyone wanted to stop anywhere for any reason. Eventually, you and at least 4 other similarly lavish cars made it onto the highway.

Aaron was silent for most of the phone call, saying that he didn’t have anywhere he wanted to stop at, and was just looking forward to the fancy clawfoot tub the hotel advertised on their website. You threw a glance at him at that, wondering if he was trying to tell you that he wanted to fuck in the bathtub, but nope. His eyes were firmly on the road, both arms on the steering wheel like a responsible adult or whatever.

You weren’t sure how he was able to act like nothing happened—like you weren’t about to let him just fuck you up against the wall in your childhood home, because currently, you felt like you were about to jump out of your skin from the nervous energy thrumming through you.

You fully ogle him now since it’s not like you have anything to hide. Even his side profile is attractive, but at this point you’re not surprised. Everything you’ve been noticing about him has been steadily driving you wild; the sharp cut of his jaw, the faint traces of stubble, and the way his hands are gripping the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles are white.

You watch the bob of his Adam’s apple as he deadpans “You’re staring.”

You grin at him before you could help it. “It’s not my fault you’re so handsome. They should study you in art classes, maybe you can even get naked for it?”

The snort that comes out of Aaron’s mouth is sudden, and by the way his eyebrows pinch together like he’s thinking hard, he notices as well. “You really are insatiable.”

“You say that like we’ve even done anything yet,” you mutter, mostly to yourself, turning your head to the window to stare at the sun setting. It would be nighttime by the time you got to the hotel, but you’re already sleepy and debating taking a nap while Aaron drives.

You jump when you feel his hand on your thigh, large and warm. You’ve had other men put their hand on your thigh while they drive and it’s nice, maybe even comforting at times, but with Aaron, the action feels darker. It feels more possessive, heated, and just the sight of his huge hand squeezing the flesh of your thigh has you unconsciously squeezing your legs, trapping the tips of his fingers between them.

“Can you behave?” he wondered out loud. “Because you’re not showing me that you can until we get to the hotel.”

The challenge is clear in the deep timbre of his voice, nearly condescending in a way that makes your breath quicken. You vaguely thought about what he had planned for you at the hotel, luckily you had a whole room to yourself since none of your dad’s friends’ daughters wanted to come. You don’t necessarily blame them—you probably wouldn’t have come either if it weren’t for Aaron and the undoubtable promise that you will have the best sex of your life.

And you do want to wait, honestly. But right now, watching the way his biceps flex in the golden light and remembering the way he desperately grabbed at your hips has you rethinking.

So, you give him an innocent smile, reminiscent of the one you gave him earlier this week, and take a hold of his hand to intertwine your fingers together. The action is slightly risky, implying something about your relationship that neither have you discussed. You may be overthinking it, worried that Aaron would think you’re jumping to conclusions, but all of your reservations disappear when Aaron’s hand squeezes yours and brings your joined hands to rest in his lap.

He gives you a soft smile, one you’ve never seen before that makes your chest tighten, and turns his gaze back on the road.

The following 10 minutes are quiet besides the soft roar of the engine and the gentle hum of the radio. The sun setting washes the interior of the car with a warm gold, and you can’t help but notice the way both of your hands, still clasped together, just look so good together. Like you perfectly complemented each other.

You blame it on the fact that you’re starting to get bored when you wiggle your hand to free yourself from Aaron’s grasp to run your fingers along the top of his hands. You trace each knuckle before tracking the visible veins with a light touch, your fingers running up his wrist and to his forearm. The dusting of hair is soothing when you place a firmer hand onto his forearm, gripping it, and your heart thuds in your chest when you notice your thumb and middle finger can’t even touch each other.

He's just so big. His arms, his hands, his shoulders. The way he can so easily overpower you, manhandle you, domineering in a way that makes you want to act out even more just to see what he would do.

He throws you a curious glance when your hand moves up to his bicep, squeezing and feeling.

“Just touching,” you say, and then Aaron’s eyes are back on the road.

The next thing you do is completely spontaneous, out of character for you even, however you know being impulsive is what got you here in the first place.

You place your hand on his crotch.

He doesn’t jump because, of course not. If anything, he was expecting it by the way he just gives you another curious look. Your eyes are instantly drawn to the way his tongue flicks out to wet his lips and the sudden clenching of his jaw.

“Still just touching,” you repeat and turn your focus to your phone with your free hand, leaving your other hand in his lap.

You scroll mindlessly through several different apps for a couple minutes, not even reading anything because you’re too stunned with the fact that Aaron didn’t say anything or remind you to be on your best behavior. Your hand is still precariously placed on his crotch, the seam of his jeans warm against the palm of your hand.

You start scrolling more intently now, reading the entirety of at least every other post, before you start tentatively rubbing your fingers on where you can definitely feel the head of his dick through his pants. Aaron inhales sharply, so quietly you almost don’t hear it, and it’s all the permission you need.

You start pressing more firmly, grabbing him through his jeans to the best of your ability and tracing the line of his slowly hardening cock through the rough material. You grope at him, nearly shamelessly now, and it takes all of your willpower to not throw your phone to the backseat and jump into his lap.

Instead, you place your phone at your feet and turn your body towards him. His back is ramrod straight and his hands are grasping at the steering wheel like his life depends on it. If anyone passing by looked through the window, they would just assume that Aaron was one of those extremely attentive drivers. However, up close, you can see the tense line of his jaw, the way his brows are pinched together, and the way he’s attempting to hide the way he’s starting to breathe heavily through slightly parted lips.

It's intoxicating, and you want more.

Your hand begins to move up his zipper to the top button of his jeans. His eyes dart to you then, craning his neck slightly to look at you but also making sure to keep his eyes on the road, as if the road is even that busy.

“You really can’t listen, can you?”

That condescending tone again makes your brain nearly short-circuit. It’s like a dam breaks because suddenly you’re leaning over the console, making your breasts nearly spill out from your tank top, and you want him in your mouth and coming down your throat if it’s the last thing you’ll ever do. “Can I?”

 “Can you what, sweetheart? Use your words.”

Christ. “Please, can I suck on your cock?”

He hums nonchalantly, as if you can’t see the way he shifts in his seat or the way he’s hurriedly unbuttoning his jeans with one hand. “’Please?’ Looks like you do have some manners.”

And then he’s taking his cock out and you nearly combust on the spot. He’s not fully hard, but you still want nothing more than to feel him on your tongue.

You’re just about to unbuckle your seatbelt to throw yourself into his lap before he stops you by placing his hand over yours.

“Not your mouth, we don’t want other people to know what a dirty girl you are. Use your hands,” he says, nonchalant again in a way that makes your heart race and the ache between your thighs grow.

Although the idea of being caught with your head in his lap and cock down your throat suddenly sounds extremely appealing in a way you’ve never thought of before, you have no choice but to listen and follow his instructions.

You hesitatingly wrap your hand around him, watching in near fascination at the drop of precum that leaks out. He’s big here too, satisfyingly thick and warm in your hand. You move your hand up to smear the wetness around him and then start a steady rhythm of pumping his cock.

A strangled groan comes out of Aaron eventually, and you watch as he attempts to throw his head back in ecstasy while still watching the road with half-lidded eyes. The wide expanse of his pretty throat tempts you, imagining what it would be like to pepper kisses up to his tense jaw to help him relax.

He’s fully hard now, precum steadily leaking out and coating the palm of your hand. You attempt to vary your actions; twisting on the upstroke, squeezing when you’re at the base, or tracing your thumb against the head of his cock. The loud squelching noise makes you feel embarrassed and hot all at the same time, the way it’s drowning out the radio’s music. Your mouth waters as you watch the head of his dick disappear in your fist, wishing you could taste him or see the sheer bliss on his face as he fucks your mouth.

“You couldn’t even wait to get your hands on me, could you?” Aaron murmured, nearly sneering at you. “I bet if I let you, you would let me pull over and fuck you here on the side of the road.”

You swallow nervously, clenching your thighs and trying to ignore the obvious wetness you can feel in your own panties. You squeeze him harder, enthralled by the feeling of his hot flesh against you, and breathlessly whisper “I would.”

He hisses at that, nearly bucking his hips up to follow your hand. “You would let me fuck you anywhere I want.”

It wasn’t a question, but you still feel compelled to answer. “Yes.”

Just then, Aaron’s phone rings from the phone mount on the dashboard. Dread and something awfully similar to delight prickles at the back of your neck when you notice the caller ID being your father. You’re about to retract your hand until Aaron gives you a look out of the corner of your eye, almost like a glare, before his own hand is hot over yours to keep you there.

“Keep going.”

Before you can think of a snarky remark, Aaron swipes at his phone to answer.

“Hotchner.” Nonchalant, casual, as if he doesn’t have his leaking cock in the hands of his best friend’s daughter.

“Hey Hotch, we’re coming up on a great burger joint here in a couple of miles and I wanted to see if you guys were alright with that? I think we lost you.”

You must have been extremely distracted because you’re just now noticing you can’t see your father’s car ahead of you anymore. There are only a few cars on the highway now after finally passing all the city traffic, now driving through a somewhat rural area. You don’t blame yourself after all, because how often do you find yourself giving handjobs to hot older men in their cars?

“I was actually thinking of pulling over at a rest stop, someone’s not feeling well.” Aaron cranes his neck, raising an eyebrow at you.

Even in the darkness of the summer evening and the sparse streetlights bouncing off the dashboard, the pure and primal desire swimming in his eyes is clear and causes a flush to rise to your face.

“Yeah, it must have been lunch,” you attempt to joke, hoping that the rasp in your voice doesn’t give you away. You feel Aaron’s cock twitch in your hand.

Your dad hums through the tinny speakers. “Yeah, you don’t sound so good.”

You notice the car slowing down, not realizing that you were pulling up to a secluded area of a rest stop, right underneath a tree. You glance out the window and take in the fact that the nearest car is over 10 spots away and the closest streetlight is burnt out. You think of the discreet dark color of the car and the tinted windows. Anticipation curls at the bottom of your stomach.

“We’ll let you know when we’re back on the road.” And then Aaron immediately hangs up, parks the car, and leans over the console to kiss you with a hand cradling your cheek.

He cuts to the chase again, kissing you so deeply that your head spins. His mouth is soft but he’s assertive even like this. His hand moves to the back of your neck, taking a hold of you, and your mouth opens in a moan before you can stop yourself, allowing Aaron’s tongue to brush against yours.

When he pulls back, something like a needy whine erupts from your throat. You don’t realize that your hands moved to grasp at his polo, leaving Aaron’s cock free and pressed against his stomach.

“You drive me crazy,” Aaron mutters, brushing a lock of hair behind your head. His gesture and words are impossibly soft, a complete contrast to how he was kissing you, making your breath stutter in your chest.

“You drive me crazy,” you whisper breathily. “Please fuck me?”

He huffs a laugh at that, something you’re slowly starting to become familiar with, and tightens his hold on the back of your neck. There’s nothing soft in his eyes anymore. “Get in the back, now.”

You scramble to get out of the car, legs nearly shaking. The summer humidity is cloying, suffocating, and you rush to open the door to crawl in the backseat.

The seats are just as large and plush as up front, however there’s definitely more foot room that you’re sure Aaron will appreciate. You’re waiting in the middle seat, legs tucked underneath you, as you watch Aaron tuck himself back into his jeans and step out of the car with an air of nonchalance that somehow makes him even more attractive.

When he opens the door to climb into the back, your eyes meet and you suddenly feel frozen to the spot, because he starts to encroach into your space, nearly predatory. There’s a glint in his eyes as he places his hand on your back, lowering you so you’re laying on the seats. You unconsciously spread your legs so he could situate himself between them, and the feeling of his large and warm body between your thighs has you hitching them up on his hips.

“You don’t know how long I’ve been thinking about this,” Aaron murmurs before ducking his head to press his mouth against your jawline, down your neck, and finally finally sucking a mark where your shoulder meets.

You exhale a shaky moan, bringing your hands up to run down his back and feel how wide his shoulders are and how you can feel his muscles tense as he moves. The wet heat of his mouth, his obscenely large hands on your hips, and the way his figure nearly engulfs you is mesmerizing.

He pulls back to take a look at you, thumb coming up to press into the mark he made and putting light pressure against your neck. There’s something wild and possessive in his eyes, his lips parted like he can’t believe what’s happening. “There you go. Now you’ll remember who you belong to.”

It feels like your breath is knocked out of you and replaced with something equally possessive. “Are you going to fuck me or what?”

Something dark passes over his face. “And here I thought you were going to behave.”

Before you could say anything, Aaron is swiftly lifting your tank top up and over your head, throwing it somewhere towards the passenger seat, and groping your tits. He thumbs at your nipples, watching in awe as you arch your back and push your chest further into his hands. The sudden sensation, pleasure zinging up your spine, after being teased for an entire week is dizzying and you want to drown in it.

“You’re so needy for it, aren’t you?” Aaron says, casually, as he pinches at your nipples. You choke on your moan, the initial sting melting into pleasure that makes you feel drunk. “You’re practically begging for my cock.”

“Yes,” you manage to gasp out. Your hands scramble at his shoulders, running up to tangle the soft hairs at the nape of his neck between your fingers. “I need your cock inside me.”

He leans down to suck one of your nipples in his mouth, deft fingers continuing on the other. His mouth is so deliciously wet and hot, expertly licking around you in a way that’s slowly unraveling you, and you shiver when you think about where else his mouth can be of use. Your eyes nearly roll back in your head and you cant your hips up desperately in an effort to gain some sort of friction against the nearly overbearing ache between your thighs.

His hands come down to press your hips down in an effort to make you stop squirming and you feel him shift until his knee is pressing between your legs and against your pussy through your shorts. The feeling of his warm hands on you and the seam of your shorts rubbing against your clit causes an embarrassingly high-pitched whine to escape your throat.

“You’re teasing me,” you pant, tugging at his hair experimentally.

Another raspy groan erupts from Aaron and, if possible, you feel hotter. His mouth detaches from your nipple and you instantly miss the hot heat of his mouth, until he says “And what if I want to taste that pretty little cunt of yours?”

Imagining Aaron pressing open-mouthed kisses against your thighs, breathing hotly against your panties until he’s pressing his tongue against you, smearing even more wetness around until you’re nearly dripping onto the expensive upholstery has you whimpering. Your mind races as you imagine him pulling your panties aside so he can press his soft mouth against you, licking and lapping at your pussy like you’re a five-course meal, sucking on your clit until you’re screaming his name and begging him to stop.

No words come out, mind nearly melted just at the thought of Aaron looking up at you from between your thighs and his mouth on your cunt. Instead, you let out a breathless moan and attempt to grind down against Aaron’s knee, chasing the little stimulation you can get.

Aaron licks his lips as he watches you, eyes dark and predatory. “You would like that, wouldn’t you?” His thumbs briefly traces your hips, and you nearly miss the tender touch, before he’s hooking them into the waistband of your shorts and tugs them down. “But we don’t have time for that, so I’m just going to fuck that needy pussy of yours.”

It took quite a bit of wriggling and Aaron hitting his head against the roof of the car to get your shorts and panties off of you, and you’re about to joke that this was an exercise in of itself, until Aaron is settling back between your legs with his own legs crammed underneath him. You suddenly realize Aaron is still wearing all of his clothes, polo wrinkled and pants hanging loosely at his hips, while you’re completely naked and vulnerable, desperate and needy like he said.

His fingers dance across the soft expanse of your thighs until he presses a finger against you, so close to where you need him. You breathe unsteadily and have to close your eyes, suddenly feeling overwhelmed, when Aaron gently grazes between your folds. “Fuck, you’re so wet for me, honey. Is this all for me?”

You nod rapidly and push your hips down in an effort to tell him to hurry the fuck up.

Aaron tuts at you. “What did I say about using your words?” And then he’s forgoing your clit completely and pressing a thick finger inside.

You gasp, eyes shooting open and meeting his from where he’s watching your face so intently it would’ve been intimidating if you didn’t feel white-hot pleasure take over your body. “Yes, I’m wet, just for you,” you rush out.

He hums, satisfied. “Just for me, right?” He begins thrusting his finger inside of you, and the feeling of being filled and something finally happening has you arching your back against him again, soft whines escaping your mouth before you can help it. The lewd noises from your sopping pussy rings out in the small space of the car, jarring, but it just makes you feel hotter.

“Yes, yes, yes,” you babble, attempting to rut your hips down to meet his thrusts, steadily growing in pace. Your hand shoots down to take ahold of his forearm, nearly distracted at the veins popping out, when you feel a second finger prodding at you. “Please just fuck me already, I’m ready.”

You watch Aaron’s mouth form what has to be a reprimand, scolding you for being so desperate, but then it closes and forms into something softer even as his gaze is fixated on his thick fingers thrusting in and out of your pussy. He leans in and kisses you before you realize, just a soft press of his lips against yours. When he pulls back, he’s still wearing a faint smile, and tucks a stray strand of your hair behind an ear. It’s all so painstakingly affectionate, you feel at a loss for words again but for a completely different reason you can’t name.

“How can I say no to you?” he mutters, almost to himself, and it shocks you to your core.

He doesn’t wait for a response and pulls out a condom from his back pocket. You watch as he’s about to tear the foil packet open, thoughts turning over and over in your head, before you exclaim “It’s fine, I’m on the pill.”

He pauses and stares at you, serious based off the pinch of his brows. “Are you sure? I don’t mind…”

“I’m sure,” you say, throwing your arms around his neck so you can run your fingers through his hair. And you are absolutely sure, confident, because you know the cherry on top of this whole experience would be feeling his cock spill in your pussy and filling you up. “I want to feel you.”

You watch as he groans, closes his eyes, and leans his forehead against yours, staring at the flutter of his long eyelashes. “You are killing me, sweetheart.”

You let out a breathless laugh. “Are you kidding me? I can say the same for you.”

Because if you thought Aaron looked good wearing a suit in those blurry pictures on Facebook, it doesn’t even compare to how he looks now. His polo tightly stretched over his shoulders, slightly disheveled from where you were grabbing onto him, belt unbuckled and pants hanging deliciously half-open from his hips, and hair tousled, the gel maintaining his professional appearance giving way to make him look younger. He’s so unbelievably hot you almost believe you’re dreaming.

You watch as he pushes his jeans and boxers down enough to where his cock pops out, the head a sympathetic dark red from where he must’ve been achingly hard this entire time. Before you make another attempt to have him in your mouth, he’s pushing in, stretching you deliciously open and making you grip harder at the hair at his nape.

“Fuck, you’re still so tight for me,” Aaron grunts, his hands flying to grasp onto your hips.  

Although you can feel him sink into you, inch by inch, you’re mesmerized by the sharp focus on his face, the pinch in his brow and eyes clenched shut. As if he’s trying not to throw away all abandon and pound into you, and the thought is so intoxicating it makes your head spin.

“Oh my god,” you mumble. He bottoms out, his cock finally pushed all way in your pussy, and he’s much bigger, thicker, than you realized. It feels so, so good—being filled up with his hard cock, his hips pressing against your thighs as they splay out the way you’ve been dreaming of for the past week.

“You okay?” Aaron asks, gentle again, and before you could answer, he’s pulling back and thrusting back into you.

A gasp wretches out of you and your hands scramble at his back, pulling him down because you need him to be closer, need his large body pushing down on you and making you take him.

He lets you, giving you a mockingly sympathetic look, and leans down to press an open-mouthed kiss against your jawline. He starts a steady rhythm then—thrusting in and out of you and knocking the breath out of you. “You’re going to take my fat cock, baby? I know you’ve been begging for it all week; you need it so bad, don’t you?”

Jesus Christ.

Words escape you again, instead, your mouth hangs open as you attempt to nod in response. Even though the car’s AC was blasting, you were covered in sweat and sliding up the seats with every thrust of Aaron’s hips. You definitely weren’t complaining, probably wouldn’t even be able to because sounds you didn’t even know you were capable of making kept coming out of you, eyes nearly permanently rolled back in your head. It felt so good, you didn’t think fucking could ever feel this good, but Aaron continues to exceed expectations.

You hitch your legs up his hips higher and let out a high-pitched whine at the change in angle, hot pleasure zinging up your spine. Aaron grunts, something dark and masculine that makes you preen, and his hips start snapping harder, faster.

“Look at you,” he murmurs lowly right into your ear. “Being fucked so good you can’t even speak.”

He shifts again, hands hooking underneath your thighs and, with your nod, presses your knees to your chest until they’re next to your ears, legs dangling over his shoulders. You wrap your arms around your thighs, holding them in place, and your eyes nearly roll back into your head when Aaron’s cock slides even deeper into your cunt with a wet sound. He feels heavenly, even despite not having touched your clit at all.

He fucks you relentlessly and you think your brain has melted out of your ears because you just take it. The sound of his skin slapping against yours, the litany of groans and praises that fall from his lips, and your nonstop whimpering gasps is heady. You don’t even care if you can’t come just from him rutting into you alone, it feels too fucking good.

He sits back up, not once breaking his brutal pace, and makes unwaveringly intense eye contact with you. “My beautiful girl takes my cock so well, making such pretty noises. I can’t wait to fill this pussy up with my come.”

You really did not expect Aaron to have the dirty mouth he does, but again, you’re not complaining. Instead, you bring one of your arms down to snake between your thighs where you’re absolutely soaked in your combined wetness and sweat to circle your clit. The added stimulation, finally, has your thighs shaking and your pussy clenching around him. You squirm a bit, because his belt buckle has started to dig into you from where his pants are pooling around his knees, but you’re suddenly so close.

“Fuck, Aaron…”

He licks his lips at that, starts to fuck into you faster somehow. He knocks your hand aside to replace with his own and you absolutely mewl when you feel the rough callous of his thumb gently circling your clit, impossibly slow. “Is my good girl going to come? You’re going to come all over my cock, sweetheart?”

Your heart is pounding in your ears, and you can barely detect the strain in Aaron’s voice, like he’s close too. “Yes, yes, please,” you stutter, feeling your gut tighten and sweat breaking out on the back of your neck. “Harder.”

Aaron lets out a shaky laugh. “Since you asked so nicely.”

And then he’s rubbing your clit mercilessly, almost too rough if your nerves weren’t already so close to snapping. You let out a string of strangled whines, your hands coming up to hold onto Aaron’s free arm for dear life. You’re so wet that his fingers just glide over you, the wet noises of him fucking into you getting you hotter, making the coil in your stomach wind tighter, but it’s still not enough.

You watch with half-lidded eyes as Aaron lifts his right hand from where he was definitely leaving bruises on your hip to place at the base of your throat. Your eyes widen but you don’t stop him because the feeling sends your mind spinning, realizing that you have placed so much trust in this man and he’s thoughtful enough to care for you, treasure you, and fuck you so hard he’s definitely ruined you for anyone else.

His eyes are impossibly dark, hair falling into his face, and you meet his gaze unblinkingly as he puts light pressure on your throat. “Come for me.”

You don’t know if it’s the hand on your neck, his cock frantically fucking into you, or the soft baritone of his voice that has you pushing over the edge. You come with a choked gasp of his name, hips and thighs shaking almost uncontrollably. You swear your vision whites out because you don’t think you’ve ever come so hard in your fucking life.

You distantly hear Aaron grunt your name, feel him fuck into you desperately and erratically. He lets go of your throat, you secretly already miss the weight of his hand, and he clutches at your hips as he chases his own orgasm. It doesn’t take long for his hips to stutter, coming into you with a guttural moan that sends a shiver down your back. He grinds his hips into you, like he’s making sure he’s giving you every last drop he has, and the thought has you whimpering.

You stay like that as both of you catch your breath. Your thighs and hips are starting to ache uncomfortably, pussy sore in a way where you know you’ll be feeling it tomorrow, but you watch the way Aaron runs his hand through his hair to get it out of his eyes so he can lean in to kiss you, and it’s all worth it.

He pulls out slowly, dick twitching half-way inside of you when you moan at the empty feeling. You feel his come instantly start to drip out of you and onto the seats, and the dangerous glint in Aaron’s eyes has you squirming, heat licking up your back.

“Are you okay?” he asks, leaning over to open the console and hopefully rummage around for a hidden towel. You hope he doesn’t pull out old and scratchy fast-food napkins like the ones you have crammed in your glove compartment.

You laugh breathlessly, slowly dropping your legs down to dangle a bit more comfortably. “More than okay.”

He comes back with a pouch of wet wipes, slightly used, and you’re surprised at the sudden twinge of jealousy you feel when you imagine why he has wet wipes ready in his car and how many other women he’s fucked in his expensive car.

He’s thorough in cleaning you up, chest rapidly rising and falling as he continues to catch his breath. As if he can read your mind, he looks up at you curiously with no trace of the stern persona he had when he was fucking you mindlessly. You had thought you hid your jealousy well, however you find yourself glaring at the wipes in his hand.

He gives you an achingly sweet smile, a surprise dimple making an appearance, and leans over you where you’re still sweating all over his backseat. “Every parent has wet wipes in their car.”

You feel your cheeks heat at being caught, that he somehow knew you were drowning in the sudden onslaught of jealousy clawing up your chest. “I didn’t say anything.”

“You didn’t have to.” He throws the used wipes on the floor to pick up later, and then he’s wrestling around with you until you’re somehow laying on top of him across the seats, both of your legs bunched up and tangled together.

You’re sticky and sweaty, and Aaron has nearly sweated through his polo, causing it to cling to his chest in a way that has you wanting to put your hands all over him. So, you do, running your palms up and down him so intently that it gets a chuckle out of him.

“All of your clothes are still on.”

“Well, I was a little busy.” Oh, he’s a little cheeky after sex.

Both of you are laying in comfortable silence as you still catch your breaths, Aaron moreso than you, when his phone goes off where it hasn’t moved from the phone mount. The bright light causes you to squint, and you turn to press your face into Aaron’s chest with a whine. “Don’t pick up.”

“Alright, alright,” Aaron says despite him making no moves anyway to get up. He cranes his neck to get a good look at the caller ID and you can feel his body stiffen. “It’s your dad.”

And just like that, a bucket of cold water is splashed over you. You just had sex with your dad’s best friend in his expensive Range Rover in some sketchy rest stop.

You must have froze as well because then Aaron is running a hand up and down your back, making you shiver. He’s trying to comfort you, you know that, but honestly your thoughts immediately melt into other things that rely on his hands on you. Like pushing your head down between his legs. Maybe he’s right and you really are insatiable.

“Come on, let’s get going.”

-

The car ride the rest of the way to the hotel is mostly silent between you two, the only noises being the wind deafening you and your hair slapping into your face since he rolled the windows down.

To air out the stench of sex in the car, you remember.

You would almost think Aaron was mad, the way he didn’t try to make conversation with you, and you knew that you would be spiraling if it wasn’t for the fact that he held your hand in his lap the entire time.  

You probably wouldn’t be much for conversation anyway—you’re already trying not to let your mind race about what you were going to do.

You’re only here for a couple of weeks, you go to school across the country, and technically, this was only supposed to be a summer fling. You don’t technically need to tell your dad about what happened.

You turn to look at Aaron, unabashedly. His hair is still tussled, thanks to your fingers, and there’s sweat beading along his forehead from the summer humidity. You stare at the sharp slope of his nose, the way the lights from the highway reflect in his dark eyes, and you’re suddenly wracked with the feeling of not wanting to let him go.

He squeezes your hand when he notices you staring for too long. He turns to you, most likely seeing the desperation on your face. He misinterprets it, thinking you’re running over what you’re going to tell your father over and over in your head. He has no idea that you want to keep seeing him, that you want to make this work somehow, whatever is between you two.

“We’ll figure it out.”

When you notice his gentle smile, the methodical way he runs his thumb over the back of your hand, you believe him.

[lechrts]

Die For You. ✷ Lando Norris

Pairing: Lando Norris x Friend!reader

Summary: When he’s the only one that’s allowed to pick on you. (And unfortunately someone else picks on you, and it backfires.)

Word Count: 1.1k

Disclaimer/s: fluff… kinda… defensive!Lando 👅. A tad bit of body shaming i fear …

Vera’s Voice! hi Enya. For U. i hope i did this justice.

The bar was alive with laughter and music, and you were perched at the counter, sipping on your favorite fruity cocktail. As usual, Lando couldn’t resist making a comment the moment he saw you.

“Another one?” He said, sauntering up next to you with a smug grin. “What is that now? Your third? Fourth?“ He grinned with a small pause.

“Be careful. We can’t afford to have you tumbling like a drunk mess in the streets later.”

You glared at him, already irritated. “I can handle myself, and this is my second drink. Thank you very much.” A scoff and eye roll emitted from your body.

“Yeah, right,” He replied, his grin widening. “Say that again when you inevitably start slurring your words and crying about how much you hate tequila.”

“Ha. Funny.” You deadpanned.

“I’m serious,” He pressed, leaning on the counter with a quirked brow and stupid smile. “You’re a lightweight. One more of those, and you’re topless on a counter.”

You scoffed, taking another sip of your drink just to spite him. “And I’m sure you’d enjoy that.”

“Maybe so,” He fired back with a sheepish shrug. “But I’m just looking out for you,” Another wink.

Before you could respond, one of Lando’s mates—you couldn’t remember his name, they weren’t that close honestly—wandered over, clearly overhearing the exchange.

“Seriously,” He said, his eyes scanning the glass in your hand. “Another sugary monstrosity? You know that stuff makes you bloat, right?”

The words hit like a punch to the gut. You froze, the insult hanging in the air as your self-consciousness surged.

“And for the record,” He continued, smirking like he’d just delivered the joke of the century, “It’s not exactly flattering. Just saying.”

Lando’s head snapped toward him so fast it was almost comical. But there was nothing funny about the deadly look on his face.

“What’d you say?” Lando’s voice was low and ice-cold, a tone you’d never heard from him before as her quirked a brow with a repulsed look.

His friend blinked, caught off guard. “Just telling your friend here that she’s gonna get fat if she continues drinking all that—“

Lando cut him off with a light shove, almost like it was a warning for him to shut up

“Relax, mate. I was just jok—”

“Yeah? Well, it wasn’t funny,” He cut him off sharply, now stepping forward to put himself in front of you. “Who even says that? You think that’s funny?”

“I didn’t mean anything by it,” The guy stammered, clearly starting to regret opening his mouth.

“Doesn’t matter,” Lando snapped. “You don’t talk to her like that. Ever. Got it?”

“Alright, chill, mate. I didn’t know she was off-limits or whatever.”

“Off-limits?” Lando repeated, his voice rising. “She’s not off-limits, she’s just better than your pathetic attempts at humor. So why don’t you piss off.”

The guy muttered something under his breath before walking away, leaving the two of you standing in tense silence.

“Lando…” You started, but he turned to face you before you could say more.

His expression softened as he ran a hand through his hair. “I hope you don’t believe a word he said.“

You swallowed hard, still feeling the sting of the comment but touched by Lando’s protectiveness. “Thanks for…that,” You said quietly.

“I mean it,” Lando said, stepping closer. “I know I’m a prick but it’s all in good fun.” A pause. “I also never make comments about your appearance.. considering you’re gorgeous…” He trailed off, his sly way of sneaking in a compliment making you slightly blush.

You huffed out a small laugh, your lips twitching into a faint smile. “I don’t know what’s more shocking: that you just defended me or that you actually said something nice for once.”

“Don’t get used to it,” He said, his usual smirk creeping back.

“Of course,” You muttered, rolling your eyes. “Who else will tell me I’m stupid every second they can?”

“Only me,” He added, his tone more serious. “No one else gets to. Not like that.”

You looked up at him, his sincerity catching you off guard. “Deal.”

And just like that, the teasing and bickering was back—but this time, you couldn’t help but feel a little safer, knowing Lando had your back.

likes, comments, & reblogs are appreciated! ^_^ and pls Lmk if you wanna be apart of my permanent tag list

tags! @planetpedri @halfwayhearted @wdcbox @freyathehuntress @iovepoem @piastri-fvx

[rafesangelita]

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡ everyone is lucky farmer’s!daughter!reader is in a jail cell when she finds out her favorite sheriff isn’t around because he’s on a date with another woman..

warnings: mentions of being groped in public, just a little bit of southern dialect, small town gossip, mentions of jj x reader, lots of comebacks and insults, jealousy, implied age gap, reader stays the night in jail, hitting, very slight physical altercation, reassurance, comfort (?), little bit of kissing, suggestive ending

a/n: read more of sheriff!rafe and farmer’s!daughter!reader here <3 i would say this particular situation takes place in the beginning stages of their complicated relationship lol. also feel free to request for this pairing!

wc: 1.5k

“what did she do this time?” sheriff thornton looked up from his desk, an amused smile playing on his lips as you glared at him from under your lashes. “she threw drinks over at keith’s son, ‘said he groped her and all hell broke loose.” your wrists ached as the metal of the handcuffs dug into your skin, your boots scuffing the concrete flooring before the sheriff behind you plopped you down in a chair. “she gave me a hard time and resisted arrest, so now she’s here.” you scoffed at his words, a bitter laugh emitting from your throat. “i gave you a hard time because you tried to apprehend me before the asshole that started it!”

both of them ignored you, leaving you to sit uncomfortably in the main office while bryan, the newest rookie in the department, got your paperwork together. “uhm— do you have anyone you could call? it looks like you’re going to stay the night in here..” he looked almost scared as he broke the news to you, his eyes blinking rapidly as you shot daggers at him from where you sat. “are you pulling my leg?” you narrowed your gaze, “there’s no way in hell i’m spending the night here.” you shook your head, hopping onto your feet. just then, topper came in and sat you back down.

“i’m already in the shit house with rafe for manhandling you last time, don’t make me do it again.” speaking of rafe.. “you’re not scaring anybody, topper.” you used his first name against him, catching him off guard. “where’s sheriff cameron, anyways? i’m sure he’d love to know that you haven’t fixed my skirt since i’ve gotten here. i think the new boy has already stolen a peek at my underwear.” bryan’s eyes widened at your words. “i haven’t, miss, i swear!” topper glanced over at him with irritation evident on his face. “she’s fuckin’ with you kid, jesus.”

dragging you up by your arm, topper lead you to the back where the holding cells were. “it’s a shame you’re wearing nearly nothing,” he shoved you inside, “it’s gets pretty cold in here.” you cursed under your breath when he finally uncuffed you, your fingers itching to punch him square in the mouth. he watched as you adjusted your denim mini skirt, his eyes trailing down your bare legs. “you’re a mystery, y’know.. ‘way too young to be acting up like this.” if you had a penny for every time someone brought up your age, you’d have enough money to leave this shitty town and never look back.

“and you’re just annoying.” you rolled your eyes, crossing your arms over your chest before sitting at the edge of the cold steel bed. you should’ve been used to the discomfort by now, considering you’re here at least once a month, but you still couldn’t help but shiver at the harsh contact. “i need to talk to sheriff cameron. i shouldn’t even be here.” topper walked out of the cell, locking it shut behind him. “yeah, well he’s not on duty tonight. my pal finally scored himself a date.” he laughed. you felt your stomach twist at his words. not a damn thing was funny. “what did you say?” your voice was barely above a whisper when you looked up at him and met his eyes.

“yeah,” he nodded, “me and the department decided we’d stitch him up with ms. belle, she teaches the children’s sunday school down at the church.” he winked. your leg was bouncing now, your chest heaving with anger as your eyes brimmed with tears. “who knows, maybe after tonight they’ll be the newlyweds of the town.” you looked down at your feet before topper could question anything, your nails digging crescents into the palm of your hand. once you heard the heavy metal door slam shut, you covered your mouth with your hand as tight as you could and screamed.

rafe was so scared of what people would think of you two, he never showed you affection in public, let alone take you out on a proper date, yet here he was; willingly taking someone else. no matter how many times you told him you didn’t care about what anyone thought, he insisted that it was for your own good that no one saw you running around with a man who was much older than you were. the people of this town were far too judgmental to just accept something like what you and rafe had. figuring it was pointless to use your one free phone call, you settled into the hard surface before curling up and shivering yourself to sleep.

“y/n..” it was the next morning, and you were far from letting go of the information you found out last night. “y/n, you’re free to go.” your eyes were open as rafe patted your back lightly, his touch only fueling you with pent up anger. turning around, you shoved his hand away, your eyes bloodshot from crying so much. “don’t touch me again,” you hissed, “not ever.” rafe sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose as you got up on sore legs. “i had to stay here all because you were too busy with someone else!” you spat, shoving him again except this time in his chest.

“hey, you stop that!” he said through gritted teeth, shooting up to his feet before backing you up against the cement wall. “i hate you!” you whispered, attempting to get out of his grip. your efforts were deemed useless of course, your strength being nothing compared to his. “no you don’t.” he pinned your wrists down by your sides. he hated when you said shit like that, then again he knew you had every right to feel the way you did. nothing about your shared arrangement was fair, especially for you. “i went on that date for the sake of getting everyone off of my back, alright? it didn’t mean a thing.”

you laughed, avoiding his heated gaze. “well surely it meant something, because you agreed. you agreed and got ready and dressed nicely for her. you fixed your hair, you shaved, you put on your best smelling cologne and you picked her up. don’t you dare tell me it didn’t mean nothing when you put in that much effort.” rafe blinked, his nostrils flaring as he cupped your chin and forced you to look at him. “it didn’t mean a thing.” he repeated. you stared at him, reading his eyes as best as you could. “sure.” to say you were hurt would be an understatement.

“i mean it,” he started, “i did it for appearances. i’ve never been married, i don’t have any children. people talk around here, y/n, and just recently did i hear something about us both. people are catching onto your ‘get out of jail’ free card, and you could only imagine what their reasoning for that was.” he grimaced, recalling the disgusting words filtering the air of the diner where he drank his morning coffee. while the claims weren’t completely false, his said intentions couldn’t be more wrong. “rafe,” you glared at him, “i. don’t. care.” not wanting to rile you up any further, he let go of you before you could get the bright idea to knee him in his manhood.

“you know.. how do you think i feel when i have to see you around here kissing jj fuckin’ maybank, and i can’t do shit about it, huh? how do you think i feel when i see him have his hands all over you? you think i like that shit?” you rolled your eyes, about to step out of the open cell before he shut it closed. “why do you do that? why do you get joy out of pissing me off?” rafe caged you between his arms, his gun holster digging into your hip.

“first of all, i’m keeping up appearances just like you.” you stood up on your tippy toes, pecking his cheek before you placed your lips right next to his ear. “and secondly; you only act like you care about me when i’m all over someone else. it’s either that or i have to get into legal trouble just to get you to myself. so you try to imagine what that makes me feel like.” you pulled him close by the buckle of his belt, his large hands finding your hips as he towered over you. “do i really have to go to jail just to get a kiss?” rafe leaned down, his lips finally taking your own. he groaned at the taste of you, your cherry lipgloss still sticky with its sweetness.

you two stayed kissing like this until he grew rock solid in his pants, the buckle of his belt not being the only thing poking your tummy. “i don’t want you with any other women. i can’t take it.” rafe nodded, his bottom lip shining with your gloss. “you have my word, sweetheart. i’ll set aside time for us to be together, i promise.” his sheriff’s hat tipped to the side, revealing his buzzed scalp. “but if i see you with that maybank kid i’ll have to lock him up for good.” you smiled, your red nails raking down his buff arms. “yes, sir.” rafe cursed at the nickname as he glanced down at the digital watch on his wrist.

“i got about an hour to spare..” you hummed at his words, palming him through his pants.

“well what are we waiting for?”

[alowlycaterpillar]

Also like. I've had a child run into traffic and almost be hit by a car while in my care. It was terrifying both for her and for me. She was angry that we were leaving the park and she wanted to keep playing, so she ran away and didn't think about where she was going.

I followed her into the street, yelling for the car to stop, grabbed her by the shirt in one hand and shoulder in the other and pulled her towards me, hard. Then I scooped her up in both arms, held her very tightly so her thrashing wouldn't make me drop her, and ran back to the sidewalk where I sat on the ground and held onto her while apologizing profusely.

She yelled for me to let her go and I calmly told her I wanted to let her go but I needed her to promise not to run into the street like that again. She said she promised and I let her go. She stormed off, and then about a minute later she came back in tears and hugged me and said "thank you for grabbing me". She was eight.

When kids do things that are dangerous and scary, respond accordingly. It wouldn't have done any good for me or her mom or dad later to hit her. She saw the car. She saw the look on my face. She was scared, too. Later while we walked home I told her I was sorry for grabbing her so hard and asked if she was angry with me and if she understood why I did what I did. She told me she wasn't mad and that she understood and she was sorry for scaring me.

If kids are old enough to talk to you and be heard and understood, they're old enough for you to talk to them and to understand you.

And if they aren't able to talk or understand, then what the hell is the point of hurting them? It's just cruel.

When people get pregnant, they will give up smoking, give up alcohol, give up coffee and soda, give up fondue and raw cheese, give up cold cuts and sushi, all because they have heard somewhere, from someone, that these things can be bad for the baby. They don’t know the research, haven’t looked at the studies, can’t talk about sample sizes and control groups. But their dedication to their future child’s safety is so strong, their caution is so overpowering, that they give up these things just in case. 

So it baffles me when those same people will insist on spanking their kids. 

Even when they are shown the research.

 Regardless of what the experts in the field say. 

No matter who says it. 

Or how it is said. 

People are so invested in this ability to hit their kids without judgement or consequence, that it absolutely confounds me. 

[cherienymphe]

Teenage Dirtbag XVI

JJ Maybank x Reader x Rafe Cameron

Warnings: NON-CON, DUB-CON, abusive relationship, domestic violence, mentions of violence (+ gun violence), gun kink, dacryphilia, attempted murder, blood, semi public sex,  jealousy, manipulation, infidelity, underage drinking, drug use, canon ages, kook!reader

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

➥ series masterlist

summary: You’re charmingly spoiled. You’re too kind for your own good. You’re the princess of Figure 8 …and you’re way out of JJ Maybank’s league, but when he realizes that Rafe Cameron’s pride and joy is actually a bruised and battered damsel, he’s determined to save you.

Your rescue just comes with a price.

⭑

“Am I a joke to you? Huh?”

Despite how unserious Rafe’s words were, his attitude and tone were anything but. The past few months had been…okay—as okay as they could be considering the circumstances, you supposed—and while the look on Rafe’s face was far from unfamiliar, it was also a look you hadn’t seen in a while. Most notably the night of his birthday.

The memory of his hand around your throat was fresh, his voice in your ear as he threatened to kill you if you ever tried to leave him again. The violent memory immediately had you on edge, and you absentmindedly touched your neck, worriedly eyeing Rafe just as he strode over to you.

“You think I didn’t see that bullshit at The Wreck?”

His hand was digging into your arm, and you flinched at the painful grip, eyeing him in a mixture of confusion and fear. Rafe’s blue eyes were cold as he stared you down, a sneer on his lips as he leaned in.

“All it takes is a smile and you’re batting those lashes-.”

“...what are you talking about?” you finally spoke, noticing too late that you were knee deep in another fight without even realizing it.

“I’m talking about JJ, that’s what the fuck I’m talking about,” Rafr spat at you, fingers pressing into your skin even harder.

It took you too long to realize just who he was talking about, and when you did, your lips parted in disbelief. You thought to yourself that Rafe couldn’t be serious, there was just no way, but as you looked between his eyes, you slowly—and fearfully—realized that he was indeed very serious.

The food that you'd brought back from The Wreck was sitting on the counter, and you recalled the blond teenager who’d given it to you with a friendly smile, and you recalled that you’d smiled back. Not only was it just the polite thing to do, but it was second nature to you—harmless. Yet, here Rafe was treating it like the highest form of infidelity there was.

“Rafe…be serious.”

You were so in disbelief that you didn’t quite register the danger of the words you were whispering. You were that much in shock—that thrown—that Rafe was starting something over something as simple and harmless as a smile to the guy behind the counter. Your response only made him angrier, and you swore you felt your bones straining under his hold.

“Do I seem anything but serious, right now?”

You couldn’t hold in your pained gasp as your knees buckled, your free hand reaching up to try and make him let go.

“Do you even consider me and my feelings when you pull this shit? Huh?”

His nose brushed against your cheek as you fought to stand, pulling at his hand with tears in your eyes.

“If it’s not you ‘falling’ into Topper’s lap then it’s you trying to break up with me—and on my birthday, no less! Now you just expect me to stand by and watch you make googly eyes at any guy who looks your way? You be serious,” he bit out, shoving you so hard that your back hit the nearest wall.

Your arm was throbbing, now, the blood rushing back to where Rafe’s hand had just been. Your heart was going crazy in your chest, and when you looked up, you did so just in time to see the expensive vase coming your way. The scream that escaped your lips hurt your throat, and you slid to the floor just as the sound of breaking glass reached your ears. The shards went everywhere, and you briefly noted the faint sting on your feet.

You felt paralyzed as you looked up at Rafe.

“Is this…is this another attempt to leave me? Hmm?” he wondered, fingers grazing his chest as he frowned at you. “You think if you piss me off enough, I’ll just wash my hands of you? Is that it?”

You couldn’t stop shaking, and your voice caught in your throat, your brain unable to comprehend how you wound up in this position. Your silence seemed to only make him angrier, and when he took a step towards you, you were finally able to spring to your feet, completely unsure of what he was about to do next.

“Huh? Is that what you’re trying to pull?”

You frantically shook your head.

“N-no. Rafe, no, I don’t-”

“No?” he asked, almost incredulously. 

A bitter chuckle left his lips, and Rafe shook his head, blowing out a breath as he kept his eyes on you.

“You sure could’ve fooled me.”

You looked around, chest heaving as you ran different scenarios over in your mind. You went back and forth between trying to talk him down and just making a run for it. The last time Rafe had been this angry, he’d almost choked you to death while verbally promising to do just that if you ever drove him to it. Your perusal did not go unnoticed, and Rafe was suddenly moving closer. 

“Wh-where do you think you’re going?” he mockingly asked, holding your gaze, now. “You think we’re done?”

“Rafe…” you pleaded, holding your hands out.

“You think I’m done with you? You think-.”

Rafe cut himself off, reaching for you and cursing when you slipped from his grasp. His hand caught onto your shirt, twisting it, and you stumbled back when he yanked you closer. His other hand circled around your throat, and anything that you were going to say or do was immediately cut short by the feel of metal against your lips.

The scream that caught in your throat was accompanied by the feel of tears kissing your eyes, and your hands immediately wrapped around your boyfriend’s wrist. Rafe’s own eyes were glazed as he stared at you, and a sob bubbled within your chest.

“This is the only way you’re ever going to leave me. Do you understand?”

You were barely listening to a word he said, tears spilling over as you stumbled back with every step he took. The gun had been an 18th birthday gift from Ward, something you’d seen once or twice since you and Rafe started dating. You hadn’t ever given it much thought. After all, you were in North Carolina, and it was the kind of place where kids learned to shoot from the age of twelve.

You hadn’t thought about it when he’d slapped you and not even when he’d threatened your life. Yet here you were…faced with the real possibility that Rafe would use it to kill you. Your tears wouldn’t stop flowing, and your gaze was terrified and pleading. You didn’t even think you were pleading to Rafe—you were just pleading for something. A knock at the door, a car in the yard, the ring of his phone. You were pleading for anything to happen to stop this because in this moment…you weren’t so sure that Rafe would stop on his own.

The blond tilted his head at you, the light glinting off of his blue gaze.

“Hmm?”

You gave a shaky nod, your nails digging into his wrist, and Rafe stared at you for what felt like a long time. His hand was on the gun and your hand was on him and neither one of you were moving. The moment he finally pulled his hand back, you were shoving your hand against his face. Your sudden fight took him by surprise, and you didn’t spare him another glance as you bolted for the stairs.

You flinched when your name echoed off of the walls, Rafe’s footsteps in time with yours. Your tearful gaze made it hard to see, and your shoulder knocked into the corner of the wall as you stumbled straight towards the bathroom. Rafe’s voice was loud and angry as he yelled for you, and you didn’t hesitate to slam the bathroom door shut behind you, locking it just moments before Rafe’s hand met the knob.

Your uneven breathing was all you could hear as you fumbled around in your pocket for your phone, and your lashes fluttered from the feel of the door hitting your back from every kick Rafe dealt to it. You felt so disconnected from yourself as you dialed 911, the severity of Rafe’s actions fully washing over you. You couldn’t stop crying as a voice greeted you from the other line, mentally telling yourself that you couldn’t do this anymore.

You had to get out. 

You had to.

You couldn’t live like this, you wouldn’t survive it, and as terrifying as it would be to tell the world just who Rafe Cameron really was, the thought of enduring this forever was even scarier. 

“What’ya thinking about?”

Rafe’s lips brushed against your temple as he whispered the question, and you only shook your head before turning to look up at him with a small smile. 

“Nothing…”

Topper and Kelce were playing poker in the living room, Rafe long abandoning the game to snuggle beside you instead. Today was a good day, but then again, the past few weeks had been full of good days. The disastrous night that was Midsummers was weeks ago, and the morning after—when you’d been applying makeup to your discolored cheek—you had the realization that even if some small part of you had hope that you could get out of this relationship one day, you needed to survive to actually see that happen.

Sneaking around with JJ had brought just as much harm as it did good.

Sure, you were seeing someone who actually cared about you and who didn’t absolutely terrify you. You were reminded of what it was like to be touched by someone without flinching, but on the flip side…you were reminded of what it was like to be touched by someone without flinching. 

Your relationship with JJ—if you could even call it that—also served to put into perspective just how bad things had become with Rafe. There was a time when you’d gotten so used to the abuse, so accustomed to the way he talked to you and held you and treated you. The constant reminder of how much better things could be made you act out in ways that you hadn’t in a long time. 

Your behavior as of late had given Rafe the perfect excuse to show you just how awful he could really be.

Things were good when you were good, and being good entailed acting as the perfect girlfriend that Rafe wanted. Smiling when he looked at you, standing beside him and looking pretty when he was with his friends, placating him no matter how much in the wrong he was, and eagerly opening your legs for him whenever he wanted. After all, deep down, that’s what it was really about.

Rafe just wanted someone to always be in his corner and to be ever loyal to him.

It didn’t matter that he had to force it.

All Rafe wanted was for someone to kiss him on the cheek at the end of the day and choose him. You would find it sad if said behavior wasn’t actively ruining your life. Playing such a role had long driven you into depression, but it wasn’t so bad, now when you had something else to look forward to. As much as it pained you, you slipped back into that role of the agreeable and enabling girlfriend, content with the temporary relief from it that JJ brought to you.

“You’re always thinking about something,” Rafe murmured, a humorous lilt in his voice that didn’t fool you.

You knew that if Rafe could wish for anything, it would be to see inside of your head. The fact that he could control every aspect of your life except your thoughts was something that bothered him greatly. That was one thing he’d never have access to, and it absolutely ate him up inside.

He was right though.

As you looked at him, you were reminded of his face staring back at you from inside of that cop car. It seemed like so long ago—a lifetime—but nothing had hardly changed. You’d been so sure that day that things would be different. You’d been so scared, so tired, so…defeated. You remembered how determined you were to put a stop to this and start moving on from Rafe Cameron once and for all…but then Ward had gotten into your head and scared you even more with the reality of what would happen.

You wondered if Rafe thought about that day too, if he thought about how if it weren’t for Ward, then things would be very different right now. Rafe had a lot to thank Ward for, you supposed, but you didn’t say any of that. You didn’t dare.

“Just thinking that I’m going to miss you,” you quietly told him.

Ward was going away for the weekend to deal with some business, and Rafe was going with him. The trips had become more frequent over the past year, and you knew that it was only a matter of time before Rafe was fully brought into the family business…and once that was done, it wouldn’t be long before Rafe decided it was time to tie you to him forever. Rafe wanted to have it all, you’d always known that, and once his place by Ward was official, he would start checking things off the list one by one.

Rafe hummed at your response, reaching up and gently taking your chin between his fingers.

“You have been so good lately,” he murmured, leaning in. “I think you really will miss me.”

He pressed his lips to yours, and you kissed him back, closing your eyes and eagerly moving your mouth against his like you used to before JJ. While it was still second nature to you, you had never had to give it so much thought before. Behaving like Rafe’s dream girl was just something you did, something ingrained in you, but lately you had to remind yourself that you wanted things to be easy—smooth sailing. 

It didn’t hurt to remember that Rafe noticed the way JJ acted about you these days. Rafe thinking that JJ harbored a crush on you was one thing, but if he even suspected the opposite then you were as good as dead. He thought it was funny, something to laugh about—the thought of JJ Maybank thinking he had a chance with his girlfriend—but the thought that you might be soft on the other blond wasn’t as amusing. 

You recalled the way he looked at you as he threatened you that night, driving it into your head that he didn’t want you ever defending ‘that Pogue’ again. It didn’t matter how many times you told him you were just trying to be nice and mature, he didn’t want to hear it. You hadn’t missed the glint in his eyes, and it was then that you told yourself you needed to get it together. 

JJ Maynank was messing with your head, rubbing off on you, and sometimes that was good, but there were also times where it wasn’t. He was so headstrong, so impulsive, and while you liked that about him, he was always going to be on the receiving end of Rafe’s wrath if he kept it up, and that was what you told him later that night after Rafe had dropped you off at home with a gentle kiss.

The younger blond huffed, and you watched him run his hand through his hair.

“Yeah, I know,” he reluctantly agreed. “I just don’t think you understand how angry he makes me. Downright murderous if we’re being honest.”

Your heart skipped a beat at that, hating when JJ talked like that, but you knew that it was all talk. Rafe was home and packing to leave with his father in the morning, and JJ was sitting on the edge of your bed, reaching for you and pulling you closer by your waist. Moments like this made the farce with Rafe worth it, and you placed your hand on the other man’s shoulders.

“You’re used to this, used to him,” he sadly pointed out, gaze soft as he looked up at you. “I’m not, and I don’t think I’ll ever be.”

Your shoulders sagged at that, silently agreeing with him. It did seem a little unfair to expect JJ to fall in line so quickly with something that had taken you years to perfect. The two of you had only been seeing each other for some months.

“You’re right…but do you get how it makes me feel to see him just tear into you because you can’t keep your mouth shut?”

JJ’s lips quirked up at that, and you lightly hit his shoulder.

“It’s not funny,” you told him, letting out a light chuckle anyway. “Unlike you, I’m good at this. He’ll never suspect me, but he has no problem with punching you in the face for just looking at me too long, and I know how much you love fighting Rafe, but it gives me a mini heart attack every time.”

The blond didn’t respond right away at that, and he eventually sighed before leaning in to press his lips to your stomach. When he tilted his head back, he looked up at you from beneath his lashes.

“For the sake of your heart…I’ll be better. I promise.”

The tension in your body eased a bit, but it didn't last long as you watched JJ push the end of your shirt up your torso.

“Now enough about Rafe,” he whispered into your skin. “I have you all to myself this weekend.”

You shuddered at the feel of JJ’s tongue against your stomach, and his fingers wasted no time in searching for the waist of your skirt.

With your parents just down the hall, you were hyper aware of every noise you made under JJ’s careful ministrations. Lying underneath him felt more like a real relationship than any moment you’d ever had with Rafe. JJ was gentle with every touch he gave to you, and you couldn’t stop your stomach from flipping every time he let himself lose control, frantically shaking your head whenever he asked if he was hurting you.

It was a good kind of hurt.

That was something you thought you’d never say. The blond was careful in leaving you blemish free for obvious reasons, but on the off chance that you woke up with a slight bruise or a mark on your chest, it didn’t feel like it did when you looked at Rafe’s marks in the mirror. You’d stare at them with the strangest desire for more, wanting JJ to keep marking you.

One of his hands massaged your breast while the other was being stroked by his tongue, shaky moans escaping your lips in your dark room. You’d grown addicted to the way his cock stretched you out, eagerly opening your legs for him every time he crawled between them. Sex with JJ was fun and good, and it never not ended with you begging him to come inside of you.

You absentmindedly talked with Sarah while you waited for your food. She was telling you about some trip they planned on going with the Twinkie, but you had to be honest with yourself in admitting that you were hardly listening. JJ and Pope were on the other side of the restaurant, and the blond kept catching your eye no matter how much you tried to pretend like you couldn’t feel the heat of his gaze.

It was only a few hours ago that he’d been climbing out of your bedroom with promises to see you tonight. Heat settled in the pit of your stomach at the memory of his fingers on you and in you, and you reminded yourself to savor this because Rafe would be returning in 24 hours and who knew how long it would be before you saw JJ again in the manner you preferred.

“...and believe it or not, JJ is claiming he can’t make it that weekend. What could he possibly have to do,” Sarah scoffed, and you finally looked at her again.

You suspected why in your head, but naturally you kept it to yourself.

“Hey, do you wanna come over tonight? With Rafe gone with our dad, I can actually invite my friends over without apologizing on behalf of him every thirty minutes.”

Her proposal came the same time Kiara brought your food out, and you struggled to turn her down.

“I wish I could, but I can’t,” you sadly told her, hating the way her face fell. “I have some things to take care of at my house.”

The blonde eyed you, and you took your food with a smile thrown Kie’s way.

“Is that for real? Or is this about Rafe? I swear this time it’ll just be us girls, and they miss hanging out with you. Right?”

She looked to the brunette behind the counter, and when you glanced at her too, Kie was sending you a small smile.

“Yeah, you should come.”

Her tone and gaze was welcome enough, but there was something about the way Kie looked at you that felt off. You sighed, hating to turn them down.

“I really have something to do,” you assured them. “I have no doubt that Rafe will be going out of town with Ward again, so next time. I promise.”

You gave Sarah a hug, squeezing her extra tight as an apology, and you waved Kie goodbye. You left without another glance at JJ no matter how much you wanted to, and you were almost to your car when you heard your name being called. The sound of Kie’s voice was surprising, but you turned to face her nonetheless. 

Like inside, you couldn't place the expression on her face.

“Can I talk to you for a minute?”

Her tone was light, and nothing on her face contradicted that, but something about her question sparked worry in you. You blinked, a bit thrown—because what could Kiara possibly want to talk to you about—but you gave her a nod.

“Yeah, sure,” you said with a shrug.

She almost looked like she hadn’t expected you to say yes, and you understood it. You guys weren’t exactly close. Friendly, but not quite friends. You watched her tuck a few strands of hair behind her ear, lips parting as she seemed to be struggling with how to start.

“I…don’t even know if I should be doing this,” she breathed, and at that, you frowned.

She swiped her tongue between her lips.

“...but JJ is my best friend and…”

At that, your heart sank, doubly unsure and worried for what she was about to say. Kie swallowed, gaze soft as her eyes met yours.

“I don’t know what exactly is going on between you two…” you felt your blood run cold. “...and I don’t know exactly how long it’s been going on…but it’s not fair to him.”

At first, you thought the him in question was Rafe, but the longer you stared at each other, understanding filled you. Your chest felt tight as you looked away, softly exhaling.

“Look, there’s no need to freak out because I’m 100% positive I’m the only one who knows,” she assured you. “...and that’s only because I’m the only one JJ talks to about you.”

You knew that. She’d told you at Midsummers, after all.

“I see the look in his eyes when he talks about you,” she whispered. “I hear what he sounds like when he talks about you—I see the way he looks at you, and it’s only because of that that I see the way you look at him.”

You finally met her gaze again.

“...but you’re never going to leave Rafe.”

Her words felt like a punch to the gut…because they were true. Truer than she even knew.

“...and JJ’s so…” her words trailed off with a light scoff. “You took him by surprise. You’re sweet and polite and the complete opposite of Rafe, and I know what he’s thinking.”

Kie shrugged. 

“...because I’ve thought it myself. JJ would be so much better for you. He’d be really good for you…but you’re never going to leave him. Are you?” she asked after some time.

When you blinked, you were surprised to feel a few tears skip down your cheeks, and you avoided her gaze.

“Kie it’s…it’s complicated,” you finally choked out, wrapping your arm around yourself.

“I don’t doubt that,” she laughed. “Trust, I believe that a relationship with Rafe Cameron is every bit as complicated as you say it is, but that doesn’t make this any more fair for JJ.”

An uncharacteristic stab of anger tore through you, and you stared her down, jaw clenching.

“Why aren’t you having this conversation with JJ? Why me?”

She looked at you like it was supposed to be obvious, a frown between her brows.

“...because he’s never going to leave you.”

You sharply inhaled at that.

“Despite how unfair this is to him and despite the fact that he’s forever going to be some dirty little secret and despite the fact that Rafe would probably run him down if he found out, JJ’s not leaving you. We both know that,” she sadly told you.

You didn’t have anything to say to that, and you struggled to swallow. Everything that Kie was saying was right…and you absolutely hated it. Sneaking around with JJ was fun and dreaming of a future with him was fun, but realistically? The small sliver of hope that you had about getting out of this relationship with Rafe was dwindling by the minute. Suppose you did get out unscathed…it wouldn’t remain that way. 

The moment you even thought of stepping out with JJ would be the end of both you and him, and it suddenly hit you that you couldn’t even fathom making JJ go through that. The only way you’d ever be truly free of Rafe was if he were behind bars, and with daddy’s money, the only chance of that happening was if he ever killed someone.

…and that someone was likely to be you.

“Look, I’m not saying all of this to be a bitch, and you probably think I am a bitch, right now, but I like you, Y/N. I really do, and I like you for JJ…but this isn’t fair to him, and you know it.”

You turned away from her with a heaving chest, and more tears spilled over just as a familiar voice reached you both. JJ said something to her that you didn’t catch, too busy staring off into the distance as the gravity of her words hit you. When JJ called your name, you didn’t answer.

You only noticed that Kie was making her way back inside when he forced you to look at him. With one look at your face, his entire expression dropped.

“Hey,” JJ softly said to you. “What’s wrong? Is it Rafe?”

You could only shake your head.

When he reached for your face, you backed away from him, your back grazing your car. Your eyes kept roaming around, your throat and chest feeling so tight. When JJ reached for the keys in your hand, you tightened your hold.

“Let me drive you back home. I’m coming over anyway-.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” you mumbled.

There was a brief pause.

“You can’t drive like this-.”

“No, I don’t think…I don’t think you should come over,” you forced out.

It was some time before you looked at JJ again, and when you did, he was only staring at you with a frown. His lips opened and closed, seemingly struggling to put his thoughts into words before his face went blank altogether. He stared at you for a few seconds before his gaze found The Wreck and back. When he spoke again, his voice was hard, tone icy.

“What did Kie say to you?”

You shook your head, silently crying.

“Nothing that wasn’t true.”

JJ grabbed your arms, and you pushed him away.

“Y/N-.”

“I have to go,” you choked out, hurrying to the driver’s side with JJ on your heels.

You ignored him every time he said your name, and when you slid into your car, he prevented you from closing the door.

“I’m going to call you. Alright? I know Kie probably said some things to you that you think you need to take seriously, but she doesn’t know the whole story, you have to remember that,” he firmly told you, his hand on your cheek.

JJ made you look at him, his thumb brushing over your lip.

“She doesn’t know the truth, she doesn’t understand. Do not listen to her. Okay…?”

JJ was pleading with you, his gaze crazed and desperate, and despite the nod you gave him, you knew in your heart that you already were.

[wannaeatramyeon]

Lookism Boys - Meeting Your Parents

G/N. Headcanons on what your parents would think. Goo, Jake, Gun, Samuel, Ryuhei. Masterlists

Both are absolutely two sides of the same coin. Either way, your parents will be so charmed by Goo or Jake that they wish they were the ones dating him instead.

Goo is hilarious. In a mean bitchy way, that even though he is laughing at other people rather than with - he's laughing with your parents at other people so this slips pass their radar.

They are caught up with his quips and sharp tongue and honeyed words that they happily go along with this ride, trading numerous inside jokes by the end of the meeting, giggling together like a bunch of school children.

It helps that he's also dressed head to toe in hard to miss designer labels, and brings lavish gifts for them too. No, their affection and approval can't be bought but well, it doesn't hurt to try.

Jake is the son your parents wish they had, insult to their actual sons be damned. Or the person they wish they had met if they were twenty years younger, sexuality be damned.

And yes, Jake would pull out the cheesy lines like (gesturing to your mother) "Y/N, you didn't tell me you had a sister!" and dad jokes to your own dad. He would be so insufferably charming about it that it would inevitably work and win them over in no time at all.

Unlike Goo, so what if Jake's finances are tight right now? And his prospects are a little questionable? He clearly loves you and is a Good Guy. You two are young, he can work that out in due course.

There's a powerful aura emitting from Gun and your parents don't know what to make of it. Is it ok that you're seemingly with this dangerous man? With the unusual eyes and scar between his eyes?

This would have put their backs up more but Gun, to your surprise, is capable of showing exceptional manners. He is super respectful in their presence. Deep bows, good etiquette, and formal honorifics. They can't help but be reassured that if he is this respectful of them, then surely he will be of you.

Gun's demeanour is generally stiff and serious. He's quiet and doesn't talk much, though they don't miss the way he softens when he looks at you. Nor his patience when you revert back to being a sulky child when you're in your parent's presence too long.

They approve, mostly. But will always be a little uneasy around Gun.

At first glance, or first meeting, Samuel is clearly a guy that thinks a lot about himself. Unfortunately it shows to your parents too.

To his credit, his ego and confidence is inflated but the way he treats you is surprisingly tender. And despite the pedestal he sometimes likes to put himself on, he puts you on an even higher pedestal. Which can be both positive and negative. To your parents though, it's good that he obviously treats you well.

Sammy does turn on the charm a little, walking the thin line between flattering and smarmy - a bit like how he is with Eugene. Most of all, your parents are impressed with his prospects (something Jake, unfortunately, lacks).

Excellent career prospects, property, assets, finance. Even if he is a bit up his own ass, at least he can look after you.

Ryuhei has never ever met a partner's parent, and it shows with how tense he is. A complete surprise for you to see your happy-go-lucky puppy so anxious.

He relaxes each time you give him a small smile or squeeze his hand in a comforting gesture.

Your parents, to be honest, don't think much of him. Not to say they think he's bad for you, they just don't form much of an opinion of him during the first meeting.

The second meeting, however: 'Poor guy,' your parents think. He is wrapped around your finger and he's too head over heels to even kick up a fuss whenever you're being unreasonable or bratty.

He tries to charm them, which is a bit hit and miss but it's so so obvious how much he adores you and hangs on to your every word that even they become a bit worried about his well being and you taking advantage of him.

Not that you would... maybe.

[sanjisprincesss]

“We listen and we don’t judge!”

Summery: basically the “we listen and we don’t judge.” Trend with DC characters.

Ft: Bruce Wayne x reader, Dick Grayson x reader, Jason Todd x reader, Tim Drake x reader, Barry Allen x reader, Clark Kent x reader, Diana Prince x reader, Wally west x reader, Hal Jordan x reader.

Warnings/content: crack fic and no warnings.

Izzy’s notey: “we listen and we don’t judge” we all say in unison! Also I knoww old trend.

Dick Grayson (Nightwing)

You held your phone, staring at Dick as he squirmed, clearly not thrilled about being part of this trend. “Alright, Dick. You know the drill: We listen, and we don’t judge.”

Dick rubbed the back of his neck, looking anywhere but at you. “Fine, but you might regret asking for this one.”

“We won’t judge!” you assured him.

He sighed, looking embarrassed. “Okay, sometimes… I wear my old acrobat costume to bed. Just for nostalgia, I swear! I haven’t used it in years, but it still fits, and… it’s comfy.”

You blinked. “Are you saying you sleep in a costume that’s meant for performing stunts?”

He shot you a glare. “I don’t judge your weird habits, alright?”

You laughed. “Dick, that’s adorable. I mean, who needs pajamas when you have your acrobat outfit?”

Jason Todd (Red Hood)

Jason leaned against the wall with his arms crossed, looking utterly unimpressed. “You really want me to do this?”

“Yes! We listen and don’t judge, Jason!” you exclaimed.

Jason groaned. “Fine. Sometimes, after I get a really bad headache from patrol, I’ll go to the store and buy a stuffed animal. A big one.”

You blinked, then tilted your head. “What? Like, a teddy bear?”

He nodded begrudgingly. “Yeah. Sometimes a penguin or a dog, too. Just something to squeeze while I try to relax.”

You burst out laughing. “Jason, that’s the most surprising thing I’ve ever heard about you!”

“Shut up!” he shot back, but you could see the faintest blush creeping up his neck. “I said no judging!”

Tim Drake (Red Robin)

Tim’s face was already flushed when you asked him to do the trend. “You sure about this?”

You nodded eagerly. “We listen, and we don’t judge.”

He sighed, rubbing his face. “Fine, but this is embarrassing.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll keep it safe. Your secret is safe with me!”

Tim hesitated before giving in. “Okay, sometimes I get too attached to fictional characters. Like… I cried over the death of a character in a book I read when I was thirteen. And I still feel bad about it.”

You blinked. “A book character?”

“Yeah! I know, it’s silly. It was just this whole dramatic scene, and I couldn’t help it!” He sighed dramatically. “I haven’t lived it down since.”

You smiled warmly at him. “Tim, it’s okay. Fictional characters can hit hard. I’m right there with you!”

Bruce Wayne (Batman)

Bruce stood, arms crossed, looking more irritated than usual. “This is a waste of time.”

“It’s not a waste! We listen, and we don’t judge!” you coaxed.

“Fine. But I’m not sharing anything personal.”

You raised an eyebrow. “We all have our embarrassing moments, Bruce.”

He let out a long sigh, rubbing his temple. “Sometimes, when I’m alone in the Batcave, I play chess against myself. And I take it… very seriously. Like, I’ll lose a match and get genuinely angry at myself.”

Your jaw dropped. “Bruce, you play chess against yourself?”

He shot you a death glare. “I said no judging.”

“I’m not judging!” you reassured him quickly, trying to stifle your laughter. “Just… never expected you to be a competitive chess player with yourself.”

Barry Allen (The Flash)

Barry’s eyes were already twinkling with mischief as you asked him to participate. “Alright, I’m in. We listen, we don’t judge.”

“Exactly,” you said, holding up your phone. “You go first.”

Barry shifted uncomfortably. “Okay, so, um, sometimes I… binge-watch cooking shows. But not for the recipes. I just like watching people eat the food. It’s… calming.”

You blinked, staring at him. “Wait, what? You watch cooking shows… for the food they eat?”

Barry flushed, his face turning red. “Yeah, I know. It’s weird. But it’s like I can almost taste it if I watch closely enough.”

You giggled. “Barry, you’re a grown man, and you’re watching people eat? That’s adorable.”

“I said no judging!” he protested.

Clark Kent (Superman)

Clark cleared his throat nervously as you asked him to share. “Alright, you’ve got me here. We listen, and we don’t judge, right?”

You grinned. “Right. No judgment.”

Clark sighed, a little embarrassed. “Sometimes I… listen to pop music when I’m flying. And, uh, I might even sing along. Really loudly. Like, off-key.”

You tried to hold back your laughter. “Superman? Off-key?”

He looked at you sheepishly. “I know, it’s not my best talent, but it’s… it’s relaxing.”

You couldn’t hold it in anymore, laughing out loud. “Clark, I love you even more now. The image of you singing pop songs in the sky is too perfect.”

Diana Prince (Wonder Woman)

Diana crossed her arms, looking calm as ever but slightly embarrassed. “I suppose I’ll share. But remember, no judgment.”

“We won’t judge!” you promised.

She exhaled slowly. “Sometimes, after a long day, I listen to classical music. But… I pretend to conduct the orchestra with a broom. Like, full-on, dramatic movements.”

You stared at her, eyes wide. “Wait, you pretend to be a conductor… with a broom?”

She nodded, her face flushed. “I can’t help it. It’s soothing, but I don’t let anyone see.”

You burst out laughing, holding your stomach. “Diana, that’s the best thing I’ve heard all day!”

Wally West (Kid Flash)

Wally immediately sat up with excitement when you asked him to participate. “Oh, I’ve got a good one for you!”

“We listen, and we don’t judge,” you reminded him.

Wally’s grin widened. “Okay, so, sometimes I get really into cartoons, right? And I end up laughing so hard that I snort. Like, uncontrollably. And it’s not cute.”

You blinked, trying to process it. “Wait, you… snort?”

He nodded, a sheepish look crossing his face. “Yeah. It’s ridiculous, but I can’t stop. It’s embarrassing.”

You bit your lip, trying to hold back laughter. “Wally, that’s honestly the cutest thing I’ve heard.”

He groaned, hiding his face in his hands. “I knew you’d judge me!”

Hal Jordan (Green Lantern)

Hal leaned against the wall, already grinning. “Alright, alright. I’m ready for this.”

“We listen, and we don’t judge,” you reminded him.

Hal’s eyes shifted to the side. “So, sometimes when I’m bored, I, uh, use my ring to do… ballet poses. You know, just floating around in midair and doing pirouettes and stuff.”

You blinked. “Wait, you do ballet… with a Green Lantern ring?”

“Yeah, well, I’m great at it,” he said confidently. “I might even look graceful sometimes.”

You snorted, unable to stop yourself from laughing. “Hal, you’re a big tough guy and you’re doing ballet? That’s amazing.”

“You said no judging!” he shot back, but you could see he was trying not to smile.

[i-will-cry-you-a-river]

Steve had to admit; it took him some time to realize what he was hearing.

In his defense, he was used to all that Demons and Darkness talk from his kids - and Eddie. Don't forget Mr. Dungeon Master Eddie Munson, that was apparently not a Kink Thing, but a DnD thing -, so he didn't really realize that dragons and epic fights and pierced hearts in a metal song weren't about a fantasy fight with literal dragons. He wasn't good with metaphors, okay?! Sorry for not expecting deep emotional topics from a metal band.

(He knew he was judgemental. He was working on it! It was just... Well. Sometimes he felt like it was harder to battle against the shit he learned from high school hierarchy, than against literal monsters.)

Also, who could blame him for thinking that dragon was about the demodogs or Vecna, or the demobats, or any other Upside Down craziness?! The demobats almost tore out Eddie's heart - he could definitely sing that amazingly beautiful metal song about that!

Yet...

The more he listened to the song, the more he looked closer...

He realized what it was.

It was a love song. A fucking love song!

The realization hit him hard. Like being hit by Billy Hargrove hard. He felt dazzled, confused.

He felt hurt.

Jealousy was a bitch. Even bigger than the word "bullshit" was.

But then... But then!

Eddie came out with another song. And another. And another. Lyrics full of drowning in sweet poison, being stabbed by rusty nails, and eaten alive by birds like Prometheus. (That last one was Steve's favorite. He loved all - how could he not; they were Eddie's! -, but something about the song, about the music and the lyrics moved him. "Punish me! Jail me! I'll always steal the fire! Hit me! Chain me! But I'll- BURN!")

The motifs were always mythical, fantastical, dark and painful. Steve was always shit at analyzing poems and symbols. Yet there he was, recognizing the themes. Recognizing himself in them. Himself - and Eddie.

Eddie never said anything about anything; not about the songs, not about his hurt feelings, and definitely not about his love for Steve. And Steve knew him, understood him. Eddie would continue sing his heart out, without saying anything to him, he would be content with the way things were. It was the tragic rockstar in him.

But Steve? Steve was different.

So, the moment the concert with Eddie's latest love song finished (bats. It was about bats. Of course it was about bats), Steve smiled.

"Do you think the next time you write a song about us, it can be about how delighted you are to be with your boyfriend?"

Eddie froze. And blinked. And stared some more.

Then, with sudden stars in his eyes, he replied, "No. But I can write about crawling into a beating heart and burrowing myself in it forever, helping it pump the blood as an irreplaceable clog in the delicate machine. That's good?"

Steve smiled, his heart beating faster as the tiny, imagined Eddie worked tirelessly. "That's perfect."

"Good."

"Good," they agreed.

Eddie WOULD write love songs for Steve, you guys just aren’t creative enough.

“But he likes metal!” I hear you shout. I shut your lips. He likes metal, yes, but I think a lot of you are confusing the type of metal Eddie listens to with like, hardcore black metal.

Eddie Munson listens to Metallica, Motorhead, Ronnie Dio, all THREE of which have love songs in their discography. Sure, he’s not writing about how much he loves the feeling of Steve’s lips against his and how the sun hits Steve’s eyes at just the right angle or something, but he IS writing about a looming monster, imprisoning him in chains that wrap tightly around his soul like a curse. A fire-breathing demon that pulls him back from his true desires- to capture the forbidden idol from its temple and slay the monster once and for all. He IS writing about running away with precious jewels and destroying all that comes in his path.

Eddie Munson’s writing Wizard-metal love songs about Steve Harrington in a language he’ll never understand. His band loves it because it’s fantastical, it’s intense, it’s metal. Eddie likes it because it’s about the feeling of loving someone that, to his knowledge, he can never have.

You guys gotta start getting wild with it, man. Because the Eddie I know is putting it all on the line tbh.

[deathofpeaceofmiiind]

Kill my time // Quinn Hughes

In a city full of lonely people, I just want you all to myself

summary: birthday celebrations causing jealousy while struggling to turn a certain age

warnings: drinking, clubbing, smut (18+)

── ∘◦ ⛤ ◦∘ ──

“I can’t believe I’m going to a bar like I’m in my early twenties again.”

I smoothed my dress down, picking apart everything wrong with me as I looked in the mirror. Turning thirty felt like my world was about to collapse, and what made it worse was knowing my boyfriend was only turning twenty five just two days after me.

“Not to mention with a bunch of guys who are twenty one.” My roommate added as she fixed us a couple of drinks. I saw her bring out a bottle of tequila, knowing I was going to be in for a long night.

“Ugh, what did I get myself into?”

“Girl, it’s fine! Quinn doesn’t care about your age so why should you?” She asks, passing me whatever concoction she made. A took a small sip, realizing it was tequila and soda…more like tequila with a splash of soda.

Deep down I knew she was right, because when I told Quinn I was older than him it didn’t phase him at all, I completely expected him to run. He told me the idea of being with someone older was a big turn on for him, something he didn’t discover until he met me. As for me, it didn’t matter what age the men were I dated, they were all extremely immature. I knew it was a risk with Quinn but he definitely didn’t act like men his age. After all he was the captain of an NHL team, he had to have a strong head on his shoulders.

An hour later I was making my way through a busy drunken crowd, holding onto Quinn’s hand for dear life. For whatever reason, his teammates chose this club to celebrate his birthday tonight. Wouldn’t have been my first choice, and I don’t think Quinn was thrilled on it either but he was too quiet to say anything. We always made the best of a bad situation and I knew tonight wouldn’t be any different. House music and lights were bouncing off the walls, making it hard to focus on where we were going. We finally got into our booth and a heavy sigh left me, I definitely wasn’t drunk enough for this.

“You okay, sweetheart?” Quinn’s velvet voice echoed in my ear, calming my nerves. His eyes were bright green, almost enchanting as they peered into mine. My face grew hot, wondering how it was humanly possible for someone to be this gorgeous.

“Yeah it’s just been a while.” I wasn’t lying either. I spent most of my time in breweries with my friends since most of us were over going to clubs. Quinn likes to tell me he doesn’t like going out, but give him a few drinks and he makes a liar out of himself.

He pulled me closer to him, so close I could feel his stubble on my neck. “I won’t leave your side at all, I promise.”

“Okay.” I nodded before he gently brushed his lips over mine. I got lost in our own little world, the music melted away and I forgot we were in the middle of a busy club surrounded by strangers.

“Let’s celebrate, it’s your birthday after all.”

I rolled my eyes, “it’s also yours in two days.”

“Yeah, but …” his words trail off as he runs the pad of his thumb over my lip, “today brought me you.”

“How does it feel to be with a thirty year old?” The words falling last my lips causing my eyes to roll again. That number just didn’t sit right with me. “I’m officially an old lady.”

“Thirty has never looked better.” He mused, his hand running up my hip and pressing me closer to him. I pulled him into another kiss, his cologne hit me like a tidal wave causing butterflies in my stomach. His hand ran up my neck and gripped me tighter while his tongue begged to enter my mouth. We stayed like that, blissfully unaware of reality until his teammates came over with trays of various shots.

“Okay lover boy that’s enough. Let’s get you drunk.”

One thing about partying with hockey players is all of them have no limits when it comes to spending. I had to finally stop accepting every shot they brought around after the room began to spin. Best part of the night though was that the Devils were in town, so Jack and Luke, Quinn’s brothers were here to celebrate with everyone. This was only my second time meeting them but they were extremely welcoming and treated me like I was their sister. Jack at one point asked me to go dance with him and I couldn’t help but say yes.

“So how does it feel to be thirty?” Jack yelled into my ear as we danced to one of my favourite John Summit songs.

“Terrible. I’m almost a decade older than you!”

“You make thirty look so good though.” He smirks as Luke came behind me and picked me up, causing me to scream at him to put me down. As much as I fought he kept me over his shoulder.

“I just want you to know we fucking love you and you make my brother so happy.” Luke added as he finally put me down, the room was still spinning so I had to brace myself against him to make it stop.

“Thanks buddy.” I jumped a little, feeling Quinn’s hand on my back. His face was flushed, telling me he was taking shots without me.

“Can I have my girlfriend back now?”

“Sorry bro!” Luke kissed the top of my head before him and Jack ran off to grab more drinks.

“You okay?” I asked Quinn as I turned to him, he smelt like whiskey and honey as he brought his lips to my neck.

“I will be.” He mumbles, burrowing his face into my neck. “I’m glad my brothers like you, but you’re my girlfriend. Not theirs.”

“Do you think they’re gonna steal me?” I clasped my mouth, trying to hold in my laughter because I know he was being serious. It was downright adorable.

“Maybe.”

“But I’m yours” I assured him, pressing closer to his body. My hands teaching behind his neck, slipping stands of his hair between my fingers. “No one will ever steal me from you.”

“Prove it.” He replied with such confidence, not taking his eyes off my lips. His hands reached up to my hips, pressing me even closer to him. I gasped as I felt his erection brush up against my leg, “come with me.”

“Where are we going?”

“Trust me.” He mumbled, his eyes glazed with desire and whatever was in his system. I grabbed his hand, not knowing where he was taking me.

Quinn guided me into a private bathroom and locked the door. His hand brushed gently over my chest, hooking his finger under the strap of my dress. I watched him with intent, my heart pounding so fast I was surprised he didn’t feel it.

“You belong to me.” He whispered, slowly bringing me closer to him. My hands braced onto his chest as he captured my mouth into a kiss that started off sweet but grew sloppy.

“Let’s not wait then, birthday boy.”

He smirked so devilishly that I felt something more than butterflies in my stomach. Our kisses were met with biting of lower lips and Quinn grabbed my dress so tight I thought it was going to split. I wasted no time and began to unbutton his pants, dropping to my knees in the process. His dick sprung out of his boxers, dripping with pre-cum as my eyes widened.

“Stick your tongue out baby.”

My exposed tongue was met with his tip as he gently circled over my taste buds. I could taste him already, it was making my mouth salivate and run down my chin.

“Such a good girl.” He breathed as his free hand tugged on my hair. “Open your mouth for me.”

I did as I was told and Quinn slowly slid his erection into my mouth, inch by inch until his tip hit the back of my throat. He bit his lip as I began to slide my mouth up and down, his grip on my hair getting tighter.

“Fuck, baby this feels so good.” He deeply moaned, making me feel it in the back of my throat. “Such a good girl taking my whole dick in that pretty little mouth of yours.”

I could tell he was getting close with how laboured his breathing became. I removed my mouth from him and began to lick his tip that was glistening with my spit. He looked down at me with pleading eyes, as if me mouth fucking him was the only thing keeping him alive.

“Come in my mouth Quinn, I know what you want to.”

“Not yet.” His voice sounded so husky as he motioned for me to stand up. I wiped my mouth, taking a long look at him. “Your turn birthday girl.”

I couldn’t help but giggle as he picked me up and sat me on the bathroom counter. My back rested against the mirror as he spread my legs, situating himself between them. When our eyes met my heart felt like it was going to explode, I’ve never seen him like this before.

“How bad do you need me right now?” He asked, slowly taking my lip between his teeth again.

“I need you so fucking badly.”

He makes his home between my thighs and begins to tease me with his tip. I regretted wearing underwear tonight but feeling his pre cum soak the lace was the sweetest form of torture, and he knew it.


“Tell me again…how bad do you need me?” I couldn’t get a word out. His laugh was dark as he fluttered his somber eyes at me, “use your words sweetheart, what do you want for your birthday?”

“I want you.”

“That’s a good start.” He muses, applying pressure on my thighs with his thumbs, “where do you want me?”

No words were leaving me as I gasped for air. Quinn began to run his mouth over my jaw, down to my collarbone, nipping slightly at the skin. I grabbed his hand and guided it between my thighs, his thumb instantly pressing onto my underwear.

“Right there?” He asks, slowly moving my underwear to the side. A small gasp in satisfaction left him as he felt how soaked I was for him. I just nodded, whimpering already from his touch. “Tell me how much you wish this was my dick instead?”

“Quinn, I need you please … I’m yours.”

“That’s my girl.” He replied so proudly, pushing his tip inside of me slowly. His head falls back once he’s fully inside me and it’s the most beautiful sight I’ve ever seen. “Fuck you feel so good, so fucking good.”

Quinn started off slowly, teasing my clit simultaneously with each stroke. He leaned into my ear, continuously praising me as his strokes became faster and harder. Sweat rolled down me as the building started up in my stomach, that familiar flutter began to take over and I knew I was done for. My nails dug into his back as he sinks his teeth into my shoulder as my orgasm left my body.

“Fuck I’m gonna -“

It only took a few seconds before he spilled into me. His hands gently found my face, guiding me to look at him. My legs were still shaking as he kissed me so softly. I was in a complete haze as we broke apart, that one unruly strand of hair fell in front of his face as he studied me. He was so beautiful, there were no other words to describe him.

“Happy birthday, baby.” He mused, gently kissing all the tattoos on my arm. Funny thing,

I never thought he’d go for a girl with a full sleeve and dark hair like me. He struck me as someone who went for blonde Instagram models but, once again he proved me wrong.

“You definitely just gave me the best birthday present ever.” I lightly laughed.

He titled his head to the side, cupping my cheek, “I don’t think anything will be beat the gift you gave me.”

“What’s that?”

“You.”

[keeryhours]

the needle and the damage done - chapter two

Older! Rockstar! Eddie Munson x female! reader

Main Masterlist

Series Masterlist

Eddie Munson Masterlist

Summary:

The band stages an intervention.

Warnings:

(18+), heavy drug use (heroin, cocaine), addiction, strung out Eddie, pregnancy, mention of miscarriage

Word Count: 3.4k

A/N:

Finally chapter 2! Thanks so much for reading!

—

Eddie awoke feeling like he’d been hit by a truck.

He didn’t even know where he was at first. He was sitting on a hard floor, slumped against a wall. He looked around, trying to figure out where he was and what he’d done - a usual occurrence for him. He wasn’t at home, that was for sure. He wasn’t at his dealer’s house, because this bathroom was actually clean and nice. It didn’t click until he saw the hand towels hanging on the wall, red embroidered E’s on them.

Oh. Gareth’s guest bathroom.

He looked around. The used syringe had fallen onto the floor next to him, along with the tourniquet. He must have passed out right after. His little baggie of smack also laid on the tiled floor, the white powder slightly spilling from the top. Eddie was struck by panic when he realized, scooping as much of it as possible back into the bag. Great job, Eddie, you fucking loser, he thought to himself. He had plenty of money, sure, but he still wasn’t about to waste any.

His kit was open on the floor, supplies spilling out. He must have been desperate for a fix. His cotton balls, syringes, alcohol wipes, tin foil and spoon were half on the floor. He’d have to throw some of it out.

Eddie debated on doing another shot. He had some coke in his pocket, he remembered; he could do a speedball. The idea excited him, made him feel alive. He had pulled the drugs from his pocket and was about to start measuring his dose when a loud banging came from the door. He jumped, nearly dropping his stuff, which immediately made him even more irritated than he was from the withdrawals that were already starting.

“What?” Eddie called through the door.

“Eddie, man, come out of there,” Gareth’s voice traveled through the door. “The guys are here. We wanna talk to you.”

Eddie’s head thudded back against the wall. “Can it wait, man? I’m kinda busy.”

It was quiet for a moment. “Eddie, come out.”

He cursed under his breath, shoving everything back into his kit. He quickly pushed the box under the sink where hopefully no one would look. “Yeah, okay. Give me a minute.”

Eddie stood, looking at himself in the mirror. He looked like absolute hell. Like he hadn’t showered or brushed his hair in days, and had been wearing the same clothes. Those things were probably all true. He ran his fingers through his curls, working out some tangles and straightening his dirty clothes before he opened the bathroom door.

“Yeah?”

Gareth took in his appearance, a look of…pity? on his face. He leaned over to look behind Eddie, like he was looking for something.

“What?” Eddie asked again, the irritation clear in his voice.

“The guys are here, we all want to talk to you,” Gareth repeated. “They’re out in the living room. Come out and talk to us.”

Gareth didn’t give him a choice as he turned and walked away. Eddie sighed, but followed behind him to the main room of the large house. He found Jeff and Grant sitting on the couch, Gareth standing. Gareth gestured for Eddie to sit in the chair.

Eddie was suspicious. Everyone was looking at him so seriously. He felt like a child that was about to be scolded. “What the fuck is going on?”

“Sit down, Eddie,” Jeff said this time.

Eddie looked at Jeff, incredulous. He was a grown ass 37 year old man. “What is this?”

“Just sit down, man,” Grant said.

Eddie looked at each of his (former) bandmates with his brows furrowed, but finally sat down in the chair. He waited for someone to speak. He had a bad feeling about this.

“Look,” Gareth started. “You know I love you. You know we all love you. But this is out of hand.”

Eddie shook his head. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

They all looked at him, that stupid pitying look on each of their faces. It made Eddie uncomfortable. He didn’t like this. Gareth took a deep breath.

“Eddie, you’re ruining your life with these drugs. We’re tired of watching our best friend slowly kill himself. And frankly, I’m tired of you sleeping on my couch and shooting up in my bathroom. As much as me and Roz both love you, we can’t let you keep doing this.”

Eddie looked at his best friend with wide eyes. Was this really happening? He opened his mouth to speak, but Grant spoke first.

“What’s going on, Eddie? This isn’t the guy we know and love,” he said.

Eddie scoffed. “Nothings going on. I’m fine.”

“Then why aren’t you home with your family?” Gareth asked, exasperated. “Why are you sleeping in my den? You have a wife and three amazing kids. Don’t you want to be at home with them?”

Eddie was quiet for a minute. Then, finally, “Four,” he muttered under his breath.

His three friends’ eyes went wide. “What?” Jeff asked.

“Four,” Eddie said again, looking down at his hands as he twisted one of his rings around his finger. “She’s…pregnant again.”

It was so silent you could hear a pin drop. After a minute, Gareth rubbed his hands over his face. “Jesus Christ, Ed.”

Eddie had never felt so guilty in his life. The thought of you, his daughters, and his unborn child made him feel like the worst man to ever live. He had abandoned you all, and he knew it. But he still found his fingers itching for the drugs hidden in the bathroom.

“You know your wife and kids miss you,” Jeff said. “Those girls don’t understand why you’re not home. They don’t understand when you come home all strung out. Do you ever think about that?”

That made Eddie feel even worse. He didn’t know what to say.

“Yeah,” Gareth added, “You know Roz talks to her all the time. She misses you. The girls ask about you constantly. And, honestly Ed, I miss my best friend. The Eddie Munson who was so full of life, who loved music and loved his family and friends more than anything.”

“You have so much to live for,” Grant said. “It doesn’t make any sense why you’re doing this to yourself. Your youngest is what, 3? And now you have another on the way? Come on, man. You’re really gonna let those kids grow up without a father?”

The words hit Eddie like a punch to the chest. He loved his girls fiercely - that included you. You were the love of his life. Always had been, always would be. And now he had gotten you pregnant again, and here he was at Gareth’s house getting high all day.

“We know she gave you an ultimatum,” Jeff said. “But you’re still here doing the same old thing.”

Eddie felt horrible. It was all true. He was a mess, and he did abandon you and his kids. But god, what was he supposed to do? He couldn’t just stop. Not at this point. Every time he stopped, even just for a day, he got so unbearably sick, sweating and his body aching.

“It’s not that simple,” Eddie finally responded. “I can’t just stop.”

“We never said it was simple,” Gareth said, the pity evident in his voice. Eddie thinks that made it worse. “It’s not going to be easy at all. But we’re all here for you, man. And I know your wife would be right by your side the entire time if you decide to get clean. You just have to commit and put in the effort.”

Eddie shook his head. “You don’t get it, man.”

“What do we not get?” Jeff asked, sounding irritated now. “We get it, Ed. We get that you’re killing yourself with fucking drugs while you have so much to live for. We get that you ruined the band because you liked getting high too fucking much. We get that the drugs are the most important fucking thing to you and you chose them over everything else.”

“Dont fucking talk to me like that,” Eddie said, getting more upset by the minute. “You don’t know fucking anything.”

“We know more than you think we do,” Grant chimed in.

Eddie looked at his friends in shock. He could not believe this was happening. He could not believe his friends were staging a fucking intervention.

“This is bullshit,” Eddie said, standing from his chair. “Fucking bullshit.” He grabbed his bag from next to the couch and stormed out of the living room, back to the guest bathroom. He gathered his soaps and toothbrush and toothpaste, making sure to grab his kit from under the sink and shove it into the bag. He walked back out into the room, bag slung over his shoulder, heading for the front door. “Fuck all of you.”

“Eddie, where are you going?” Gareth asked, throwing his hands up in the air. He was tired. “You have nowhere else to go.”

Eddie didn’t answer. He stormed out of the house, slamming the front door behind him. He headed to his car, tossing the bag into the passenger seat before sliding into the driver’s seat.

He needed a fix bad. He was worked up from the confrontation, and the withdrawals were starting to really kick in. He pushed his curly hair out of his sweaty face with a shaking hand. He needed to get out of here.

Eddie pulled out of the driveway, driving the familiar path to his dealer’s apartment.

—

“Evie, can you pick up some of your barbies, honey?” You asked, stepping around the minefield of toys with Ivy on your hip. She was leaning on your shoulder, drowsy and ready for her nap.

“Okay,” Evie said with a dramatic sigh, but she moved to do as she was asked. She was a good kid, always did what she was told and never broke the rules. She had always been your little angel.

“Rhi?” You called, seeing her mess all over the kitchen table. “Please come clean up your art supplies! Remember when you move onto a new activity, put the old one away.”

Rhiannon groaned, stomping into the room with all her sass. “I was going to come back to it!”

“Okay, then you can take it back out when you do,” you said, not willing to argue with the 6 year old right now. You honestly were emotionally drained. Everything with Eddie had been taking a toll on you mentally and physically. Despite the harsh ultimatum you had given him, you were constantly thinking of him, missing him.

Rhiannon cleaned up her papers, paints, and markers, grumbling under her breath. You left the two older girls and walked into Ivy’s bedroom, giving her a kiss on the top of her head and laying her down in her toddler bed for a nap. The small girl rolled right over and went to sleep.

Back in the living room, the two sisters were fighting over the remote, grabbing it from each other, holding it out of reach, and pushing one another.

“What is going on??” You asked in your best Mom Voice.

“I want to watch Spy Kids!” Rhiannon huffed, turning to you with her hands on her hips. “And I had the remote first.”

“Not true!” Evie yelled. “And I want to watch Howl’s Moving Castle!”

You felt a headache coming on. You pinched the bridge of your nose, taking a deep breath. “Okay, how about this. If you can’t agree, neither of you get the remote, and I pick the movie.”

Both girls groaned. “You always pick the boring old movies!” Rhiannon whined.

“Yeah!” Evie agreed.

“Then you better find something to agree on,” you said. The girls went back to bickering as you headed towards the kitchen, but you were stopped by a soft knocking at the door. You could tell who it was based on the fact they knew it was Ivy’s naptime.

You opened the front door to the sight of your best friend and Gareth’s wife, Rozalyn. You nearly burst into tears the second you saw her. She could tell, immediately reaching for you.

You let her embrace you, laying your head on her shoulder and letting the tears fall. She held you, rubbing your back and caressing your hair soothingly.

“It’s alright, babe,” she said softly. “Let it out.”

After you had cried on her shoulder for a few minutes, you stood back up, sniffling and wiping your eyes with your hand. “Sorry. That’s been a long time coming.”

“You don’t have to apologize to me,” Roz said. “I’m your best friend. It’s what I’m here for.”

She followed you into the house. Back in the living room, Evie and Rhiannon had decided on The Haunted Mansion. They looked up as you walked in.

“Auntie Woz!” They both exclaimed, jumping up to tackle your friend with hugs. She laughed, hugging them back tightly. Her heart had been broken for the girls, having to be without their dad, but she was relieved to see they were doing okay.

Once the girls had jumped back onto the couch to watch their movie, you and Roz moved into the kitchen for some privacy. You made both of you some hot tea, handing Roz her mug when you were done.

“How are you holding up?” Roz asked, taking a sip of her hot drink.

“I’m…” you sighed. “I’m holding on, you know? It’s hard. The girls are a handful. They miss their dad. I miss their dad.”

Roz looked at you sympathetically, but not in the condescending kind of way you got from paparazzi and media. “I can imagine.”

“How is he?” You asked nervously, not sure if you wanted to hear the answer. You fiddled with one of your nails nervously.

“He…” Roz sighed. “The guys staged an intervention today.”

Your head snapped up to look in her direction. “Really? How did that go?”

Roz’s melancholy expression was enough of an answer even before she opened her mouth. “Not great. He got upset and stormed out. We don’t know where he went.”

You let out a rush of air, covering your face with your hands as you tried not to cry again. This was all so hard already, but you had been extra emotional with the added hormones from the pregnancy. Roz gently rubbed your arm as you calmed yourself. Once you were sure you weren’t going to burst into tears, you lowered your hands again. “He has nowhere else to go. Wherever he went, it couldn’t be good.”

Roz pursed her lips as she looked at you. “Yeah. I know.”

You sighed, hand absentmindedly moving to rub your stomach, the nonexistent baby bump. You already loved this new little one so much, you just wished Eddie was here. He was always so attentive during your pregnancies, and he loved seeing you pregnant, loved rubbing the belly and talking to his unborn child. That wouldn’t happen this time or ever again, you thought to yourself.

Roz didn’t miss the gesture. She eyed you suspiciously. “Babe…are you…?”

Your eyes darted to hers. You realized what you’d done immediately, a flush creeping into your skin. “Yeah. I’m 6 weeks.”

Roz’s eyes went wide. “Another one??”

You busted out laughing at that. “Oh my god. Yeah, another one.”

“Damn, girl. Three wasn’t enough?”

You laughed even harder. Roz and Gareth didn’t have any kids, didn’t want any, but they both loved your and Eddie’s girls with their whole hearts. “It was a surprise.”

“I’m getting you a box of condoms for your birthday.”

You shoved Roz in the shoulder, making her laugh, too. Things felt normal for the first time in months.

“Do the girls know?” She asked.

“I was waiting until I’m a little farther along,” you said. “Just in case something happens, you know?”

Roz nodded. She understood. You and Eddie had had a miscarriage in the past before Ivy was born, and it was really rough on you both and the girls. You still thought of it sometimes, what could have been if that baby had been born. This would have been baby number five in that case.

The thought of five kids made your head spin. Hell, even four was a lot to wrap your mind around.

You sat with your friend in the kitchen and talked for a few hours. It really did make you feel better. Roz always knew exactly what to say. And it had been so long since you had someone you could talk to about Eddie’s problems. At some point Ivy woke up, so you grabbed her from her crib and got her set up with a snack.

“It’s just…” you sighed, speaking quietly so Ivy wouldn’t overhear. “Like, I can’t explain what it’s like to watch the man you love turn into a stranger.” You wiped the tears away. “He was also so vibrant and fun. And this shit took that away. He’s not the same.”

Roz looked heartbroken for you. “Babe…”

“If a fucking nightmare. It’s the worst thing that’s ever happened to me. I just want my Eddie back.”

She listened to you vent as much as you needed to. It felt good to get it off your chest. You just wished your words could bring your husband back.

When Roz left, it was much later. You gave your friend a hug at the door, thanking her for coming and wishing her a safe drive home. By the time dinner was made and eaten, the sun had gone down and it was nearing bedtime.

Everyone got baths (except for Evie, who now preferred a shower). You got Rhiannon and Ivy dressed in their pajamas. You gave Evie and Rhiannon their goodnight kisses and tucked them into bed, then took Ivy to her room. You laid her in her toddler bed, reading a few bedtime stories and watching as she slowly started dozing off. You gave her a goodnight kiss on the top of the head then snuck out of the bedroom, closing the door softly behind you.

This was the loneliest part of the night without Eddie. Typically if you had a night to yourself you would reach for a little wine, but obviously that wasn’t an option. You sat on the couch and turned the TV on, flipping to a rerun of House. You always liked that show.

As you watched, you started getting drowsy. You had just dozed off when you heard a pounding at your door. You jolted awake, noticing it had started pouring rain outside. You cautiously walked to the door, pulling it open and seeing a very pathetic looking, very wet Eddie in a heap on your porch.

You threw the door open wider. “Eddie, what the hell?”

Eddie was shivering. He looked like hell, looking up at you with big sad brown eyes. “Baby,” he said, his voice weak. It broke your heart.

“What’s going on? Where have you been? Roz said you left.”

“I…” He looked like he was struggling to find words. “I went to my dealer’s and got high, okay? But I realized something. I’m done. I’m done with all of this. I want you and the girls and the baby. I want to get clean, I want to go to rehab.”

Those were the words you’d be longing to hear for so long. You felt immense relief, reaching for Eddie and helping him up and into the house. “Come on, baby. Let’s get you cleaned up. We’ll find a rehab in the morning, we’ll get you help.”

Eddie clung to you like a scared child as you brought him inside. He was shaking, and you weren’t sure if the wetness was only from the rain or if he was sweating, too. You had seen Eddie withdrawing enough times to know it was kicking in. He was high so often that it never took long.

You helped him bathe and got him set up in bed. You crawled in afterwards, wrapping your arms around his middle and holding him close, like he so often did to you. You were going to get through this. You were going to call rehabs in the morning and find Eddie the best one available. It was going to be okay.

You just hoped he was serious this time.

tag list

@kellsck @birdysaturne @emxxblog @iheartgrayson @ali-r3n @kthomps914 @mewchiili @browneyes528 @avobabe87 @themorriganisamonster @costellation-hunter @micheledawn1975 @wildflowerwattpad0217 @punkrockmlchael @avenjames-anderson @toomuchbucky

[nemesis-writer]

Training Wheels

Masterlist TW: neglect, but mostly fluff

Ridin' down, ridin' down My hand on your seat the whole way round I carry Band-Aids on me now For when your soft hands hit the jagged ground Wheels aren't even touchin' the ground Scared to take them off, but they're so worn down Promise I won't push you straight to the dirt If you promise me you'll take them off first

'Come on Jon, hurry up we're almost there.'

You remember the time when you first saw Jon when he was playing games with Damian. Let's face it, you were downright in love with him, you didn't really knew how to deal with it since you've been deprived of that since birth.

You've always thought of him as a night in shining armor. He'd always bring you gifts in your birthday, sometimes give you books to read when you're bored. But it was satisfying for now.

I love everything you do When you call me fuckin' dumb for the stupid shit I do Wanna ride my bike with you Fully undressed, no training wheels left for you And I'll pull them off for you I love everything you do When you call me fuckin' dumb for the stupid shit I do Wanna ride my bike with you Fully undressed, no training wheels left for you And I'll pull them off for you

There's no doubt in the world that you love him. You'd laugh together, sometimes take you to the movies, and even invite you to his farm for lunch during recess. But you, you loved him, you wanted to stick with him forever and didn't want anyone to ruin the moment.

Some might say you're stupid for relying on a boy who is friends with the very people who've neglected and abandoned you. But no one can stand on the way of love right?

Lettin' go, lettin' go Tellin' you things you already know I explode, I explode Askin' you where you want us to go You've been ridin' two-wheelers all your life It's not like I'm askin' to be your wife I wanna make you mine, but that's hard to say Is this comin' off in a cheesy way?

You loved the fact that he is dating you, but you'd never know if he felt the same way. So far in your relationship it's based on wishful thinking. Who's to judge a now-legal adult for being in a relationship with a person she's been head over heels for?

But what you didn't know was that Jon truly love you and cherish your memories together. He even has his own job where he can afford a 10 karat princess-cut sapphire ring. (Also thanks from stealing Conner's money.) He prepared your guys future together as parents, while you were prepared to let him go with the assumption that he doesn't love you.

I love everything you do When you call me fuckin' dumb for the stupid shit I do Wanna ride my bike with you Fully undressed, no training wheels left for you And I'll pull them off for you I love everything you do When you call me fuckin' dumb for the stupid shit I do Wanna ride my bike with you Fully undressed, no training wheels left for you And I'll pull them off for you

You'd be surprised with how much he has prepared for your future together.

Damian, on the other hand, paid no mind to you, and failed to notice Jon's past attempts into dating you. He remains completely oblivious to the fact that his best friend is dating the girl that no one would bat an eye for.

10 years later...

Your wedding was completely peaceful since it was held in a small chapel in Metropolis. Only the Kents including Alfred and some trusted friends were invited to the party. And by trusted friends you meant the whole damn Justice League without the bats.

'I Y/N take Jon as my lawfully wedded husband to have and to hold, in sickness and in health, till death do us part'

'I Jon take Y/N as my lawfully wedded wife to have and to hold, in sickness and in health, till death do us part'

Cheers could be heard even from outside the chapel. But the bats never truly knew why the whole League didn't attend the meeting and instead called in sick, out of planet, or family issues.

It was only until they saw in the news:

'MS, or should I say MRS WAYNE KENT JUST GOT MARRIED AND THE WHOLE WAYNE FAMILY DIDN'T ATTEND!'

A/N: this was actually one of my favorites of Crybaby

Taglist

@lunayaps, @not-aya, @iluvcatzz, @vanessa-boo, @ivyrose9194,@thesehandsarerated-e, @eyeless-kun, @errorunfound1, @gwyneveire

[silly-string-guitar]

Hey guys! Seiya here~☆

Get to know me :3

Species: Ghoul

Status: Alive

Stigma: Salaur, steals target's voice, but the longer I use it the drier my throat gets :(

Artifact: Electric guitar, can be used to either knock back enemies or be played so loud that it deafens them. Can also be used to just hit people. (Unfortunately cannot be used to actually play music... I cannot play the guitar)

Brief Backstory: Seiya was mute for unknown reasons for most of his life, leading to his sister, Emiko, dying in front of him when he was 14. While their parents were away a robber broke into their house, Emiko told Seiya to stay hidden and call the police while she tried to stop the intruder. You see this was a very stupid thing to do bc Seiya can't talk. He called the police but was unable to speak as he watched his sister get stabbed. Fortunately, the police heard the screaming in the background and were able to trace the call back to their home. By then Emiko was dead and the parents were angry so they disowned Seiya, leading him to make a pact with a demon. He asked if it could bring his sister back first but the answer was no so he got a voice instead.

Additional Information: His first words were an apology to Emiko :(. Also now that he can talk he likes to yap, its actually rlly hard for him to shut up bc he doesn't want to but sometimes he has a hard time pronouncing words since he literally just learned how to talk ~8 or so years ago

Blog rules!

((Uh... you see I would have rules if I have ever done this before but I haven't so idk what I'm doing))

Honestly... you can ask anything, if I don't like it I'll just delete it :p (suseptible to change)(and obviously if you're a minor don't ask about nsft subjects)

Rp interactions with both characters and ocs are welcome!! Please talk to me!!

[dreamerdrop]

A momentary apology to everyone who followed me thinking I was a cute magical girl and occasional Alice in Wonderland blog.

[hollowed-theory-hall]

What are your thoughts on the possibility of Petunia redeeming herself or atoning for her abuse of Harry? This is more ramblings and musing then coherent ask, sorry.

You mentioned in a previous post that while she might not love him, she is concerned for her nephew’s safety - as well as that her emotions towards Harry are quite complex (similarly to her emotions towards and relationship with Lily, post-magic revelation).

There are many fics where Petunia does eventually break the cycle of abuse she and Vernon perpetuate on Harry (but usually this is the result of either divorcing Vernon or her husband outright dying), but I’m kind of curious as to what you think in your analysis of her character.

Petunia is a tough nut to crack for me when it comes to fics where she is redeemed.

At the very least, the extreme neglect and enforced silence that Harry is raised in just…it’s terrible when you look at it more deeply than the early books intend.

Which is made worse still by later on, when she swings a frying pan at his head (Chamber of Secrets, I think?).

In the first books, I get that as the target audience was young kids, not much gravitas was placed in Harry’s treatment in the hands of the Dursley’s - they were the bad family he escaped into the magical world from, the anti-thesis to the Weasley family later, meant to seem more caricature and buffoonish.

If that frying pan had hit Harry, though? Depending on how hard Petunia swung it, no matter that she was concerned for Dudley (after Harry didn’t even use magic, just pretended to), that could have killed him.

We know Dudley beat Harry quite often with his friends, and Vernon at the very least threatened to do so (and from some of Harry’s lines, likely went through with said threats at times), but little about Petunia’s abuse of Harry is mentioned except in the very early books - her shaving his hair except for his bangs for example, leaving him to go to school mortified - so there’s no indication that she regularly threatened him physically over the emotional abuse, but still.

Not to mention the potential for neglect/abuse that Petunia herself went through, Lily being their parent’s favored child over her, how that in turn also affected her relationship with her sister, and then how that is turned on to Harry…

Petunia’s character, and redemption/atonement for Harry’s abuse is such an interesting concept.

Personally, I was never interested in a Petunia redemption arc. I think she's just as bad, if not worse than Vernon. So I'm going to have to disagree with you.

It's not that Petunia's sitting there feeling bad about how she and Vernon treat Harry and wish she could stop it — she doesn't. It's very clear throughout the books that she isn't remorseful at all.

Her feelings about Harry are complex because Harry is Lily's son. And as bitter and jealous as Petunia is, I think, she used to love her sister. Used to even be protective of her. So, deep down, I don't think she wants Harry dead or seriously hurt (to her standard), but at the same time, she feels justified in hurting him and treating him as subhuman.

See, Vernon truly does hate wizards. He fears magic, he loves normalcy, and he despises the "freaks" that essentially represent everything he hates. He's straightforward and completely honest in his approach.

The reason I sometimes consider Petunia worse, is becouse she isn't honest, she's a fucking hypocrite.

She wanted to be a witch. She wanted to be special and go to wizard school like Lily. She was jealous of Lily that she got to do magic and go to Hogwarts.

Petunia started calling wizards freaks and latched onto normalcy as a way to cope with not being special. I mean, she was told that magic exists, that there's a whole special world of magic out there, but that she isn't special enough to become part of it.

So young Petunia coped by going in the opposite direction. She became as normal as can be. Started claiming anyone special was a "freak" even when deep down she fucking knows that if she got a chance she'd leave and go to Hogwarts in a heartbeat. That deep down she wants to be special.

She transferred that jealousness and bitterness, then toward the wizarding world as a whole onto Harry personally, which is so unfair. Like, I find it disgusting, I find it disgusting how righteous she feels treating him the way they do. She is very similar to Snape in this regard (projecting her problems with Harry's parent onto Harry), just without any of the redeeming qualities since she isn't even all that smart, and she wouldn't give a shit if all her neighbors died one day (Snape would). And Snape was better to Harry than Petunia, let's be real, being an ass to a kid is not the same as starving a kid and locking him in a cupboard.

But I do want to point out, that she doesn't have the excuse of a cycle of abuse (I'm saying excuse because that's what it is. Tragic backstory can be used to explain characters' actions but it doesn't absolve them) becouse Petunia wasn't abused or particularly neglected. We have no indication she was, and I think it's more likey she was treated well.

We're told their parents loved having a witch in the house by Petunia in PS, but when we see Snape's memories, apparently their parents urged a pre-Hogwarts Lily not to do magic. They feared it until it was explained to them. Petunia is biased in what she says. Because while they were supportive of Lily once they understood, I don't believe they ever mistreated Petunia, and I don't think she is meant to be read as neglected.

I mean, Lily wasn't even home most of the year, Petunia was getting all of their parents' attention year-round, and during the breaks, they probably dotted on Lily because they hadn't seen her in months. This isn't neglect or abuse. This is Petunia being a petulant child who didn't get to be showered in attention all the time because her parents wanted to hear from the daughter they only got to see, like, 3 months a year.

I don't think either Lily or Petunia were abused or neglected, and I find it somewhat silly to try and justify Petunia by giving her a tragic backstory when the books make her reasons to hate Harry very clear. These being jealousy and pettiness.

So, I'm not interested in a redemption arc or atonement arc for Petunia or Vernon for that matter. I think neither of them deserves it and the only atonement I'd be interested in for them is a prison sentence for child abuse and neglect.

Yes, Petunia may not beat Harry physically as often as Vernon or Dudley, but she lets them. She watched him be chased by Marge's dog and laughed. She approved of Vernon's and Dudley's treatment of Harry because if she didn't, she wouldn't have let it happen. She stopped Vernon from throwing Harry out of the house when Dumbledore sent a threatening letter to her in OotP; if she cared to stop the abuse she didn't actively participate in herself, she had the power to do so, but didn't. Becouse she thought Harry deserved it. She mistreated him just as much. Looking at him with disgust and scorn and calling him a freak is abuse. Starving and locking him up is abuse. She isn't any better than Vernon.

The only Dursley I can see redeemed is Dudley. He started his journey in the books (btw, in that scene, Petunia thinks Dudley is "too sweet" for telling Harry he isn't a waste of space) and he actually was a child, like Harry. He did what his parents did like every child does. But he shows signs of improvement after Harry saves him from the dementors. He realizes his parents are full of shit.

So, yeah, Dudley is the only Dursley I'm interested in a redemption for. Petunia and Vernon deserve a prison sentence.

[manmuncher777]

Toji x sugarmummy! Reader 🥰

(not prof read im sorry I really couldn’t be bothered)

18+ smut MDNI !

(oral, fem!recieving, unprotected sex, P in V, degrading, pet names, praise etc)

- he met you one night in a bar, an expensive bar. Somewhere that he wouldnt be unless he was surveying a target.

- He sat secluded in the shadows, blending in. No one paying any heed to the considerably underdressed man who stalked each patron from the corner. He may as well of had a giant “fuck off” printed on his forehead. Not that anyone would notice him anyway enough to approach. It was like he was part if the background, toothpick in between his scarred lips.

- majority of the night he spent unnoticed as per usual, that was until one of the waiters approached the booth he was sat in, he was preparing to tell the young lad to fuck off until he heard was he said.

“The Lady at the end of the bar sent this for you sir, enjoy” the young man said placing down an expensive looking glass of some kind of whisky. Toji raised the glass, taking a sip - shit it tasted expensive too.

- his eyes glanced up looking for whoever sent this too him, all of a sudden on his guard

- until he saw you, oozing glamour as you sipped ona glass of wine, your hair shining in the dim lights of the bar, your manicured hands tapping on the marble bar top as you watched him, a sly grin on your face. Like a cat, watching a little mouse scurry around on the floor. You were expensive as well, Toji thought. He could tell by the way you held yourself, the jewellery that adorned your almost polished skin, that dress you had on - God that dress

- Toji didn’t go as unnoticed as he thought. that’s unusual

- Fuck it, he thought to himself as he rose from the shadows, emerging into the warm light. Still no one paying any attention to him other than you. He was curious, whats someone like you doing sending someone like him a drink, he felt like a 20 year old girl who was being hit on. But still, he wears curious. After all you might be related to this mission - at least that was the excuse he was giving himself as he approached you, sitting on the bar stool next to you

- He went to speak first, but you beat him first. “What’s a handsome guy like you doing in a place like this?” you teased, the sound of you velvety voice was music to Toji’s ears. You were confident and he could tell, your merciless eyecontact with him, not giving him a second to faulter.

- “Careful doll, I might think you’re flirting with me” he spoke after a moment of eye contact, watching your eyes light up at the fact he was playing along with your little game. He took anther generous sip on the whisky you bought him, wondering if you might taste as good

- “And what if I am… what can I say, you’ve been sat in the corner all night long, I would be lying if I said I wasn’t intrigued.” You spoke in a sultry tone, a hint of a smirk playing over your lips, you lean slightly closer, eyelashes fluttering as you gaze up at the dangerous looking man, main thing the eye contact that was creating an intimate atmosphere. The dim lights of the bar seeming to cast a delicate warmth on your flawless features, further alluring the man opposite you

- you extended your hand and offered the man your name, which he accepted. “Toji” he introduced himself, reclining onto the bar, biceps flexing. Your quick glance to his muscles not going unnoticed. A cocky smirk tugged at the corners of his mouth as he spoke “Maybe I was enjoying an evening to myself” he countered, words coated in arrogance

- “Oh please, don’t lie, if you weren’t interested you wouldn’t have come over” you chuckled at him, rather enjoying this interaction

- “Well it’s hard to ignore when a woman looking as good as you do sends me a drink… Or maybe I just came over for another glass of whisky” Toji’s eyes were trailing up your figure shamelessly at this point, stopping on your cleavage for a few noticeable seconds. You also took note of how his eyes travelled to your jewellery also, the diamond rings and sparkling watch you had on.

- “if you’re nice to me, ill get you as many glasses as you want” you stated without shame, you were quite intent on Toji, you’d do pretty much anything to get him. Despite only knowing him for an hour, you were drawn in. Toji’s charisma was palpable, playing his little hard to get role was really working for you

- “Im not so sure you could afford me sweetheart - and im anything but nice” He was close to you now, you didn’t realise but through this conversation you both had made your way closer and closer, pulled in by some unknown force. The smell of your perfume now engulfing him, a captivating blend of sweet notes that further blurred his sense. The alcohol flowing through his system not helping his inhibition, finding himself disorientated in that moment, his resolve weakening. He was thinking of taking you home right then, trying to stay strong and not imagine what faces you would pull as he fucked that cocky little smile out of you, or how you would sound as he cut off your cocky remarks by playing with your wet little cunt.

- You were both close enough now that one swift movement and his lips would be on yours, you couldnt take your eyes off of his. His whole energy promised you trouble. Good thing that was what you wanted, Not taking your eyes off his you pulled out a roll of bills, slamming them on the table, pushing them his way.

- “That enough for you pretty boy?”

- Seconds later you’re leaving that bar, your hand in his as you lead him out of the room. His eyes shamelessly watching your ass move in the dress, following you behind like a guard dog.

- As soon as your out of the car - you had a fucking private driver, toji was laughing in his head, you must be a real spoiled princess - Toji was itching to get you into your room, pressing into you behind as you fiddled with your keys, opening your door “down boy” you smirked at him

- That was it, Toji didn’t even let you get to the bedroom before he had his mouth on you, tasting the wine you’d been drinking earlier on your luscious lips. His huge hands roaming over any part of your body that he could access, relishing in those noises you made, god.

- He made quick work of that dress, throwing it off into the corner of the room somewhere before caging you in between him and the wall, lips unrelenting as he forced you into submission. He could tell even those lacy underwear you had on were expensive, the feel of them under his fingers.

- There was no space left between you as your lips fought each other with pent up passion, Toji had been thinking about this since the moment he saw you, and god that car journey was almost unbearable, having to listen to that honeyed voice of yours, teasing and taunting him when all he could thinks bout was how fast he could get you creaming on his cock. Hearing that voice of yours come out in beautiful broken moans.

-His lips finding their way to your neck, licking and biting the skin. Each movement filled with an undeniable hunger, you could feel him through his jeans. Your manicured nails finding your way to his back, tugging up his shirt and throwing it off in the distance like he did with your dress. Slowly dragging your nails down his now uncovered skin. He pulled away for a second, small strands of hair covering his eyes as he admired the many marks that he had left on you, they looked so good on your skin.

- Your eyes travelling down to look at his figured, and you weren’t disappointed. Your eyes roamed without restraint, drinking him in. The contours of his physique was captivating, he was so broad and so tall that he eclipsed you completely. You rubbed your thighs together just from seeing the deep V of his waistline and the broadness of his chest.

- “enjoying the view doll?” he purred, snapping you out of your little daydream. You couldnt do much else but nod. a pleasant fog shrounding your senses as you adhered to the dominance Toji exuded

- “oh? what happened to the girl at the bar? not so confident now are we sweetheart” he laughed as you just watched him with glossed eyes “No sassy comeback, shit youre already gone.” That arrogant smirk never leaving his face

- you couldnt even register that hed grabbed you and thrown you on the couch, only clocking back in when his fingers were ghosting over you wet cunt after having removed your panties. There you were, splayed out in a lacy bra, heels still on your feet as he kissed down your legs and nipped at your thighs, he was hardly even touching you but your hands still shot to his hair, trying to keep a grip of yourself. Hands grabbing gentle fistfuls of his dark locks.

- “easy princess, be a good girl and let me taste you” he murmured from between your thighs, pinning them down with his massive hands. You could do nothing but sit there and take what he gave you

- While his touches seems soft an gentle, it disguises his turn nature which is to have you trembling underneath him.

- He dives head first into your already dripping pussy, you juices dripping down his chin as he holds you quivering little legs up like the gentleman he is.

- He’s animalistic with it, every stroke of his thick tongue bringin out a sinful moan from those pretty little lips, every bump of his nose on your clit has you twitching and bucking underneath him, all hes trying to do is tame the spoilt brat your parents raised

- it not long until you releasing all over him, the noises of him sucking on your clit had the band inside you tightening until you thought you would break. when you finally do cum, you crying out his name and gushing all over that perfect face of his. Even then he doesnt let up, eating you until you’ve ridden out your high and are crying from overstimulation

- “that good huh princess?” you put all of your will into giving his hair a harsh tug, you still hadn’t released your grip as you lay there panting. Those taunting eyes of his staring at you from between your legs, you would say he looked angelic, but everything about this situation was far to sinful to be making such a comparison

-“Careful doll” he warns - Secretly getting more turned on by seeing you try to stay feisty

-Mere seconds later, not enough time for you to recover from that earth shattering orgasm, Toji is flipping you over, manhandling you into all fours as you allow him to move you as he wishes. He pushes you head into the cushions on your couch before positioning himself behind you

-You swear you were physically twitching as the sound of him unbuckling his belt. something that usually isn’t that erotic, but the way he was building up suspense and dragging it out had you quivering

-“God Toji, please fuck me. Please” You had completely given up on the confident act now, not that it lasted very long at all. All you wanted, no all you Needed was for this man to absolutely destroy you, rearrange your guts

-“Oh princess, did I get you all worked up? Look how much of a needy little whore you’re being for me” He’s dragging himself through the folds of your dripping cunt now. Slightly regretting not being able to see the expression on your face, but he knows it will be worth it in a minute for how deep he’s about to fuck you “See doll, isn’t this much easier than playing the spoilt bratty bitch. I would’ve taken you home a lot quicker if you said please like a good girl.. Matter of fact, say it again for me”

-“Please Toji, I need your cock, Plea-“ Tears were welling in your eyes as that pathetic whimpers and begs left you. Only to be cut off by Toji filling you to the brim in one thrust.

-You were sure you were about to choke, he was so deep it was like you could feel him in your throat. He stills, giving you a moment to adjust to his considerable size. Sure he gave off big dick energy at the bar, But you weren’t expecting him to be this big. You can hear him stifle a chuckle at your reaction to his cock

-Your walls so wet that the welcomed him with ease, allowing his throbbing cock to invade your velvety heat. Toji had to still himself as well, God you were so fucking right. Your pussy felt so good, even your pussy felt expensive

-Who knew the woman giving off an aura of glamour and class would be such a slut for some cock.

-His hand reached down, grabbing a fistful of your hair, giving it a tug. He began the move, throbbing clock sliding in and out of you in a teasing pace, it was almost torturing, but toji didn’t want to get ahead of himself. He wanted to have you unravel. you would be a cock drunk mess by the end of the evening he was certain. After all that’s what he was being paid to do

-“Oh my fucking god” you groan out, eyes rolling into the back of your head as his pace starts to increase. The crude sounds of his skin slapping against yours. balls hitting your clit echoed off your walls

-“Not God, just Toji princess” Smug fucker. If this wasn’t some of the best dick you have ever had you would slap him for how cocky he is

-His thick cock was stretching you in a way that was so delicious you were seeing stars. You were leaving on your elbows when the buckled underneath the pleasure, leaving you face first into the cushions, hands gripping onto them for dear life as the man behind throughly fucked the attitude out of you

-“Fuck- god this pussy is so good” He grunting and groaning, pulling at you hair to get a better grip on his thrusts. Th way you were arched right now had Toji hitting that spongy spot inside you. Your toes were curling, hot tears falling from you eyes and onto the cushions.

-Toji couldn’t believe his luck, he’d got out of that boring ass mission he was stuck in, he met a fucking gorgeous girl to take home with some of the best pussy he’s ever had. And she’s paying him more than he was going to get for the fucking mission anyway. Toji made it a personal mission to fuck you well, not because he was being paid, because he knew his services were worth paying for

-His free hand was soon making quick work of your clit, rubbing in tight quick circles. Focused on the bundle of nerves. You couldn’t help but grip him even tighter. Pulling him back in whenever he tried pulling back from your pussy

-“shit doll- hah” He had to screw his eyes such, trying to ward off his orgasm, he wasn’t yet ready to succumb to the pleasure he was feeling

-You on the other hand were crying out for your impending orgasm. “F-fuck Toji- i’m gonna-“ Waves rippling through your body, teasing you, warning you your climax was near. Your hips moving erratically, pushy squeezing Toji with each movement. Until he hit that spot in you again, and you were broken. Your legs trembled as your mouth opened in a silent scream. You stopped breathing for a moment as pleasure wracked through your body. “goddamn sweetheart.” he murmured, watching you, feeling how tightly you were clenching him.

-Now that Toji’s mission was accomplished, He could finish up. Not that it was going to take much. The way you were moaning incoherently beneath him still reeling from your orgasm, and the warm depths of you walls as hit fat tip hit your cervix, Your body- back arched all for him. He was cumming minutes after you, his hips never slowing their piston like pace. You could tell he was close as his breathing changed and his grunts turned into moans. A sound you needed to hear more of next time “Fucking hell sweetheart, I love this slutty little pussy”

-His hips began to stutter before he planted himself as deep as he could go, his hips pressed tightly against your ass as he shot thick hot ropes of cum into you. You wriggled at the feeling, so intimate, yet so dirty

-This became a regular thing, something you were quite happy with, and so was Toji.

- you paid him for his services, and he would treat you like a princess - until you got home of course and he was fucking you like some whore hed met on the street.

- Your dynamic was perfect, just what you were looking for, and you couldn’t be more grateful for a man like him

- it wasn’t official that you were his sugar mummy of course, it was like you were casually dating, if he needed money to bet on something,, you were sending it over. Along with a picture of you in lingerie, letting him know you were waiting for him when he got back. You liked to spoil him, showing him in designer shirts and beautiful watches.

- When you bought him a watch he had expressed hed been wanting for a while, he had his face buried in between your thighs to say thank you. He didn’t let up in the slightest, showing his thanks by leaving your les absolutely quivering

- After a while, the lines blurred, it became less sexual and more about just enjoying eachothers company. You had movie night and cute dinner dates that ended up with you both snuggling on you couch. Or sweet little self care nights when you managed to convince him to let you put a face mask on him (he secretly loved it)

- Toji just enjoyed showering you in affection, it actually wasn’t all about them money for him - even though it meant he didnt have to work as much - he just liked being around you. he didn’t mind that you would pay for most things, he was a secure enough man to not let it effect his masculinity. after all he was masculine enough in every other area, treating you like a princess

[thewizardingpost]

Never a Burden 

poly!marauders x fem!reader 

summary ⤑ you get caught making out with James in the hallway causing you to face a punishment from the new headmaster. when the punishment turns out to be one that scars words into your skin after writing them down on paper–you try to hide it from the guys so as to not concern them.  warnings ⤑ 1.3k, suggestive (making out), established relationship, hurt/comfort, injury (r sustaining, tw blood), this is based off of Umbridge’s punishments for the students in Harry Potter’s time, this is my post (I just got a new account)

You’ve had a knack of getting in trouble. It’s unavoidable when you date three of the known pranksters at Hogwarts–not to mention it's worse when you’re the one initiating ideas. And somehow, even after the series of ones that you’ve done, you’ve never been in detention. It didn’t make much sense to you, but you never questioned it. You were happy with your clean track record–that soon or later got busted when the new headmaster came in.

You didn’t care too much about said news until her new rules came to affect you. You learned fast that her new rules were stricter and a whole lot less fun to deal with. 

There really wasn’t any reason why James had your bodies so close together in public like this. It wasn’t necessarily a rarity–you’ve shared moments in public similar to this–but you’ve never had it escalate to this point. He’s been kissing you breathless, lips back on yours just seconds after moving to breathe. His hands were resting on your waist, yours on his face–pulling his face closer to deepen said kiss. 

“Oh no, no, no,” an airy voice says, voice getting louder as she moves closer, “this will not do.”

The both of you are dragged away from one another, your back hitting a wall that was a few feet behind you. You looked to her, the new headmaster, and already began to wish for her leave. She had her wand stuck up like a priss, beady eyes motioning between the two of you. 

“Who initiated this downright outrageous act,” she asks, humming at the end when neither of you answer quick enough. 

James’ mouth had moved like he was going to answer but it froze when he heard you. 

“Me. I did, headmaster.” 

         “Mm, that's so. Come with me to my office, dear, you’ll be facing detention,” she says, giving James a look when he starts to defend you, “anyone else who wishes to do the same as these two, or question my motives, will also face detention.”

While following her to the office you mouthed at James, telling him you’ll be alright. Based on how the boys described it, you’ll just be sitting in silence for an hour–which is nothing to be afraid or concerned over. 

She opens the door to her office, pointing at a seat nearby. A desk sat in front, empty until she placed a pen and paper in front of you. 

“I want you to write down, ‘I will keep my distance.”

        “How many times?”

“Well let’s see. However many times it takes for the message to sink in?”

         “You haven’t given me any ink?”

“Oh, you won’t need any, dear.”

You almost roll your eyes, hand angling on the paper to begin writing out the suggested phrase. After a few words your hand began to itch, tingling and burning. Once the ‘e’ had finished drying on the paper, you gasped when you looked over to your hand to find the phrase etched into your skin. It burnt like hell, slight blood trickling out from the corner. You learned to not dig hard into the paper then. You tried to write softly, ink barely showing on the paper as it would help to not dig so deep into your skin in search of ink. After four you felt like crying, tears forming in your eyes and making it hard to see. She had noticed, putting the pen down and saying that it seems like you’ve learned your lesson before sending you out. 

You turned to the closest bathroom, running the cold water over your injury. Tears fell down your face as the blood mixed with the water, turning it red until it got washed out. There wasn’t a sure way of keeping this to yourself, but you wanted to try. The boys, and especially James, didn’t need to know the events that transpired. It’ll only concern them. You didn’t want to give them another thing to worry about, feeling like you’ve used up too many of those ‘worry over me’ cards this week. If the wounds worsen or if you’re able to go a few days–then you’ll tell them. 

Then it’ll be good enough of a reason to ‘burden them’ again. 

“Sweetheart,” James exclaims when he finds you outside of his dorm room, moving aside to let you in. 

          Sirius presses a kiss to your head when you come to sit by him, “how was your first time in detention, gorgeous.” 

You clenched your fingers over the fresh wounds, “it was fine, boring. I see why you all hate it.” 

They moved from it–something you wanted to happen–so why did it upset you? You want to keep it from them, you’ve already burdened them enough this week, they don’t need another moment where the focus is on you. 

You had stressed over a test recently, confiding in them about it. You fretted over your owl when he didn’t return around his usual timing, again confiding in them about it. You lost an item in their room, and they helped you search for it. You’ve done enough. 

“Dove,” Remus calls, walking towards you, “what’s that on your arm?” 

        “Paint,” you lie, but it came too sudden–and you were never good at lying to them.

He huffs, smiling at you, “still a terrible liar. Did you hurt yourself?”

You look over at Sirius immediately and by the look on your face, everyone knows the look to him first was intentional. He sits up, “Why’re you giving me that look?”

          “Don’t get mad.”

“What happened,” he demands, looking over at your shirt that’s discoloring more with each minute. 

          “The headmaster today gave a rather unruly punishment.”

That’s all you explain before pushing your sleeve down with reluctant energy. Remus holds under your wrist, thumb affectionately rubbing the non-wounded skin as he looks over the injury. James had gotten up from his space, moving to get a glimpse as well. 

“From now on, I’ll go if she ever calls us to her office again,” he claims, earning a look from everyone after.

        “That will not be happening,” Remus whispers, moving the two of you towards his bed so he can officially clean out the wound with items inside of his drawer.

“And why not? I agree with James. If something happens, I’ll take the blame,” Sirius proposes. 

        “Because we’ll find a way around her. We don’t need to be obvious buffoons,” you wince when Remus wraps just a bit too tight in one area. He apologizes sweetly to you before continuing, “While we’re at it we can send a letter to the rightful headmaster, let him know what’s going on because this is appalling.”

You know the two agree when they move on with the conversation. 

“Love,” James looks to you, “why were you trying to keep this a secret?” 

        “I felt as if I've burdened you all enough this week, and didn't want to overwhelm you.”

“That’s highly unlikely to ever happen. Do you even remember all of the times I’ve asked for help this week?” 

Sirius snorts at his remark, and James chooses to ignore it for now. 

“Don’t ever think that giving us an opportunity to love and support you will turn into an event where you believe you’ll drive us away. You’re not a burden.”

      “But we are,” Sirius says, standing up from the couch, “well we will be after we scare this headmaster back to where she came from because who the fuck uses a cursed pen for a punishment. All you were doing was making out.”

“Be nice Padfoot, maybe she got caught and wanted to recreate that scene to make herself feel better,” James comments, smiling when he hears you laugh.