#but i can NEVER TELL until i actually give it some thought

[libraryofbronze]

That was what it said. Straight up. ''You'll be a whore with no self control and no brain. Just a dumb bimbo for cock.'' Yeah, right. I bet he's just talking big and can't do half of what he says he can. She threw a like his way just to poke him a little and went about her day. It wasn't like she was really looking forward to his reaction. Even if the thought didn't leave her mind for most of the day. Even if she kept looking back towards her phone, checking it again and again. It wasn't like she was calling anything down on herself. Lynna was a good girl. Always had been. Raised in a proper, formal, and above all normal family. The kind of family that had dinner together every night and refused to talk about anything more exciting than the latest sports results. She had three brothers, one of whom she liked and two of whom existed as a sort of mobile, good-natured pillar as far as she was concerned. She'd never had a boyfriend. Never had a relationship. Her family wouldn't have approved. Twenty years old and still under the control of her parents. But what else did you expect in a small town like this? Well, whatever. Let him spew anything he felt like at her. Frankly, she doubted that it would mean much.

That was, until she saw the first message. It arrived with a beep. The sound gave her a start! She imagined that with all the people who'd liked the post, he wouldn't even get around to her. Are you naked? What kind of question was that? Of course she wasn't naked! Lynna rolled her eyes. She should have expected something as basic as this. Of course not.

You should be, came the reply. I saw you like my post. Do you want me to tell you how I'd use you?

He didn't even give her the chance to reply before he launched into it! Fucking typical. Why had she even expected anything different? He was talking about how he'd strip her naked. How he'd put a collar on her. How he'd play with her naked chest, teasing and licking her nipples. She realised she was breathing a bit heavily. A slight flush danced across her cheeks. Was she actually getting turned on by it? No way! She looked around, wondering if anyone had seen. But the house was hers today. No one else was here. A tingle twisted in her gut. A slight tremor ran up her legs. He was still going. Still working. Still describing what he would do to her. It wasn't sex. It wasn't nice, loving, gentle or soft. It was hard and rough. Degrading and humiliating. He was writing about how he would fuck her, not love her. Lynna had never known anything like this before. At least. not really. She'd known what the post was about, of course, but to experience...? That was different? I should close it now. I should just close out of the site and do something else. Decent girls aren't supposed to read things like this. She was a decent girl. She'd been raised to be one. How could she be anything else? She shouldn't be reading this! But... But she couldn't tear her eyes away. There was a lump in her throat. She was breathing fast. Oh god, did she really feel the first hint of wetness between her legs? The guy was still going! He was talking about how she'd make her kneel in just her panties. her breasts exposed. How he'd pull out his cock. He was describing it in such detail. She swallowed. Her throat was dry. Her head was pounding. Heat twisted within her like a knife. One of her hands dipped. It moved slowly down to her skirt, feeling its way under the edge. A full-body twitch exploded through her form when her finger brushed the front of her panties. She was soaking. It wasn't like Lynna was some innocent angel. She may not have had a boyfriend, but she'd seen cocks before. She'd watched porn. She knew what they looked like. And now she imagined one right in front of her. She imaged herself kneeling, cold, collared. Her skin puckered and pale. The man's cock in front of her. The tip beaded with arousal. She imagined opening her mouth as he gripped her head and forced it down her throat. Fuck! Why was this turning her on so much? it wasn't supposed to be like this! She was supposed to be better, wasn't she?

How was he still going? He was asking questions now! He wanted to know the size of her tits! Why did men always go for that? She should tell him to shut up. She should tell him that was personal information! Instead, she answered him. He asked her if she was naked again. She told him no.

Why not?

The words pounded into her. She stared at them like a deer would stare at an oncoming car. They took up her whole world. Do it. Strip for me. Take off your top. Take off your bra. There was no one around. She could do it. She could get away with it. It wasn't like anyone would know! The air caught in her throat. She trembled as shaking fingers worked at her clothes. Lynna hissed in apprehension, fear and arousal. The top slid free, the silky fabric kissed her skin on parting. Next her bra - her plain, white, boring bra. She'd never done this before. Never undressed for a guy. It didn't matter that the guy wasn't even with her.

He knew she was doing it and that was enough.

Next, he started to tell her of all the ways he'd bring his friends in. Let them use her too. He was detailed, lurid. Telling her how they'd fuck her. How they'd fill her pussy. How they'd cum inside her again and again and again and how she would be punished if she didn't thank them for it every time. Lynna bit her thumb. The screen dominated her vision and she couldn't look away. Before she even knew it, she had collapsed into one of the chairs in the living room. her tits were out. Her legs were spread. She was touching herself. Through her panties, her fingers were brushing her pussy. Slow, gradual motions. A gradual building of tension coiled through her body like a snake. All the while, he was still telling her how he would use her. How he could cum over her. Paint her tits. Sign her body. How he'd treat her like a degenerate fuckpet because really, that was what she was. Why did this turn her on so much? Why couldn't she stop? Her fingers hooked around her panties now, forcing them to the side. The first touch against the throbbing folds of her labia sent a thundering pleasure coursing through her. She had to bite her lower lip not to moan too loudly. How was this guy doing it to her? Her body rocked. Her fingers grew more vigorous. Faster now. Little, sparking circles of stimulation. Her toes were curling. Her heart was pounding! If she hadn't had to hold the phone, she'd have been playing with her tits too. Shamelessly masturbating as a man she didn't even know treated her as something less than human. He told her how he'd fuck her. How he'd make her moan his name. How he'd keep her naked and ashamed. A well-trained pet that never had to wear clothes again. She would never mistake herself for his equal. She'd just be a toy. A thing to fuck and leave dripping and messy. And if she came too? it would only be because she couldn't hold back. She couldn't hold back right now! Lynna's body grew taut, she writhed in the chair. Her breathing was hard and fast. Little whimpers and gasps worked their way through her clenched teeth. Her fingers rubbed mindless and frantic. Sparkling pleasure leapt and danced! And then, he asked. Are you touching yourself right now, slut?

Fuck. Fuck! She had to lie! She had to pretend that she wasn't! That she was still decent! She had to- Yes.

Why? Why had she answered honestly?! Why had she said that? She'd been horny! She hadn't been thinking! She-

He launched into a whole new description. Even more vivid. Telling her how he would make her touch herself for him. How he'd record it. How he'd show it to all her friends and ruin her nice, normal life. By the time he was halfway through, Lynna was back to masturbating. her pleasure rose to a searing crescendo. Her body screamed, her nerves were on fire.

Every word he wrote blazed across her mind. It made her pussy clench with desperate need. Her core fluttered, wanting nothing more than to be filled with something, anything. Her clit was throbbing. She didn't remember feeling this turned on in all of her life! She had to focus. S-she had to stop... But how could she stop this? How could she even want to? The pleasure filled her. It crackled and danced between her nerves. It buzzed through her in a razor-edged scream until her toes were curling and her body was throbbing and her mind was drowning! Fuck, fuck, fuck! She couldn't take it anymore! She threw her spine back, her body arched. The pleasure built into a roaring, screaming finale that crashed through her body. And she exploded. The pleasure was so much. So great. The climax so intense. It swept her up. Her moaning cries were high-pitched and desperate. No amount of willpower could keep her quiet now. She felt like she'd been plunged into a churning sea. Her nerves were twitching, her body was writhing. There was no thought in her mind other than how good it felt. Then, slowly, so, so slowly, she felt herself coming down to earth. She was a mess. Gasping. Dripping. Her chest heaving. Her arms shook and her face burned with shame at how hard she'd cum. She saw that the man - the man she didn't even know - had finished his tale now. His storm of writing had died down. it ended with a simple message. A question and a demand. Do you want more? Beg for it.

And she knew. At that moment, Lynna knew she was his to keep.

If you reblog or like this post then you are giving me your consent to send you degrading messages, to turn you into a little cockslut, send you pictures of cock, messages about what I want my friends and I to do to your body and make you fully submit to anything and everything I ask. You’ll be a whore with no control and no brain, just a dumb bimbo for cock. ✨

[strangersteddierthings]

Jealousy Looks Different On You

[Part One] ✨ [You Are Here] ✨ [Part Three]

Steve can be a jealous man. He can be.

Just not in the same way that Eddie seems to thrive on it. Steve doesn't have a right to jealousy outside a relationship, so even if he feels jealous, he'll never act on it.

He thought it was just one of the many ways Eddie and he were incompatible romantically.

It was the same song and dance when they'd go out. Eddie would drag someone onto the dance floor and spend most of the dance making eyes at Steve until his catch of the night got jealous enough to pull Eddie out of eyesight.

Steve is used to that. That's the routine.

Except.

Well, except Eddie's broken the routine now, hasn't he?

Flipped the entire script by saying the things Steve has wanted to hear for years. I wouldn’t have rejected you and Jesus, Steve, you’re the only one I’ve really wanted.

Steve knows Eddie well enough to know that Eddie believes he's telling the truth or believes he really does want what he's saying to be the truth.

And now, sitting in silence in the back of a taxi that Eddie's gotten them, Steve can't bring himself to hope about it. Eddie's not a liar, as far as Steve knows, but that doesn't mean he actually wants Steve. Not for real. Not in the long run.

Steve can't give Eddie all the things Eddie seems to enjoy most. He's heard enough about Eddie's sex life to know they aren't super compatible in that department. And as far as he knows, Eddie's never even had a relationship. Just one-night stands and friends with benefits situations, which, y'know, Steve's not judging him about because Steve had all that once, too.

And maybe it's shitty of him to think but because Eddie's never been in a long-term monogamous relationship, Steve's not sure that one between them will work.

Okay. It's a lot shitty for him to think.

There's no real basis for Steve to think this other than that everything Steve wants out of a relationship, Eddie's shown him he wants the exact opposite.

Maybe Steve's just thinking shitty thoughts because it's easier than hoping that this might work.

The ride to the apartment is awkward only for Steve. They can't exactly talk about liking each other romantically in the back of a taxi where a stranger can clearly hear them, so they don't. Instead, Eddie chats up the cabbie about everything and anything that comes to his mind and Steve sits with just his thoughts.

Which are not being kind.

God, he's kind of a shitty person, isn't he?

Steve lets them both into the apartment and it feels different now. It's not like Eddie's never been in Steve's apartment. Hell, he's been sleeping in his old room for this whole 'break from the LA stress' he's taken. Has been here three days already, so this isn't even the first time this week that Steve's let them both into the apartment.

It's just different now that Eddie knows. Steve's been living his life with the assumption that Eddie knew but now he knows and everything is different.

"You, uh, want a beer?" Steve asks as he toes off his shoes, stalling because he doesn't know how to start this conversation. Isn't even sure he wants to because having this conversation means there is no going back. He won't be able to unsay these things, Eddie won't be able to unhear them. It'll be out there. All his hurt and love and fear and hope.

"Steve," is all Eddie says, in a tone that says 'we need to talk'.

So, Steve swallows thickly, nods, and heads for the living room. It's so stupid but he suddenly feels exposed, so he picks up a throw pillow from the couch before he plops onto it. He turns completely sideways, back to the armrest of the couch and legs crossed, pillow in his lap to act as a barrier of some sort. Something to feel less exposed.

Eddie takes longer to join him because, unlike Steve, he'd gotten completely done up for the bar and that includes full lace up combat boots that he can't easily slip out of.

Eddie finally joins him in the living room, pausing when he sees Steve before he moves to sit on the couch, one leg folded under him and the other on the floor. He leaves a respectable foot of distance between them and Steve's not sure if he's disappointed by that or not.

There is a tense silence that falls on them, neither brave enough to really begin the conversation that could be the end of everything.

"Steve, I- I don't even know where to start, man," Eddie finally says, running a hand through his hair.

"Me either," Steve says, looking down and picking at the pillow. "You were the one who said we needed to talk."

"Because we do?" Eddie sounds confused. "I, fuck man, I basically accused you of being in love with me and you confirmed it. We gotta talk about that."

Steve frowns because he doesn't agree. They don't have to talk about it. As far as Steve was concerned, they've been successfully not talking about it for years. Nothing has really changed from Steve's perspective. "What's there to talk about?"

"That you love me! And that I was, am, in love with you, too! That feels like a big deal!" Eddie cries, voice not loud enough to bother the neighbors yet but he can easily get that way. "You- why don't you seem as happy about this as I am?"

"Because I'm not," Steve says, stern and biting as he finally looks up from the pillow. "How am I supposed to be happy about this? This is going to change everything between us. Everything! And I've been- I've made peace with how this wasn't- with how things were between us."

Eddie stares back at him, eyes wide and mouth agape in his shock. It takes him a moment to recover. "I don't... understand. Why, why aren't you happy? Of course this will change things between us, but you make it sound like it'll be for the worse? I thought-"

"What? You thought you'd tell me you love me too and I'd jump into your arms?"

"Well, kinda," Eddie starts, but Steve doesn't want to hear it.

"I can't! Eddie, I can't. I'm not- I-I get that you, that you've just realized I loved you, but I've been living with the assumption that you already knew. I thought you knew for years. And now you're sitting here, telling me that you've felt the same. What, this whole time?"

"Yes! For longer, probably!" Eddie argues back, anger and hurt mixing on his face. "I've never known you to not go after the person you want, so why did you say anything sooner?"

"Why didn't you!?" Steve shouts, feeling the heat of tears in his eyes. He throws the pillow at Eddie and jumps from the couch to pace the living room. "We lived together for years! And I watched as you brought home guy after guy after guy. I listened as you waxed poetry about the perfect man for you; a fellow metalhead who would want to go to concerts with you, someone who'd play DnD with you and enjoyed your other nerd things, and-and-and," Steve stutters over the word, fighting back making a sobbing sound because it's one thing to let Eddie see his tears; it's an entirely different thing to let him hear the whole sob-fest Steve's fight back. "And a laundry list of all the kinks they have to b-be into so you don't get bored. I- God, you'd laid out your incredibly long list of standards that I didn't fit before I'd even realized I liked men. That I liked you! Why would I even try when I already knew I'd never measure up?"

He's pacing still. Movement helps him push the urge to cry down and makes the tears dry up. It takes him a while to realize that there's been no answer from Eddie. So, Steve finally gets his emotions under control and turns to look at the couch, to see Eddie's response.

He's not expecting to see tears falling down Eddie's own cheeks and wearing a face of heartbreak and regret.

[pretentious-blonde]

jealous much?

pairing: steve harrington x reader

summary: steve may not be the jealous type, but when he sees someone else eyeing his girl, he’s more than happy to remind you exactly who takes care of you the best

warnings: 18+ this is smut, filth with feelings, depictions of sex, p in v, fingering, manhandling, steve being a cocky little shit, lots and lots of aftercare because how could i not???

a/n: to the anon(s) that told me they wanted steve to be a bit harsher, i gotchu <3 pt. 6 but can be read as a standalone!!

series masterlist

Steve’s bedroom was always comfortably cluttered—movie tickets scattered on the nightstand, a lone shirt draped over the desk chair, and a rumpled blanket that smelled faintly of his cologne. You loved it here. Loved being with him here. The two of you were sprawled across his bed, legs tangled, currently discussing the goings-on with the people in Hawkins. 

He always had a soft spot for scandal, unable to shake his love for idle gossip. He kept up with every whisper in the school hallways—a habit that only worsened once he gained access to the town’s personal archive of movie choices. 

Dangerous information for him to have, truly. 

“You should’ve seen what Keith has been checking out lately,” he said, propping himself up on his elbow, eyes bright. “Nothing but straight rom-coms. He thinks we don’t notice—‘cause, y’know, he does it on his own time—but Rob went snooping through the store’s computer system.”

“No way. Keith?” You snorted. “I thought he was into those art-house horror flicks or those silent German ones.”

“Right?” Steve agreed with a dramatic roll of his eyes. “We’re putting money on him having a girlfriend. That would explain why he’s been giving us both more hours lately—guy’s gotta prioritise his love-life, you know?”

“Huh,” you mused, nudging his knee with yours. “So he finally snagged a girl?”

“That’s the theory,” he affirmed, voice dropping conspiratorially. “Now we just gotta figure out who it is. Or corner him into telling us.”

You giggled, leaning your head against his shoulder. “Well, I’m sure that won’t take long. Keith has never been good at subtlety.”

“Kinda jealous he’s the one who arranges the schedule, though.” He hummed, shifting closer until you could feel the warmth of his breath on your hair. “Means I gotta argue with him if I want a full weekend off.”

“You poor thing,” you teased, tapping his chest. “I can always come hang out if you get stuck working. Keep you company.”

He brightened. “Yeah?”

“Totally,” you said smiling. “I don’t mind. I'm very entertaining.”

“Well, does that mean when I get a weekday off, I can come crash your work?” he asked, waggling his brows. “I look great in a tie.”

You eyed him skeptically, but there was no denying he’d look downright mouthwatering in a suit. All done up, weaving through your office like he owned the place—it made your insides curl.

He’d probably climb the ladder faster than you, effortlessly charming his way to the top. It was unfair how charismatic he could be, even without trying.

“I wish you could.” You groan, getting your mind out of the gutter. “It’d make the day go so much faster.”

"I’d be the perfect intern," he agreed, "I could grab the coffee for a change—plus,” a playful smile tugs at his lips as he gazes down at you, “I already know exactly how you like it."

You laughed, then shrugged. “Actually, you wouldn’t have to run for coffee now. We got a new hire last week—Ryan, I think his name is? He’s younger, maybe by a year or so, but super eager. I’ve been showing him around, finally getting some of the stress off my plate.”

His expression changed with a touch of curiosity or perhaps just a pang of protectiveness—but it settled quickly into genuine affection. He reached out and brushed a stray strand of hair away from your face. 

“You looking out for him, angel?”

“Yeah—well, I mean—” A flush crept up your cheeks. “I would’ve liked if someone had done that for me when I started, you know? Don’t want him to feel overwhelmed by everything.”

He almost melted as those words left your lips, loving the flustered look on your face when he praised you.

God, you’re too sweet for your own good sometimes.

You snuggled closer and let out a yawn, feeling his arm tighten around you in a gentle hug as you hid your face in his chest.

“Alright,” he said, clearing his throat as he glanced at the clock on his desk. “Come on sleepyhead. You’ve got an early morning, gotta get some rest."

You groaned dramatically. “Ugh, don’t remind me.”

“Hey,” he offered with a warm smile, “want me to drive you? I’ve got tomorrow off so it’s really no trouble.”

“Honestly, it’s fine.” You shook your head tiredly. “Have a lie-in for once, you deserve it. Besides, you’re picking me up after work anyway, right?”

A lazy, content grin spread across his face.

“Yeah, yeah. Alright,” he murmured, leaning in to kiss you—slow and sweet. “Come on, sweetheart. Bedtime.”

Steve insisted on seeing you off that morning, even when you tried to do the nice thing and let him sleep in. 

He woke up with you anyway. It baffled you how he could sleep through his own alarm but miraculously rise at the first buzz of yours. Even when you tried to turn it off and sneakily creep around his room without rousing him, your efforts were futile. 

He followed you downstairs and sipped the coffee he brewed for you both at the kitchen counter, watching while you tugged on your office blazer, making sure your hair was just right in the reflection of the hall mirror. 

It made him grin stupidly, watching you hustle around in your formal attire—his career girl. 

He couldn’t help himself. He’d pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead at his doorstep before you left, telling you to “knock ‘em dead.” Which earned him a huff from you. 

He was far too corny in the morning for your liking. 

Only when your car was out of sight did he head back inside, now all glum that he had to entertain himself for the rest of the day.

He spent his time alone doing errands—laundry, a quick trip to the grocery store, all while counting down the hours till he could swing by your office.

It wasn’t pathetic, but he’d be the first to admit he was maybe a little too eager. Then again, he’d found his person, and he figured it wasn’t a crime to want every spare minute with you.

When the time finally came, he pulled up outside the Hawkins Post, scanning the pavement for your familiar silhouette. 

He spotted you laughing with someone—the new hire, must be, he deduced as he took in the guy’s slightly younger appearance and the way he stood just a bit too close to you for his liking. His fingers tightened around the steering wheel as he examined him further. 

Great. Of course he’s hot.

You glanced up just then, beaming at the sight of the familiar BMW. After a quick word to your coworker—who, he noted—looked decidedly unhappy as he caught Steve’s eye.

You bounded over to the passenger seat as he gave the guy a little wave, more smug than polite, and felt a twist of satisfaction when the guy’s scowl deepened.

You slid into the seat, barely getting the door shut before he leaned in over the console to kiss you—deep and warm, with a hint of urgency that made your pulse skip. You let out a surprised hum but quickly relaxed into it, hand coming up to rest on his cheek.

“What was that for?” You pulled back, blinking at him.

He shrugged, eyes flicking past you to the figure still hovering on the pavement. 

“Nothing,” he said, casual as can be. “Just missed you, that’s all.” 

He caught your colleague staring and resisted the urge to smirk openly.

Gotcha.

You huffed a playful laugh, still a little breathless. “Well, I’m not complaining.”

“Ready to go?” Steve asked, turning the key in the ignition. You nodded, and he eased the car into the street. “Oh—there are M&Ms in the glove box. Grabbed 'em for you.” He added, remembering picking them up at the store earlier. Knowing you’d appreciate it. 

“Ugh, you’re the best, you know that?” you said, popping open the compartment and grabbing the bag, eagerly tearing through the plastic.

He glanced sideways, a small, satisfied grin tugging at his lips. Holding out his hand, he waited as you handed him a few—only fair, after all.

Because, yeah, he is the best.

Damn right.

And he’s glad you think so too. 

Dinner had wrapped up at your flat, the remnants of takeaway containers still on the coffee table, but neither of you paid them much mind. You were curled up with him on the couch, your legs draped over his lap as you recounted every last detail of your day—he hung onto each word like it was the most important news in the world. 

Well, more important to him than the news you printed, anyway. 

“And,” you said, voice cracking with excitement, “they’re finally letting me write my own story! The whole thing, just me.”

His grin was instant, radiant enough to outshine the lamp in the corner. Pure happiness poured from him as he watched you speak, your joy lighting up the room.

There wasn’t a trace of resentment—just pride, just excitement, just you. 

He was every bit as thrilled as you were, because he knew how hard you’d worked to get here. And now, seeing it all finally pay off, he couldn’t have been prouder of you.

“That’s incredible, honey,” he said truthfully. “Seriously, can’t wait to read it. What’s it gonna be about?”

You shrugged, flustered and thrilled all at once. “I have so many ideas—I haven’t decided yet.”

“Well, whatever you choose, I’m first in line for a sneak peek.” He draped an arm behind you on the couch, giving you a playful nudge. “You gonna let me see the first draft?”

“Nope.” You snorted. “You have to wait until it’s printed, just like everyone else. No boyfriend privileges here.”

“What?” He let out a mock-offended huff. “I’m supposed to wait for the issue like the rest of town? Come on you gotta give me, like, a preview or something.”

“Alright, alright,” you conceded, stifling a laugh at his dramatic pout. “Let me get changed first, and then maybe we can brainstorm together, okay?”

He leaned back, playful grin returning. “But I like the corporate look.”

“Yeah, well, now you get the pajama look,” you countered, sticking your tongue out as you got up.

He watched you walk off, fondness swelling in his chest. He’d never get tired of that view—hair done up from a day at the office, blouse slightly rumpled from a long day’s work. 

You disappeared into your bedroom, leaving him alone on the couch. He let out a contented sigh, kicking his feet up on the coffee table.

With a lazy flick of the remote, he turned up the volume on the TV, barely sparing it a glance. What you wore didn’t matter to him—truth be told, he loved you just as much in cosy attire as in your best dressed-up look.

Comfort suited you, and therefore suited him just fine.

Not even a minute after your departure, the phone rang—a jarring, tinny sound that made him glance over his shoulder. It only rang twice before he heard your cheerful voice answer in the bedroom. 

His ears perked up. He couldn’t help it—he was nosey.

Sue him. 

Muting the TV, he angled his head to listen, as your muffled giggle drifted through the space. 

“No, seriously, don’t worry about it,” you said. “He doesn’t need it until Monday—promise.”

He rose from the couch, moving quietly toward your slightly ajar door. He caught a glimpse of you standing by your chest of drawers, one hand on your hip, the other clutching the receiver. He couldn’t quite make out every expression with your back turned, but your tone was friendly, warm, comfortable. 

An unwelcome pang of jealousy flared in his chest, though he quickly reminded himself that you love him, you’ve talked about this, he trusts you. 

Still, he couldn’t resist sidling closer.

“Yeah, don’t listen to what he said,” you continued, your tone soothing. “He’s all talk, trust me.”

He inched into the room, sliding his arms around your waist from behind and nuzzling his face against your neck. Your skin was still warm and you let out a tiny squeak of surprise, but you didn’t pull away. Instead, you leaned into him.

He inched down to whisper in your free ear, low and soft. 

“Who is it?”

Turning to him, you quickly covered the receiver with your palm. “Ryan,” you mouthed.

Ryan. Right. Great. 

He rolled his eyes a little, then brushed a slow kiss on the side of your neck. 

“Call him tomorrow, sweetheart,” he murmured, voice playful but filled with an undercurrent of impatience. 

You already spent the whole day with the guy, and now he's calling you? Even when he saw him pick you up? It didn’t take a genius to figure out you had other plans, and the thought nudged at him uncomfortably. 

You shook your head in exasperation, though you were smiling. He continued to nuzzle you, pressing you gently forward until your back arched at the contact. 

“Leave work at the door,” he teased, fingers pressing slightly into your waist.

You exhaled a soft laugh and brought the phone back to your ear. “Hey, Ryan? I’ll, uh, I’ll just swing by the office a bit earlier tomorrow if you need anything else, okay? … Yeah, no worries, meet you outside. Bye.”

You placed the handset back in the cradle and turned fully to face your boyfriend, still in your work clothes, not yet changed.

Crossing your arms, you fixed him with a look, and he couldn’t help but smirk, already anticipating the playful scolding coming his way. But all he could focus on was you—standing there in your blouse and slacks, looking far too damn sweet for him to take even the slightest bit seriously.

“Feeling needy, huh?” you asked, tilting your head.

He let out an incredulous huff, the corner of his mouth tugging upward. 

“What? Couldn’t he have waited till tomorrow? I mean… come on. He could have talked to you anytime today.”

You shrugged. “I did tell him he could call if he had any questions.”

He snorted, stepping closer, fingers trailing gently along your waist. 

“Questions, huh?”

“Questions,” you confirmed, heart skipping a beat at the intent look in his eyes.

His touch lingered, a tiny spark of possessiveness flickering behind his eyes. Then the realisation seemed to strike. You saw it—the slight tightening of his jaw, the faint furrow between his brows. It made you bite your cheek to stop from letting a giggle slip. 

“Wait a second,” you said, holding back a smile. “Steve, are you… are you jealous?”

“What? No.” He shifted, clearing his throat. “Absolutely not.”

“You so are,” you pressed, delighting in the way his nose scrunched ever so slightly.

“Sweetheart,” he warned, voice dipping lower, “I’m not.”

You only giggled, emboldened by the rosy flush creeping into his cheeks, wanting to push his buttons just a little. 

“Aw, you think I’d ever pick him over you?”

Something sparked in his eyes, a confident glint that made your stomach flutter. 

“Oh, honey,” he purred, “I know you wouldn’t pick him over me.”

You couldn’t resist teasing him one step further.

“Oh, well…” you sighed, letting the words trail with a mischievous lilt, “I’m not quite sure. I mean, he knows my coffee order too, you know.”

The air shifted—his hand slid up your torso in one smooth motion, fingertips barely brushing the exposed skin of your collarbone before settling at the base of your throat. 

His palm rested there, thumb gently grazing your quickening heartbeat as he angled your chin up to face him.

“You wanna finish that thought, sweetheart?” he murmured, voice low enough to send a tremor through you.

You swallowed, a sudden dryness in your throat. He smirked, clearly relishing your hesitation. 

“Didn’t think so,” he whispered, brushing his lips fleetingly against the corner of your mouth before pulling back.

Your heart pounded, body already hyper-aware of each place he touched you. You wondered if he could feel the way your pulse had sped up beneath his hand—because from the triumphant gleam in his eye, it was clear he knew precisely what kind of effect he had on you.

When his fingers trailed beneath your collar again, you shivered, and the reaction only seemed to spur him on. 

“Think I’m jealous, baby?” His mouth hovered just above yours, teasing, refusing to close the distance.

When you leaned in, he pushed back just enough to make you wait, to make you listen. 

"Need me to show you how well I take care of you?” His other palm slid against your lower back, holding you flush against him. “Can’t have you forgetting, can we?"

The way he was looking at you, like he dared you to argue.

His eyes were locked on yours, hungry and unapologetically smug, as he backed you against the counter. Waiting for the subtle nod of your head to tell him to continue. 

His fingers fiddled with the button of your trousers, and you could practically feel his heart racing in sync with your own.

“H-haven’t forgotten,” you managed to stutter out, trying to sound more confident than you felt.

He cocked a brow as he paused his motions, leaning in until his breath fanned over your lips. 

“You sure? The way you were talking—almost like you need a reminder.” A slow, dangerous smile tugged at his mouth. “And you know how much I love proving my point.”

You swallowed hard. You did know—Steve was stubborn as hell, and once he made up his mind, there was no talking him down. 

You’d learned that the very first time you hung out with him—he spent a whole hour building you that damned bookshelf that was wedged in the corner of your living room, refusing to even let you help him carry it up the stairs. All in an effort to prove himself to you.

And by the way he was acting, he was determined to prove himself again. 

“Say the word, baby, and I’ll stop.” He tells you earnestly, as his brown eyes search your face. 

He would stop in an instant if you told him to, but the way you're looking at him tells him you won’t. Something tells him that you want him to show you how good he can make you feel.

And Steve? 

Well, Steve never backed down from a challenge. 

You let out a shaky exhale, no response forming except the pleading expression you're giving him. A small, triumphant noise rumbled in his throat. Your slacks and underwear hit the floor, and in one swift motion, he coaxed you against the side of the counter, broad hands splaying over your hips.

He brushed his hand against you slowly, cautiously, fingers gliding against your core and making your knees threaten to buckle.

“Already?” His tone was low, teasing, right at your ear as his fingers entered you with a lewd, wet sound. “You’re shaking, baby. Maybe I have been neglecting you.”

“Please,” you whimpered after a moment, overwhelmed by how slow and teasing he was moving—he wasn’t normally quite so unhurried with the foreplay.

Steve usually never made you beg for anything. 

He let out a soft chuckle, pressing a slow, teasing kiss to the side of your neck. Clearly, he was enjoying this—relishing the way your hands pawed at his shoulders, desperate, pleading for more. For him to stop playing and just give in.

“Shhh, I’ll take care of you, alright?” His fingers moved with agonising precision. “So sensitive—so sweet for me”

Your breathing stuttered; the sensations bloomed hot and electric with every brush of his fingers. But his mouth kept going, sliding into that cocky territory he owned so well. 

“Bet he wouldn’t even know where to start with you,” he murmured, voice laced with pride. "Wouldn’t even know how fucking beautiful you sound when you—" his thumb pressed hard against your clit, dragging a desperate, wrecked moan from your lips, “—fuck yourself on my fingers.”

You could tell he was on a roll, completely caught up in the moment, but you mustered the courage to speak anyway.

Feeling bold, you forced a small smirk, even as your body threatened to betray you. You’d never seen him this pent up before—this utterly consumed—and the sheer thrill of it sent a sharp, electric spark through you.

Curiosity burned—just how far could you push him?

“O-oh, I don’t know—” you managed to choke out, stepping on dangerous territory. “He’s a keen learner…”

So that’s how it’s gonna be, huh?

Everything stopped—his fingers, his breath, the push of his body against yours. He stilled, letting a harsh exhale flare his nostrils. 

Then a dark, knowing laugh bubbled out of him as he lifted his head to look at you—really look at you. You caught a glimpse of his determined face, before all composure snapped. 

Now he really had something to prove.

“Fuck, angel,” he groaned, voice taking on a frustrated edge. “You just don’t know when to stop—do you?”

Before you could react, he flipped you around and pushed your hips down against the dresser with a firm grip. The wood pressed into your stomach, your palms splayed on either side as he molded himself to your back.

He cupped your jaw from behind and you gasped at the harshness of his grip, every nerve alive. His teeth found your shoulder, biting just enough to blur the line between pleasure and pain.

You let out a sharp cry, and he swallowed it with a low groan. Running his tongue against the dull ache as a gentle apology. 

“One of these days," he muttered, "that smart mouth of yours is gonna get you in trouble—” you could feel his breath, hot and ragged, “—lucky for you, I’m the one who gets to teach it a lesson.”

His words send shivers across your skin and you tried to twist in his grip. 

“Oh no, you don’t,” he chided as you tried to squirm, pressing against you back as he stilled your movements. “Stay.”

He placed one strong palm between your shoulder blades, guiding you lower, til your chest made contact with the wooden surface. Keeping you where he wanted you.

He wasn’t pushing, wasn’t forcing—just holding you there, making sure you felt him, making sure you knew exactly how this was going to go.

Your legs stumbled as you adjusted to the position, and he just laughed, sliding his fingers inside you once more, coaxing the most desperate little noises from your lips.

“Say my name, angel,” he demanded, that infuriating confidence dripping from every syllable.

“S-Steve,” you whimpered, voice barely recognisable to your own ears.

“Good,” he praised, dipping his head to kiss along your shoulder, fingers hitting that sweet spot inside that he knew drives you wild. “Want it to be the only thing in your head, okay?”

You moaned out his name once more, and he hummed with approval. 

“That’s right." He cooed. "You're a fast learner, baby.”

He pulled away momentarily and you whined at the loss of contact, until you heard the metallic rasp of his zipper. He was right back against you, pressing his length along you with a low moan.

"You feel that?"  he murmured, voice thick with need as he pressed against you, rolling his hips in a slow, deliberate grind. The friction sent sparks through your core, pulling a soft gasp from your lips. His grip tightened, fingers digging in just enough to make you shiver. "You're soaked, sweetheart."

He didn’t want to wait—couldn’t wait. He needed to prove it to you, needed you to understand just how much he could give you. Just how much he deserved you. 

You tried to speak, but your voice came out ragged. Then, mercifully, he pushed inside—slow enough to let you feel every inch. The stretch pulled a drawn-out, trembling whine from your chest.

“Ah, fuck—.” His own voice cracked, hips snapping forward as though he couldn’t possibly wait another second. “That’s it—see how good that feels?—pussy was made for me. Ain't that right, angel?”

You only mewled in response as he settled into a driving rhythm, each thrust pushing you into the surface, bullying his cock deeper and deeper inside.

He wrapped a hand against the back of your neck, keeping you pinned where he could use you, pressing hot kisses along your shoulders when you cried out. It was music to his ears as he continued his relentless pace.

Normally he was gentler, but now, he was done holding back. The litany pouring from his mouth was shameless, full of desire and unfiltered possessiveness.

“Should’ve kept him on that damn phone—” he rasped against your neck, each word punctuated by a thrust. “Should’ve made him listen to how you sound—‘cause that’s the closest he’s ever gonna get to having you like this—”

Your walls tightened around him as his words poured over you, and he noticed—of course he noticed. He drank in every tremor, every flutter of your pussy, letting out a breathless laugh tinged with disbelief as he felt you squeeze him deeper at his teasing remarks.

"You like that?—really?" He let out an amused chuckle at the new information. “Shit—never knew how filthy you were, baby.” 

The way you gripped his length, pulling him deeper, the sinful sounds spilling from your lips—he knew he was giving you both. Worship and destruction. 

And fuck, you loved it.

You dragged your nails across the dresser’s surface, searching for an anchor in the storm of sensation. His hand slid over yours, fingers lacing as he drove into you, relentless.

“Too fucking bad he’s never gonna see how pretty you look when you're fucked dumb,” he whispered, leaning in to kiss the side of your neck, his hot breath sending shivers down your spine. "That's just for me."

You felt your composure slipping, your body teetering on the edge. Your head rolled to the side, a broken string of words escaping.

“Steve, please—” spilled from your lips, but you weren’t even sure what you were begging for at this point.

He tangled his fingers in your hair, pulling you upright just enough so he could whisper directly into your ear. The pain was delicious as you arched against him, lungs gasping for air as he continued to spill every dirty thought he had.

"It's alright sweetheart—I’ll give you what you need. Just look at you—can’t even think straight." A soft, desperate moan tore from your throat as his mouth continued to run. "Just falling apart on my cock, letting me fuck every last thought out of that pretty head of yours."

His pace quickened, your body overwhelmed with the slide of him inside your walls, the heat of his skin, the possessive timbre in every word he rasped into your ear.

"But you know what you will remember?" he purred, teeth grazing the shell of your ear. "Every time you see him, you’ll remember how I had you bent in half, screaming my name—not his." He let you fall back onto the dresser, firm grip returning to your shoulder. "I want this burned into you, baby. So every fucking time you even look at him, all you can think about is me stretching you open—ruining you for anyone else."

Fuck, you knew Steve was loose-lipped in bed, but this was something else entirely. 

He wasn’t making love to you—he was fucking you. Hard. Rough. Saying whatever filthy thing came to mind without a second thought. 

You wished you could throw back a sly quip, but at this pace? You could barely breathe, let alone speak. 

Not that it would matter—he wouldn’t give you the chance.

Your moans rose in pitch, matching the mounting tension in your core, and he groaned, voice unraveling into something so heady it almost vibrated through you.

"I—fuck—I want you feeling me tomorrow, sweetheart—want every step you take to remind you exactly what’s waiting for you when you come home." He thrust sharply, greeted with the cry that tore from your lips. "‘Cause, baby, I’ve got no problem bending you over like this again and again—’til the lesson sticks—"

That final promise was all you needed—you came hard, a wave of ecstasy rolling through you as your body clenched around him. Your cry echoed in the small space, and you felt his grip falter as he groaned your name, riding the crest of your climax.

“Fuck, baby—that’s it,” he choked out, thrusts turning erratic. “So good for me, taking me so—”

Then he followed you over the edge, hips snapping one last time before his body seized. You felt his breath come in ragged pants against your neck, his chest pressed to your back. Every muscle in him went taut, then slack, as he let out a deep, guttural moan of satisfaction.

Your name fell from his lips in a trembling exhale, and for a moment, neither of you moved—both lost in the aftermath, hearts hammering in sync.

He held you for a beat longer, both of you still catching your breath. Your body trembled against the wood, and as he finally pulled out, he stayed close—almost reluctant to let you go.

But as he pulled away brushing a knuckle over your spine, guilt crept into his eyes the moment he took in your shaky form.

“Ah—shit” he murmured, voice low. “Hey, sweetheart, you with me?”

You nodded weakly, turning your head and giving him the smallest smile of reassurance, but he still frowned in concern. Maybe he'd gone overboard.

“Yeah… all right. Can you stand?”

“I—I think so,” you managed breathily.

“Okay,” he whispered, guiding you upright with one gentle arm around your waist. Once he was sure you weren’t going to topple over, he bent down to scoop up your trousers and set them aside. You’d probably complain if they got creased—more creased than they were. Though, that wasn’t his number one priority right now. 

You noticed the way his forehead furrowed in worry as he led you to the bed, helping you settle against the duvet. He slid in behind you, propping himself against the headboard so you could rest in his lap.

Your hands trembled a bit from aftershocks—adrenaline still coursing through your veins. He felt it, too, and his anxious expression only deepened.

He tucked a piece of hair behind your ear, pressing a soft kiss to the crown of your head.

“Hey, angel?” His voice was gentle, coaxing, as he sought your eyes. “Can you look at me for a sec?”

You tilted your head back to meet his worried gaze, your cheeks still flushed and eyes glazed with the rush of it all. His own eyes flickered over your messy hair, the light smudges of your makeup, and your rumpled work shirt. Guilt pinched at his features.

“I didn’t hurt you, did I?” His words tumbled out in a rush. “I’m sorry if I got carried away. I just—just got caught up in everything, and you—”

You let out a soft chuckle, lifting a hand to cover his mouth gently. 

God, he’s adorable when he’s fussing over you. 

“Steve,” you said softly, watching him go silent. “You didn’t hurt me. I promise.”

He still looked unconvinced. “You’re just saying that.”

“No, I'm not,” you replied, smoothing your thumb over the swell of his bottom lip. “I’m really, really good. Better than good.”

He cupped your face gently, thumb brushing soft circles into your cheek, eyes flicking between yours as if searching for any sign of discomfort.

“Didn’t mean to be so rough,” he murmured, voice laced with concern. "Should've been more gentle with you, angel."

You were still quivering in his lap, body still sensitive. He was torn between holding you tighter against him, or letting you breathe.

You leaned forward after sensing his hesitation, brushing a soft kiss to his jaw, you make the decision for him.

“I loved it." You tell him truthfully. "I love you.”

He exhaled a shaky breath, hands finding your hips and holding you there. His warmth seeped into you through the fabric of your rumpled work shirt.

You loved him.

No matter how many times the words left your lips, it still made his chest ache.

"Love you too," he murmurs, eyes avoiding yours as they dart to his lap. "Just... don't want you thinking I, like, lost control or something." He looks up at you sheepishly. "Never want to hurt you."

“I know that.” You rested your palm against his jaw, the intimacy of the moment made your heart flutter. “I trust you. And if it was too much, I’d tell you.”

He stared at you for a moment, brow furrowed in uncertainty. “Promise?”

“Promise.”

A long exhale left him, relief slumping his shoulders. 

“Thank God.” He leaned forward to rest his forehead gently against yours.

“But… you’re probably right.” You managed a playful smile as his eyes snapped to yours. “I’m definitely going to feel it tomorrow.”

A rosy flush bloomed across his face, and he buried it against your neck with a half-embarrassed groan. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be.” You gave a teasing shrug, ignoring the dull ache that made itself known the second you moved your hips. “You might’ve had a point, too.”

“Yeah?” he asked, lifting his head, curiosity flickering in his eyes.

A teasing grin curled your lips. “You are kinda hot when you’re jealous.”

“Oh, God, don’t say that.” He winced exaggeratedly, making you laugh. “You’ll give me a complex or something.”

You laughed again, and he couldn’t help smiling back, brushing his nose against your cheek in a moment of affection.

“But, I mean, are you feeling jealous?” You asked him with full seriousness. “Because if you are, you can talk to me about it.”

He swallowed, his grip loosening slightly as his eyes softened, realisation settling deep in his chest.

You cared. So much. He thought about it for a brief moment—was he really jealous?

But then he looked at you, all concerned in his arms. The way you gazed at him, unwavering and sure, the way you had trusted him completely not five minutes ago, letting him take control, letting him have you.

It was all the answer he needed.

There was no room for doubt, no reason for insecurity. You were his—entirely his—and he knew it.

“No,” he finally said, voice gentle. “’M not jealous. Not really. I just—I don't know—wanted to make my girl feel good.” His lips quirked up in a small, sheepish grin. “And I guess I wanted to remind you who you’ve got waiting when you clock out.”

You leaned up to plant a reassuring kiss on his jaw. “Well, message received,” you teased, drawing a chuckle from him.

Steve glanced down at your blouse, still haphazardly half-done-up, and your bare legs still shaking. 

“Let’s get you cleaned up, yeah? I kinda distracted you from changing.”

“You definitely did.” You smile softly as he gets up, offering you his hand to stand.

“C’mon, let’s get a bath running.” He tells you as he cocks his head towards the door.

He guides you to the bathroom, flicking on the light and starting the taps. As water rushed into the tub, he helped you out of your disheveled work shirt, eyes flicking appreciatively across your skin. Gently, he traced a thumb over a reddening mark on your neck where he’d bitten down. A pang of guilt made his eyes tighten.

“Sorry about that,” he whispered, pressing a featherlight kiss over the mark. “Got carried away.”

You rolled your eyes, fighting a grin. “Hey, you got what you wanted, didn’t you? Everyone to know I’m yours?”

“Yeah,” a bashful smile tugged at his lips. “I did.”

Once the bath was ready, you both climbed in. The warm water soothed the lingering tension in your muscles, and you leaned back against his chest with a contented sigh. His arms draped loosely around your middle, fingers stroking lazy shapes over your skin.

“So,” he spoke up after a moment, lips brushing your ear.  “you wanna brainstorm those ideas for your article now, Miss Journalist?”

You chuckled, letting your head fall back onto his shoulder. “Oh, now you’re interested in my writing process?”

“Course I am.” He gave a soft laugh, tightening his hold on you. “I’m always interested in whatever you’ve got going on. You know that.”

“Alright,” you teased, “I have a few pitches… maybe a feature on that new charity coffee place that’s opening up on Maple Street? Or this local teacher doing after-school science programs? I’m torn—so many good leads.”

Steve made an encouraging noise. “I like the teacher one,” he mused, brow furrowing in real consideration. “I mean, c’mon, that sounds like it’d be really feel-good for the paper. Everyone loves seeing that kinda community stuff.”

“You think so?” You felt a wave of affection swell through you at how genuine he was.

“Yeah. It’s definitely the kind of story that’ll get people talking in a good way.” He paused, a grin curling his lips. “But I gotta say… I also love coffee.”

“We’ll see which one the editor likes.” You giggle.

He helped you out of the tub once the water began to cool, wrapping a towel around his waist before carefully bundling you in another. He pressed a sweet kiss to your temple, then led you back to the bedroom, flicking off the overhead light so you were left in a peaceful glow from the bedside lamp.

You slipped into a soft tee and lounge shorts as he grabbed his own pyjamas from your chest of drawers, blushing at what transpired on it previously. He would never look at it the same way again.

You curled up against him in the bed—his arms around you made everything feel warm and safe.

“What time do you have to be at work tomorrow?” you mumbled against his chest.

“Not ’til afternoon,” he said, carding his fingers through your hair.

A content sigh escaped you, eyes fluttering shut. “Nice for some, I guess.”

“But,” he continued, clearing his throat pointedly, “I’m definitely dropping you off tomorrow.”

Your brow creased, and you glanced up at him with a sleepy frown. 

“Why?”

He smirked, his hand coming to rest gently on your hip. “Because… you said you were meeting him earlier, right? The new guy?” He leaned in, voice dropping playfully. “I wanna see the look on your face when you see him—see if you remember exactly what we did tonight.”

Heat flooded your cheeks, and you smacked his chest lightly. “Steve!”

“What?” He chuckled, utterly delighted, pressing a mischievous kiss to your forehead. “I’m curious.”

You huffed in mock-annoyance but couldn’t hide your smile. “You’re incorrigible.”

His chest rumbled with laughter, and he buried his nose in your hair. “That’s me,” he murmured, voice going soft again as he held you closer.

[sevikaslatinawife]

about the dynamic between Sevika and a plus sized reader, I would LOVE her comforting you about gaining happy relationship weight. Like reader is a bit insecure about gaining weight but Sevika just keeps reassuring her and telling her how good she looks etc :)

I’m actually obsessed with this so yes. Hope you enjoy!

Nothing but Curves III

Warnings: self-image issues, themes of insecurity, afab!reader, soft Sevika, mentions of meal skipping (briefly)

Please never skip meals or do anything that can cause your body any harm. If you ever have these thoughts, please seek help. You are loved, you are cherished, you are needed.

You look at yourself in the bathroom mirror, throat tight at what you see. You’ve always been curvy, always bigger than your friends, but now?

Now it’s worse. You’ve put on more weight. Your thighs are fuller, your rolls are more prominent, your arms are larger, as well.

You were just going to take a bath while your girlfriend waits in the other room but now you’re frozen. Your eyes trailing every new cellulite and stretch mark, the bigger rolls, your more stuck-out belly.

Maybe I should skip some meals, you think to yourself. It’s not like I need them anyways.

“Angel?” Sevika’s voice is what’s snaps you back to reality. You turn to face he, trying to cross your arms and cover your naked form. As if she hasn’t seen it many times before. “Baby, what’s wrong?”

“It’s nothing,” you dismiss too quickly and watch her eyes narrow.

“Don’t lie to me,” She says, stepping closer until your back is pressed against the sink. Her voice is low and rough, signaling she doesn’t appreciate being lied to.

“Vika, really, it’s nothing. I-It’s stupid,” You laugh it off but even you can hear it’s fake.

Sevika sighs and tilts her head. “Really? You think I’m going to believe that?”

“It’s stupid,” You echo, dropping your gaze. It falls to her exposed lower abdomen, all tan skin and tight muscles.

It makes your stomach churn as you glance at yourself, the softness of your belly, the stretch marks around your bellybutton and hips. The roundness of your belly almost mocks you, making you feel worse.

“Baby,” Sevika’s voice cuts through the haze. Her metal finger hooking around your chin to tilt your eyes up to meet her own. “Talk to me, baby,” Her voice is soft, kind and it’s so unusual for her to sound this way.

It’s all it takes to break you.

“I-I’ve put on a few pounds,” You say simple. “Maybe…Maybe more than a few. I-I hadn’t noticed I let myself go so much,” Your voice cracks as you try to swallow past the lump in your throat.

“What?” Sevika’s face twists in confusion, her eyes scanning your body. You tighten your arms across your midsection, wanting to hide under the force of her gaze.

“You don’t have to say it. I know —“

“You look beautiful,” she says over your complaints, voice thick like molasses. “You know I find you beautiful.”

“But that was before —“

“That will never change,” She cuts you off again, eyes daring you to keep this up. “You could drop weight, gain it, lose a fucking limb, I don’t give a crap. You’re still you.”

“But —“

“No fucking buts or fucking ifs,” She grunts, leaning down to press a kiss to your mouth. “You’re my beautiful angel. I think you look ten times cuter than when we first met, doll.”

You blush against her mouth, kissing her softly. She pulls back to press a kiss to your temple.

“What is it that people call it?” She grumbles, arms wrapping around your naked body.

Your first instinct was to try and push her away when you felt her fingers sink into your fat. But it only lasts a second before you’re tentatively wrapping your arms around her, too.

“Relationship weight?” She asks, shrugging. “I don’t give a crap, you’re still fucking mine.”

You laugh and shake your head against her shoulder, tightening your arms around her. “Yours, love.”

Sevika smiles and kisses the top of your head. “Good girl. All mine, every delicious inch of you.”

You blush and bury your face into her shoulder. “So you don’t find me repulsive?”

“Repulsive?” She scoffs. “Hell no. More weight means more to love,” She laughs, throaty and deep. “Look at what you do to me. I’m saying the sappiest fucking shit.”

You laugh and kiss her jaw. “It was sappy but it was cute.”

“Yeah, don’t get too used to it,” She grumbles, kissing your hair. “Now, do you need company while you take your bath?”

You hear the suggestive tone and you blush. “Maybe I do.”

˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ ࣪ ౨ৎ˚₊ ˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ ࣪ ౨ৎ˚₊ ˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ ࣪ ౨ৎ˚₊

Thank you Anon for leaving this for me to write! Wanna write more for this. Might make it a Drabble/series if people are interested.

Just need to sit down and write a master list for everything. I didn’t expect people to enjoy my writing so I’m really glad! ☺️

Leave any more requests if you have any! And Ty for 200 followers!

[shamebats]

#and what actually kinda shifted the bad worldview i had of women good man bad#the only good gyno ive had was a young man#he never judged but also wasnt cold#and would treat me like an actual adult#the women gynos would always treat me like a whiny baby that just hasn't figured out yet that life as a woman is supposed to hurt

The worst part of having menstrual health issues is that you could be in the worst pain anyone has ever experienced and almost everyone around you who also has a uterus would just tell you "wait until you give birth!". People who don't have them can sometimes be more considerate because they don't assume they know what you're going through.

I remember sitting next to two friends (cis teen girls) having a conversation where they were describing in great detail how nightmarish their periods were every month and with the knowledge I have now, I know for sure that none of it sounded healthy or normal, but back then I just panicked internally when they concluded "well, at least it means we can have a baby one day" and I thought "really? That's my future? All of this...so I can go through even worse pain some day? God that's fucking bleak."

If a gynecologist suggests pregnancy as a solution to any health issue you're experiencing or gatekeeps treatment bc you haven't been pregnant you should be legally allowed to take an axe to their back

[samgirl98]

Forgotten Demon Twin 14/?

Prev | Next

Bruce put away his phone after confirming with Constantine that they would meet with the Justice League in a few hours by text. He turned his attention toward the Fentons, who were all on one side of the living room. Dick, Damian and Bruce were on the other side, showing a clear divide.

Danny and Jazz had searched the living room and kitchen for bugs and found three. Bruce was itching to know who had been spying on the Fentons and how Danny and Jazz knew. He was pretty sure the Fenton parents wanted to know, too. Unfortunately, no one voiced their thoughts.

Silence reigned for minutes, neither side knowing how to start the conversation.

Eventually, Danny sighed.

“Look, can we just get this over with? I want to talk to my family privately.”

Bruce put his hand on Damian’s shoulder and gave a warning squeeze.

Damian looked at Bruce and scowled, “Tt.”

“It’s obvious you’re keeping secrets from us,” Maddie said. “Honestly, we don’t care about those secrets unless they could endanger our family.”

“That’s fair,” Bruce acknowledged. “To be able to tell you our secrets, my whole family will have to agree. It affects them, too.”

Bruce sent a group text, asking what his children’s opinions were.

“Now, there’s just the matter of the DNA test.”

“We don’t need a DNA test! Akhi, you know we’re siblings; come home with us.”

“I am home. I have a sister and two parents who love, value, and don’t see me worse than the dirt on their feet. You were never my brother. You were another enemy that I had to survive in that hellhole.”

By the end of his rant, Danny was breathing hard. Mr. Fenton had put his hand on Danny’s shoulder while Mrs. Fenton held on his hand. Bruce could admit to himself that he was jealous of the family's easy touch. Damian didn’t look for physical affection often, and Bruce was too stunted to be able to give it. The Fentons didn’t have such qualms.

“I should actually thank you, akhi,” Danny sneered the word brother. “If it weren’t for you showing how weak I was, I would have never escaped and found my true family. I’ll give you your DNA test, but don’t you dare think that whatever that paper says will make me abandon my family.”

“Do you hate me that much?” Damian asked, hurt.

“I don’t hate you; I nothing you. All these years, I wasn’t the only one that was forgotten. I only thought of Grandfather and how he could make my life a living hell if he thought of for even a second. You, Talia, you were never in my mind.”

Danny stood up and went up to Bruce.

“So take your test, Bruce Wayne, it won’t change a thing.”

Damian got up. Bruce flinched at the sound of his son’s knees hitting the floor hard. He put his left hand over his heart.

“Akhi, Danyal, my little brother. I want to formally apologize for everything you’ve been through, for everything I’ve put you through. My words may not be enough, but hopefully, you can see I’m trying. I want to get to know my little brother.”

Danny stared at Damian for a few seconds, his face impassive. Then he looked at Bruce and said, “Let me know when you want to take the test tomorrow. We can talk better tomorrow, and by then, you and your family can decide what you do and what you do not want to tell us. Now, if you can give me some time with my family, I would appreciate it.”

Bruce and Dick got up.

“Of course,” Bruce said, “I’m sorry for interrupting.

Dick helped Damian get up and Bruce’s heart clenched at Damian’s wet eyes. Damian rarely cried; when he did, no one in the family knew how to react.

“We’ll take our leave. You have our number; call us if you have any questions or need anything.”

Mrs. Fenton walked them to the door and watched as they entered the car. Damian gave one last look at Fenton’s work before entering. It wasn’t until Bruce was driving that Damian broke down crying.

“It’s my fault. I messed up so much.”

“No, little D, you were a child. Talia, Ra’s they were the ones who fucked up; not you.”

Bruce’s fist clenched over the wheel. He would find a way to fix this. He had to.

____

Danny breathed a sigh of relief when Wayne’s car disappeared.

He entered the house and went straight to the living room, where his parents were waiting for him.

Crap.

How was he going to do this? Should he apologize first? After all, he had lied to them for years. Their entire foundation was built on a lie, and it just kept piling up until Danny had constructed a tall building of deceit. His parents didn’t have to forgive him. Hell, if they wanted to throw Danny out, he wouldn’t blame them and would accept it gracefully. He wouldn’t go to the Waynes. He didn’t think he could survive living under Damian’s shadow again. That’s what he would miss the most if his parents kicked him out. Here, in the Fenton household, he was his own person.

“I’m so sorry,” Danny said, tears coming down his face, “I’ve lied to you for years.”

“Oh, sweetie, don’t cry,” his mom wiped away the tears, “we understand. You were put in such a precarious situation at such a young age. None of this is your fault. We don’t blame you at all.”

“Yeah, Danny,” dad said, “if anything, we should apologize. We should’ve realized you were our son. We should’ve listened to you and Jazz when you said Phantom wasn’t evil.”

“I was going to tell you. I was going to tell you today, but,” he bit his lip. Should he tell them about Vlad? Would they believe him?

“Ancients, there’s so much I’ve kept from you. I don’t even know where to begin.”

“Oh, sweetie, you don’t have to tell us everything at once or at all,” Mom said.

“No, I want to; it’s just so much.”

“How about we drink some tea and think about this rationally?” Jazz suggested while bringing four cups of tea and some cookies.

They sat silently with their tea and cookies, everyone lost in their thoughts. Eventually, the snacks were gone, and an awkward silence filled the air.

Danny cleared his throat, determined to get this over with.

“Before I begin, there’s something else I feel is important you need to know.” He took a deep breath to calm himself. It didn’t work.

“Remember a while back when Pariah Dark swallowed all of Amity Park into the Ghost Zone?”

Both his parents nodded.

“Yeah, Phantom, you fought him,” his mom recalled.

“You almost died,” dad said.

“Well, in the Ghost Zone, the Infinite Realms as the denizens call it, the king is determined by right of conquest.”

His parents looked confused.

“I beat the old king. I’m the new one. Or, well, the crowned prince. I convinced them to give me a few years before making it official.”

“Not only am half-ghost, I’m the ruler of everything you hate.”

____

Vlad swept everything that was on the table with his arms.

The bugs he had planted in Fenton’s work had been found and destroyed. By now, Daniel had probably told the Fentons, and more importantly, Maddie, everything.

No, he had to find a way to bring Maddie and Daniel to his side. He would be the ruler of the Infinite Realms, with Danny as his son and Maddie as his queen. He would not accept anything less.

[reneesghostinthelivingroom]

poly plastics where at a party drunk Gretchen lets it slip that Reader is in the burn book. Reader is obviously hurt, but when the girls later actually show her what’s written in there it’s just things like “stupidly cute”

Stupidly Cute

|| poly!plastics x fem!reader

|| Warnings; burn book mentions, swearing, underage drinking, drunk reader and Gretchen, reader gets upset with the plastics, misunderstandings/argument/anxiety/feeling betrayed/hurt/guilt, fluffy ending

|| Summary; when Gretchen lets it slip that reader's in the burn book, reader doesn't know what to think.

Requests open!

Started; February 16th

Finished; February 16th

Note; I missed writing my girls 💕 thank you for the request, Anon!!!

~~~

Did Gretchen... just say what you think she did? Maybe you misheard. Misunderstood. Yeah, yeah that's probably it. After all, both of you were drunk. Gretchen a little more than you were. She could have said anything. Right?

"Gren- can you repeat that?" You asked. Part of you was nervous for her to repeat it, but the other part of you had to know if she truly said that.

"You're in the burn book?" Gretchen repeated exactly what you thought she had said. Your world shattered and to make it worse; Gretchen was confused. Clearly, not seeing the problem you were seeing. Your girlfriends wrote shit about you behind your back and Gretchen didn't look the least bit apologetic.

"Right... cool, cool, cool, cool, cool-" you tried to think of a reason to leave before your emotions could get the best of you. With your drunken mind, your plan came slower and the plan itself was a fumbled mess," beep-!! oh, sorry phone's going off-" yes. Yes you did make a beep sound.

Gretchen had never felt more confused as she watched you fumble around with your phone. Trying to get it up to your ear, having some conversation about hotdogs running? It didn't make any sense to her, but she let you go. Understanding that whatever was happening, you had to go home early.

It wasn't until the next day, when Gretchen had sobered up, did she realize what had happened. Luckily, Gretchen hadn't been to a level of drunk that she couldn't remember telling you about the burn book. The Burn Book. That was the issue, you obviously thought they had put something mean in there about you. Oh no.

The moment she realized, she was running to Regina. The three plastics had spent the night at hers after the party.

"Regina!!"

The blonde, who had been relaxed in bed on her phone, looked up in annoyance at Gretchen," what? I'm busy, Gren."

"I- I know- but this is like so so so crazy important-" she started rambling.

"Spit it out."

"Right- um- so I may have told Y/N about the burn book last night- she left the party early- I think she's really upset- she doesn't know what's actually in the book about her-" Gretchen couldn't stop rambling, starting to feel sick with the anxiety eating away inside her.

Karen had walked over now, giving Gretchen a boop on the nose. Startling the girl.

"Karen-?"

"Magic boops! Haven't you heard of those?" Karen smiled, God the ever innocent smile. Gretchen's heart melted at the sight and it was enough to calm her down.

Regina, however, was anything but calm. "Why would you tell her about the book?!"

"I didn't mean to!! It just happened!" She tried to defend herself, the blonde simply sighed.

Meanwhile with you, you were curled up in bed. Snuggled under blankets with your laptop open beside you, watching your comfort movie. You couldn't stop thinking about what Gretchen had told you. They really wrote about you in that stupid book... you couldn't believe it. It still felt like something your drunken mind had made up. If it wasn't for the intensity of the emotions you felt in the moment, you probably would have just chalked it up as that. Imagination.

It was maybe an hour into the movie when the door to your room opened, your girlfriends all walking in together. Regina taking lead, holding the burn book with a very guilty looking Gretchen behind her and Karen who was just happy to be there. Karen gave you a wave and a smile, to which you rolled your eyes and focused on your computer. Karen frowned and looked at Gretchen for an explanation.

"Y/N." Regina's tone was direct, pulling your attention from the movie and to her. She threw the burn book on the bed and sat down beside where it landed," look at it."

"I don't want to," you murmured. The emotions from last night flooding back; the hurt, the betrayal...

"I wasn't asking."

Reluctantly, you listened. Opening the book and finding your page. It- wasn't anything like you had expected it to be. There was a few photos of you, each clearly well thought out in placement. Little hearts drawn around, cute messages, small notes like "stupidly cute".

You'd been wrong.

Thank God.

Your cheeks flushed, feeling the heat rise as you looked up at your girlfriends. A smile spreading across your face. Gretchen calmed down when she saw your reaction, taking a deep breath to relax herself.

"You... I love all of you."

"We love you too!!" Gretchen squealed, jumping onto the bed and tackling you in a hug. Peppering your face in kisses.

Karen's smile matched yours," doggy pile on Y/N!" With nothing but that as a warning, she jumped onto you too. You grunted under the weight of both of them as Regina laughed, taking a picture and doing nothing to help.

Yeah, you really did love these idiots. They were your idiots and you wouldn't have it any other way.

[bloodlineslut]

The Law of Obsession (Ch.3) | Roman Reigns

Pairings: Roman Reigns x black! OC

Warnings: none

Summary: A day in Roman’s life at his law firm, including a glimpse of some of the shady business he does. Jimmy and Jey convince Roman to go out with them after mentioning Laila would be there.

Word Count: 2.7k words

A/N: okay so…it actually is the next day but yall I get distracted while trying to study so I wasted a lot of time before I finished this chapter pls don’t shoot me. Also, can you say cliffhanger at the end?? Something spicy is gonna happen in the next chapter though so don’t worry

Roman’s eyes blinked open, staring at the ceiling of his luxury condo that overlooked Miami Beach.

Every morning, he woke up at 7 am on the dot, like clockwork. His morning routine consisted of grabbing his phone to check for any missed calls or texts he may have gotten through the night. Especially any from Paul or the twins.

As usual, there were.

Paul Heyman: 2 missed calls

Paul Heyman: Chief, I apologize for the late text, but a man by the name of Sami Zayn is requesting a meeting with you tomorrow morning when you get to the office. He says he really needs your help.

Jimmy: Hey uce, I might need you to handle some business for me next week, that cool?

Jey: Aye man, we still gon’ go to that club tomorrow night?

Roman read through and responded to all the texts, shaking his head at Jey’s message. He found himself hoping for a text from a certain person, though.

Laila.

‘Last night was a school night. She probably studied herself to sleep.’ Roman chuckled at the thought.

She was such a good girl. Focused on school and working hard.

She was just what Roman needed.

A breath of fresh air.

Something good and pure that he could come home to after a dirty day at work.

Roman sat up and got out of his king size bed, not bothering to make it until later.

He goes straight to one of the bedrooms that he turned into a home gym, putting his AirPods in and going to his workout playlist. The room had a mirror that ran from one end of the room to the other, a mini fridge with ice cold water, Gatorade, and protein powder/bars.

There was every piece of workout equipment in there that you could imagine, from dumbbells to machines and everything in between.

Roman usually tried to make his workouts in the morning an hour long, so that he could shower and everything else, and still be on time for work.

After working on his back and legs, he walked back to his master bedroom to take a steamy shower and to wash his hair.

Another hour later, he was out the door and on the way to the firm.

“Good morning, Mr. Reigns! Here is your coffee, and a list of all your meetings lined up for today.” His secretary greeted him as soon as he walked through the revolving door.

Sasha Banks.

She had the biggest crush on him, but Roman never even looked at her in that way. To be honest, he was a bit oblivious to her advances because his mind was always solely focused on work.

He took the coffee and the file from her, only giving her a quick “Morning. Thank you.”

As he walked towards the elevator, his back to Sasha, her smile faded a little, wishing that he was as interested in her, as was she.

As soon as the elevator doors opened to the top floor, where Roman’s office was located, he was greeted by the sight of Paul.

“Good morning my chief! I see that you messaged me back earlier. I’ve directed Mr. Zayn to your office if that’s okay with you?”

Roman slightly scowled at having to be bothered when he just got to work. “Alright Paul. But next time, wait until I’m here.” He firmly warned his right hand man.

Paul nodded apologetically. “Yes, sir. I won’t disappoint again!”

Roman inwardly rolled his eyes, just wanting to be left alone for at least 5 minutes.

He saw that his office door was slightly ajar with a man with shoulder length messy red hair seated in the chair in front of his desk.

“Oh hello, Mr. Re-” Roman put his hand up to silence the new client.

Roman could tell that whatever this guy did can’t be that bad.

“5 minutes of no talking.” Roman told the man, just needing to settle down.

Five minutes later, as promised, they got to business.

Sami explained that he got busted for marijuana in his possession that wasn’t really his. He was with some of his friends and they got pulled over by a police officer and Sami “looked the most suspicious” so they brought him to the station and charged him.

Roman raised an eyebrow at this. “They thought you looked the most suspicious?”

Sami laughed with a scoff. “I know right?!”

“You look like you wouldn’t even kill a fly. Why did you come to me?”

Sami pointed at nothing, motioning that one of his family members was the one who recommended Reigns, Heyman, & Associates.

Roman scrunched up his face and laughed. “Nah. You’d be better off going to the floor under me. Talk to one of the associates, they’ll help you out.” He pointed out, opening his meeting schedule from the file on his desk.

Sami’s mood didn’t even falter. “Oh okay! Wow, thank you so much Mr. Reigns. I’ll go do that.” He quickly stood up and left the office.

Roman grabbed one of the sleek black pens settled in a company mug and crossed that meeting off of his list. In another hour, he had another meeting with what was becoming one of his regular clients—Dominik Mysterio.

He shook his head. That boy was such a headache. He’s always doing dumb shit without thinking. This time, he tried to shoplift but got caught by the store owner.

Now, Dominik was sitting in front of Roman, nervously bouncing his leg. “I wasn’t trying to get caught! I always get away with it…”

“Yea, well this time, you didn’t. The store owner caught you.” Roman bluntly told the boy—because he didn’t see him as a man with these childish acts he displayed.

Roman leaned back in his cushioned office swivel chair, thinking.

“Now, I could handle this little misdemeanor in court. I could get the charge dropped, call some people, maybe bribe ‘em.” He rested his hand on his jaw, stroking it. “Or I could get my men to pay this guy a little visit.”

Dominik’s eyes widen. “Like talk to him?”

Roman chuckles at his naivety. “Yea, sure. Put a little fire under his ass.”

Dominik swallows nervously. “They won’t hurt him right? I don’t want anyone to get hurt.”

Roman squints his eyes. This boy could damn near be his son, as many times as he’s gotten him out of trouble.

“No, they won’t hurt him. But, the next time I see you up here, I’m gon’ teach you something.” Roman warned.

Dominik nodded his head. “Thanks Mr. Reigns. I’ll try to do better.”

“Yea, yea. Get out.”

As the day at the firm was coming to an end, the only thing that helped Roman get through it was the thought of Laila.

The office was peaceful.

That was, until he heard the familiar voices of his two loud ass cousins down the hall.

“Yo, yo, yo! So, we going out tonight?” Jey and Jimmy walked in his office without even knocking or anything.

Jimmy plopped down on the couch that was situated in the corner of Roman’s office, looking at his phone.

“Ya’ll just don’t have any decorum huh?”

“Aye, we family. We don’t gotta do all that, uce.” Jimmy chimes in from the corner, making Roman sigh.

“So yes to the club?” Jey presses on.

Roman shakes his head no.

���Man come on! When was the last time you went out? College?” Jey teased him, making Jimmy laugh out.

“Shut the fuck up.”

Jimmy stood up, walking next to Jey. “You know Naomi gon’ bring Laila with us…” Knowing that would catch Roman’s attention.

Roman’s eyes shot up at the twins.

“See how them big ass ears just perked up like that?” Jimmy grabbed his own ears and pulled them up, illustrating how Roman looked.

“How do you know that?”

Jimmy smacked his teeth. “They was planning to get ready together, do each other’s makeup or hair or something. You know girls be doing that stuff.”

Jey pointed at his twin, agreeing.

“So, it’s a yes?” Jey asked once again, and Roman’s lack of an answer was all they needed to hear.

“Yeet!” The twins both dapped each other up, before doing the same to Roman, making a ghost of a smile appear on his face.

“Only if.” The twins dropped their shoulders and groaned out.

“You two do something for me next week. Rough a guy up a little bit.” He briefly explains.

“Alright, uce. You know we got you.” Jey agrees.

“Aye, what about what I told you about, though.” Jimmy says cocking his head to the side.

“I know. I’ll handle it, don’t worry.” Roman reassured his cousin.

The three of them ended up talking for like another 2 hours about everything they needed to get caught up on in each other’s lives.

Jimmy’s phone started ringing and it was Naomi. She told him that Laila was about to come over to their house so they could start getting ready.

After he got off of the phone, he explained he was going to head back to his house. “Roman, we gotta bounce. Knowing Naomi, she probably want me to pick them up some McDonald’s.” He shook his head.

“Aye, catch you later tonight though?” Jey puts out his fist for a fist bump and Roman obliges.

“Yea.”

The twins were almost out the door when Jimmy turned around. “Can you bring your driver to the house when you get there? I ain’t trying to be nobody’s DD tonight!” He dramatically put his hands up in defense.

Roman actually laughs at this. “Yea. And I’ll bring the Escalade for all of us.”

“See, that’s what I’m talking ‘bout. See you uce!” And they were both gone just as quickly as they had arrived.

After finishing some more paperwork, Roman could finally leave and go home. The thought of seeing Laila later made his heart speed up a little bit.

He grabbed his keys and briefcase and headed to the parking garage that was connected to the building and made his way to his condo.

As soon as he walked in the door and locked it, he texted his driver and informed him that he’ll be driving tonight and that he’ll get a bonus since it was at such short notice.

Putting his briefcase on the kitchen island, he headed to the bathroom to take a quick shower and touch up his beard.

Quickly finishing his shower, he stepped out and wrapped the white towel around his waist, walking to the closet. Damn near all his clothes were black, so he grabbed a plain black T-shirt, a pair of black cargo pants, and his Jordan 11 Retro Bred’s.

After getting dressed and spraying some cologne on, his driver texted him back just in time saying that he was waiting in the car outside.

Roman set the alarm in his home before locking the front door and heading downstairs.

“Good evening Mr. Reigns. How are you?” His driver greeted him as he sat in the backseat.

“Hey man, I’m doing good. And like I said, you’ll get that bonus because it was short notice. Appreciate it.” He told the driver, firmly shaking his hand.

The ride to Jimmy’s house was calm and silent as Roman never listened to music in the car.

They pulled up in Jimmy’s driveway and Roman noted the extra car that was present that wasn’t Jimmy, Jey, or Naomi’s.

A black Volkswagen Beetle.

Roman smirked.

He stepped out of the still-running car, as his driver preferred to just always stay in the car and wait for everyone else so he could bring them to their destination.

Walking up to the front door, he rang the doorbell and waited for someone to answer.

“Ya’ll that’s probably Roman!” He heard the muffled sound of Naomi’s voice on the other side of the door before she opened it.

“See I knew it. Hey Roman, come on in!”

“Hey Naomi. Them knuckleheads ready?” He motioned his head to the kitchen.

“They up in there taking shots.” She rolled her eyes and shook her head in irritation.

Suddenly there was the sound of another voice getting closer to the two.

“Naomi, can you put this necklace on for-”

Laila stopped in her tracks at seeing the sight of Roman. Her heart beating out of her chest in his presence, just like when they talked for the first time at the café.

His eyes were glued to hers, smiling softly at her, sensing her surprise at his coming.

“Aye Naomi! Come here for a minute!” Jimmy called from in the kitchen in the midst of him and Jey laughing about God knows what.

Naomi rolled her eyes for what felt like the hundredth time, but obliged. “This house knows no peace.”

Laila giggled before looking back to Roman.

“You need help with that?” He looked down at the necklace she was holding in her two hands.

Laila forgot that’s what she came downstairs for and looked at the dainty chain in her hands. “Oh yeah…”

“I’ll put it on for you.” He reached out and gently took it from her hands, being careful not to tangle it.

“Thank you.” Laila spoke out, turning her back to him and moving her hair out of the way.

It was so intimate, the position they were in. She nearly jumped at the feeling of his fingertips on the back of her neck as he opened the clasp and locked it around one of the chain loops.

While she was trying to control her labored breaths, Roman was getting a bit excited too.

He let his fingertips linger on her nape for a few seconds longer than necessary. His fingers were warm.

“Too tight?” His voice was low.

Laila swallowed and let her hair fall as she turned to face him. “No, it’s fine.” She smiled at him, still so nervous and not knowing what to do with her body, hands, how to stand, or anything.

“You look so beautiful.” The sudden compliment caught Laila by surprise.

This night was just full of surprises.

“Thank you,” She smiled, feeling her face get hot.

First, she didn’t know Roman would be accompanying them to the club because the twins made it sound like he was a homebody.

Which he was, but as soon as he heard Laila was going, he immediately was on board, even if he had to sacrifice his relaxing night by being surrounded by a bunch of dumbasses who were drunk and acting wild.

Laila’s outfit consisted of a white button down halter top, a pair of jeans, and some white open-toed heels.

Roman liked the simplicity of it because he was sure she’d look good in anything.

His eyes were raking over every inch of her, just admiring how perfect she was.

Her eyes rested on his arms.

She noticed them before obviously.

The way his suit fit so deliciously over every part of his body at the café that day. But standing so close and directly in front of him with nothing between them, she saw everything in sharp detail.

The veins running down his forearms, his knuckles that seemed slightly rough, the thought that he could most likely defend himself very well if need be.

“What?” Roman asked, noticing that she zoned out. He wanted to know what she was thinking at all times.

Laila shook her head, laughing it off. “Just thinking..”

“About what? Tell me.” The way he just coerced the answer out of her. It made her weak in the knees. Like you have no choice but to do what he says.

She never had a man take the lead like this.

She never had a man at all, actually.

“You definitely work out a lot.”

Roman grinned at this, scratching his ear, and putting his hands back in his pockets.

“Gotta keep up appearances,” He kept his eyes locked on hers. “Sometimes I gotta remind people who they’re working with.” He said the last part lowly on purpose, and more seriously.

This made Laila laugh. That beautiful melody in his ears.

He’d give anything to hear that laugh every single day.

Their moment was interrupted by two tipsy twins.

“We ready to gooooo!” Jey blurted out.

Naomi looked over at Laila and Roman. “You two bet’ not end up like this.” She pointed to the twins.

Laila and Roman looked at each other and shared a laugh.

After everyone got back in the Escalade and Jimmy making the driver laugh, Laila who was seated right next to Roman couldn’t help but wonder what the night had in store for them.

taglist!: @duhitzkay380 @emotionalhottiee @minsingular @potatosackk @vebner37 @lov3rla03 @romanreignsbae

if you want to be tagged, just comment and let me know!!

[lunar-wandering]

funniest part of my gender tbh is that sometimes i'll be laying around and just have the thought "holy shit am i a guy right now??? wait. wait. hold on. oh my god i am."

[my-thoughts-and-junk]

finished helluva boss and now i have Thoughts

[arolesbianism]

I <3 transmasc Wendy because it adds another thing to the kid who does not know how to handle anything being thrown into everything pile but instead of a thing like dead sister it's the prospect that he kind of likes having short hair and the idea of being a guy and it still makes him feel like the world is ending until suddenly the ppl around him are just like fine with it and everything is like cool actually and he melts over that too until finally he's just a normal baby trans person and can get back to being bad at coping with his other hashtag issues again

[featherymainffins]

One day I will get stoned to death for publishing an analysis that says that a particular fucked up and evil character fits the diagnostic criteria AND lived experiences of pwASPD and pwNPD, and when that happens I want you all to remember that I did not write that man and it is not my fault that he's both extremely ASPD-coded (and somewhat NPD-coded) and also evil.

Like man if you don't believe me play the game yourself.

[toastspirit]

man the little mental categories I have for “this is a universal human experience” and “this is something Specific” are. incredibly wrong sometimes. and it’s not even that I’ve just assumed a lot of specific things are universal, or vice versa, but it goes in both directions!!! and I don’t realize something I learned was wrong unless I actively think about it/am presented with additional information to change my perspective!!! This sucks!!!!!

[gutsby]

Stiff

Pairing: Old!Joel x Reader

Summary: At fifty-nine, Joel isn’t sure his dick can keep up with every day it’s going to take to get you pregnant. He seeks help from Jackson’s local apothecary and gets more than bargained for when that little blue pill kicks in.

Or, your old man wants to knock you up. Viagra helps.

Warnings: 18+. Unprotected p-in-v (obviously 😵‍��🤙🏼). Breeding kink. Age gap. Peepaw Joel. Blue Pill Joel. Post-apocalyptic-Viagra-dosage-gone-horribly-wrong-and-now-his-dick-won’t-deflate-for-a-day…but it’s OK!

Note: This is the crackfic counterpart/sequel to ‘Make It Stick’

Word count: 2.9k

Forty-five minutes.

Forty-five minutes until his fate was sealed for the night. His pulse would quicken. His head would start to swim, and any last sliver of rational thought would be lost to the ether or the cold, snowy air around him. Joel Miller had to hurry now, because that bite-sized blue pill he’d just taken was in his belly, and if his dick didn’t find its way in you, he was fucked. Or at least huge and swollen and leaking out beads of hot desire the size of golf balls.

Well, maybe that was just his cock.

Joel looked down, scanning his pants.

Yeah…definitely just cock. He walked faster.

At home, he knew he’d find you curled up on the couch, nose in a book. What to Expect When You’re Expecting, if he had to guess. Then, sure enough, you’d lift your eyes and smile—‘Thank goodness you’re back, daddy’—and lift the hem of your night dress just slightly. Spread your legs and beckon him in. It was a nightly routine by now.

You wanted to be knocked up as fast as possible, after all

At almost sixty years old, Joel couldn’t believe he was actually saying these words aloud. But here he was—crawling overtop you on the couch, situating himself between your legs, and pulling his cock out, mumbling:

“Gonna let me put a baby in you tonight?”

You nodded sweetly—eagerly—every time.

Joel knew he could never resist that look. He was as good as finished the first second you let him sink inside your tight, weeping hole, and when he stretched it, he could already tell this was all he would ever want to do. Make you happy, fill you up, give you lots and lots of him.

It was why he’d stopped by the apothecary tonight. Why he’d hesitated only a moment before clearing his throat and asking for a pill like Viagra—Joel knew that the man behind the counter would flash him a wry, knowing grin.

Trouble keepin’ up with that sweet young thing’a yours?

David was a dick.

He wasn’t entirely wrong, either.

Ever since agreeing to start trying for a baby, Joel had become acutely aware of his own physical limitations in that department, and one of them was stamina. He could scarcely fuck twice in the same night without needing a long and rest-intensive breather. You were young and could roll over ready to go in five minutes.

It wasn’t fair to deprive you now on account of his age.

If you wanted his cum, you were getting it, no question.

Not just once, but multiple times. Again and again and—

“Again,” Joel grunted once he’d shot off his last spurt.

Fifty-eight minutes had passed since he’d taken that pill. It had fully kicked in, and his dick was still hard, even after finishing inside you with a sticky, white-hot flood.

You blinked dreamily up at him.

“You mean it, old man?” you teased him lightly.

I’ll show you what I mean, Joel thought to himself before flipping you over on the sofa. He had your hips tilted up and his cock driving back inside your freshly-fucked cunt in no time at all. He felt his spend coating your walls; it let him glide right in. Joel groaned and jerked himself back out, then fucked back in again and again and again.

“Again?”

Your word was exhaled in a laugh.

You stood in front of the bathroom sink, trying to tidy up the insides of your legs and push some more of Joel’s load back in, when you felt a presence at your back.

Stabbing your ass.

You started to turn then, puzzled.

“Bend over,” Joel commanded before you could.

You did as you were told because, frankly, you loved getting fucked wherever your old man wanted it—even if he had broken the sink one time he’d pounded you here.

But there was palpable confusion, too. How in the hell had Joel Miller, certified silver fox and owner of a dick old enough to remember Woodstock and the moon landing, managed to get his dick hard in the five minutes since he’d had you face-down, ass-up on the couch?

Or had his dick gotten soft at all?

You wanted to question him about it, or else give a long, hard look at his uncharacteristically long, hard friend, when the next moment had you gripping the counter. Stretching between the legs as Joel pushed back in.

“There she is,” he murmured affectionately.

Really, you’d never been wetter. Or warmer. Or filled to the brim with more sticky-white spend than you could ever hope to hold inside, it felt like. You bent at the waist and let him have his fill. You closed your eyes and rested your head on your forearms while Joel’s hot, bulbous tip grazed your cervix with dizzying alacrity. A smile crept in.

Whatever this was, you wanted more of it.

His dick was still hard.

Four mind-numbing fucks and another forty-five minutes later, Joel’s cock hadn’t deflated the tiniest bit.

The thing had hammered you so thoroughly he’d nearly destroyed the sink again. You’d whimpered, and whined, and warned him quietly, ‘We just fixed the porcelain, baby,’ and right before he’d painted your walls with his seed, you’d cum for him practically shrieking. Shaking.

Letting him turn you around for a kiss, only to mumble against his mouth with a sleepy, cockdrunk sort of lilt:

“I think you gave me twins.”

Then he’d fucked you in the shower to make it triplets.

Now you were laying out on the bed, truly spent, eyes following him in the semi-darkness of your bedroom after you’d toweled off and collapsed among the pillows.

“What’s gotten into you tonight, Miller?” you breathed.

Joel made it over to the dresser, back turned to you. He rifled through a drawer looking for something extra tight.

“Just missed you is all,” he said, shrugging.

What he needed right now was fabric that was very thick to hide the boner he was sporting. Joel could tell from the way you spoke that you were too tired for round five, and he didn’t want you feeling like you had to go again.

He would be fine.

His dick might not deflate until dawn, but that was okay.

“Wish you missed me like this every day,” you giggled.

When Joel turned around, he was shocked to find you sprawled out on the bed—hands between your legs.

There was a shy smile on your face.

“Baby…” he trailed off, watching your fingers flit through that sticky mess where he’d left it. Where you glistened.

Where you slid your index and middle fingers up and down your slit and drew circles on your clit, eyes shining.

“What? I missed you too,” you said, tone all faux protest.

You had no idea what you did to him when you talked like that. Especially when he was drowning in a state like this.

Hard as a rock.

Throbbing.

Needy.

Scarcely even knowing what he was doing, Joel found himself over by the foot of the bed in a second. Watching your every move with a wild, wipe-open stare he still couldn’t believe you found appealing. He swallowed.

He not only looked perverted, but he felt it, too. It rarely ever left his mind, save for the four or five seconds he spent in ecstasy emptying the contents of his balls inside your cunt, that he was his age, and you were yours. That perhaps the rest of Jackson was right, and he was wrong: he had no business being around a girl like you, much less getting off inside you every night. Was this really what you wanted? A bewildering mixture of guilt, lust, and love all circulated through his skull at that moment, and the longer he spent looking at your fingers, ogling the way you teased them through his cum between your legs, the more he felt certain he was bad.

No one corrupted a thing this sweet and got to call themselves good, anyway, he thought to himself idly.

“I keep gettin’ that…feelin’,” you said under your breath.

Joel’s hand tightened in a fist, and it was then that he realized it was wrapped around his cock. Still watching.

“Yeah, baby? What feelin’?” he returned, almost as quiet.

Still stroking himself up and down, up and down, softly.

You had your legs spread open—knees splayed wider than they’d been before. And your eyes had a tender, placid sheen to them, like they just might cry if they didn’t get release of some kind soon. Then you slowed.

Your touch slipped from your clit to the opaque, sticky globs between your thighs, and that look got even softer.

More desperate.

“Can’t…explain it.” You shook your head, as if pained, and then you sank two fingers inside. Joel could hear the tiny schlick from where he stood, and it almost did him in.

You sucked in a breath and added, “It’s a special feelin’.”

Joel’s fist had already worked its way up to a ridiculous speed. Again, he sensed this might be the worst and most pathetic he’d ever looked, but by the glint in your eyes and the way you kept holding him there, he also knew you weren’t asking him to stop, either. You were needing something else—something he could provide.

Thanks to that one stupid pill.

Joel’s smile was strained as he gripped the edge of the bed, like he was trying to assuage you and him at once.

“Try me, baby. Tell me ‘bout that special feelin’.”

Your middle and ring fingers disappeared inside you.

You whined, “Ain’t fair to say it now. You’re tired, daddy.”

Like hell he was. Joel crawled over the footboard and made his way straight to you, where your body was limp.

His breaths were coming in so fast and his pulse was thrumming so hard that he almost couldn’t hear himself talking. But he ventured to speak as gently as he could.

“I’m wide awake, sweet pea. I’m all ears. Talk to me.”

And if his words didn’t communicate as much, surely the look in his eyes would’ve told you all the rest. Quietly, he slipped his torso between your legs, where you’d inserted a third finger and were moving your hips again. You were fingering yourself, breathing shallow and quick.

“It’s a feelin’ like I wanna be…stuffed…a-and full’a you.”

Joel’s whole body could’ve liquified on the spot. His brain, presently, had all the consistency of a plate of scrambled eggs if he’d had to guess. Feeling his cock swell even bigger and his hips sink lower to yours of their own accord, he had only to grit his teeth and nod his head. He felt the tip of him bump your fingers, and the sensation and the expectation nearly drove him insane.

He mumbled quietly, “Then move your hand.”

You did. You winced again. You looked as though you might be ashamed for wanting him to fill you with his spend, and Joel simply wouldn’t allow that any longer.

Without saying another word, he slid back in.

Your cum and his facilitated the slide, and you opened right up for him. You whimpered, while Joel grunted like an animal. He couldn’t help it; it all felt so fucking primal.

How you could ever feel the need to apologize for wanting more of this was more than he could take.

“Every inch of me,” Joel said, rutting deeper, “is yours.”

He withdrew to the tip, and he could feel strings of arousal linking him to you in a sickeningly sweet way.

You could scarcely even nod, just waiting for him again.

When Joel plunged back in, he heard a feral little cry, and he felt your legs wrap around his waist. He went faster. You fisted the pillow behind your head in one hand, while the other laid flat on his chest, like you were checking for a heartbeat. You could probably hear it thudding a million miles per minute right now. Your hips collided in tandem.

“D— Daddy,” you whimpered.

“That’s it, open up for daddy. Good girl. It’s all yours.”

The sounds his thrusts were making were obscene.

“Every inch?” you breathed, “E-Every drop, too?”

“Every fiber of my fucking being, sweet girl.”

That made you smile, at length. Your hand slid from his chest, down his round belly, straight to a groin that was pounding hard and fast against your own. Joel groaned when he felt your touch sweep inside your legs—right in the space where his cum had come trickling out. You slid your fingers through that mess, then whimpered again.

Then you brought your hand up to your mouth.

You wrapped your lips around your cum-soaked fingers like they were the single sweetest thing, and you sucked.

Joel had no say after seeing that: he had to cum again.

It likely stunned you both—you more than him, by the look that crossed your eyes the second you felt him throb and pulse inside your cunt—but then it kept going.

Rather than stop, or slow down in the slightest, Joel found his hips pistoning faster than they had before. The whole bed frame shook, and your body trembled with every thrust, and the noises between your legs grew even louder; the sound of skin slapping skin was only amplified by the addition of Joel’s hot load in the mix.

The man was operating on impulse. You, through sheer awe and an animalistic need to have every crevice filled. You held him and you grit your teeth, and you let him keep using your body, while you used his. You kissed him.

“Go on, then—make me a daddy. Take my cum, baby,” Joel babbled, brainless, “Make your old man a daddy.”

He couldn’t tell if it were the words or the rhythm or the pleasure that had already been blossoming deep in your gut this whole time, but he felt you fall apart. You wrapped your legs tighter around his waist than you had all night, and you screamed his name. Begged for more.

“Cum in me, daddy—pleasepleaseplease just cum, ju—”

And there he went. Again. Flooding your insides with his warmth and letting his cock carve a wild, relentless path through your cunt like it was all the man knew how to do. He filled you up. He felt it leaking down his length with every stab of his hips, and frankly, he didn’t care what he looked like now. You were smiling big, drawing him in for more kisses as he panted and grunted and whimpered like he never had before. He kissed back. Slowed down.

Found himself lost in your mouth as your tongue wove delectably through his own and your hands made their way to his wild, greying hair. You tugged, and he moaned.

He fucked his spend deeper without even meaning to.

All instinct again, it seemed he couldn’t get enough.

Suddenly, he felt a new, strange urge bubble up.

“I-I-I took a pill tonight,” he blurted out, “Know how badly you want this baby, and I wanna give you one.”

Or two. Or twenty. He was barely capable of speech, let alone rational cognition, so he just spoke whatever came to his mind then, still snug inside your legs and panting.

“A pill?” you whispered back.

Joel’s gaze locked with yours.

He felt stupid for it all at once.

“Yeah. Yeah, I just— I know I’m gettin’ on in years, and I probably can’t fuck the way I used to. And you deserve someone who can…Maybe a guy your age, but that—”

“—is the single dumbest thing you have ever said to me,” you finished for him, eyes narrowing swiftly in a scowl.

When Joel tried talking again, you cut him off.

“I don’t care what any guy my age is doing, or could do. I want babies with you, and that includes every part, OK?”

Your look softened momentarily, seeing his lips twitch down—you could probably see he wasn’t believing you.

Then you cradled his face in your palms. You smiled. You brushed his nose with yours, and you kissed him again, and with what little strength you likely had left in your body, you dug your heels in his ass and pulled him deeper. Both of you let out soft, low grunts at the effort.

“If you fucked like this at twenty-five, my body wouldn’t have survived anyway,” you whispered in reassurance. Biting back a laugh as Joel smiled, too, “I like things just the way they are. Just like how I hope you like me, too.”

“No—I love you.” Joel shook his head, almost plaintive.

And for the first time that night, he felt himself soften.

Whether it was the pill wearing off or that first thread of vulnerability stretching out between your body and his, he didn’t really care. He kissed the tip of your nose and was about to say something more, when you cut back in.

“I love you more. And since we’re being honest tonight,” you started quietly, nipping at your bottom lip a second, “I might…need you back at the apothecary tomorrow.”

Joel’s face fell.

“Wh— is something wrong, baby?” His voice was tight.

He hated seeing David, but, of course, he’d go back there in a heartbeat if it meant getting you the medication you needed. His stomach was starting to churn, when you reached up to hold his face again. You shook your head.

“No, no, Joel, I’m fine. But I may need prenatal vitamins.”

Now his eyes were going wide. His cheeks heated under your palms, and his cock twitched inside you, reflexively.

“You mean…” he murmured, unable to finish. Swallowing.

Beneath him, he saw you smile and nod.

He nearly choked hearing what followed:

“I meant to tell you earlier, but…my period’s a little late.”

[fatherbrat]

ONE LAST TIME, R. SUNA

sum. two months into your relationship with your current boyfriend, your ex-fwb finally sends you a voicenote to let you know exactly how he feels about it.

feat. rintaro suna

cw. ex-fwb!suna, cheating, mutual masturbation (kinda lol), jealousy, dirty talk, anal mention, pillow humping, possessiveness, degradation

wc. 1.2k

When you posted your first official pictures of you and your new boyfriend, you had expected Suna to react…negatively. You basically braced for impact the moment you hit post, but all you got from him was an Instagram notification and two texts.

sunarin liked your post.

rin ;)

lmk if you want me to delete our pics.  and hmu when you two break up :p

You never bothered replying, initially not sure how to reply, and then forgetting about the texts entirely. The two of you barely have any contact for a few weeks after that, but he's obviously keeping up with your socials; liking every post and viewing every story. It doesn't bother you, but it's weird going cold turkey on your relationship like that. You had expected him to reach out for some sort of closure. You wanted him to. 

Halloween swings by in no time, and (much to you boyfriend’s dismay) you dress up as a sexy nurse. You don’t remember much of the night, but you do know that you posted a picture of you and your friends all dressed up on your story before getting blackout drunk. 

Your phone dies early on in the night. Your friends take good care of you up until it’s time to bring you back home, and you don’t wake up until the afternoon. You don’t check your phone until a couple hours after that—long after it's been turned on and charged to 100%. 

When you finally check it, two particular notifications catch your attention. 

sunarin liked your story. 

rin ;)

Voice Message

The voice message is 12 minutes long. 

You exit your texts immediately, opting to distract yourself by tending to your other notifications. It doesn’t help much. Your mind races, wondering what he was talking about for so long and if it was really so important that he reached out after almost four months of near-silence. 

You toss your phone onto your bed, shaking your head. You try to ignore it, cleaning the bathroom and folding the laundry and vacuuming the living room all in an effort to forget about the lengthy recording sitting in your phone. 

But it doesn’t take long for the curiosity gnawing at you to win. 

You practically run back to your bedroom, grabbing your phone and sitting cross-legged in the middle of the bed. Your fingers move quickly across the screen, hitting play without hesitation. 

The first 8 seconds are nearly silent, and you start to wonder if it’s possible that he sent such a long message by mistake.

But then you hear a heavy sigh.

“I like your costume.” His tone is hushed, like he’s telling you a secret. “You look hot.”

There’s another moment of silence, like he’s giving you a chance to change your mind and stop listening. 

But then Suna moans and your eyes nearly bulge out of your head. 

“You never answered my text, y’know. When I asked if you wanted me to delete our pictures. So, uh, I kept ‘em.”

Oh. 

Oh fuck.

“I’m looking at one right now. It’s from last Halloween. When you-“ His breath hitches. “When you went as a Playboy Bunny.”

You remember. Suna dressed as Hugh Hefner and the two of you went to a party together. Then he took you back to his apartment and fucked you while you were still wearing the bunny ears and bowtie. 

You’re pretty positive you’re not wearing the bodysuit in the picture he’s looking at. 

“I don’t know how much of this night you actually remember, but I can describe the picture for you.”

You tense, anticipation sending goosebumps up your arms. 

“You’re kneeling on the ground, looking up at the camera, and you’ve still got those bunny ears on your head.”

This voice message is going in the last direction you thought it would.  Is he—?

“You’ve got cum all over your face, baby.” He laughs to himself before continuing. “And you’re sticking your tongue out like a fucking whore.”

Suna takes a ragged breath, a sound you're all too familiar with. It confirms your suspicions—he’s definitely jerking off. 

“That was a good night. We had a lot of good nights.” He sounds miffed all of a sudden. “I seriously doubt the boyfriend is fucking you as good as I did.”

You suppress a shiver. A pang of guilt heats your chest at the mention of your boyfriend. You should stop listening. Delete the message. Tell him to delete the pictures and then probably block him. 

Or you could let the message keep playing. 

Suna inhales sharply, followed by a shaky moan. You swear you can hear the sound of his fist stroking his dick. 

“I hope you’re not letting him put it in your ass like you let me. That’s our thing, okay?”

Under different circumstances you would have laughed. 

“Fuck,” he hisses. “And I hope you’re not letting him spit in your fucking mouth. Or–shit–doing that thing where you’d suck me off with your head hanging upside down off the bed.” He falters at the end of the sentence, groaning into the phone.

“I’m not gonna–” he interrupts himself, sighing deeply. “I’m not gonna pretend I’ve been happy for you. I miss you.”

You feel hot all over, a heady combination of annoyance and arousal and embarrassment. There’s a dull throbbing between your legs and in the back of your mind you wonder if this is what Suna wanted when he sent the message. 

“Just–just let me fuck you one more time. Okay princess? I’ll make it sooo good for you,” he whines. You can hear his hand picking up speed.

“It’s still early. Two months is nothing, it won’t even count as cheating.” You can hear the smirk in his voice. “God, just one last time. Please?”

Without thinking, you grab a pillow and position yourself over it in a straddle. You won’t let him fuck you, but that doesn’t mean he can’t make you come one last time.

“I promise I’ll do that thing you like with my tongue. And you can pick all the positions if you want to.” There’s a tremble in his voice. “Or just lay there. I’ll do all the work.”

You grind into the pillow beneath you, picturing the expression you know he’d be wearing if he were in front of you–batting those dark eyelashes with raised eyebrows, just barely able to control the smug curve of his lips.

Heat pools in your gut and a whimper falls from your lips. Suna keeps talking.

“I know you miss me. You have to. You’re probably touching yourself to this right now.” 

You gasp softly and rock your hips faster.

“Such a fucking slut.” You hear the telltale quiver in his voice that tells you he’s getting close. “My fucking slut.”

You moan, his words giving you flashbacks.

“Oh fuck. Fuck, I’m coming,” he rasps, before letting off a series of moans and whimpers that almost make you concede. You grind harder into the pillow beneath you, imagining Suna in his room, chest heaving, talking into the phone and making himself come to pictures of you. 

That does it. A tsunami of pleasure washes over you, forcing your body to tense before you go limp, collapsing onto your bed with a shudder.

You and Suna breathe in tandem, both of you catching your breath. 

You hear another laugh through the phone. “Damn, that was a lot.” There’s the sound of sheets rustling. “Kinda made a mess, princess.”

He’s silent for another few beats before clearing his throat. “Text me, okay?” he says quietly. “Please.”

The voice message ends.

part two

[ghostsprincess]

I can't stop thinking about Ghost being a better boyfriend than your ex, even without establishing that title....

This is a continuation of part one.

warning: mention domestic abuse

💀

Simon was there every night you worked. You never gave him your schedule, but he'd show up and settle onto one of the stools like clockwork. Soap often joined him, and while they carried on like always, you knew Simon's gaze lingered on your body. You could practically feel the weight as you took drink orders and pulled pints. It wasn't unwelcome. In fact, it made everything easier knowing you weren't alone if your ex dared show his face.

When your shifts ended, Simon would walk you back to your new place. The one time you insisted he didn't need to do that, he grunted and said, "What if I want to?"

You didn't mention it again. Instead you got into a routine of giving him a fifteen minute warning when your shift was going to end, and you'd head out into the cold night with him at your side. He was mostly quiet while you chatted about whatever was on your mind. When you'd ask him about himself, he'd reroute the conversation back to you. Then he would wait while you unlocked your door and stepped inside.

You always had the urge to invite him in, but you were taking up so much of his time already. And what would you do with him anyway? This hulking military man with kind eyes? 

You thanked him and gave him a little wave before ducking inside, and you knew he always waited until he heard the sound of your door locking before he left. 

"Y' alright, love?" he asked one night when you were starting to feel particularly good about yourself again. Your split lip had healed which required less makeup. You felt stronger for having left your ex in the dust. You were wearing a new top that made you feel sexy.

"Yeah. I'm alright, Simon. I feel really good, actually."

You served him a drink and refused to let him pay. You really ought to make him stop tipping you at this rate. He was doing so much for you and getting nothing in return. He was doing all of the boyfriend duties just as he had promised, but he never so much as touched you other than the occasional hand hold.

What if you wanted more?

He broke into your thoughts as he said, "I can tell. Ya' been smiling more. Almost ready to go?"

Tonight you felt like you were floating along the dirty sidewalk with your hand tucked in Simon's massive paw. He was keeping you warm without doing anything, and he listened to your nervous rambling as you tried your best to work up your courage. But the two of you reached your front door all too quickly.

"Get inside," he said, voice deep and tender in spite of the command. "An' lock up."

When he started to pull his hand away, you didn't let him. And you didn't budge when one of his eyebrows inched higher. "Not quite yet," you whispered, toe tapping the cement step you were standing on which put you slightly closer to him in height. "I have to tell you something."

Simon's lips pressed together in a tight line, and his chin dipped in a slight nod. "I need to tell ya' something, too. Just don't want to."

"What?" you asked immediately, the lightness you'd been feeling instantly replaced with a lead brick inside you.

"I'm leaving. Late tomorrow night. Not until after I make sure ya' get home from the pub."

"Leaving?" you whispered, heart pounding faster. He was in the military. Some sort of special mission involvement. You knew that much. And you could read between the lines to know that someone who looked and behaved like he did was probably about to risk his life, not for the first time. "Simon, where are you going?" you asked with tears in your eyes even though you figured he wouldn't be able to tell you.

Simon shook his head, his lips curling into a soft smile. It was a rare sight, and it made you dizzy. "Pretty little thing like you shouldn't be worried 'bout me." You wanted to tell him you would be. You'd worry nonstop until you saw him again. You'd come to rely on him, but mostly you liked how you felt when he was around. "There'll be someone to walk ya' home from work every night. I can promise that."

You wanted to lean in and kiss him, but instead you threw your arms around his neck. He was so solid and warm, and the scrape of his facial hair on your cheek was somehow comforting. "But I'll see you tomorrow, right?" you asked, voice breaking on a sob.

"I'll see ya' tomorrow, love."

He didn't move an inch as you extracted yourself, and the sound of his receding footsteps could only be heard once you'd locked yourself inside.

💀

Part three