#but it needs a fucking annoying phone call that my mom will have to make

[lostintransist]

The Boys' Home | Part 6

*If you asked to be on a tag list and you haven't been, please ask again. Somtimes I think Tumblr eats my comments.

Part 1 | AO3

You loved them. Swear to any God you love your boys but FUCK! Sometimes the urging from childhood, the lizard brain screaming for peace, made it really hard to not lose your mind at them. All four of your boys were whining, fighting, and being a general nuance to each other and you. The grocery store would never be the place for them to fight like this.

Once a week during the summer you had to make a grocery run. Four growing boys at home every day meant they roved through any accessible food like locusts. If your local store offered pickup you would pay a decent amount to use it. It would save you from days like this.

Seth, at eleven, should have known better than to let Darren, at six, cause him so much distress. But being a preteen is a bit like being in hell so who knew how much he could hold back the yelling? Darren also fought with Sam, also six, and Reggie, ten.

Frankly, they all needed a nap and would argue they didn’t. The full moon incoming tonight helped only to fuel the chaos in their small bodies.

They had argued over who got to sit where and then during the drive over Reggie looked too long at Darren who screamed about the offense. Sam had started screaming that Darren was being too loud and then Seth tried to make them stop, by yelling. The nitpicking and annoyance at the others existing continued into the store. Halfway down the freezer aisle and that much closer to freedom. Glancing down at your list you curse in your head— you forgot about the milk and butter you needed. Of course, those marketing masochists had to put them in the back corner of the building.

As always you made note of where your boys were in relation to each other, the cart, and any other customers. Not many people in the freezer section today; a teenager who slowly read labels through the glass, two old men, shock white hair figuring them to be grandfather age, and the one man in a hat who ran numbers on the calculator on his phone.

Pushing the cart, and all four boys who have lost the privileges of walking without holding on, just beyond the freezer you needed you turned your focus away for two hells-damned seconds. No sooner than the blast of chilled air cooled against your skin than the yelling started.

The crinkle of the vegetable bag below your fingers did not drown out the sound of a different plastic screaming and small, roundish objects hitting the ground. Side-stepping and slamming the door shut you held back the yell by the thinnest of margins.

“Boys!” The mom voice came out in full force. “Enough! Clean up every grape you spilled.”

Four panicked faces stared up at you.

“Now!”

They scrambled to pick up each of what now appeared to be one hundred-plus tiny fruits rolling away in every direction. Movement had you looking up from the offending mess you see every man but one disappearing around the corner. You would call them cowards but you were interrupted.

“Powerful mum voice you have there,” John remarked as he watched your boys pick up every grape flung wide in their tomfoolery.

Glancing at your new neighbor you gauge the sarcasm as low. The tilt of his brows reads more as impressed and slightly annoyed than anything else.

“It’s a talent. My mom voice is stronger than my teacher voice.”

When Sam lifted a handful of grapes, bad intentions in his eyes, you let out two quick hisses of air. All the boys paused and glanced at you. Everyone but Sam turned back to their task as they realized they were not the child in trouble. Eye contact with your boy and a quick head shake were enough of a redirect to avoid further problems.

“Never could quite figure out how my mum could call us all to order so easily. Watching you do it makes me wonder which is stronger, my captain voice or your mom voice.” John has now joined you as the boys scoop and deliver their mistreated goods back into the bag.

A light smile drifts over your lips, even as your chest remains tight.

“I bet the mom voice would work well on your Johnny, and probably Kyle. Jury’s out on Simon,” you wink when John catches your eye. “Bet if I caught you with it I would get a reaction though.”

John let out a belly laugh, big enough to drift. An older woman toddled past the other end of the aisle. Well guess the conversation would be town-wide by desert.

“You know what? I’ll take your bet. What are you offering?”

The boys were nearly done. Thinking fast you blurted out the first thing that came to mind.

“If I win you agree to man the grill for the neighborhood meetup you can make it to. Next one is in two weeks.”

They were always hosted at your house, which is fine but that meant you were in charge of the grill. Mostly you were in charge of the grill because the last time any of the men had touched it they left it so gross you banned them from touching it again. You hated cooking meat. It freaked you out that everything might not be fully cooked.

Folding his arms John nodded slowly, as if thinking it over.

“Seems like a good offer. If I win I ask for deserts for our next poker night.”

A fair offer. Equal in labor, skill, and expectation as to what you would demand as your winnings.

“You’ve got yourself a deal,” offering John your hand, you shake on it.

“Got a good grip there teach,” he patted you on the shoulder.

Something about that interaction tickled your brain. But as the boys were finally finished cleaning up the mess they had made you needed to leave it.

“Good. Hands on the cart,” you fired off the command.

“But mom!” Seth cried, affronted in only a way an eleven-year-old can be.

“But Seth!” You whined back before dropping into a deadpan expression. “Kid we have two things left to grab. You can grab the cart or I can ask John here to take you home.”

Neither looked terribly impressed with the option. They made eye contact before Seth grabbed the wire of the cart with a sigh.

John lifts a brow at you.

“Welcome to small towns John. You can and will be used as punishment by other people’s parenting,” you reply with a shrug and a grin. “Alright boys, let’s go.”

He chuckles behind you as you push your full cart and the four dour-faced children who want nothing to do with the buzzing lights of the store. Once the milk and butter were secured the boys convinced you to buy some popcorn. Shareable snack acquired you were able to direct the chaos toward check out.

This step moved fast. Seth and Reggie both scampered to the end of the second conveyor belt and bagged all the groceries the cashier sent their way. Darren and Sam touch every fucking thing within their limited reach until you threaten them with getting put in the cart.

Mary Ann is your cashier today. She had been one of your students two years ago, passing math and even taking online math courses through the community college two towns over. Her dad, Richard, talked about her going off to a fancy college once her associates were done. You had offered to write her a letter of recommendation if ever she needed or wanted it. Mary Ann was a good kid. She might now be twenty but until you were dead, she would be one of your kids.

“Heard you snapping at the boys in the freezer aisle. Everything going okay?” Her hands don’t stop moving even as Mary Ann asks the question.

The eye roll is unstoppable.

“The hooligans need a nap,” Darren and Sam start to protest but you ignore them and finish your sentence. “There was an incident with the grapes. We got it all cleaned up though.”

“Oh good,” Mary Ann scanned the last item and tapped a few buttons on her side. “Your total is—”

She got cut off by Reggie wailing like a hot brand had been taken to his ass.

Slamming your card against the reader you cursed the heartbeats until it beeped. Reggie was now screaming for you and Seth was yelling. Once the awful beep that always made you think your card declined sounded you were snatching Sam and Darren by the hands and snapping at Seth and Reggie to ‘push the fucking cart and if you don’t quit screaming in here.’

The violence of their voices continues. Reaching the van you turn it on, plug in your phone, turn on the most bass-heavy song you can find in a short glance, and up the volume. Seth and Reggie climb in first, to the way back followed by Sam and Darren who click themselves into their booster seats. They all know that if you are turning on the bass it is to drown them all out and screaming will do nothing but cause you to roll the windows down and turn the volume up even higher.

Was it good parenting? No. But it kept you from wrecking the fucking van so it wasn’t the worst choice you could make. Loading the groceries in the back you give in to your anger a tiny bit and slam the door closed. Angrily stalking the cart back to the corral and sending it careening in also helps a bit.

Parenting is the hardest thing you’ve ever done, and most of that comes from confronting your own damn issues. Sometimes though? It is hard because it’s hard to be near a person learning to be a person.

Each child is given a bag or two to take inside and deposit on the counter before they are free to disappear into the woods or up to their rooms. The absence of them in your space and face lets you take the deepest breath and scream into your hands. The small bones shake from the force of your yelling.

“Okay. You can do this. Fuck, the full moon is tonight and then you should get your children who don’t hate that someone breathed near them back.” Taking another deep breath you start putting everything away, still talking to yourself. “We can have chicken nuggets, mac’n’cheese, and salad. Popcorn and a movie before bed and then a large glass of something for me.”

Face in the freezer as you rearranged everything to fit as Simon’s voice from outside scared you into a shriek.

“Do you always talk to yourself?”

Boys Masterlist | Masterlist

@leahnicole1219 @harperstyles @sigynxlokiwifelover @fluffysmiko @lily-bug3 @demothers-empty-blog @literallegendicon

[machidielontheway]

when you think it's done and then you forget that you have things left to do and you being doing it and you discover MORE stuff to do AGAIN that are TIME SENSITIVE and potentially PROBLEMATIC

[madamechrissy]

Pour it Up

Pairings: Stripclub Owner Sukuna x Stripper F!reader

Summary:- You are a single mother, your baby daddy is not just worthless, he also is actively trying to sabotoge you, so you go out on your own and raise your kid by yourself. Struggling your ass off, a friend of a friend named Toji decides to offer you a hell of a deal, a few hours a night at a strip club to make BANK. While there, you meet the other owner, Sukuna, and the moment he sees you? You annoy him how beautiful you are, how much he wants you, pushing him to insanity. He knows he must have you- no matter whose ass he needs to beat.

Warnings:- reader is a mom, lowkey/highkey Yandere Sukuna behavior (He's obsessed- down bad) recreational drug use, drug dealing Sukuna (the club lowkey a front lol) Mafia ties, EXPLICIT sexual content, fluff/smut AND light angst- violence, some former trauma of reader. This part- mentally/emotionally abusive Naoya, Sukuna is possessive, violence, mafia ties, a lil bit of smut in here- whipped ass Kuna- he whimpers hehe- angst smut AND fluff - WC-6.2k

Based on Stripclub Owner Sukuna - will be six or more parts- I HIGHLY recommend the playlist (esp on the club scenes) That mobster art in the banner is by Sketch B on X- LINK

<<<Part Three Playlist Masterlist Part Five>>>

Part Four

“I’m outside, sweetheart, wanna let me in?” Your heart hammers in your chest, as Touma is tilting his head curiously, you bolt up to sit straight, feeling sick to your stomach as his cat-like tone works its way into your mind.

“What!?” You demand quietly, standing as you head towards the door, you’ve rarely ever had him come here, he’s been so uninvolved aside from his never ending calls or texts, which were just taunts truly.

“You heard me, honey, I’d love to come see you. Wonder what you’re wearing hmm?”

You hang up the phone, disgust making bile rise in your throat, turning to Touma then and bending low on your knees, brushing back his hair gently. “Hey baby, let Mama talk to him, hmm?”

“But will daddy upset Mama?” He asks, breaking you slowly into pieces, you take a shaky breath, plastering on a smile.

“No way, I’ll be good! Promise. But I want you to stay inside, will you do that for me?”

“Of course! I'm a big boy.”

“You are!” You snatch up a cardigan, you’re literally in a crop top and shorts, the last thing you need is him to tear apart you showing the stretch marks he loves to shit on you for, for being comfortable with your body, that gives him more power over you.

You open the door and see him, sleazy smile on his face, those narrowed brown eyes raking down your figure as you shut the door behind you, looking directly at him with a scowl. He chuckles, grinning with sharp canines as the sun that should be warming your skin makes you so hot you feel faint, blood pressure rising and rising to where you can’t breathe.

“Naoya. Need something?” You whisper, he leans a hand on the door, right by your head, the other brushing back your hair, you itch to smack him but you’re terrified, knowing more and more of what he does.

“Not a nice greeting sweetheart, where’s my kiss?”

“You’re not getting one ever again.” He laughs harshly, dragging you to him then by your waist, and you shove at his chest. “Back off.”

“No way to talk to me, maybe I should occupy your stupid fucking mouth, huh?” You glare and smack him right in the face then, earning him pinning your wrist brutally to the door. “Gonna put your hands on me?”

“You’re not gonna kiss me, ever agin. Stop it, you’re making a scene!”

“Then let me in, huh?”

“No. I’m not letting you scare Touma.” Naoya rubs his red cheek, letting your wrist go now, eyes trailing down your body once more, tugging at your cardigan, seeing the marks Sukuna left, glaring.

“And just what are these?” He touches your neck, making you shiver, pushing his hand off once more.

“None of your business, Naoya.”

“Gonna get marked up like some whore?”

“Says the man who had women bent over tables in front of me?” You counter, raising a brow, as Naoya tilts your chin up, touch so vile compared to Sukuna’s that you wonder how you ever really did it with him.

“If you would’ve tried harder, maybe I wouldn’t have had to. Served your man a little more, appreciated all I did.”

You scoff now, eyes narrowing. “All you did was down me, make me feel like shit, and blame me for your infidelity instead of just taking responsibility. And I served you plenty, you sure didn’t.”

“Didn’t what?”

“Get me off.”

He snorts, rolling his eyes and adjusting his suit jacket. “Oh really? You’re playing that?”

“It’s not a game, I know you didn’t.”

“And you’re gonna stand here looking so satisfied, for what?”

“Because I’m happy for once, you can’t stand it, can you?” You whisper, only for him to press your back against the door, hovering over you, for all his faults he’s never hit you, but your eyes go wide, tummy flipping so much you feel sick, you’re dying to just be in Sukuna’s arms suddenly. 

It’s an insane thought, too much too soon, but fuck you want him to hold you, to tell you it’ll all be okay, to feel him cup your face with one of his big hands, that make you feel so safe. You close your eyes for just a moment, trying to gather yourself, as Naoya continues to spit his nasty words, mixed with falsehoods.

“You wanna live in this piece of shit apartment with the kid?”

“He’s happy here, and it’s what I can afford.”

“So come back, and live like you should, have you in furs and diamonds, hmm?” He’s caressing your cheek as he speaks, altering his tone, and shit that used to work but now!?

“No.”

“No!?”

“No, I’m good with working hard, and doing what I can. I haven’t asked you for a dime, Naoya.”

“Making such good money shaking your ass?” You tense then, jaw setting, glaring back at him.

“Excuse me?”

“Heard the rumors, someone saw you coming out of that club downtown, the real fancy one. Are you actually bartending, or are you just slutting it out?”

“I swear to god, go the fuck away.”

“Want me to tell the lawyer what you do? Mommy who strips, who knows what else she does for money. How much are you charging them?” He cooes again, brushing back your hair as your hands are numb from the blood pressure rising higher and higher, until you almost feel faint.

“What are you getting at, stop talking in circles.”

He laughs then, throwing his head back a bit. “That you either come back where you belong, with me, or I make sure he’s not gonna be yours.”

“You will not, and since when do you even want him in your life?” Your voice is under your breath, you can’t have Touma hearing, Naoya’s brows lower, as he finally backs up a bit, but his hands are slipping across the sides of your breasts, to your waist and your hips.

“Miss you, don’t you know?” He tries to run it, that game he used to, but it doesn’t work, not now that you’ve had Sukuna, a real man. “I need you in my bed, not some john at a club.”

“I don’t get paid to fuck.” You speak through your teeth, he snorts then.

“You were good with your mouth, you know.”

“Wouldn’t know if you were, thank god.”

“What now?” You smile then.

“Nothing. If you want to see Touma, set it up with our lawyer, you don’t need to come here, or do you want more legal involvement in your hair?”

“You threatening me, stupid little bitch?”

“Just giving what I’m getting, bet you don’t want the feds on you.” He laughs cruelly, pinching your cheek so hard you gasp.

“Think I don’t have feds in my back pocket? Stop acting like you fucking know shit, huh? Think about it, coming back, being safe with me, or acting like some dumb bitch at a club. What’s better?”

“Call me a bitch one more time, I swear.” He leans close, lips against your ear, hands slipping down your body, gripping at your hips.

“You’re real pretty when you’re scared.��� Is all he says, kissing your ear and laughing again, before pulling back, finally allowing you a breath. “I’ll see you real soon, sweetheart.”

You try to compose yourself, finally walking inside and seeing Touma nomming happily on his little cheese puff snacks, giggling as he’s watching his cartoon. You exhale in relief that he hadn’t heard it, but then a sense of dread starts to fill you, as you have no clue truly just what your ex is capable of.

******

Candy looks at you with a frown when you walk in, as do the other girls, not saying a word as you start to get undressed, they never really talk to you, seeing as you’re Mr. Sukuna’s favorite, and you can’t blame them. Sukuna was heavily lusted after by the girls here, and you’re sure from overhearing conversations that he used to partake in the women here as well.

But it definitely seems like he no longer is, as body spray is spritzed and lockers are shut, leaving you alone as you’re dusting glitter on your skin, struggling to pull yourself together just a bit. Sukuna isn’t here yet, and when he is you’re certain the flood gates are going to open, and tears will fall.

You need to tell him what happened.

You struggle to save face, stepping up the stairs to one of the stages, clear platform heels clicking, the straps have calloused your ankles all week, but you seem to be getting used to this again. Your body after just a couple weeks is a little stronger, a little more used to the movements, though you’re not sure you’ll be able to get up all the way like before Touma.

You spin and glide, earning grins and looks, as you slip to the floor, hair falling loosely, you’re not wearing a wig tonight, hair just flowing lightly, led lights glittering like diamonds on your skin. You try to fake a smile, try to put on a bright exterior, as men ogle you with their eyes, as they slip cash into your garter, when you see Sukuna walk in, along with Toji, Suguru and Satoru.

As soon as his eyes hit you, he knows something is wrong, and he panics, was it him, yesterday? Was it the fuckfest you two had!? Was he too much or…

What you do to him.

He walks up now, casually standing at the stage and pulling out hundreds, becoming you over, blunt in his mouth as he hands you a lighter. “Light it f’me, pretty hmm?”

“Of course, Mr. Sukuna.” You step closer, taking it and cupping around the flame, he exhales, slipping a hundred in your garter, then another few in your waistband, thumbs brushing on your skin, feeling so good then. “Don’t give me-”

“Shh. Tipping my girls here.” He says, inhaling the blunt as more men are gathering around, trying to garner your attention, and Sukuna’s putting another few hundred in your other garter, as your body responds to his every touch. “God just look at you.”

“Mnh…” Is all you manage to whisper, he smirks then, inhaling the blunt and exhaling against your skin as you spread your thighs, pulling your panties up to where your lips are just barely visible, making his head spin.

“Teasing me, huh brat?”

“Maybe.” You turn now, rolling your hips, before pulling him by his tie, as he stands so close, feeling your heat against him, making him almost moan as he lets you pull his face to your titties.

“You better not do this with anyone again.” He says as you jiggle your breasts, managing the first soft laugh since your run in with your ex.

“I’ll do whatever you want me to, Sir.”

“Fuck.” You pull back a bit, and he sighs as his name is called, looking over his shoulder, then back at you. “Come see me in a bit.”

You nod, finding it hard to pay any attention to any of the other men, outright shuffling off dances to the other girls, until your set is done and Sukuna eyes you heading to his office. Soon he’s in there, shutting the door and pulling you close, intending on kissing you when he sees the tense set of your face, the way your eyebrows are drawn together.

He softly says your name, and you know you’re losing it, your hold on everything. “Anyone bothering you?”

“Not any of the guys here, no.”

 “What’s wrong?” Sukuna cups your face, and as soon as he does, you drop your shields, your barriers, all your defenses, lip trembling so much you have to bite at it to make it stop. You’re blinking back tears, when his crimson eyes narrow with concern, his jaw tensing. “What’s wrong, brat, out with it.”

“I don’t wanna worry you.” You whisper, then Sukuna knows.

“He fuckin threaten you?”

“Just with custody, not… physical. But he was grabbing at me, saying nasty things to me… I… Kuna, I…”

“Shh, shit just c’mere.” He pulls you in his embrace, a big hand on your head, pressing you against  his chest, letting you inhale that familiar scent, feeling so right and perfect, this cardamom mixed with something so heady, so him. You inhale it as your tears decorate his black dress shirt, and he’s just holding you.

You can’t stop crying, it opens up like a damn flood gate, all while he’s holding you against his chest. “S-someone saw m-me here… that night he w-was here, I think he was looking for me.”

Sukuna’s grip tightens, holding you so close you can barely breathe. “He won’t fucking touch you, not a hair on your head.” Sukuna feels his chest aching, how much and how intense he’s feeling for you, with every breath you take, the thoughts fill his head over and over.

Kill him, he wants to kill Naoya.

It would start a fucking gang war though, but he can’t even think of anything, seeing red as he looks at the door to his office, as he holds you while you cry, over a man who doesn’t deserve shit, especially your damn tears. Didn’t deserve to touch you, and now has made you cry? No.

“He won’t bother you anymore.”

“You don’t understand who he is-”

“You don’t understand who I am.” You look up at him, as he swipes his thumbs across your cheeks. He can’t stop himself then, he wants to finally tell you, just how he feels, how much he feels. “Listen, I-”

Suddenly there’s a commotion, and Sukuna hears the sounds of a fight breaking out, you both quickly dart out of the room, and see it then, Naoya being held by his collar with Toji. The dancers and bartenders scatter, the men there gathering around, including several Zenin, with guns on the ready, you feel sick when Naoya sees you, wearing literally just pasties and panties.

Brown eyes lock as Sukuna spins a gold ring on one of his tattooed fingers, putting the insignia on it under his fist, stepping in front of you, as Toji hooks him under his shoulders, and Satoru and Suguru walk in, starting to punch the other men around you all, taking their guns right from their hands. The entire room is chaotic as you stand behind Sukuna, hand gripping his shirt like some lifeline.

“Out of the fuckin’ way, Ryomen. That’s my property right behind you.” Naoya says, and Sukuna’s body flexes with his fury, as he steps forward, laughing while he watches Naoya wriggle in Toji’s hold.

“She isn’t your damn property, Zenin.”

“She was my wife-”

“Was, being the keyword. You’re in our territory, fuck face.” Toji says then, and Naoya laughs, trying to heatbutt Toji and failing.

“Not the traitor son talking shit about territory, you all just are little bitches for the Gojo clan now, huh?”

Gojo quietly knocks another member out, until several are on the floor, as Suguru makes sure every last patron and dancer are out of the door, shutting and locking it with a click. “Speaking of my family, you are on my land, so why don’t you do us all a favor and leave her alone?” Gojo says then, as Sukuna steps closer, and Toji drags Naoya to a seat, holding his arms behind the back of it.

“The fuck do you care, you all tagging her?” Sukuna punches Naoya then, with a sickening crack, only making him lick the blood that drips from his lips, grinning when you find you have a jacket on you, tugging at it a bit and seeing Suguru smile just a bit, touching your back gently.

“You shouldn’t see this, love.” He murmurs, as Naoya coughs up once Sukuna has punched him in the stomach.

“Don’t talk about her, don’t even say her fucking name.” Sukuna mutters now, gripping Naoya’s collar and lowering his face.

“Do you know what my family can do?” Naoya asks, earning Sukuna’s grin.

“Do you know what I can do? What I feel like doing right now?” Satoru now has an arm around your shoulder, turning you to face his chest when you hear another scream from Naoya now, along with Sukuna chuckling.

“Shouldn’t see all that.” Satoru mumbles, as you’re shivering against him, and he has a hand on your head.

“I can look at it, I swear-”

“You really care about her, then you won’t piss me off, she’d fetch a pretty penny on the market, stretch marks and all- ah.” You hear another hit then, another sickening crunch of bone, making you just bury your face further against Satoru’s chest, feeling how stiff his own body has gotten, hands tight on you.

“Gojo, get her out of here while I finish this.” You hear gruffly, to just be ushered away from where your ex was further digging his grave. You’re gasping for a breath when Satoru has you in Sukuna’s office, struggling with your tears as you pull the coat closer against you.

“You have the worst taste, pookie.” Satoru says, and you laugh through your tears, as he leans over to grab tissues, dabbing them on your cheeks.

“How are you a mobster? You’re too sweet.”

“I am sweet, hmm?” He wiggles his brows, making you giggle again.

“How do you do that, be so sweet still?”

“Lots of sugary drinks. Sit.” You sit down now on the desk, hearing more screaming, trembling more as this giant coat swamps you, and Satoru sits next to you sighing, rubbing the back of his neck. “I hate this shit actually.”

“The head of the Gojo family hates it?”

“Sure do. Boring, bloody, just annoying. Sukuna, he really runs things for me, honestly, he can handle it all. I can but…” He frowns, looking at the backs of his knuckles, his long fingers spread out. “I don’t prefer to.”

“Do you think he’ll really do it, try to s-sell me?” Your trembling whisper makes Satoru frown now.

“He’s capable of it, and if Sukuna kills him now, there’ll be a war. He runs the Zenin at this point. But… no one will let it happen.”

“But my kid, I-”

“No one will let it happen. Okay?” You nod just a bit and he sighs, pulling you against him again. “Look like you need a hug.”

“Ugh, I do. Thank you, Gojo.”

“Satoru, we’re friends now hmm?” You nod with a little smile when Sukuna walks in, covered in blood all over his hand and forearms, eyeing you two.

But instead of irritation, he feels appreciative of idiot ass Gojo, even if just for the moment, as he comforts you. “I’ve got it now.”

Gojo smiles at you. “Don’t worry mmkay?”

You nod, wishing you could feel as unbothered as he’s trying, as he walks past Sukuna, and he murmurs something in his ear, before Sukuna shuts the door behind him, walking up to you now. Slowly, step by step, those dress shoes of his click quietly on polished hardwood floors, until he’s right in front of you, his shoulders finally relaxing their posture.

“Kuna…” You whisper, looking at his bloodied hands, as he cups your face with them, exhaling and leaning low, the crimson liquid decorating your cheeks as his thumbs brush over them.

“You need to come stay with me.” He says, husky voice so deep and broken, you take a shaky breath, your hands slipping up his shirt, dark line of sweat down his broad chest making it damp.

“I can’t do that, I can’t impose like that!”

“He’s more dangerous to you and your kid right now than anyone. You both need to stay with me for now so I can have you safe. No arguing, got me?” He says softly, and you nod, blinking tears back as he kisses you, deeply, hungrily now. “Good girl, actually listening.”

“Good girl, don’t do that.” You feel it then, his adrenaline just pouring from his veins, and he moans now, shoving off the jacket, baring you to him, every where he touches leaving little trails of blood, your ex husband’s blood at that, now coating your pretty breasts when he grabs them. You’re desperately unzipping him, feeling the need to be ever closer.

“God, what do you do to me.” He murmurs more to himself than anything, kissing the corner of your lips, down your jaw, pulling your pretty body so close, dying to take you, have you his and only his.

“Please.” You whine out softly, stroking his cock now, thumb trailing just over his piercing when he spreads your thighs, kissing down your neck, and you’re rubbing his tip between your folds, whining.

“I can’t touch her like this.” He huffs, and you whine out, making his cock throb in response.

“Don’t even need to touch me, please. In me- Ah!” As he presses his cock at your entrance, you’re soaking him, all while he’s cupping your chin, kisses hungrier now, your teeth clicking as he’s stretching out your little pussy.

“You’re too tight, brat, shit.” He huffs now, pulling your hair as he lays you back on his desk, yanking your thigh so he can sink even further, and you almost cum then and there, the sound drowned out by his mouth, muffling your cries.

“Need you.” You whisper again, and you needing him, hearing you say that, right along with your perfect pussy ruins him completely, he’s fucking into your slick walls now, harder and harder, pulling back to look at your face. Covered in mascara streaks, tears from this piece of shit who should have never had you, still so beautiful.

“You’re all mine now, aren’t you brat?” He huffs, you nod weakly, when his piercing drags on your spot, and you’re screaming out, he covers your mouth with his hand, his eyes dilated, lidded while he fucks into you. “Shh, baby.”

Baby.

Sukuna called you baby.

As you’re cumming and he’s whispering ‘that’s it, baby lemme fuckin’ feel you’ it’s partially from his cock, partially from his possessiveness, the way he owns you. He pulls out of you then, much to your whining dismay, chuckling a bit when he’s bent you over his desk instead, legs dangling at just how high it is, even with your heels they barely touch the floor.

“Mine, say it.” He huffs, fucking back into you, tip drooling as it kisses your cervix, your head falls back as you whine out. “Mine, just mine, never his again.”

“Never, Kuna, never.” Your cries are again muffled by a rough palm, as Sukuna feels a protectiveness so intense he can’t bear it, the need to claim you, to keep you, to make you his and all his. He’s closer and closer as he ravages your tight little cunt, which is pouring down his veiny length to accommodate.

“Gonna k-keep you s-safe, keep you cumming, f-fuck… got me?” You nod eagerly, screaming out into his palm when his ring drags on a new spot, and you’re cumming all over him, making him throb and moan himself, right in your ear, so sexy it sends shivers down your spine. “Gonna protect you baby.”

Protect you. 

Fuck you believe him, you trust him, more than someone you knew for years. The way he grabs you. Holds you. Kisses you. Fucks you. There's nothing like it, that strength as he rails your pretty pussy, yet the gentleness of his little kisses, then the feral way he claims you.

“Mnh!” Is all you squeak out against his rough hand, as your eyes roll back in your skull, and you’re convulsing around his thickness.

“Fuck…” Sukuna whimpers, the sound that always ends you even further, as he tries to keep going buried deep in you, he has to rest his other hand on the desk, clutching it, while he turns your face to him, breath on your lips burning. He almost says it, insane words, you make him think when you look at him with those eyes.

I love you.

Fucking brat, coming in and making him obsessed, making him soft, reckless and stupid, and now in love. He barely knows you, he’s surely pussydrunk, but that’s just not it, Sukuna has been whipped like a little bitch since day one, and it’s truly all your fault, as your pussy milks him, as your lips part and you look at him like that, like something he can’t explain.

Well shit.

He can’t just say that, so he stutters, his mouth open, shoving his cock so deep you scream out loud, and he couldn’t care less if someone heard then and there, not when he’s burying his face in your neck, murmuring your name. He also murmurs it, silently, those three little words, as he grabs you so tight, thick muscled arms around your body, so small compared to him.

“Kuna, cum in me, please. Wanna f-feel you.” You whisper, and who is he to deny anything you ask? He cums immediately, like your whispered plea was some command, his moans echoing in the room they’re so loud. “Mnh oh my god yes.”

You’re shuddering now, as his cock fills you so good, white cum shooting so deep inside you, and your head falls back as you rock your hips, arching your ass out for him to cum even deeper. Sukuna kisses you over and over, one hand gripping your hip, the other your face, trying to catch his own breath as he pushes in just a bit, feeling his cum and yours drooling down his length.

“Holy fuck…” You mumble, and he chuckles just a bit. “What?”

“You’re cute.”

“Cute, hmm?” He eases off you, pressing kisses down your spine, exhaling as he watches goosebumps rise everywhere he does.

“Cute. Even pouring cum like this.” You jerk as he pulls his cock out, and the emptiness and soreness hits. “Mmm, come with me tonight.”

“With my kid and everything? Let’s just… tomorrow? I mean I have to bring some things.” You try to adjust as you clean yourself up a bit with the tissues, hands shaking as you do.

“I mean… he’s not gonna do shit tonight, I guess, but I’ll have someone sit in front of your place, just to be sure.” You cup Sukuna’s face now, tiptoeing.

“You’d do that for me?”

“Let your kid sleep tonight, then we’ll figure something out.”

“Kuna I think I’m… like in love?” He snorts, but you’re dead serious, earning a blush on his high cheeks.

“It’s the moment brat, calm down.”

“Is it the moment?” Your eyes lock on his, he sighs now.

“You’re ‘like- in love’ what a shitty confession.” You glare now, earning his chuckle, the moment just a little lighter.

“Excuse me for not having the best confession, I have my exes blood on me and my boyfriend fucked my brain away.”

“Boyfriend?” He raises a brow, you bite your lower lip nervously then.

“Aren’t you?” He sighs, he wants to be that and more, brushing your messy hair back just so.

“You’re asking me out and confessing love? Damn, pathetic.”

“I swear if you-”

“I’m joking, brat.” He’s grinning now, for a moment this huge, tall and intimidating man with bruised knuckles is just a little sweetheart, genuine joy in his tone when he speaks. “I’ll be your boyfriend.”

“Yeah!?”

“Yeah.” You grin and kiss him again and again, until he’s damn near ready to fuck you all over, when the door knocks, and he clears his throat, grabbing his own coat and shoving it over your shoulders. “Come in.”

“Smells like sex in here.” Toji jokes with a grin, and Satoru sighs.

“Good sex.” He says with a pout.

“Can you two actually fuck off?” Sukuna demands, and you stand up, handing Suguru his jacket with a little smile.

“Thank you.” He smiles just a bit, nodding.

“How about we have a drink, I could sure use one.” Toji mutters, and Sukuna chuckles.

“Is that code for, I really fucked shit up and we need to talk about our plans?”

“Something like that. Wanna have a drink, doll?” Toji asks you then, and you sigh, shaking your head.

“I should get home, I need to be with my son.”

“I’ll have someone go there now.” Sukuna says, texting on his phone for a moment. “Want my driver to take you?”

“I can drive, Sukuna.”

“Aren’t you shaken up a bit?” Sukuna murmurs, before grinning. “Or should I say fucked out?”

“Oh stop!” You head off to get cleaned up and dressed, and when you’re out there aside from knocked over chairs and broken glass shattered, it seems relatively normal. Toji, Sukuna and Gojo are sitting there with Suguru at the bar, pouring them each a drink when Sukuna sees you, in your hoodie and jeans, sighing.

“You gonna be okay alone? I can come with you.” Sukuna asks, and Suguru hands you a shot, which you down with a little shiver, coughing a bit.

“If you have someone keeping an eye on the place I’ll be okay.”

“Just in case…” Sukuna walks behind the bar now, grabbing a gun and handing it to you, you blink a bit in confusion, frowning at it. “I’ll be showing you how to shoot a mother fucker.”

“Right now!?” You hear the chuckling of the men around you.

“Just point and shoot em, pookie.” Gojo says.

“I’m not gonna have a gun around! I don’t have a lock box and-”

“There’s the safety, and you can put it right under your pillow, just for tonight. Tomorrow I can protect you.” Sukuna says softly, putting the cool metal in your hands, dainty and shimmering. “It’s not a big gun, it’s tiny, just a little ‘22, enough that it’ll fuck em up, but barely any kick back. And easy to keep on you.”

“I don’t know…”

“Look, doll, ya need to start carrying, with that ex of yours? Trust us.” Toji says, you sigh then, nodding and taking the gun carefully, hand trembling just a bit.

“Safety is here, trigger here, it’s loaded so don’t play with it. Okay?” You nod now, and pops a little holster around your hips, securing it and covering it with your hoodie.

“I don’t have a permit-”

“Baby we run coke and are in the mob, you think that matters?” You look down and they all chuckle again at you. “You’re cute.”

“Yeah, yeah. Okay, I should go home though, I need to clean up and… be with my kid.”

“I’ll walk you out.” You wave to the other men now, as you feel the weight of his gun, though light, the mental weight of it is heavy on you, as you look up at him and a car pulls up.

“Only go straight home, already got someone parked, red mercedes, any other car lurking you call me, okay?” You nod then, leaning up and kissing him softly, sighing against his lips.

“I think I really love you.”

He chuckles, shaking his head, pulling you against him now, hands warm even over the layer of your fleece hoodie. “Do I gotta baby proof my house for the kid, or can he keep his hands off my coke?”

“Oh god, Sukuna!” He’s chuckling more now, earning your narrowed eyes. “Yes I need it somewhat put up, certain things, but he’s three, not an infant, so he’s good with most things. Are you really sure this won’t be a big imposition?”

“I’m sure it’ll annoy the fuck out of me, but it’s worth it if you’re safe.” You melt now, the breeze softly blowing his pastel hair around as you look up at him in the night.

“You’re gonna meet the kid, hmm? So soon?” You tease, he smirks.

“Already clearly met the ex.”

“Oh!” You shove at him playfully, for a moment you can let go, this horrible night, a night where your ex said and did terrible things, and threatened worse, because with Sukuna you just feel safe.

“The kid, he looks like you…”

“He does, doesn’t he?” Sukuna’s mind flits, to wild things he shouldn’t think about yet, like if he puts a baby in you, but he tries to shove it back, down with the pesky I love you, that doesn’t need to come out yet.

In just a couple of weeks you’re turning his entire life upside down, but he’s not sure he’s upset about it, really.

“He’ll love you, don’t worry.”

“I’m not.” He is.

“Well, good night Kuna.”

“Dumb nickname.” He grumbles, kissing you again, soft and sweet, and your eyes meet, seeing so much behind them, the worry and fear and… more. “Call me when you get home, lock up good. Keep the gun close, yeah?”

“Yes, Sir.” You giggle when he moans at that, hands on your hips, pressing you close against his hard body.

“Keep talking shit. I have that room soundproof you know.”

“Freaky ass.” He snorts, and you both kiss once more, as he leans over the car door, opening his mouth as if to say something, then sighing.

“Don’t forget to call me.”

“I won’t.” His heart aches when you drive off, he quickly walks back in however, his entire demeanor shifting when he sees the other men are serious now too, now that they don’t have to try to keep it a little more positive for you.

“He fucked up big time coming here.” Toji slicks back his inky locks, downing another shot of tequila, as Satoru’s hands clutch the bar so hard his thin veins are popping from his hands and wrists.

“He’s gonna come back with more people, we need to amp up, call in some of the guys to be on watch. God this shit is boring.” Gojo sighs now, leaning his snowy head back and looking up at the ceiling. “Tired of the Zenin.”

“They’re becoming more and more of a problem, no respect.” Sukuna takes a bottle of whiskey, pouring it into his glass now, jaw clenching. “And that Naoya, the things he fucking said.”

“Love is the biggest weakness, Sukuna.” Satoru murmurs, Sukuna glares at him, but he’s right.

You’re now his weakness, a target, long standing shit mixing with Naoya’s clear need to get you back, it spells disaster. “Did I say I’m in love, Gojo?”

“Written all over your face.” Suguru smirks a bit, earning Sukuna’s glare.

“And her kid, you’re like gonna be a stepdad. God, imagine Ryomen Sukuna as your step dad?” Satoru’s cackling, and Sukuna stands now, stepping up to him as he holds his hands out. “I don’t blame you!? I’d do it too, look at her-”

“I think I need more blood on my knuckles tonight.” Sukuna yanks Satoru by the collar, his arms flailing.

“Shit, sorry step dad-”

“I’ll kill you.”

“Separate you two, god.” Suguru shoves them apart, shaking his head. “Satoru, you really just enjoy being threatened I think.”

“You do love her.” Satoru gets released, brushing himself off as Sukuna grumbles.

“I’ll never let him touch her again, whatever I gotta do.”

When you’re snug in your bed after a shower, you yawn, calling Sukuna, who is riding back home. “Hey, Kuna.”

“Brat, are you all good?” He tries to hide the worry in his voice, but it comes out through the phone, as you turn on your back, blinking a bit, hand clutching tightly.

“I’m okay, I promise. Scared for Touma. I don’t know, would he hurt him?”

“He’d hurt you, and that leaves him with no mom. So it doesn't matter if he’d hurt him or not.” You bite your lip then, feeling exhaustion starting to seep in.

“Why are you so good to me?”

“Tch.”

“Answer me, you brat.”

“Me a brat!?” He laughs now, and you giggle. “You’re asking for it.”

“Am I? Gonna punish me?” Your words are just a whisper, but hearing his sigh even through the phone makes your tummy clench.

“Hah- you’d like it too much, won’t you, me beating that bouncy ass?”

“Shush. I’m sore, you know.”

“Gotta work on the stamina, pathetic.”

“Hmm.” You’re dozing now, lashes are lowering, and he soon hears a light little snore, glaring at the phone.

“You’re sleeping?” He hears more snoring now, chuckling and leaning back in the seat, shutting his eyes for a moment, picturing you.

You’re making him so sappy, god it’s annoying.

“Night then, brat.” He murmurs, hearing you stir then.

“Night Kuna.” He hates the stupid smile on his face, hates the heat spreading from his cheeks to even the tips of his ears, hanging up the phone with a sigh, mind swirling.

Images of you, images of Naoya with his broken fucking nose, then more and more thoughts swirling, especially one-

How is he going to baby proof his damn penthouse?

Gojo’s spin off is here!

A/N- there's a LOT of plot here vs just smut, but I really wanna get into just how awful the Zenin are in this mafia world, esp Naoya. NEXT CHAP we get Kuna meeting Touma OMG. Also I included a lot of Satoru bc he's getting his spin off hehe. Hope you enjoyed, tysm for the love so far on this lil fic!

Taglist #1 @naammiii @naina326 @1worm1 @yenayaps @shokosbunny @sukubusss @msniks @kittyyyyykats @nyxly1412 @trashsuarecan @dumbbunny98 @monster-effer @tojis-ball-sack @tangsakura @friesnkwtchup @uhnosav @lhhlver @attackonnat @moonchhu @mat-mat-mat @cherryjain17 @havkjhdecs @stargirl-mayaa @waterfal-ling @the-dark-creature @lulunx @saitamaswifey @spacefae-x @deitysdream @sorahatake @gojoscumslut @stainednailpolishremover @kidd3ath @clp-84 @rinkomei @catastayy @oneirataxiaa @inthedarkshadows000 @travistheaussie @cold-blooded-girls @emi311 @blublublubby @fluttershyfangs @actuallynarii @7thsthings @ilovemeni @erluu @for-hearthand-home @angellliqua

[rafeshit]

babydaddy!rafe x mom!reader

warnings — MDNI kissing, sexual acts, and tensionn :)

summary — you had a bad date and rafe picks you up on his motorcycle and things get tense

—

you sit across from your date, trying to force a smile as he drones on about his job as an accountant. The conversation has been stilted from the start, and you glance at your watch for what feels like the hundredth time. You're desperate to get out of here, but your brother topper is busy at work and you can't call him to rescue you like you normally would and your mother was babysitting baby wren, the child you had 3 months ago.

you have been going out on dates every weekend in hopes of finding a fitting father for wren, but anytime you would bring up your baby girl each guy would make a fatal mistake — they would not even consider or shied away from asking questions about the most important person in your life. Which is this dates mistake, he would only talk about himself and what he’s interested in. you needed to leave.

you quickly dial the number of your brother's best friend and your baby daddy, rafe as your last resort. You've only talked to him a few times since the birth of your baby, and that was much better than the no-contact you had with him during your whole pregnancy. the baby was purely a mistake and after some disagreements you had broken up because of his drug usage.

you were so stubborn with him that he hasn’t met his child since the birth. You knew you were wrong for that but you couldn’t trust him, especially with his drug problem but you would update him about her progress and he would beg to see her — to which you were never ready to do. But nonetheless rafe would prove he was clean by monthly drug tests, and if you were honest with yourself you knew it wasn’t just the drugs that was keeping him from wren. It was because you knew that if you saw your baby in his arms you would want him back.

rafe answers on the first ring, and you pray he can sense the urgency in your voice. "rafe, I need a favor. I'm on a really bad date and I need you to come get me." You try to keep your voice low, because you lied to your date saying you had an urgent call that needed to be answered.

"Yeah, I'm on my way. Where are you?" He quickly says. You tell him the name of the restaurant, trying to keep your eyes from meeting your date's annoyed gaze. You hang up the phone and you can tell your date is getting suspicious, and you don't want to make things worse. You try to make small talk, but it's clear he's not buying it. He's getting angry, and you're getting scared.

You wait, feeling more and more trapped as the minutes tick by. Your date seems to sense your restlessness and starts to get agitated, his voice rising as he complains about how rude you're being. You try to stay calm, but your trapped, and you need Rafe to get here fast. You glance around the restaurant, hoping to see him walk through the door, but he's nowhere to be seen.

Finally, you see Rafe pulling up on his motorcycle through the glass of the restaurant. You breathe a sigh of relief as he walks towards you, his eyes scanning the area searching for you. He's dressed in his usual striped t-shirt and jeans, and he looks like a guardian angel sent to rescue you from this nightmare. He spots you and quickly walks over to you, "Are you okay? Are you hurt?" he asks.

You nod quickly, desperate to get out of there. "I'm fine, just want to go." Rafe nods, his eyes never leaving yours as he reaches out to take your arm.

That's when your date decides to intervene. He grabs your shoulder, spinning you around to face him. "Where do you think you're going?" he sneers. You feel a safe as Rafe's nearby, knowing he would protect you.

He shoves the guy off you, his arm coming between you and your date. "Touch her again and I’ll fuck up your face," he spat, getting the guy to back off. You let out a light gasp as Rafe turns to you, he offers a reassuring smile.

"Come on, let's go," he says, his voice softening as he looks at you. You nod as Rafe takes your hand and leads you out of the restaurant. You can hear your date yelling behind you, but you don't look back. You're safe now, thanks to Rafe.

You follow him to the motorcycle and Rafe hands you a helmet, you put it on and climb onto the back of the bike. Rafe gets on in front of you, and you wrap your arms around his waist, feeling the rumble of the engine beneath you.

before you guys speed off rafe utters, “how’s wren while your out here trying to catch some dick she could’ve been with me, learning who her father is.” you sigh, “she’s with her grandma and I was looking for a father not some fix.”

“why look when you have a perfectly good one here.” He says, revving the engine of his motorcycle. As you speed away from the restaurant, you look back and see your date standing alone in the parking lot, his angry face receding into the distance. the wind whipping through your hair and you cling to Rafes chest.

Your hands roam around his torso, feeling the solid muscles beneath his shirt. You're acutely aware of the tension building between you. Rafe's hand brushes against your leg, ever so softly as he used to do when you guys dated. You glance at him, but his eyes are fixed on the road ahead. You can't help but squeeze him tighter, your grip on his chest growing firmer.

The bike turns into a driveway, and you look around, confused. This isn't your place. Rafe kills the engine, and he gets off the bike and approaches you. He takes off his helmet, then reaches out and removes yours, tossing it across the lawn with a carefree grin. he turns to face you. “this isn’t my place, what are you doing?” You asked.

"You can't touch me like that and expect me not to drive to my place," he says, you try to play it cool, but your words come out stuttering. "W-what?" Rafe takes a step closer, "Do you want me?" he asks. You try to say the right thing, but your mind goes blank.

"We shouldn't..." you trail off, knowing it's a weak excuse. Rafe inches closer, "That's not what I asked. Do you want me?" He says again. You try to deny it, to push him away, but your body betrays you. You nod, barely perceptible, and the word escapes your lips in a whisper. "Yes."

he take no time to lean in, his lips claiming yours in a sensual kiss. Your lips do not break apart as you he walks backwards towards the door of his house, fiddling with the doorknob until he manage to open it. He continues backing up, all the way to the couch in the living room. Your kisses are quick and intense as he tosses off his shirt.

He throws you on his lap and starts biting your lip in between kisses in the more pleasant way possible. His hands, roam from your neck to your back and then to your butt, which he squeezes with intensity.

You begin to grind against him, his hard on rubbing against your clit was only making it better. He tosses you onto the plush cushions beside you and slips off the couch angling his face in between your legs, he slides your lace underwear to the side and begins piping his fingers into you, in which you let out soft moans, taking in the feeling.

He uses his free hand to unzip his pants and begin stroking his dick at the same pace he's pumping his fingers into you. He beings to work his fingers faster and his tongue went to your clit, swirling at a prominent pace, matching the speed with how he is stroking his dick.

Your hands clutch his hair, gripping it with vice. His fingers begin to hit your cervix and your one pump away from comeing. Finally you feel the band in your stomach snap and body begins to shake. He gets up, pushing the tip of his dick into your cunt to come, his hands jerking the rest of his dick off as he pumps his warm come into you, painting your walls white.

Finally he comes to a stop and plops down on the couch next to you, zipping up his pants. "God, that felt so good, I’ve missed you so much." He breathes. You're still catching you breath when suddenly the door knob starts to fiddle and rafe quickly throws on his T-shirt and you slip your underwear to its appropriate place. The door opens and in walks your brother, topper. "Oh! Hey sis what are you doing here?" He asks, holding bags of Chinese food.

You stutter, "had a bad date and rafe picked me up." You innocently smile.

"Yeah we were just sitting here, chattin’" Rafe smiles. “I think we’ve came to an agreement that wren will be in my life a lot more.” he says looking to you for approval, you nod, thinking that wouldn’t be such a bad idea.

“im glad you two worked things out.” Topper places the Chinese food on the table and claps his hands together, "well who wants to eat!?" You look to rafe and he nods, and three of you enjoy egg rolls and rice.

this made me hungry ngl 🥲

[loudstan]

Bestie

Summary: A project for your botany class goes wrong. Now you and your friend who you have a very obvious crush on are stressed and horny.

Pairing: Werewolf! Yangyang x Witch female reader

Warnings: Smut, sex pollen, phone sex, JUST THE TIP IS NOT A SAFE METHOD FYI, friends to lovers, I would call this couple dumb and dumber. Also I need him. No angst (FINALLY)

Yangyang was a weird guy. 

That’s what you thought when he joined the same botany class as you for elective credits, and he was already muttering something about how he hated it before it started. He wasn’t talking to anyone in particular but he was dropping his bag and sitting on the available seat next to you so you could hear him.

“Then why did you enroll?” you asked, a little annoyed. He was kinda cute, but a grown adult whining about his chosen class was a turnoff.

“All the good classes were full already,” he replied petulantly. “I’m not even good with plants. I killed my mom’s cactus when–” his sentence died out when he turned to look at you and he just stared at you dumbly.

You lifted your brows, expecting him to finish the story about how one manages to kill a cactus, but he just stared.

“What’s wrong with you?” you finally asked.

“H-hi,” he said instead of replying, with a nervous yet cheerful tone, contrary to the one you had heard earlier. “I’m Yangyang.”

You frowned. You had met a few weirdos on campus, so you assumed he was just one of them. Still, you decided to give him the benefit of the doubt.

“I’m Y/N,” you said, offering your hand for him to shake.

His eyes lit up and he grabbed your hand, but he immediately pulled back with a …moan?

“Fuck, bad idea,” he murmured, standing up and getting away from you like you had just burnt him.

Fairly enough, your hand felt incredibly hot after he touched it and a comforting warmth was now expanding in your chest.

“Bad idea,” he repeated, grabbing his backpack and running towards the door. “Nice to meet you, Y/N!” he yelled before disappearing. 

Yangyang was euphoric like never before. As he ran home he felt the cold wind hit his reddened cheeks and the still-fresh memory of your citrus scent mixed with the ocean breeze so perfectly he found himself with his arms wide open and inhaling deeply. It smelled like happiness. Holy shit, your scent should definitely be called liquid happiness and sold in tiny expensive bottles. But then other people would get to smell you.

A low growl resonated in his chest and he stopped dead in his tracks, placing his palm on his chest to feel the vibrations. 

Was he being possessive?

Wow, so the others weren’t exaggerating when they said imprinting made you unreasonably jealous and clingy. ‘Wolf instinct’ they called it.

He resumed his way home, now feeling the fatigue and pain that everyone told him about when entering an unscheduled rut due to imprinting, which he also mistakenly thought was an exaggeration. 

“Skipping class already?” Ten asked, unimpressed, as soon as Yangyang opened the front door.

“Yes, but it's an emergency,” Yangyang said, out of breath and dragging his feet to come in.

“What’s wrong?” Ten asked with a concerned tone this time.

“My dick’s about to explode.”

“You’re disgusting.”

“I’m so serious,” Yangyan groaned, barely making it to the sofa and flopping on it. “Imprinting better be fucking worth it because this hurts.”

“Imprinting?” Ten repeated incredulously. “You imprinted?!”

The younger nodded tiredly. “She’s so hot, hyung. Everyone’s gonna be so jealous.”

Ten squealed excitedly. “How did you meet?”

“We 're in the same botany class and…fuck, I really need to be her partner for the project.”

“Wait, botany class with Professor Lawson?”

“Yeah, why?” 

“I know the guy,” Ten said with a smirk. “I’ll have a word with him. I’m sure he won’t mind helping you out.”

“Oh, thank god. Thank you so much,” Yangyang murmured weakly.

“Tell me more about her! What’s she like?”

“Well, we established that she's the hottest woman on Earth. She also has beautiful eyes that look so cute when annoyed.”

“You annoyed her already?”

“And her voice is so addictive,” Yangyang continued, ignoring the question. “And she has this super delicious scent…” he groaned, not noticing that his hand was going down to his trousers.

“Yangyang, do that in your room! Have some shame!” Ten exclaimed, forcing him to stand up and pushing him to the stairs. “Go upstairs and I’ll bring suppressants in a minute.”

Surprisingly, Yangyang was obedient this time, forcing himself to make an effort to go to his room. He usually took suppressants before he could even experience a pre-rut, so he didn’t remember the last time he felt this tired and needy. He took the pills Ten gave him and took off his pants, knowing very well that no pill would be too effective now that he had met you and that he had to take care of himself the old-fashioned way.

Honestly? He was happy to do it if he got to think about you to cum.

“Hhmmm…” he bit his lip and arched his back when his fingers—the same ones that had touched your skin earlier— finally circled his cock.

He remembered how soft your hand was. How would it feel if it was your hand touching him instead of his?

He chuckled. Your hand probably wouldn’t be able to grasp all of him. You would have to use both.

“Yeah, Y/N,” he whispered, closing his eyes and imagining he had you there with him. “It’s okay, just g-go slow, hm?”

In his vision, you stubbornly tried to grab him more firmly and jerk him faster. In reality, he tugged at his cock until reaching the desired speed. “Ooohh, you like it that much? Mhmm? You can have it, Y/N, g-go ahead…”

He ran his thumb over the tip a few times, imagining it was your pretty tongue teasing him. “Oooooh yes, baby, that’s my girl, right there…”

He quickened the pace, occasionally teasing the tip again. He was so close already and he had barely touched himself.

“You’re so fucking hot,” he whispered letting out a breathy laugh, thrusting into his fist. “Fuuuck I’m so lucky.”

Would you let him cum on your face? Would you close your eyes or keep them open and meet his gaze?

“Y/N–Oh!” His eyes screwed shut and he tossed his head back. His mouth opened in a silent scream and his toes curled when his orgasm hit and cum covered his fist and lower belly…and it kept coming out. “Ooooh, what the f-fuck, whatthefuck, Y/N, Y/N, Y/N…” he babbled out incoherently, tossing at the neverending pleasure. 

When he finally stopped coming, he opened his eyes slowly and looked at the ceiling in astonishment.

What the fuck was that? Was every orgasm going to feel like this from now on? What would happen when he finally got to do it with you?

He couldn’t wait to figure it out.

You, on the other hand, thought you wouldn’t see Yangyang again, assuming he had dropped the class. So you were more than surprised when he showed up next week, standing in front of you and clearing his throat to catch your attention.

“Oh, it’s you,” you sighed. 

“We’re together,” he mumbled, showing you a piece of paper with your name on it.

Great. Not only was there a lunatic in your class, but you were stuck with him as a partner for a project.

“Why didn’t you drop the class?” you asked honestly. “You said you didn’t like plants.”

“I don’t hate plants,” he shrugged, sitting next to you. “They just die on me.”

You glared at him in disbelief. “You do know your grade depends on your ability to keep plants alive, don’t you?”

“Are you good with plants?” he asked back.

“Yes,” you hissed. “Unlike you, I want to be in this class.”

“Then you can teach me,” he shrugged.

“Or better yet,” you offered. “I’ll do everything and write your name on the report. Just don’t get on my way.”

“Mr. Lawson!” Yangyang called for the professor, raising his hand. “Y/N doesn’t want to follow the rules–”

“He’s kidding!” you yelled quickly, grabbing Yangyang’s arm and hitting his back.

He groaned and then laughed like he enjoyed this type of attention coming from you.

“Yangyang, I won’t risk my grade for you.”

He smirked lazily. “Okay.”

“Okay?”

He shrugged.”Yeah, we just have to learn to work together.”

“I don’t know if you can’t tell, but I already dislike you,” you said.

He shrugged again. “I kinda like you though.”

You blushed immediately, not expecting such words to come out of his mouth.

“J-just promise me you’ll carry your weight and maybe we can try to be friends or something.”

“Friends,” he savored the word. “Sounds good.”

You opened your book, ready to end the conversation there and concentrate on the class when you remembered something.

“Why did you run off like that? That time when we shook hands?” you asked, turning to look at him and freezing in place when his eyes met yours. They looked hungry, and predatory, unlike before. How did he keep changing his aura like that?

“Something urgent came up,” he said, still holding you captive with his gaze.

“What was a bad idea?” you asked.

“Hmm?”

“You said ‘bad idea’ before you ran away.”

His eyes hardened and then he looked at your lips, but he didn’t reply. 

The warm sensation came back, but this time traveled down your chest to your stomach and then went even lower.

You crossed your legs quickly and saw him smirk. Could he know what you were feeling?

“What was a bad idea?” you repeated, a little unsure you wanted to know the answer this time, but right then the professor started talking and you quickly looked to the front, focusing on the class.

“Shaking your hand,” Yangyang’s voice whispered, right next to your ear, giving you goosebumps and making you sit up straight, tense.

“Why was shaking my hand a bad idea?” you asked nervously, still not daring to look at him.

“Mine was sweaty,” he said unexpectedly, trying not to laugh when you turned to look at him with an annoyed expression. God he was going to have so much fun with you. “It’s really embarrassing.”

“Your hand wasn’t sweaty,” you countered.

“You didn’t feel it because I took it back fast enough. I’m a very considerate guy as you can see.”

“I think you’re just annoying,” you said, deciding he was not worth your attention and concentrating on the class again.

“Deal with it. I’m your new friend,” he said casually, opening his book.

“I never said–”

“No takebacks.”

“But I–” “Shh, bestie. I’m trying to pay attention to the class,” he nagged you. “I’m not risking my grade for you, Y/N.”

You scoffed, irritated. You assumed he would be a handful, but as time went by you discovered that he wasn’t as terrible as you thought. He was surprisingly diligent; taking detailed notes, asking relevant questions (some of which you wished you had thought of yourself), and even correcting you when you made a mistake (much to your disdain). 

You had no idea how he managed to pay attention when he was looking at you the entire time. At first, you thought you were imagining things, but he made it very obvious, sometimes not even bothering to look away when you caught him staring. He often stared at your neck and chest, biting his lip so hard you thought he would draw blood, other times he would stare at your crossed legs as if he knew that you were fighting your arousal due to his intense gaze, but most of the time he stared at your face, clenching his fist like he was fighting the urge to caress your cheeks. 

You got the most piercing glares when you wore something a bit more revealing. 

It was a regular summer day when you decided to wear the prettiest floral dress you owned. The fabric was light and fresh, not too tight but it hugged your curves nicely. Most importantly, you felt both pretty and comfortable.

“You’re here?” Yangyang asked casually without looking up from his phone as you placed your bag next to your seat. 

You had sat next to each other for at least a couple of months now, and you were working on the final project together which meant you also met often outside of the class. Sometimes you went for food or ice cream after hours of writing a report and you genuinely had a good time whenever you hung out. You could confidently say that you were somewhat friends by now. 

You hummed and sat down. “How was your weekend?”

“Eh, nothing interesting,” he shrugged, scrolling down. “Have you seen this video–” he finally looked up to show you something on his phone but he stopped mid-sentence when he saw you.

“What video?” you asked.

“What are you wearing?” he asked back.

“A dress?” 

“Why?”

You roll your eyes. “I never question your fashion choices, do I? Plus, I think it’s pretty,” you said, grabbing the hem to pull it down and cover your legs a bit more since the dress had rolled up when you sat down. “What’s wrong with it?”

No sound came out of his lips but he mouthed a very clear ‘fuck’, as he tried to decide if he should focus on your legs or your clavicle.

You blushed and muttered a ‘whatever’, deciding to ignore him for the rest of the class for your own sanity. The last thing you needed was him checking you out and feeding your fantasies that you had unwillingly conjured along with developing a huge inconvenient crush on him. 

You had tried to deny your feelings for weeks, but after the first month, you couldn’t help thinking of him when you pleasured yourself, wondering what he would feel like inside of you. Finding out he was a werewolf only made you even hornier, having heard about how intense sex with one could be. 

You also wondered what he would sound like, if he would go slow like the tease he is or fast and rough to hear you scream.

 Maybe the latter because he seemed to like eliciting sounds from you. You could tell by how often he annoyed you, scared you, and even tickled you until he got some type of vocal reaction from you. 

He would often call you cute when any of those scenarios happened and then his hands would linger a little too long before you slapped his arm and he laughed.

Your crush had intensified by the time you had your midterms and you got an A+ for the report you wrote together. He gave you a high five before impulsively pulling you in for a hug.

And god, he was so warm, and his chest was firmer than you thought and his hands felt just perfect on your waist.

“You did amazing,” he purred right next to your ear, causing you to let out an unexpected whimper.

You both tensed at the sound. You had never been more embarrassed but then you felt his grip tighten and his heartbeat accelerating on his chest pressed against yours.

“Oh, fuck me…” he groaned, nosing your neck.

Your eyes rolled back and you wanted to tell him that you would gladly do so until you heard someone clearing their throat. 

Professor Lawson was not enjoying the show.

You quickly pulled away from each other and never spoke about it again. But Yangyang was always staring, sitting too close, grazing…

Right now, his shorts allowed for his bare legs to gently rub yours and it was making you imagine things that weren’t appropriate for the place and time. The fact that his breathing sounded slightly agitated didn’t help and neither did having him manspreading to feel your touch better so shamelessly.

You gulped before deciding to be bold for once and spread your legs slightly too, pressing your thigh closer to his. 

He inhaled sharply.

He decided to be bold too by slowly dragging one of his hands under the table and gently patting your outer thigh with his fingertips.

You gasped and he retrieved his hand immediately, but you grabbed his wrist, feeling his quickened pulse where your fingers were.

This was a bad idea and you knew it. You were in public, in the middle of class, yet you found yourself shakily placing his hand where it was again not daring to look at him but hoping he would get the hint.

He kept his eyes on the whiteboard, but his fingers drew small patterns on your skin, making you wetter than before. 

You gathered some more courage to place your hand on his thigh, wanting to do the same for him, but as soon as you made contact with the hot skin exposed by his shorts he moaned loud enough for the people on the desks around you to look at you. 

You quickly took your hand away and he did the same. You still didn’t make eye contact and you knew this would be another one of the so many not-so-friendly moments you shared that would never be spoken about again.

Once the class was over, and even though you were mortified, you cleared your throat to speak.

“Uh, we need to talk about–”

“We don’t have to if you don’t want to!” he quickly said with wide eyes, fearing a rejection before he even had the chance to confess.

“No, we absolutely have to–”

“How about you take your time to think about it–”

“Yangyang,” you deadpanned. “It’s about the project.”

“Oh,” he let out a relieved sigh. “What about it?”

“Remember I told you I’m going to visit my family for two weeks?”

“Yeah, so?”

“I can’t take our plant with me.”

“Oh…OH?” Yangyang’s eyes widened when he realized what that meant. While he was quite good at the theoretical part, he was still terrified of killing the plant so you were the one to take care of it all the time. If you were away then that meant he had no choice but to take the plant with him.

“You’ll be okay, right?”

“Probably.”

“Probably?”

“I’m terrified,” he admitted.

“It’s only for two weeks,” you reminded him. “You are more than capable of taking care of our baby during that time.”

He blushed hard when you called the plant ‘our baby’ and smiled like an idiot thinking of this being the first of many things you would share. And then he nodded, telling himself that it would be fine as he walked with you to your dorm to receive the project you both had worked on so hard for months.

The Scarlet Sugar Plum was a beautiful plant and, if properly nourished, its leaves could be used as an ingredient to make a Love Potion, which Yangyang was sure was a sign that you were meant to be.

He placed the pot near the window in his room, smiling dreamily. 

Our baby…

But a week later he was glaring at said plant with a sour expression. He didn’t get it. He gave it plenty of sunlight and water so why did it look so weak and dry? The before colorful leaves were turning brown and some of them had fallen, and he feared it soon would be nothing but a bent stem.

You were going to kill him.

Worse: you were going to be disappointed in him.

You were going to hate him and never want to talk to him again and he wouldn’t get to properly confess and he would die alone without his mate and–

Fuck…There had to be something he could do…

Maybe he could buy a new plant? 

No, you would notice immediately that it wasn’t the same one.

Then…he had heard some classmates talk about this potion that would make a plant grow bigger and stronger. The problem was that it wasn’t legal because the side effects could vary and end up making a plant poisonous. 

Was he willing to break the law so you wouldn’t hate him?

…Yes.

You suspected nothing when you texted him asking for a picture of the plant and saw that it looked healthy and strong, even with an extra flower.

“Told you you could do it!” you exclaimed happily when he called you later to catch up. 

“Just hurry up and come get your baby,”  he complained.

“Our baby,” you corrected him. “She’s your project too.”

“I was talking about me,” he replied and you could hear the teasing in his voice. “I’m your baby.”

“You behave like one,” you laughed.

 “No but seriously, hurry up. She misses you.”

“She misses me or you miss me?” you teased.

“I miss you,” he said with no hesitation. 

You blushed, not knowing what to answer for a second and then you paid attention to his breathing. It sounded agitated.

“Are you okay?” you asked. “You sound a little out of breath.”

“Yeah,” he groaned. “It’s just really fucking hot today.”

“Turn the AC on. Don’t be stingy!” you joked as a way to distract yourself from how hot his little groans sounded.

“It’s on!” he complained. “Maybe the problem is me. Am I in rut? Why am I in rut?! it’s not time yet…” he rambled on.

You bit your lip. Yeah, there were times when he had no filter around you, but this was the first time he spoke so openly about his rut.

“Oh, when is it supposed t-to happen, then?” you asked casually, hoping he wouldn’t notice your stutter.

“At least in one more month,” he breathed out. “Fuck, being a werewolf sucks sometimes…”

“It’s kinda cool,” you admitted.

“What’s cool about it?”

“Well, you have a better sense of smell, don’t you?”

“That’s both a blessing and a curse,” he chuckled weakly.

“Why’s that? Because of odors?”

“Because some people smell too fucking good,” he sighed. “Make it hard to control myself.” “O-oh,” you gulped. “Like who?”

“I think you know who, bestie,” he purred, making you shiver.

What was going on?

Was he this direct because of his rut?

You breathed shakily. “W-well, you are also faster and stronger than us humans. That’s pretty cool.”

“Hmm, yeah it can be cool,” he admitted. “I could catch you easily if you tried to run away…”

You gasped and he hummed. You heard some movement too.

“W-why would I run away?” you laughed nervously, feeling your panties sticking to your pussy.

“Wouldn’t you?”

“I wouldn’t…” you breathed out.

He moaned loudly and you heard the sound of a zipper.

“Yangyang,” you rubbed your thighs together needily. “I think I should hang up.”

“No, fuck!” he groaned. “S-stay a little longer, hm? Talk to me.”

“A-about what?”

“Anything,” he breathed out and for a second you could hear a wet sound that made it very obvious he was touching himself. “W-what else is c-cool about werewolves?”

“You have a g-great sense of t-taste,” you said, very consciously sliding your hand into your shorts to feel your wetness over your panties.

Oh god. Were you really doing this?

“Yeah, f-fuck,” he moaned and the fapping sound became faster. “Taste so fucking good,” he sighed dreamily. 

“What tastes good?” you asked, grazing over your clit.

“You–shit!”

“You d-don’t know that…”

“I’m sure,” he replied between moans. “Someone w-who smells so delicious has t-to taste good…”

“Fuck…” you breathed out, rubbing your clit slowly.

“Wanna know what else is cool?” he panted. “Our body temperature is higher…haaa… so m-my tongue is hot as fuck–Mmm…Wanna feel it, bestie?”

Your eyes rolled back and you moaned shamelessly.

“Oooh, yes t-that’s it, imagine it, baby,” he urged you, making you clench at the nickname. “Feel so fucking good, yeah?”

“So g-good,” you panted, rubbing faster and hearing him moaning your name.

“Have you ever seen a knot?” he asked between groans. He couldn’t see you shaking your head but he continued, assuming your answer was no. “N-nothing could make you feel as f-full, ah…filling you up j-just right–fuck…Would ruin you for any other man…”

“Please…” you begged, almost tasting your climax.

“Fuck you so good,” he spoke with slurred words. “Bet y-you’d take it all, yeah?”

“Yes, yes, yes,” you muttered, arching your back.

“Ah, haa…Y/N you’re d-doing amazing– oh god…”

“Yangyang!”

“FUCK! Yes, s-say my name j-just like that,” he whines, very obviously fucking his fist and panting desperately as he heard you murmur his name again and again like a mantra. “Oooh fuck, take my knot–”

You didn’t even try to hide the embarrassing moan that came out of your mouth when you had the most powerful orgasm of your life.

While talking to a friend on the phone.

And moaning his name.

You were coming down from your high when you heard him laugh breathlessly.

“So fucking good…” he murmured.

Oh god, you had had phone sex with Yangyang.

“Uh, so, I hope your rut goes well,” you said awkwardly.

“It would if you were here,” he said, still daydreaming.

“Haha,” you laughed nervously. “You’ll find someone to bang next time!”

“Huh?”

“I heard Cassie has the hots for you!”

“B-but…just now…we–”

“Hey, happy to help, bestie!” you interrupted him. “But next time you’ll do that with someone you like.”

He groaned. “Y/N, what–”

“Gotta go! Take care of our project!” you faked a cheerful tone and hung up, turning your phone off and throwing it away nervously to then proceed to scream into your pillow.

Now he knew for sure.

He knew you had a crush on him.

Fuck, you were so embarrassed. He was horny because of his rut, but you had no excuse to moan his name like that. You probably sounded pathetic begging for him.

Maybe he wouldn’t care? Yeah, maybe he was thankful that you helped him out and you would continue being friends. All you had to do was not address it, just like all the other moments of tension you kept sharing and then pretending that never happened.

It would be fine.

Everything was fine.

You kept repeating that to yourself to calm your nerves when you stood in front of Yangyang’s house a few days later. 

It was an old-fashioned house but it was huge, which made sense considering he told you he lived with his pack. 

“I’ll get it!” you heard Yangyang’s voice scream from the other side of the door after you rang the bell. “Why are y’all just standing here? Go away!”

There was a moment of silence. And then you thought you heard him say ‘Fine, but act normal.’

The door swung open and Yangyang welcomed you with his characteristic smile.

“Hey!” he greeted, giving you a friendly hug.

You sighed, relieved. Nothing had changed. He wasn’t awkward around you.

“Hey, you!” you smiled until you noticed at least a dozen eyes on you. A group of men, who you assumed were his packmates, were looking at you with big smiles on their faces.

“Oh, hello!” you said nervously.

They replied cheerfully. Too cheerfully. And Yangyang quickly grabbed your arm and pulled you up the stairs with him.

“Ignore them,” he told you once you entered his room and he closed the door. “They don’t know how to act around girls.”

You snorted. “Oh, so I’m a girl to you now?”

He frowned. “You’ve always been?”

“We’re friends,” you reminded him, deciding to do damage control just in case. “We’re basically bros. You don’t see me as a girl and I don’t see you as a boy.”

He gave you an unreadable look but before he could answer you reached for the plant.

“Oh my god! She grew so much!”

“Yeah…” Yangyang agreed.

“You did a great job! You didn’t need to be afraid, see?”

He bit his lip nervously.

“Normally they don’t grow more than one flower a month, you know?” you babbled out. 

“U-huh…”

“And the leaves normally wouldn’t be this shade of green until winter!”

“Uh…yep…”

“And the scent is normally not this sugary…” your voice became a murmur.

You turned to look at him and he looked away.

“Did you do anything special?” you asked.

He shrugged. “I followed the instructions.”

You looked at the plant, taking a deep inhale at its scent, and then looked back at him. “Yangyang.”

“It’s healthy, isn’t it?” he asked defensively.

“But it isn’t normal.”

“Guess I discovered my natural talent.”

“Yangyang,” you warned him. The air was starting to feel hot and it was irritating you.

“Maybe I’m not as hopeless as you think.”

“I never said you were hopeless.”

“But you imply it!” he brushed his hair with his fingers, frustrated. He was flushed and beads of sweat were forming on his forehead.

“I didn’t–,” you groaned. “I just want to make sure!” you said, feeling slightly suffocated by the sweet scent of the plant.

“I…fuck! I’m sorry, okay? I fucked up!” he admitted, sitting on the bed.

“What did you do?” you asked, fanning yourself with your palm.

“I cheated,” he said defeatedly.

“How?”

“I used Gloom Dust Potion.”

“What?! Where did you get that?”

“The black market, of course,” he grumbled.

“How could you be so careless!” you yelled.

“But I wasn’t! That’s what makes this so frustrating,” he yelled back. “I measured the water, I made sure the room had the right temperature I even set alarms to check on her in the middle of the fucking night! I did everything and it still whithered and I don’t know why I’m such a useless man but I really tried my best because I wanted to give you an A+ and I wanted you to be proud of me and now you hate me–”

“Woah, hold on! I don’t hate you!” you said quickly.

He covered his face with his palms and you kneeled in front of him. “Hey, Yangyang, look at me,” you told him. 

He didn’t reply. 

“Please?” you asked softly.

Hesitantly he uncovered his face and gave you a shameful and sad look. He really had tried his best and he felt terrible about it not working out.

“I don’t hate you,” you repeated.

“Are you sure?” he asked with a small voice.

“Very sure,” you said, cupping his face with your palm.

He let out a soft moan, leaning into your touch.

That’s when you noticed that he was burning up.

“Yangyang, are you okay?” you asked.

“Sorry about the project,” he mumbled, nosing your palm.

“Forget about it. I think you have a fever,” you said, about to retreat your hand and go call for help but he grabbed your wrist and brought you closer again.

“I’m so sorry,” he slurred.

“It’s fine,” you said.

“You’re not mad?”

“I’m not, okay?”

“You’re so good to me…” he whispered.

You frowned. “Yangyang, I’ll go get one of your pack brothers.”

“Did you use this hand?” his question caught you off-guard.

“What?”

“When you touched yourself,” he clarified, scenting your wrist. “That night on the phone.”

You blushed furiously.

“W-what?” you repeated dumbly.

He brought your fingers to his mouth and licked them. It was true that his tongue was hotter than that of a human.

“Yeah, I bet it was this one–fuck…” he moaned.

Your knees wobbled. 

“Yangyang,” you gasped. “Let go. You have a fever.”

“But your skin is hot too,” he mumbled before sucking your index and middle finger into his mouth.

“Oh my god,” you whispered, feeling your head spinning. He was right. You felt incredibly hot and not only that. Your pussy was throbbing and your nipples had hardened under your shirt way before Yangyang had started acting weird.

You were too irritated to notice before but both you and Yangyang got turned on incredibly fast as soon as you entered the room. 

“W-wait oh, no,” you spoke again, pulling away from him and hearing him whine. “I know what’s happening,” you said, making your way to the plant.

Yangyang followed your every move with his eyes like he was hypnotized.

You got closer to one of the flowers and inhaled deeply, only to feel more sticky wetness accumulate between your legs. 

You groaned.

“Yangyang, we need to get out of this room,” you said, going back to him and trying to make him stand up.

“Why?” he asked, not budging.

“The potion intensifies the properties of plants. Ours is used to emulate the feeling of a crush…the feeling of liking someone, right?”

“Right,” he said, trying to process your words.

“Because of the potion, instead of just a crush, you get something bigger. Lust. Desire,” you deduced. 

His eyes widened. “I turned our plant into a fucking aphrodisiac!? So that’s why I’ve been so horny this past week?”

“It’s not your fault,” you say quickly, pulling his arm. “You didn’t know this would happen.”

“Wait,” he said, standing up and towering over you. “Does it mean you’re turned on too?”

You blushed even harder if it was possible. “Yeah, well, that’s what aphrodisiacs do…”

He closed his eyes and inhaled. “Fuck…you’re right. I can smell it…”

You cleared your throat awkwardly. “Yeah, well…Anyways, let’s get out of here.”

“No way, they will see my hard-on and I’m never going to live it down!” he groaned.

You fought your eyes from looking down. “That’s not important right now!”

“And they’ll smell you,” he added, making you halt. “My entire pack will know you came out of my room aroused.”

You muttered a hushed curse and sat down on his bed.

“I’m sorry,” he repeated timidly, sitting beside you.

“Stop apologizing,” you sighed. “We can still pass the class with what we have done so far.”

He didn’t say anything, staring at his lap.

“Hey,” you said, reaching for his hand. “I promise. I’m not mad. We’re still friends, okay?”

He gave you a weak smile and his thumb caressed your hand. 

“Now we only need to think of a way to get out of here without being seen,” you said, looking at the window.

“You’re not jumping out the window,” he deadpanned. “This is the third floor.”

You sighed, flopping on the bed with him following, lying down next to you.

 “The other option is going out when we’re not turned on anymore,” you said.

His hand squeezed yours involuntarily. 

“Oh,” he said. “Maybe it will wear off after…ya know…”

It took you a few seconds to understand what he was proposing.

“You’re suggesting we get off while the other is in the room?” you turned to look at him.

“I w-won’t look,” he promised.

You licked your lips.

“I won’t look either…”

His eyes widened and his ears turned red. 

“R-really? Are we gonna….oh my god…” he squirmed a little as he felt his member twitch.

“I mean…it wouldn’t be t-that different from that time…on the phone…” you whispered.

He groaned.

“Are you sure?”

“I don’t have a better idea,” you breathed out.

You stared into each other's eyes for a few seconds.

“Okay,” he whispered, letting go of your hand. “I’ll turn around,” he informed you, turning to his side with his back towards you.

You took a deep breath in and did the same.

You could feel each other's heartbeats when you were back to back.

“Ready?” you asked, barely above a whisper.

“Yeah…”

You moved first, slowly sliding your hand into your pants. Your breath caught in your throat when you touched your pulsating clit and then you let out a shaky breath when your index teased it.

You heard him sigh and felt him move slightly. He tried to be quiet when his hand touched his dick, but when he heard the wet sounds of your hand caressing your folds he moaned.

You thrust a finger inside and a whimper escaped you. Yangyang groaned and you heard him whisper what sounded like ‘yes…’

He wasn’t being shy and you were able to hear and feel exactly what he was doing even without looking. 

Another finger entered you and you got lost in your fantasy, imagining it was him doing this to you as you heard his groans.

“Faster,” you accidentally said out loud and were about to apologize, mortified, but you felt him moving his hand faster as he moaned your name.

And you ended up matching his rhythm. 

You weren’t sure if it made a difference if you were looking or not. You were touching yourselves in the same room, back to back, at the same speed and very obviously thinking about each other.

“Are you close?” his question was directed to you, not caring about pretending anymore. “Y/N,” he called your name clearly when you didn’t reply. “Please tell me you’re close…”

“Y-yeah…” you replied shyly and he inhaled sharply.

“Touch your clit,” he instructed after a broken moan. “I’m touching my tip too.”

You whined, using your other hand to draw circles on your clit and your orgasm washed over you. You came with a sob and your body tensed while he murmured profanities and grunted behind you.

“Fuck…” you murmured when you were able to see straight again, still feeling your pussy clenching.

“Fuck…” he agreed, trembling slightly.

“I think it didn’t work…” you admitted.

“Yeah,” he agreed again, and you could feel that he was still palming himself. “I’m still hard as fuck…”

“What do we do?” you whined, tiredly.

“Let’s keep going,” he proposed with no hesitation, still moving his hand behind you. “One more should do…”

“Or…” you trailed off.

“Or?”

“We could…touch each other?” you spoke barely above a whisper but he heard you loud and clear because he turned around and sat up quickly.

“What?!” he asked.

You groaned, embarrassed. “Forget it, it was dumb…”

“No, no, it’s not dumb,” he cooed, patting your back.

You shook your head.

“Y/N, please,” he sighed. “I heard you the first time, but I want to be sure I got it right. You want to touch me?”

You still refused to reply or look at him.

“Because…I would like to touch you…” he confessed quietly. “I would like that a lot…”

Slowly you sat up and made eye contact with him. Your cheeks were burning just like the rest of your body, due to arousal and embarrassment. 

“Really?” you asked equally quietly.

“Really,” he said. “So what’s the plan?”

You took a deep breath in before speaking again.

“We can help each other,” you bargained, trying not to lose focus as you watched a drop of sweat travel down his neck. “We’re friends, after all. It doesn’t have to mean anything.”

Yangyang gulped.

“Yeah, we’re just friends,” he spoke shakily. “Just two friends affected by a dumb plant.”

“Exactly,” you nodded, breathing heavily. “It’s normal to be horny. It’s the plant. It’s not because we like each other.”

“Totally. It’s not like I imprinted on you when we first met or something,” he mumbled, fixated on the way your lips moved.

“…What?”

“What?”

“Did you just say you imprinted on me?” you frowned.

He averted his gaze, clearing his throat. “I said it’s not like I did,” he replied. “Meaning I didn’t.”

“Okay,” you conceded, sitting closer, “then it should be fine, right?”

“I think it would be more than fine,” he assured you, though he sounded strained, not fine at all. He closed his eyes when he felt your fingertips on his jaw.

 “What do you wanna do?”

“Is there anything you’re not comfortable with?” you asked.

 “Anything you wanna do’s okay,” he said, locking eyes with you.

You lowered your hand so it was now on his neck. “Anything?” you purred, applying only a little bit of pressure and watching in awe how he rolled his eyes and groaned.

“A-anything…” he repeated.

“But what do you want to do?” you asked, allowing your hand to go lower, using your nails to tease him over the material of his shirt sticking to his chest.

“Y/N…”

“Is there nothing you wanna do to me?” you teased, lifting his shirt a little and placing your palm on his lower belly. You were also looking for reassurance. You would feel like a loser if you were thirsting over your friend when he hadn’t fantasized about you once.

“I–I don’t know,” he lied. If only you knew all the things he wanted to do to you.

“Hm…I guess you don’t want this enough,” you sighed, starting to withdraw your hand but he quickly grabbed it and placed it right on his crotch. “Y-yangyang?!”

Instead of replying, he forced your hand on him harder with a strangled moan and you felt something hard twitching right against your palm before even more wetness spread on the fabric of his sweatpants.

“Oh, my god, Yangyang…” you whispered in disbelief, gently pulling your hand away to inspect the sticky substance on it. “Just like that?”

He didn’t even try to deny it. “I…uh…I’ve been exposed to the plant for too long, I guess…Sorry…”

“Are you feeling better–Oh!” you gasped when he suddenly pulled you on top of him.

“Are you kidding me?” he groaned, hiding his face in the crook of your neck while hugging your waist. “I just came in my pants, feeling the warmth of your hand while looking at you– I’ve never been hornier!”

How he admitted to it so openly made you blush. “Should we do more, then?”

You felt him nod. And before you could ask what was next, the muscle of his thigh flexed under you, causing you to let out a surprised gasp. He tensed at the sound, holding his breath and waiting patiently for your next move. Only when you moved your hips and he heard you moan weakly did he dare to exhale.

“Y/N, are you–? Oh god, oh god…” he breathed out against the sensitive skin of your neck, in utter disbelief because there was no way the woman of his dreams was riding his thigh. 

“Is this okay?” you asked nervously, slowing your hips down just in case you were doing something he wasn’t comfortable with, but he whined, holding your hips and guiding them to move again.

“It’s so okay,” he quickly assured you. “Use my thigh all you want…”

“J-just once, okay?” you told him, but you were actually trying to convince yourself.

He didn’t reply, too busy bouncing you on his leg and getting lost in your little sounds.

“Hmm?” he asked absentmindedly, placing a wet kiss on your collarbone.

“I s-said this is– Yangyang!” you grabbed onto his shoulders for support and arched your back, feeling like you were about to explode.

“Yeah?” he breathed out, nibbling on your earlobe.

“I’m cumming–” you barely managed to whisper.

“Do it,” he urged you, helping you move faster, “do it, do it, c’mon, it’s gonna feel really good, baby, c’mon–,” he stopped mid-sentence and his eyes widened when he finally witnessed the beauty of having you cum right in front of his eyes. He had imagined it plenty of times, but he could never picture it right; he had no idea your voice could get this high-pitched, that your pupils would dilate this much, that you would feel this hot and wet on top of him…God, all his fantasies were wrong, so wrong, they could never do you justice. He had to memorize every single detail and never get off to anything else.

You were still coming down from your high when you felt a pair of warm lips on yours, soft and gentle. Yangyang was kissing you. Your platonic friend who stole your fries and called you a bro.

With a sudden yelp, you pushed yourself off him, standing up.

“What?!” he asked.“What’s wrong?”

“You kissed me!”

“...Yeah, and?”

“You can’t do that!” you exclaimed.

“You said we should help each other out!” he reminded you.

“Yes, but as friends,” you explained like it was obvious. “Kissing is too…intimate for friends.”

Yangyang stared at you with wide incredulous eyes. “Kissing is too intimate but humping my leg isn’t?”

“Yangyang, you don’t just kiss anyone!”

“You don’t fuck yourself on just anyone’s thigh either!”

“Right, but–,” you sighed and decided to come out clean. “I worry that if I kiss you I could end up feeling a bit confused.”

He looked up at you and listened attentively. “Confused how?”

“Like,” you tried to organize your thoughts while your body was burning up and a hot guy with a raging boner in front of you. “What if I like it?”

He stared at you, waiting for an explanation of how that would be a problem, scoffing when you didn’t elaborate. “God forbid you have a good time in a consensual sexual experience,” he mocked. 

“I mean, what if I like it too much?” you clarified.

“What does that even mean?” he groaned, accommodating his hard-on and trying to understand the words coming from your mouth.

You were starting to get frustrated too. How could you explain properly that you were scared of falling even more for him while you were clenching at the view?

“Just no kissing, okay?” 

He frowned and looked at your lips, mulling it over. He didn’t understand, nor did he like it, but he agreed regardless. “Whatever you’re comfortable with,” he finally said. “Anything else is off limits?”

“Do you have a condom?”

He shook his head.

“Then we should probably avoid penetration,” you said. “I’m not on the pill or anything like that so…”

“Right,” he gulped. “Let’s be careful. Anything else?”

You tried hard to think of more things, but your brain was foggy and everything was too hot, too suffocating.

Yangyang was feeling it too and he didn’t have the patience to wait for your entire list of forbidden things. “Y/N, my dick hurts,” he spoke with difficulty, pressing his palm on his crotch to relieve the discomfort. “Just tell me!”

You gulped and pressed your thighs together. “I uh…can’t come up with anything right n-now…thinking is h-hard…”

“Y/N, please,” he whimpered between elaborate breaths.

“How about you name something and I tell you if it’s okay or not?” you proposed. It should be easier this way.

“Can I fuck your tits?” he asked immediately.

You gasped and felt yourself get wetter at the suggestion. Yes, you told him to say what he wanted, and you knew he was blunt, but he had never been this blunt.

“What? Too intimate for you?” he asked half-seriously, half-mockingly.

“N-no, it’s…it’s fine,” you replied. “But how do we do it?” you asked nervously.

“Lie down,” he instructed with no hesitation, like he had thought about this too many times. 

You complied and got back on the bed, nervously lying down and waiting to see what he would do next. 

He slowly climbed on top of you and you felt your heart beat so hard and fast you worried it would break through your ribcage and escape your body. Yangyang was on top of you. Sweating, desperate for you, and his eyes looked at you with something you could have easily confused with love in a different situation. 

With shaky hands he grabbed the hem of your shirt and started pushing it up, pausing when his fingertips touched the lace of your bra. He held his breath and his eyes met yours silently asking ‘Is this okay?’ and continuing when you bit your lip and nodded.

He barely grazed over your covered breasts when he finished wrinkling the fabric of your shirt near your neck and his dick twitched excitedly and the view of your hardened nipples under the thin material of your bralette.

“Y/N…” he whispered just to savor your name, humping your stomach in an almost unperceivable way. “Can I?”

“Just do it,” you whined, maybe wanting this more than him.

He nervously placed his hands on top of your breasts and let out a needy moan when he finally felt your softness and warmth in his palms. “M-maybe I’ll cum like this,” he commented. And he was totally serious because he was leaking again.

“No!” you said too quickly. “You said you’d fuck them,” you whined, arching your back and pushing your tits further into his touch, making him squeeze harder.

“Yeah? Want that?” he asked breathily, delighted at how quickly you nodded. “Shit, okay, okay…” he said, letting go of your chest and standing up to step out of his pants and boxers.

You used the opportunity to quickly take off your shirt and bra, too eager to be used and very pleased to see him freeze when he looked back at you and saw you half undressed. His jaw hung open and he just couldn’t look away. After all this time stealing glances at your clavicle and fighting his boner every time you hugged and he felt your boobs against his chest, you were willingly showing them to him. And he was about to fuck them.

“F-fuck…” he breathed out, straddling your chest. “Can I really?”

“Yangyang,” you whined, hitting his arm. “How many times do I have to say it?”

“One more?” he asked hopefully.

You rolled your eyes, but you were getting impatient enough to humor him. “Will you fuck my tits or not, Yangyang?”

He groaned, grabbing his base firmly to stop what wanted to come out. He took a deep breath in and positioned his member between your breasts, letting out a shaky breath when it slid on your skin, trapped between your boobs as you pushed them together.

“Shit, Yangyang…” you gulped when the tip of his cock got a little too close to your chin. “You’re kinda…”

“What?” he half-moans, sliding back and forward slowly.

“Big,” you whisper in disbelief.

He snorts, continuing the slow rhythm of his hips. “Perks of being a werewolf,” he shrugged. “This is average…”

“No way,” you laugh too, gasping when he pinched one of your nipples playfully.

“I swear,” he said half-laughing, half moaning as he accelerated his movements slightly. Everything felt so relaxed and fun with Yangyang. 

So natural.

“Mm…Bet you would fill me up so good…” you commented absentmindedly, actively daydreaming at this point.

He halted, looking at you with wide eyes. “What did you just say?!”

“That you…would fill me up good?” you repeated, blinking up at him.

Oh, so he heard you well. 

“Y/N, are you trying to kill me?” he asked.

“It was just a thought,” you mumbled.

“...Are you thinking about it right now?”

“Can you blame me?” you asked back. Of course you were. How could you think about anything else in this situation?

He groaned, thrusting hard. “Yeah? Do you imagine me inside of you moving like this?”

A soft moan escaped your mouth and you nodded, feeling droplets of hot precum land on your chest.

“Fuuck…it’s a shame we can’t,” he honestly lamented, rutting faster. “I really wanna…”

“Yangyang,” you called his name, your hands leaving the sides of your boobs to reach for his hands. “Yangyang, wait.”

He whined, looking at you in panic. What if you changed your mind and wanted nothing to do with him? He would cry. He would cry all night.

You pushed him lightly, making him stand up next to the bed as you sat up, and oh my god he really was about to cry because it looked like this was the end, until…

“Hold them,” you instructed, placing his hands where yours were before, on each side of your breasts. “Push them together, okay?” 

He nodded. Anything you said as long as you didn’t actually make him stop. He shuddered when one of your hands caressed his hip bone, and then he noticed where your other hand was going…all the way down your stomach.

“Oh god,” he gasped, finally understanding the new position with him standing in front of you and you sitting on his bed, touching yourself. He bent his knees slightly to slide his cock back where he wanted and his eyes rolled back when he pressed your breasts together so tight that his tip released a tiny stream of white liquid. “ I love your tits so much,” he blurted out, resuming his chase for pleasure.

“Is that why you’re always staring at them?” you teased, tapping your clit.

“Y-you knew?” he asked nervously. Fear flooded his eyes, but he couldn’t bring himself to stop. Instead, he thrust up faster, moaning uncontrollably.

“You d-don’t even try to hide it,” you reply, moving your fingers faster.

“I didn’t mean to stare,” he whined. “They’re just pretty.”

“Yeah?”

“Y-yeah, so pretty–Oh!” he moaned loudly when he felt something hot and wet touching his tip. You had opened your mouth and stuck your tongue out, meeting his dick when he thrust up. “Y/N, fuck, fuck, are you for real?!”

You licked around the tip messily and that was all the answer he needed, he threw his head back and rutted against your soft skin once, twice–

“Oooh…Nngh….shit…” he moaned, letting go of your breasts and trying to focus his gaze as he looked down and saw you wrapping your lips around his tip, sucking softly. “You’re so fucking hot…”

When the taste of his cum invaded your tastebuds you felt another orgasm hit you and you moaned around him, while your thighs shook.

“I love you.”

You let go of his dick and looked up at him. His eyes met yours as he pushed a strand of hair behind your ear.

“What did you say?” you croaked.

He seemed to snap out of it, blinking and pulling his hand back, taking a step back as well. “Nothing,” he said quickly.

You tilted your head. You heard him say he loved you. It was his voice…

“Are you sure?”

“Yep,” he said, looking away awkwardly.

… Maybe the plant had hallucinatory effects too?

The tingling sensation in your center told you it wasn’t enough, and that immediately made you go back to solving the issue of why you both were half undressed in the first place. “Yangyang, I think I need more…”

“Oh, thank god. I’m still hard,” he sighed, kneeling in front of you and leaning in for a kiss before he quickly stopped himself, remembering the limits you had set. “Sorry, I forgot.”

You licked your lips and looked at his face. He wasn’t as red as before, and you also weren’t feeling as feverish as before. “I think it’s wearing down though. Maybe we just need one more.”

He nodded. “We can just rub one off quickly.”

“Yeah,” you agreed, lowkey hoping he meant you would do it to each other and not to yourselves.

“Or…” he hesitated.

“Yes?” you asked eagerly.

“We could– uh… I could…” he gulped, losing his confidence as his mind was getting clearer. “I dunno how to explain but, can I try something?”

“Sure,” you breathed out.

“Can you take your pants off?” he asked timidly, surprised when you did it immediately.

“Now what?”

His chest rose and fell heavily. He pushed you back until you were on your back on the bed again and he positioned himself between your legs pressing your bodies together and groaning at the wetness of your panties now sticking to his dick too.

“Oh, yes,” you moaned, arching your back and pushing your hips closer to his. “Best idea you’ve ever had–”

“No, I meant–wait,” he interrupted you and stilled your hips. He lifted the hem of your panties right where your inner thigh met your center, just enough for him to slide his dick under them and rest it directly on your wetness.

You gasped, grabbing his arm quickly. “Yangyang!”

“Shh, it’s okay,” he assured you. “I won’t put it in,” he explained, placing one of his hands on top of where his dick was nested, pressing down but leaving enough space for him to thrust his hips. He did it once, showing you how the little trap he had made with your panties and his hand allowed his cock to slide against your clit deliciously. “Like t-this…okay?”

You nodded quickly. “Y-yes, yes–Oh!”

He sighed in relief, sliding against you more earnestly. “Feel good?”

“So good,” you admitted, opening your legs wider for him. “Wish you were inside though–” you blurted out.

His cock twitched and he groaned, snapping his hips harder. “Yeah? I d-don’t think friends do that haa…ah…”

You shook your head, moving your hips to match his rhythm. “They don’t,” you breathed out.

“I don’t think they do anything we’ve done in the past hour either,” he continued.

Again, you shook your head. “B-but it feels so good…”

“Yeah? You like your friend’s cock rubbing your pussy?”

You were about to reply when Yangyang’s harsh thrusts got a little out of control and you felt something poke your entrance just enough to have you clenching around it. You moaned and he quickly pulled away.

“S-sorry, it slipped,” he said anxiously. “W-we can stop–”

“Again,” you begged, trying to pull him back on top of you.

“Y/N, we can’t–”

“Just a little,” you bargained.

He stared at you, dumbfounded, and then shook his head, as if he was trying to wake himself up. “We’re not w-wearing protection and–”

“Just the tip,” you insisted.

He groaned. “Y/N–”

“Please?”

You stared into each other's eyes, knowing damn well that you were not thinking clearly, but not caring at this point. Silently, he grabbed his dick and placed it right where you wanted it, pushing just enough for you to engulf his tip and have both of you moaning wantonly.

“This is a t-terrible idea,” he mumbled, pulling out and pushing back inside, driving himself (and you) crazy. It wasn’t enough, yet it was so good.

“It’s okay–ah!” you tried to excuse your poor choices. “We’re j-just ooh…helping each other out–AH!”

“Uhuh,” he nodded, building up his rhythm and switching between thrusting the tip in and sliding against your clit. 

“Fuuuuck– You’ll be ascended to best f-friend for this, Yangyang–”

“Oh, hell nah. Fuck that.”

Just like that, Yangyang’s lips were on yours again. This time very on purpose.

“Y-yangyang w-wait,” you whined, though you were responding to his kiss too actively, sucking on his bottom lip eagerly. “Told you it’s gonna b-be confusing if we–oh!”

“Drop the act, Y/N,” he said between kisses. “Are you telling me you see me as a friend after all this?”

You whimpered. Was it that obvious?

“We’re not fucking friends,” he panted. “You’re not gonna push me deeper into the friendzone when your pussy is trying to suck me in like this.”

“B-but you said–”

“I lied, okay?” he confessed. “Yeah, I imprinted on you. No, I don’t wanna be just friends. And yeah, I know kissing you will make things even more confusing,” he admitted, rubbing and pressing his cock on your clit harder to have your eyes roll back as he continued kissing you. “I want to confuse the fuck out of you until you think you like me back. I don’t give a fuck if it’s unfair. I like you too much–no. I love you –oooh, fuck, fuck,Y/N!”

Your heart skipped a beat at the confession and a dumb smile formed on your lips and then he moaned and grabbed both your hands, positioning them around the base of his cock and holding them there as something started to grow.

“Oh my god…,” you sat up with difficulty staring in disbelief. “Is that your knot?”

He nodded wordlessly, applying pressure on your hands to signal you to squeeze there, hard. When you did he closed his eyes, his body tensed as he spilled spurts of cum on your center, smearing it all over your folds.

You kept squeezing and massaging the inflated base as he whimpered and thrust his hips up weakly. Finally, cum stopped coming out and he sighed.

You didn’t even have time to worry about your still pending orgasm, too preoccupied with processing his earnest confession, and by the time you reacted, he had already crawled down and taken your panties off.

“Shit,” he mumbled. “I made a mess…” caressing your labia and ironically making the sticky mess worse. “Lemme clean it,” were his last words before he slid his tongue between your folds.

Your hands quickly grabbed onto him, pulling his hair to get him closer to where you needed him the most. “Yes, Yangyang, please–”

“What the fuck you taste amazing,” he mumbled against your center, licking incessantly. 

“That’s your own c-cum,” you laughed, interrupted by a moan when he tried to talk while still attached to your  pussy.

“Mixed with yours,” his words were muffled as he moved his lips and tongue lazily to collect as much wetness as he could. “So good together…”

“Yangyang,” you spoke shakily, pulling harder to get him to your clit which he seemed to be avoiding on purpose. “N-not there, here…”

He kept lazily lapping at your inner labia, ignoring your instructions. “I’m helping you clean, like a good friend.”

“No, no, no, please make me cum,” you begged shamelessly. Your climax was so close you could taste it but he was playing with you.

“I dunno,” he detached himself from you and rested his face on his palms, locking eyes with you. “Making you cum with my mouth is too intimate for me…”

“You fucking–AH!” your complaint was cut short when he flicked your clit with the tip of his tongue just once, making you squirm desperately. “Yangyang, come on!”

“But what if you get confused?” he teased, swirling his tongue around your clit slowly.

“P-please, please, please, oh!” you sobbed when he stopped again.

“You sound confused, Y/N,” he cooed, kissing your inner thigh. “ Wouldn’t want to ruin our friendship.”

“Fuck our friendship!” you finally yelled. “I like you. I like you so much. Kiss me, eat me out, fuck me as much as you want, please just do something…Oooh!”

He finally shoved his face between your legs and engulfed your clit with his lips, sucking, allowing you to guide his head however you wanted. He hummed in delight at your confession, determined to make you cum harder than ever to reward your honesty.

“Yes, yes, yes, Yangyang, don’t stop, please, right there ah, ah, ah!” you beg, thrusting your hips up.

You felt him chuckle and it was enough for you to reach your orgasm with a silent scream, arching your back and shaking while he lapped your juices eagerly.

And then you felt a sharp pain in your inner thigh.

“AH! What the fuck, Yangyang!” you exclaimed, sitting up rapidly and catching him with his teeth sunk into your soft skin. 

His eyes widened at your reprimand, and he switched to licking the wound in a comforting manner.

“Why did you bite me?!”

“Got carried away. Sorry…”

Well, at least he didn’t cum inside you, just like you had agreed on. But you hadn’t considered that you two may end up tied up together in other ways.

“Yangyang…does it mean we are–?”

He looked at your panicked eyes and then back at his mark on your body.

“Maybe? I…I don’t know?” he said nervously. “Normally we bite our mates on their neck or somewhere around that area.”

“Then this one probably doesn’t count, right? We aren’t bonded or anything,” you lied to yourself. You knew it made zero sense that a mating bite only worked in a specific area of your body, but you were in no condition to process that you were bonded for life after your not-so-platonic crush ate you out in a house full of werewolves.

He caressed the wounded area lovingly. Something that felt weirdly like electricity traveled from his fingertip which was in contact with your skin all over his body, making him shudder and inhale sharply. He was 89% sure you were bonded, but he ignored his instinct to give you the answer you wanted. 

“I guess it doesn’t work if it’s not on your neck.Maybe.”

“Okay, cool,” you sighed, letting your body finally relax now that the horniness was gone.

“Cool,” he echoed, biting his lip nervously. “So uhh…Wanna grab something to eat?”

“That pizza place down the street?” you suggested tiredly.

“Sure,” he said, standing up and grabbing his pants. He said the next part carefully. “It’s a date.”

You smiled to yourself, trying not to laugh at his nervousness. “Yeah, it’s a date.”

Yangyang could have died a happy man right there and then. He got dressed quickly and helped you sit up and get dressed too. He looked at your exhausted face and he found it endearing, especially with how it lit up after he gave you a soft peck.

You both would deal with the failed botany project later and the fact that everyone in the house probably knew what you did.

…And with the very real bite on your thigh that you both refused to acknowledge for now.

[temporarywelcome]

Please? - Peter Maximoff

Word Count: 3.5k

REQUESTED!

The Ask: I humbly ask for a Peter Maximoff smut, I'm thinking y/n either a: distracts him while he is playing his arcade games, b: using whipped cream to give him a lil sweet treat while fucking, or c: literally any smut of this man, I need him. Preferably him being a little cocky/silly, but when you actually do anything he is a whimpering mess praising you. - @envy-of-greed

I give you... Option A.

WARNINGS: SMUT! oral (m recieve), handjob, mommy kink, praise, reader is a tease, reader is MEAN, sub!peter, dom!reader, Peter becomes a MESS, reader calls him "pup" and "puppy" like once, aftercare, alluding to punishment

A/N: gonna work on a Spencer Reid fluff/comedic fic next

_____

Peter was annoying as hell.

She loved him to bits, she would do absolutely anything for him, but she was allowed to admit her boyfriend was a complete terror?

Y/N was peacefully sitting in her room when her telephone had rang. Placing down her magazine, she reached for it, bringing it to her ear, “Hello?”

“Babeeee,”

What a surprise this was. Peter Maximoff, who usually would just show up unannounced with his super speed, decided to give her a phone call?

“Peter? What’s the occasion?” she asked with a smile, leaning back against her pillows, twirling the telephone’s wire in her newly manicured fingers. 

“Eh, I just remember you saying you like phone calls, the bonding or whatever. So i wanted to give you one.”

That made her heart melt. This little terror was sometimes a complete angel as well. “Yeah…” Y/N replied, “I love phone calls. Your voice sounds so nice on the phone, by the way,”

She could already picture him blushing. “I-It does? I mean, of course, yeah it does! I’m Peter freaking Maximoff, babe. Everything about me is top-tier,”

“You could work on your baking skills,” she mused, remembering literally every single time she would attempt to bake something with him. Flour everywhere. Remnants of cake or brownie batter on his face because he just had to eat some (a lot). Firealarm going off. Burnt baked goods. Every. Single. Time.

“Bitch! Every baking failure is your fault for always distracting me!” he whined in protest.

“How the hell do I distract you? I’m baking too!” 

“ ‘Cause you’re pretty,” Peter replied cheekily, and she knew he would have wiggled his eyebrows if she could see him, “How am I supposed to focus?”

“Stop making excuses for your terrible baking skills. Even if I wasn’t there, you would be a mess,”

“For different reasons,” Peter scoffed, “I can’t bake by myself, I need your guidance,”

“But you can’t bake with me either because you allegedly get distracted. Sounds like you just can’t bake,”

“Fuck off,” he grumbled, making her laugh, “Let’s get to more important business: when can I pick you up?”

“I wasn’t aware of being picked up at all,”

“Yeah well I’m picking you up. I wanna spend some time with you!” she could hear his excited tone that was so uniquely Peter. Everything about him was unique. Everything about him was different and weird and strange and she loved every part of him. 

“Well…” Y/N sighed, “I was going to start on some homework…”

“Boooo! College student booooo!”

“Shit, excuse me for wanting an education. Better than planning on living in my mom’s basement for the rest of my life,” she teased.

“Ouch. Fine. Can’t you do your homework later?”

“I’ve been procrastinating on it,” Y/N set down her magazine, getting off of the bed and walking to her desk, stretching her body as far as she could with the limits of the phone cord. Fingertips brushing against her notebook, she was able to grab it, nestling back into her bed and opening it, “Shit, it’s a lot.”

“Who cares? Finish it tomorrow!”

“It’s due in the morning.”

She could already tell he was pouting, she knew him so well. “Can’t you do it at my place?”

“You mean your mom’s place?” Y/N decided to keep teasing him. Peter was pretty much a loser, not really having any plans in life other than to lounge in his mom’s basement playing video games and eating twinkies for eternity. He thought he was a loser, Y/N’s parents thought he was a loser (which is why they don’t like him much), even Y/N thought he was a loser when they had first met. 

Yet here she was, smiling like an idiot while babbling on the telephone with said loser. Said loser who always gives her (stolen) gifts. Said loser who comes over at random points in the day just to say he loves her (superspeed is pretty handy). Said loser who named his Dungeons and Dragons character after her (however, he was such a loser, he didn’t have many people to play it with). Said loser who would scoff and pout whenever she would tease him about being her future house husband (well, what else would he be, if he just plays video games and dotes on her all day?) Her favorite loser. 

“Yes,” Peter deadpanned, “My mom’s place. Now may I come over so I can escort you to my mom’s place?”

She pretended to think about it, hearing his soft breathing on the other line as he waited for her to answer, “Fine. No distractions though!” 

“Yes, ma’am,”

Y/N opened her mouth to say something else, jumping when she heard a harsh knock on her window. Whipping her head towards the source of the noise, she rolled her eyes with a laugh. Peter, waving at her with his usual happy dorky expression. Placing the phone back down onto its receiver, Y/N rushed towards the window, opening it. “Babe!”

“Missed me?” he asked with a smirk, zipping into her room and right past her, making her roll her eyes again. He picked up her notebook, examining the pages, “Ew ew ew. What the hell are you studying again?”

“Psychology,” Y/N sat on the bed, slipping her sneakers on and tying them. 

“Boring,” he sped off in a blur to her desk, grabbing a pencil, and rushing back to her notebook. 

She didn’t even notice, focused on her sneakers, but when she raised her head and saw him drawing on her notebook, her facial expression soured, “Pietro Maximoff!” she snatched the notebook back, flicking his forehead. 

“Hey!” he gasped dramatically, “Ain’t no way you used my real name.”

“You misbehave to the point I have to like a mom,” Y/n replied dryly, going off to her closet to grab her bag. Brows furrowing, she dug around a bit, “Shit… Dunno where my bag went-”

“Ahem,”

Y/N didn’t even have to turn to know what that meant. But she did, and, not to her surprise, Peter was holding her bag with a smirk on his face. 

“Asshole,” she grumbled, crossing her arms over her chest. She knew him well. If she attempted to grab the bag, he would just zoom off somewhere else to tease her. 

“Aren’t you going to get it?” he asked with faux innocence, holding it out to her. 

“Fuck that, I know what you’re planning,” Y/N shook her head, raising her brow at him expectantly, “Drop the bag,”

“Um, am I a dog?” He placed a hand to his chest, jaw dropping like the drama king he was. He should have been in theatre when he was in school. 

“Do I have to treat you like one?” Y/N threatened boldly, “Come on, pup, drop the bag,”

Peter’s eyes widened and he dropped the bag, “You did not just say that,” 

“Well, it worked,” Y/N smirked, grabbing her bag and planting a kiss on his cheek, “Good boy,” She began throwing her supplies for her homework into her bag, unaware of the growing dent in his pants. 

“Bitch,” he mumbled to himself, too quiet for her to hear. 

“Alright, I’m ready to go,” she announced, slinging her bag over her shoulder. He just stood there, eyes glazed over. “Earth to Peter?” she snapped her fingers in his face twice before he blinked, coming back down to society. 

“Okayletsgetoutofhere,” he word vomited, grabbing her waist (with one hand on her neck, of course! Gotta prevent that whiplash!), and within seconds, they were in his room (the basement). 

“Shit, am I ever gonna get used to that?” Y/N laughed, flopping onto his unmade bed in dizziness. Before she could react, Peter dived in on top of her, making her let out a pained, “Oof!” and a “Peter!”

A childish giggle left him, arms going around her waist as he nuzzled into her neck, “Hm?”

“Can’t breathe,”

“Are you calling me fat?”

“I apologize, my dainty little princess,” she deadpanned, arms going around him too. Yes, he was crushing her, but she honestly didn’t care, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. She then felt something on her thigh. Felt like something was poking-

Oh.

Oh.

She smirked, but didn’t say anything about what she just realized, casually stroking his hair, “My pretty puppy,”

He gasped, immediately dashing off. Poor thing was flustered, playing one of his (stolen) arcade games, back turned to her. 

“What’s wrong?” Y/N immediately got to teasing him, “I thought we were cuddling?”

“Wanna game,” he replied simply, and his ears went red. Cutie pie. 

“You wanna game? But I thought you wanted to spend time with me?” she laughed.

“You said you wanted to do your homework,” 

“True true…” she opened up her notebook, glancing at his squirming figure, “You dancin’, love?”

“No, I’m not dancing,” was all he said. There were plenty of times he didn’t catch onto her teasing, which was always adorable. This seemed to be one of them.

“Then why are you moving like that?” 

“Like what?” Now he was playing dumb. He groaned as he died in the game, restarting it.

She slid off of the bed, walking to him and wrapping her arms around his waist from behind. Resting her chin on his shoulder, she said, “You’re acting funny, darling,” she pressed a kiss to the side of his neck, feeling him tense under her touch.

“N-No, I’m not,”

“Oh, really?” One hand reached out, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear before planting a kiss there, “You’ve been acting funny ever since I called you a good boy,” His breath hitched, making her smirk, “I didn’t know calling you that would have such an effect on you, baby. Maybe it’s because you’re so bratty, you don’t hear that often, huh?”

“Stoooop,” he whined, losing in his game again, “You made me lose,” Peter pouted. 

“Hm,” she let her hands drop lower, fiddling with the button of his pants absentmindedly, “You must be slacking, Peter! You should be able to game under any condition, right?”

“But-”

“Nuhuh,” she pressed a finger to his plush lips, “No ‘but’s from you. We gotta practice your concentration skills, my love. They’re lacking,” she unbuttoned his jeans, making him gasp. His hands were gripping the game’s controls tightly, however they were unmoving as she palmed him through his boxers. “Hey,” she roughly squeezed his length, making him squeak cutely. “Did I say you could stop? C’mon, time to practice.” 

“S-Sorry, Y/N,” he stuttered out, hitting restart again. She squeezed his cock through his boxers again, earning a whine from him. 

“Now what do you call me when I play with you?” Y/N asked tauntingly, running a single finger over his clothed length. Up and down. Up and down. Up and-

“Mommy,” he bit his bottom lip to keep himself from moaning. 

“That’s right, darling, I’m Mommy,” She stepped away, confusing him, until she got down on the floor, crawling right between him and the game. “Mommy’s going to take care of your pretty cock now, okay?” Her hands trailed towards the belt loops of his jeans as she spoke, “You are not allowed to stop playing your game. Each in-game death is two spanks. You’re not allowed to cum till you clear three levels, understood?”

Peter’s cheeks flared up and he nodded excitedly, “Yes, Mommy,” 

“Good boy,” she purred, pulling down his pants and letting them pool at his ankles. Fingers dipping into the waistband of his boxers, she cooed, already noticing a small wet patch, “So excited, huh?” she pulled down his boxers, letting them join his pants on the floor. Y/N stuck out her index finger, letting it run along his cock like before. Up and down. Up and down. Up and-

“-Mommy,” Peter whined, “Stop teasing me, please,”

“Oh? The bratty boy is using his manners?” she cooed, wrapping her fingers around his thick length and slooooowly stroking him, “Remember the rules and everything will feel amazing, yeah?”

He nodded, sucking in a breath, “Y-Yeah,” Peter tried to focus on his game, he really did, trying his best to get his character past the villainous NPCs. But as soon as Y/N began to stroke faster, he whimpered, his character being slain. 

“Oh?” Y/N smirked, pausing her movements and making him whine more, “Already lost? That’s two spanks, darling,”

“Sorry, Mommy…” He mumbled in embarrassment, restarting the game, “I won't do it again- fuck,” She started stroking him again, the delicious feeling going straight to his pretty little head. Any sort of sexual intimacy would immediately make his brain short-circuit, causing him to be complete putty in her hands.

“I know you won’t do it again, Peter, because you’re a good boy, right?” Y/N’s lips curled into a little smile, leaning forward to press a kiss to his tip, continuing to stroke him. “You’re my good boy?”

“Mhm,” he nodded, bottom lip between his teeth as he attempted his game again, his avatar jumping through obstacles and avoiding approaching enemies, “I’m y-your good boy- ughhh,” she wrapped her pretty lips around his tip, teasingly sucking on it. He bit his bottom lip again, hard enough to draw blood. 

Peter couldn’t help it, he took a glance down at Y/N, mouth going dry seeing her sucking on his tip, stroking him in a steady rhythm with her own eyes looking dead at his. His eyes widened seeing her take him deeper into her mouth, eyes not leaving his for even a second.

Game over.

He looked up at the screen of his game, realizing his character died again. Fuck. 

Y/N pulled her mouth off of his dick with a pop, making him whimper, “Two more spanks, darling. That’s four now.”

This was going to suck. This was going to suck in the best way possible. 

“Didn’t you say you were going to be a good boy?” Y/N asked, pouting exageratively, “I remember you saying you were going to be a good boy,”

“I am your good boy!” Peter huffed, crossing his arms over his chest. 

Y/N laughed, pressing a kiss to his thigh, “You’re so cute, baby. Now, c’mon, start the game again. You’ll never get to cum at this rate.”

Poor thing panics, starting the game up again. He began spamming the buttons desperately, wanting to clear those three levels so Y/N would allow him to cum. Overstimulation was hot as hell, but edging was terrible (which is why that was her usual punishment for him).  

Her lips were on him again, sucking hard, and poor guy was seeing fucking stars trying to focus on this damn fucking game. He was a good gamer, these levels should be easy to clear, but when Mommy is sucking his cock how is he able to focus on such a thing? He would rather abandon the game and fuck her like a bitch in heat, which is certainly what he felt like at that moment. 

It was torture. Spamming buttons desperately, not beating the level, the threat of edging and spanking in the air. He was going crazy.

“Thats ten spanks now, baby,” Y/N said after another failed level, “I thought you were good at games,”

“I-I am!” He exclaimed, “It's hard to fucking focus when you're sucking the soul out of me!” A pout formed on his pretty lips, brows furrowed as he attempted to play the level again. 

“Watch your tone, Peter,” Y/N glared at him, making him feel emotional. Whenever he was in a vulnerable place like this, it's embarrassingly easy for him to burst into tears. Especially because during any form of intimacy he was baby or darling or something cute, never Peter. Why would she call him by his name? Was he being bad?

“Sorry, Mama,” he mumbled.

Y/N couldn't help but smile softly, being reminded once again how much she adored him. Her pretty boy. Her favorite loser. Being called her titles by him always made her weak at the knees. “I know, baby,” she was a soft domme at heart, she can't be mad at him. Ever. He was her baby and he deserved the whole world. “Let's try this again, okay?”

She waited for him to nod before taking him into her mouth again. His pretty tip was red and hot in her mouth, dribbling pre-cum on her tongue as she swirled the muscle along. 

He finally beat the first level, moving on to the next excitedly. He was getting somewhere now! Soon he'll be allowed to cum and maybe Y/N will let him inside…

Yes, he really wanted to be inside her. 

Y/N began taking him deeper into her mouth, and fuck he felt his tip nudge the back of her throat so perfectly he wanted to cum. So bad. But he won't because he's a good boy and he's not going to cum until he's allowed to. 

That was the plan, at least.

But his name was Quicksilver for a reason and he could feel himself getting closer and closer to the edge. His left hand was gripping the joystick painfully hard, knuckles white as he moved it around in an attempt to get his character across the map to the next level. 

He finally made it to the third level, sighing in relief. He was getting somewhere. Almost to the end. She was bobbing her head up and down, one hand gently rubbing his tender balls, bringing him closer and closer to release. 

“AhI’msoclosethatfeelssogoodthankyouthankyouI’msoclose” he babbled out, speaking practically a mile a minute. A wide grin appeared on his face once he cleared the third level, “IdiditcanIcomenowpleasecanIcumnow-”

She pulled off of his dick again, making him groan in both desperation and annoyance, “You cleared the level? Good job, sweetie. I guess I can let you cum now…” They both stared at each other, Peter panting and his chest rising with each labored breath, Y/N batting her eyelashes at him meanly, continuing to tease him. He was ready to just start fucking her face and go wild, but he told himself he was going to behave.

So he’s going to behave. 

Ugh, but why does she have to make it so hard? 

“Can you keep going?” he finally asked.

“Should I, though?”

“You… You promised!” he gasped, eyes widening in panic.

“Hmmm, I don’t remember promising anything,” she replied, trailing her finger along his shaft like she always did when she wanted to fucking tease him. Up and down up and down up and down-

“Please?” Was she really going to make him beg? She knew he hated begging, which is probably why she enjoyed making him do that so much. 

All she did was hum, continuing with that aggravating motion of her finger, fucking asshole. 

“Please, Mommy?” he grumbled, hands balling into fists at his sides to keep him from going crazy. Think with your head and not your dick, Peter.

Y/N gave him another mean smirk, “That’s my boy…” she went straight back to sucking him off, and he was back to being a fucking mess. 

“ThatfeelssogoodyoualwaysdosogoodfuckI’mgoingtocumcanIcumpleasepleaseplease-”

She nodded, not stopping her sucking motion for even a second. However, his eyes were screwed shut so he didn’t even notice, continuing to beg to cum till she released his dick from her mouth and said, “You can cum, baby,” with a little laugh before going right back to work. 

And within two seconds of being back inside her mouth, he was cumming hard, hands going to her hair for something to keep him grounded. When she pulled away from his cock once again, she swallowed without a second thought, rubbing his thigh soothingly, “You still there, baby?”

“Mhm,” Peter was a known chatterbox, everybody knew this. But every time after cumming, his desire to speak would vanish, the need to just be held and taken care of overpowering all else. 

So Y/N stood up, taking his hand, “Let’s lay down, yeah?” She knew Peter could not last long, however, he could bounce back extremely fast. Just some cuddles will do, and he’ll be back to either a) yapping her ear off, or b) being hard as a rock. Or both. Who knows? 

She laid down on his (unmade) bed, pulling him down beside her, “You need anything, baby?” He simply shrugged, arms going around her waist and resting his head on her shoulder, “Water?” He shook his head. “Snack?” Fast nod. Of course. “Alright,” she went to sit up, but he immediately tightened his grip on her. “Didn’t you want a snack?” she laughed.

He thought for a moment before hesitantly releasing her from his hold, allowing her to get up and go to his practical tower of Hostess treats, grabbing a box of Twinkies. His favorite. Sitting back down, she opened up the box, unwrapping a cakey treat while he leaned against her again. 

“Here you go,” she said softly, letting Peter pluck the dessert from her hand and eat it. It was silent as he ate, her hand going to his hair to gently stroke the silver strands. 

“Thank you,” he mumbled after he finished, looking up at her with a cute smile, “You always know just what I need,” he nuzzled his nose into her neck, inhaling her scent. “Love you,”

“Love you too, baby,” she kissed his head, sighing peacefully, “So… about that punishment…”

[noirsdoll]

Love love your Dad Curly x Daughter Reader stuff! What if one day Curly gets a gf (it could be Anya or some random woman) and the Reader comes up with a plan to break them up (what that actual plan is can be up to you). Can't have another woman take her daddy away after all..

need this... reader running everything behind the scenes and curly is just oblivious to it all!! this is so long i got lost in the sauce LMAO cw for father/daughter incest and dubcon! also smut!

Your dad has a new girlfriend.

He met her at a ski slope, he was impressed by her skills— like skiing is hard. You can ski too, you just choose not to, you're better suited to things other than fucking skiing. She’s just a loser.

As you've gotten older, you've noticed that Curly's choices in who he dates have begun to bear more and more resemblance to you. But their personalities are trash— whiny, inconsiderate, not good fits for your dad who is sweeter than honey.

Whatever. This new girlfriend will just be another phase. They only last a handful of months before Curly breaks them off, quietly admitting to you a week later that it was because they were nothing like Mom. Then he looks at you like he's staring through you, like you're a shopping list he's memorizing before his next trip.

You expected she would be the same as the others. Problem is, this relationship is approaching a year steady, and you're getting annoyed. Why hasn't he gotten bored like he usually does? Are you the only one that can see through all her inane bullshit? You need to do something to stop this. And here it is, the final nail in the coffin:

She keeps trying to make you call her Mom.

You almost threw up the first time you heard it. "Stop calling me that, you know you can just call me Mom, right?" Your blood has never boiled hotter, you wanted to slap her.

But you didn't, because Curly was right there, beaming his brightest fucking smile. "Aw, there's my two girls getting along."

Two girls. Your stomach turned over and you promptly excused yourself. As you stared at your reflection in the mirror, so similar to hers that she could be confused for a skinwalker, the plan formed in your mind.

It wasn't difficult, really. One easily-guessable phone password later and you were in. Changing your saved name in her phone to a man's name with far too many heart emojis, you started a small conversation between her and you.

When the three of you are watching a movie, you send her a sneak text and her phone lights up. You try to hide your grin. "What's that?"

Curly, being the gentleman he always is, reaches to snag the phone for her. "Oh, I can read it for you...," his voice trails off as he stares at the message. "Babe, who is this?"

You watch from the corner of the couch as the fight ensues. She's bawling her eyes out, blackened tears soaking her face as Curly just looks at her like his soul has been leeched from his body. You feel bad for hurting him, but it was a necessary evil. Now he knows better than to go looking for someone else— you're right here.

And then she's gone, nothing but her irritating perfume as her memory. Curly collapses onto the couch with a sigh, running a hand down his face. "Sorry you had to see that, honey."

"It's fine, Dad," you loom closer, a hand on his thigh, "she was a bitch anyway."

He looks at you, confused. "Who told you to talk like that?" Curly's eyes are red with unshed tears. You wipe them away for him.

“I’m just being honest. What, you didn’t notice either?”

He looks at you, then away, pursing his lips. Curly has a habit of that, dismissing his opinion, bending and folding himself into something that mindlessly agrees because that is easiest.

You take that as an invitation to get closer, practically in his lap. "Are you okay?" You smooth his hair out of his face.

Curly sighs again, less laboured. "I just wish your mother was still here. Everything was easier when she was around."

"I look just like her, don't I?" Your old photos of her say just as much.

"Oh, yes," he smiles distantly, "you look more like her every day. I just worry that--"

"Then fuck me."

His eyes blow wide in disbelief. "What's gotten into you?"

The radius between you is so short that you can feel his warm breath against your skin, the only thing that’s separating you two is a thin layer of air and clothes. “You don’t want to?” He must want to, his dating history points towards it, the way he looks at you, everything.

Curly squeezes his eyes shut with a held-back groan. “You can’t just ask me things like that, sweetheart.” He looks at you with weathered eyes. “It’s wrong, it’s—“

But then you’re kissing him and suddenly it isn’t wrong, because he kisses back with just as much fervour. Curly’s hands swallow your waist up and he tugs you against him. You’re taking advantage of him in a vulnerable state and you could not give less of a shit, because he’s grinding you against his cock.

Your hands scramble for his pants, you finally have him, after years and years of scaring away every girl that tried to take your dad away, it’s all paid off because you’re the one getting stretched open around him. He eases himself into you. You’re so full of cock you swear his tip is nudging your brain.

Curly rests his forehead on your shoulder, fucking up into you as your nails drag along his back for purchase. Each experienced cant into your pussy has tears budding in your eyes. You think he says your mother’s name at some point, but you’re too lost in the moment to care.

You slowly move with him, finding a rhythm that relieves that lifelong ache in your gut— an innate pull towards him. The unhurried movement of your hips feels so good, heat fizzling up your spine and erupting in sparks behind your eyes.

You kiss him open-mouthed, one part moaning and the other sobbing as he has you how he wants, tugging you up and down his cock, stuffing you over and over again.

Curly cums with a gasp, his hips pressed firmly to yours as he buries every last spurt deep inside you. Instantly, he realizes his mistake, pulling away, his blue eyes filled with horror.

“I didn’t mean to— fuck, I didn’t—“

And you just shush him and tell him it’ll all be fine, that you’ll take care of it. He won’t ever need to think for himself again if he stays with you.

[roosterforme]

Always Ever Only You Part 27 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: Bradley just needs your full attention long enough for you to tell him what's bothering you, and for you to pick out a new car. He comes home from golfing completely unwilling to let you gloss things over, but the conversation veers off course once again when you share some big news.

Warnings: Swearing, smut, oral, pregnancy topics, angst, fluff

Length: 5400 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

This was written to accompany my series Is It Working For You? along with a bunch of my one-shots and other series, but it can be read on its own! Check my masterlist for the reading order. Always Ever Only You masterlist. Gorgeous banner by @mak-32

By the eighteenth hole, Bradley was restless. This was taking forever. He somehow forgot how meticulous Bob was when he teed off, adding probably a full hour to the golf outing. He bit his tongue and fought the urge to tell Bob to move things along so he could get back home to you. When he left hours ago, you were still sound asleep, and he was concerned that you weren't feeling well. He was also completely fed up with the way you were avoiding conversation.

He played through the last hole as quickly as he could, and when Jake and Javy suggested grabbing lunch and a beer, he made his excuses and a quick exit. "Next time. And it'll be my treat. But I need to get home."

"Angel's got you so pussy whipped," Jake drawled as if he wasn't currently driving his car around complete with a car seat for Jeremiah.

"Do you ever hear me denying it or complaining about it?" Bradley replied as he set his clubs in the back of the Bronco. "I don't think she's feeling great, and I need her to pick out a new car. I'm getting fed up with her dragging her feet. So she's picking something out today."

Jake laughed as he opened his car door. "Yeah, go try to show her who's the boss, buddy. Good luck with that."

Bradley grunted and rolled his eyes. You and he were a team, and if he had to demand that you hear him out, then he'd get his way about it. He was absolutely unwilling to return to a place where the two of you weren't communicating well. But as he drove back home, he was starting to get more annoyed. He already asked you so many times to tell him what was bothering you and what was on your mind, and each time, you'd burst into tears. He didn't even know what the hell he was doing wrong. 

"Fuck," he growled as he pulled into the empty driveway, honestly kind of missing your little shit mobile since it had made you happy. Today was his mom's birthday, and he wanted you to have a good day, but if he pissed you off, then he pissed you off. He was armed with his phone browser open to two options that would just have to be good enough. He left his clubs in the car as he strolled up the walkway to the porch in his white golf pants and floral print shirt. He would just have to get you to accept the fact that a new car needed to happen.

"Sweetheart?" he called out when he opened the door. You and Tramp both came running into the living room. "Hey, we need to talk about some of this shit. Right now."

"Okay, but-"

"Please," he said firmly, holding up one hand. "Just let me say what I need to say, alright?"

You were bouncing on the balls of your bare feet with your hands clasped in front of you. "Okay," you agreed, your voice breathy and light. All he wanted to do was collect you in his arms and smother you in kisses, but he couldn't get sidetracked right now. 

Bradley closed the distance to you but planted his hands on his hips. "I love you so much, but something is not working right now. And I'm not going to let us fall apart again. Ever. I want to talk it through right now, and I need you to participate. Starting with your car."

You reached out and let one hand rest on his abs as your lips parted, but he shook his head. 

"No, seriously, Baby Girl. I will do anything to make you happy, but could you please, please just pick out a car? I don't like leaving you home without one." He paused to lean in and kiss your forehead briefly. "I found a brand new, red Honda Civic with all of the same features as your old one. Same transmission, sunroof, everything. And it's on a lot in Chula Vista. We could go look at it right now."

"Bradley, I don't think that's a good idea," you told him, smiling up at him. He felt his resolve fracturing, but he kept going.

"Well, something has to give here! That's the best I can come up with. Unless... you want to go with the blue one I found online which is exactly the same as the one that I totaled. Same model year and everything, but it's in Maine. If you really want it, we can fly there and drive it back. I already talked to the owner about the price."

"Bradley, I don't want that one either."

He tipped his head back in frustration as your hand caressed him through his shirt. "For the love of god, Sweetheart, I am trying my best here. And you're giving me nothing. And it's not just the car," he snapped as he met your gaze again, eyes wide looking up at him. "You yelled at me for buying the wrong coffee when I thought they just changed the label, and you fell asleep while we were mid conversation. And I hurt you when we were having sex, but you wouldn't even talk about it afterwards. I need you to tell me if I'm not doing it for you, because I don't want to keep fucking this up!"

"You're not fucking anything up," you promised quietly. "You're not, Roo."

He examined your pretty, eager face and shrugged. "Then just tell me what's going on here."

You bit your lip and closed the remaining inches between your body and his, and then you smiled up at him so brilliantly, his breath caught in his lungs. As you carefully wrapped your arms around his waist, you said, "I'm pregnant."

He was frozen in time and space, barely able to process your words as his belly swooped and his heart raced. Pregnant. You were pregnant? He swallowed hard as he let his forehead rest against yours, trying to formulate words.

"Baby Girl, are you really? Pregnant?"

"Yes," you whispered, and Bradley had you in his arms, making you squeal as he lifted you up in the air. 

"You're pregnant?" he asked again, beaming at you as you wrapped your legs and arms around him.

"I'm pregnant!" 

"Holy shit!" he nearly screamed as you buried your face in his neck and laughed in delight. "Holy shit! You're pregnant!"

He didn't know what to do with himself as he held you tight against him, imagining a baby in your arms. His baby. And your baby. Something the two of you had been dreaming about for so long. The one thing he'd had to make himself understand he didn't need at the cost of a happy marriage, but that he'd still yearned for.

Your happy laughter and whispered words had his feet moving toward the bedroom. "You're going to be a dad, Roo." 

He set you down on the bed, covering your body with his large one, careful not to hurt you as your sweet lips met his. "I love you so much," he murmured between kisses that left him breathless. "I fucking adore you, Sweetheart."

You whimpered as he slowly let his hand drift down your body before inching your shirt up and running his knuckles gently along your belly. He kissed you hard on the lips one last him before easing his body down lower, kissing your sternum on his way to your belly button. He thought about the future as he said, "And I adore you, too."

-----------------------

You ran your fingers lazily through your husband's soft curls as his big hand rested on the middle of your belly next to his cheek. He was a little sweaty and still wearing his golf clothes, but everything was just perfect. The edge of his mustache tickled your sensitive skin as he whispered, "I love you."

Everything made sense now which made you feel more settled. Honestly, this was much better than the flu that you thought you had, and you giggled. "You'll be the best Daddy, Bradley."

He looked up your body before kissing you a dozen more times all over your abdomen. Calloused fingers stroked your skin as he looked at you with those big, brown eyes you were completely addicted to. "Fuck. I'm so excited. I don't even know what to do with myself," he told you as you sat up and climbed onto his lap. "You took a pregnancy test?"

"Yes. I had one tucked in the back of the bathroom closet that I bought a few months ago," you whispered, brushing his scarred cheek with your lips and the tip of your nose. 

"Where's the test?" he asked, scooping you up in his arms again as you told him it was in the bathroom. "I want to see it." You'd managed to pick it up off the floor earlier before examining it for about five minutes with tears in your eyes before you left it on the vanity. And now Bradley set you down, but he kept one arm around you as he picked it up. "Two lines means you're pregnant?" he asked, looking at you in reverence. 

You nodded and whispered, "Yes," and then his eyes filled with tears. "Oh, Roo."

"Sweetheart. You're pregnant," he said so softly. "We're going to have a baby."

"Yes," you confirmed as you wiped at his tears with your thumbs while he held onto the test. "I realized when I woke up that my period was late, and then I threw up. A lot. So I took the test."

He sucked in a deep, shaky breath before he kissed your forehead. "Do you remember what today is?"

You let your cheek come to rest on his chest as you said, "Of course I do. It's your mom's birthday. I already bought everything to make filet mignon and crab cakes for dinner. But I guess we ended up with a birthday present?"

With lips pressed to your hair, he muttered, "She would have loved this. She would have loved you almost as much as I do. And she would have been a good grandma."

And now you felt more tears stinging at your eyes. It had been nine months of trying for this moment, which wasn't extravagantly long in the grand scheme of things, but it had been stressful and hard on your marriage at times. Bradley was your teammate, and he'd worked as hard as you had to make sure the two of you made it back to a good place.

"Can we go to the store?" he asked suddenly. "Buy some more pregnancy tests so I can be here when you take one? And get some ginger ale if your stomach is still upset?"

"Yeah," you said with a laugh. "If you want."

"I want," he replied immediately, taking you by the hand and leading you toward the front door. His cheeks were flushed pink, and he was all smiles as he stopped on the driveway next to the Bronco and gasped. "The Bronco, Sweetheart."

"What about it?" you asked as he slowly backed you up until your butt hit the passenger side door. Bradley caged you in with a predatory glint in his eye before kissing your forehead softly. But you felt so calm as his hand slipped underneath your shirt, his thumb rubbing soft circles on your belly.

"A Bronco is the solution. It's so clear now. We'll swing by the Ford dealer after the drug store. And then we can drive home in two separate Broncos so you can take the tests. And then we can make my mom's birthday dinner."

Your lips parted, but no words came out, and Bradley dipped his head down to kiss you. He was smiling against your lips as his arms snaked around you. "Another Bronco?" you whispered. "You think?"

"Mmhmm," he hummed as his lips skimmed your cheek. "A lot more indestructible than your old thing. I'm not going to let our baby ride around in a little compact car death trap on wheels. Let's get a second Bronco."

"It wasn't that bad," you muttered, only slightly offended as you recalled the gigantic hole that he'd put in the bottom of your car with his foot. "Are you sure you don't just want to have access to drive two Broncos instead of one?"

Bradley leaned on one forearm against the door, still stroking your belly with his thumb and keeping you calm. "We need something big enough for a car seat to fit comfortably. If you don't want a Bronco, I think you should still consider another SUV. Preferably one I can actually fit in."

You looked up at his handsome and eager face, excitement bubbling under the surface of his expression. He was clearly as excited as you were about the positive test, and he just wanted you to be happy. Hell, he'd offered to drive a car back from Maine with you barely an hour ago. Before he even knew you were pregnant. You were still having a hard time wrapping your mind around it yourself. 

Tears stung your eyes, and Bradley's smile faltered a little bit. "Listen," he whispered, kissing your forehead. "Anything you want to drive, okay? Anything you want. But I think we need to look at the safety ratings and all that shit if you really want a compact car again."

"I don't want a compact car again," you hiccupped. "I was trying to tell you that earlier. We can go look at Broncos. I'm just so emotional. I can't seem to control it. But at least I know where it's coming from now."

Bradley smiled as he pulled you away from the door before opening it, and then he buckled you in. "It's coming from the little Bradshaw bun in your oven, and I couldn't be happier."

-----------------------------

Even the brief walk around to the driver's side door felt like too much, because Bradley didn't want to stop touching you. As soon as he could, he slipped his hand in yours once again and smiled at you before backing out of the driveway. He'd been ready for this for a long time. He knew he'd always been a step ahead of you; his desire to date you exclusively startled you at first, but he knew pretty early on that you'd be wearing his mom's ring eventually. He was ready for this day before you were, too, but he had tried his best not to rush you here. As soon as you told him you stopped taking your birth control back in November, he was ready for you to be knocked up the next day. 

But now you were, and he was looking forward to all of it. The arguments had been worth it. The way he fucked things up before had been worth it, because both of you worked hard to fix things which told him you were unbeatable. 

"We're going to be awesome parents," he said, making you laugh as he parked at the pharmacy. When you tried to climb out your door, Bradley tugged on your hand and whispered, "Come over here. I don't want to stop touching you. I don't want to let go of you."

You willingly crawled onto his lap and let your cheek come to rest on his shoulder. "Don't let go of me."

"I won't," he promised, stroking your belly again like he just couldn't help himself. "Hey, should we call your parents this weekend and tell them the news?"

You pulled a few inches away from him with a little pout and shook your head. "I think it's too early, Bradley."

"Oh. Right," he replied, suddenly embarrassed that he wasn't sure about all of the timelines and exactly what everything meant.

"You know," you added softly. "In case something... happens to the baby. It's still so early. There's still a good chance that something could go wrong."

Bradley's body felt like it was sent into a freefall just thinking about anything happening to either of you. He held you tighter and kissed you a little rougher than he meant to, making you moan as he shook his head. "No. Don't say that." His voice was thick with emotion as he squeezed his eyes closed. "Don't say that, Baby Girl."

"Okay," you whispered, taking his face in both of your hands and caressing him with your soft and steady fingers. "I won't say it again." You kissed his lips and his scars as you pushed your fingers gently back through his hair which was probably already a mess from golfing earlier. But the more you touched him, the better he felt, and he took a few deep breaths as you said, "But I'm already so attached right now that it's a little scary. Already attached to the baby and the idea of you being a daddy."

"I am too," he promised as he opened his eyes to see you so close to him. "I'm so ready for this."

You kissed him one more time as you whispered, "I love you." And then you led him inside as he remembered all the times he played with Jeremiah and changed his diapers and read him books. Oh shit, he was so excited to have it for himself, he scooped up at least ten pregnancy tests while you laughed and chased him up to the registers. 

"Do you think that's enough?" you asked sarcastically as he leaned down to kiss the top of your head. 

He picked some bottles of ginger ale out of the small refrigerator case next to the register as he said, "Listen, I missed the one from this morning, so you owe me. Just humor me, okay? I want to watch those little lines show up with my own eyes."

As he reached into his pocket for his wallet to pay for the collection of tests, he realized he was still wearing his golf clothes and shoes. In all of his excitement, he'd forgotten to change. And now he was getting excited all over again as he inserted his credit card and looked at you. Should he get you right home to take the pregnancy tests? Take you to bed and show you how attached he was, too? Visit the Ford dealer?

He groaned, knowing the Ford dealer was going to win out since he actually had your attention on the new car right now. "Here," he told you, handing you the bag as he buckled you back in again. "Drink one of the bottles so you'll have enough pee for the tests while I drive us to look at the new Broncos. Start thinking about what color you want."

"Red," you replied immediately. "It's what I had before, plus it's your favorite color."

"Fuck," Bradley practically whined, lacing his fingers with yours. "A hot, pregnant wife, a baby on the way, and two Broncos in the driveway? This might be the best day of my life so far. I don't know how much more I can handle here."

You laughed as he kissed you all over your face, resting his hand gently against your belly through your shirt. His to-do list was growing by the minute, and he was a little alarmed that his heart rate was elevated with no signs of slowing down, but every time he looked at your face he said, "I love you."

------------------------------

"It's just butter, Bradley," you said as you watched him trying his best to help you cook Carole's birthday dinner. "How are you this bad at melting butter?"

He shot you a playful glare before moving to stand behind you at the stove, wrapping his arms around you so that his hands were resting on your belly. "I'll just watch the pro then."

You shook your head, still a little startled by everything that happened today. An hour at the Ford dealership and the two of you left hand in hand after paying a deposit for the red Bronco that they were going to acquire for you from a dealer in northern California. Then you came home and took ten more pregnancy tests while Bradley sat in the bathroom with you, shooting you his big, soppy brown eyes filled with tears while he smiled. They were all positive, and they were all still lined up on the vanity, and you were pretty sure he kept occasionally sneaking off to look at them.

As you turned the crab cakes over in your cast iron pan, you whispered, "I feel like your mom is watching over us somehow."

"Oh, I have no doubt," he replied immediately, holding you a little tighter and nudging your sore breasts. "Goose, too. But especially her, on her birthday. She'd have been a mess over this news."

You set the spatula down and had to close your eyes. Your hormones were all over the place, and this was the thing that sent you immediately into a fit of body wracking sobs. "What's wrong?" Bradley asked with concern, turning you around and inspecting your hands. "Did you burn yourself?"

"No," you wailed. "I'm just so happy, but it's not fair that your parents aren't here. Like I can deal with the fact that I never got to meet them, but this is so not fair! And I'm sorry, but I can't control my emotions at all."

He pulled you closer and let you cry, kissing your ear and whispering that everything was going to be okay. As you got your breathing under control, he said, "If you're this emotional at like five and a half weeks, I guess I better buckle in for the ride."

You glared up at him before he leaned down to kiss your tears away with a smile, and you let him take the brownies out of the oven and load a plate with dinner. With your hand held in his, Bradley carried the meal to the table, but he led you to the piano instead of one of the chairs. 

"Remember how to play it?" he asked softly as he took a seat and patted the bench next to him. You needed a short tutorial, but he was as patient as ever as he reminded you of the notes. Then you helped him play and sing Happy Birthday to Carole even though it wasn't perfect, and at the end he whispered, "Thanks, mom. Let's go eat, Baby Girl."

You sat perched on his lap like always, mouth watering as you looked at the steak and crab cakes. Everything looked amazing, and you were starving. "How does it taste?" you asked as Bradley took three bites of dinner in rapid succession. 

"Fucking incredible," he replied as you cut yourself a piece of steak. It was buttery and delicious, and it practically melted in your mouth. You moaned as you tried the crab cakes, and they were pretty good, too. About halfway through the meal your stomach lurched, and you turned to look at Bradley. 

He smiled at you as you shook your head and said, "Oh no." You practically fell off of his lap as you ran for the hallway bathroom, barely making it in time to empty the contents of your stomach into the toilet. He was right behind you, rubbing your back as you sat down hard on the floor and caught your breath. 

"This is a pregnancy thing, right?" he asked softly. "Morning sickness?"

You nodded. "I think so. I was going to call my doctor on Monday anyway and tell her about my positive tests, but I'll tell her about this, too."

Bradley collected you in his arms and asked, "Are you hungry?"

"Starving," you whined, letting your forehead come to rest against his sternum. 

"I have an idea," he replied. A few minutes later, you were sitting on the couch with a plate of crackers smeared with peanut butter in your hand and the trash can on the floor in front of you. Bradley finished eating the plate of Carole's birthday dinner, and now he was working on cleaning up the kitchen while he dug into the tray of brownies. You gingerly bit into one of the crackers, and your stomach growled but didn't lurch. So you kept going. 

It took you an hour, but you finished the whole plate as you thought about how things would change around here with a baby involved. Nothing seemed too startling though, probably because you'd been subconsciously looking forward to this for such a long time. You knew Bradley was as well. And the way he came out to check on you several times as he cleaned up the house had you swooning over your husband a little bit.

You shared the last cracker with Tramp and then stood to take your plate to the kitchen where Bradley was leaning on the island looking at his phone. "What are you doing?" you asked him.

He looked up at you and blushed a little bit. "Looking at crib bedding," he replied, and you practically tossed the plate at the sink before hurrying to his arms. "You feeling better?"

You nodded. "Crib bedding?" You were instantly melting into his touch. 

"Yeah. I thought we could do airplanes?" 

You whimpered against his muscular chest as he pocketed his phone. "Yes, Roo, we can do airplanes."

He rubbed your back as you tucked your hands up inside the golf shirt he had been wearing all day and let your fingers skim along his abs. "I'm just really excited about this," he said, voice full of emotion. "All the baby stuff. And a nursery. I was already thinking about finishing the attic, but now we should definitely do it so your parents can stay up there when they visit their grandchild. And we can get those convertible car seats for both Broncos. And we should probably start looking at daycares before the baby is born. Like the really good daycares, you know?"

"Oh fuck," you moaned as you looked up at him. "Bradley. You're incredible." You rubbed yourself against the fly of his white pants, and both of his eyebrows shot up.

"You want to?" he rasped, and you started pulling him toward the bedroom. "Last time we had sex, I hurt you, Sweetheart. I don't want to do that again."

"You won't," you promised as you tugged off his shirt. "You won't, because I know what's going on now."

He nodded and reached for his pants zipper as you quickly got yourself undressed and climbed into bed. Bradley watched you as he struggled with his shoes and socks before he could take his pants off, and the two of you shared a laugh. Then you bit your lip as his hard cock sprung free, practically vibrating with anticipation as he plopped down on the bed on his back. 

"Come here," he whispered, but when you started to straddle his hips, he shook his head. "No. Up here." You leaned down to kiss him, and he welcomed you with a smile on his face, but after his tongue tangled with yours he broke the kiss. "I want you to sit on my face."

"Oh," you gasped as he reached for your butt and pulled you up until you were straddling his neck. Then his mouth was on you, and you were reaching for the headboard with one hand as your fingers grasped Bradley's curls with the other. He was so gentle, kissing up and down your most intimate parts before separating you with his nose. "Oh my god," you whined as he nudged your clit and looked up at you before starting to suck. 

You were already pulsing around nothing, your fingernails scraping along his scalp as you rolled your hips gently against his mouth. Bradley licked you up and back before sucking gently again. The more aroused you got, the more your boobs hurt, but it wasn't as bad as last time. Not when his mouth was doing everything to make you wetter as he gently ran his hands along the backs of your thighs and your butt.

It would have come as no surprise to you if he told you that you were dripping wet now as you whispered, "I want your cock."

Bradley practically growled as he released you, his mouth glistening as he licked his lips. "Only if I'm not going to hurt you," he reiterated, voice deep and gravelly as you moved further down his body. "Stop me if I am."

You lifted his length and slipped him slowly inside you as he grunted and propped himself up on one hand. "Feels good," you promised him as you pushed and pushed until he was fully seated. His eyes were big pools as he hesitated a bit before kissing the valley between your breasts, his lips feather light. And that was exactly what you needed as he brought his other hand up to your belly. 

"I love you," he whispered, letting his lips barely caress your nipple as you rocked slowly. "I love you so much, Sweetheart." 

When his tongue grazed your breast, you whined for more, so he took your nipple between his lips. Instead of sucking, he let his tongue drift along lazily as you barely rocked your hips backward and forward, playing with his hair. "I love you, Daddy," you told him as you smirked. 

He looked up at you as he released your breast and gently started to lick your left one as you cupped his cheek. Between kisses and soft nuzzles, Bradley poured his heart out to you as you enjoyed the feel of him, thick and delicious inside you.

"I'll take care of both of you. Always. I'm going to love you forever. I'll never stop. You're perfect. So fucking perfect. I can't get enough. I can't wait for everything."

You were barely moving on his cock when you came hard, your nipples wet to the cool air from his saliva and your fingers gripping his hair. "Bradley. Bradley. Bradley," you panted, squeezing him so tight as you pulsed around him. 

He grunted, watching your face as he let himself come undone, too. He was still breathing heavily as he leaned back against the pillows, and you sank down on top of him. "I didn't hurt you?"

"Not at all," you promised. "My breasts are so tender, but that felt amazing."

"Got it," he whispered, nodding as he wrapped his arms around you. Very slowly you let your body press to his, careful to get into a position that didn't make you want to wince. "I can be extra gentle," he promised. "I can be anything you need. Anything either of you need."

A chill rippled through your body at his words, because you knew they were true. You leaned up and looked at his handsome face, cheeks flushed and lips softly parted. When you kissed him, he tasted like you. His softening cock was still inside you, but neither of you made any move to get cleaned up quite yet.

"You can't stop touching me, can you?"

"I can, Sweetheart. I just don't want to," he replied softly from where he had his face buried against your neck. "Hey, we should go to bed early since you've been so tired. Maybe the baby needs the extra sleep."

"Oh," you gasped, pulling back and examining his face. "Early." You figured you had to be between five and six weeks pregnant, but the last time you had your period, it had come early. 

"What?"

Your mind was swirling as you did the math, and a smile broke out on your face. 

"What?" he asked again, looking at you in puzzlement.

If your period had been early, then you were probably only still ovulating for the very first day that Bradley had been home from his special mission. You started laughing as you kissed him over and over again before rolling onto your back and cracking up. 

"Tell me," he said, rolling to his side next to you as he started laughing, too.

"Oh my god, Roo," you wheezed. "I think you got me pregnant when you totaled my car."

--------------------------

A BABY!! A BRADSHAW BUN IN THE OVEN! MOM AND DAD! Do you want to read more of the pregnancy adventure? I hope so. The fact that this has been planned out for the past year is just wild to me, and I'm so happy I got to share it with you. Thanks for everything @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 28

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Darkest Part (4) - Died In Your Arms

Astrid Deetz x female Reader

Summary: You will never, in life or afterlife, if such a thing exists, meet anyone as infuriating, rage inducing, entitled, or frankly awful, as Astrid fucking Deetz. There isn’t a single thing you’d like more than to never be around her, but as your luck would have it, you just can’t stay away from her.

Masterlist / First part / Previous Part / Next Part

Word count: 5.3k

-Oh I, I just died in your arms tonight, it must've been some kind of kiss, I should've walked away-

This was a good life, hot chocolate, paper taped to the desk as you drew your third sketch of the building you had in mind. Away from all the worries and for a moment free from any obligations.

“How’s it going?” your mom came up to you and leaned over to kiss your cheek.

“Mom, you shouldn’t-“ she didn’t wince, her back didn’t hurt, yeah, it would end soon, and you desperately wanted it to continue. Wanted things to get better, wanted her to be healthy again.

Your phone had other ideas, as the alarm rang and the sound of it startled you awake. Curse your need to constantly change your alarm ringtone, otherwise you’d get used to it and sleep right through it. This new one was ridiculously awful, like someone constantly ringing the bell, but it got the job done. “Am I ever going to wake up well-rested again?” you wondered, feeling like you barely slept a wink. You just couldn’t get used to this house.

Well, considering the tales about it, maybe that wasn’t that strange.

Or it was just the reasonable explanation.

As it was, last night your exhausted body just collapsed onto the bed and you fell asleep, and then got woken up by the chill of the night, because of course you were too tired to cover yourself. What followed was you spending way too long trying to warm up. Winter River indeed, it really was cold. Why couldn’t this be some pleasant warm place, somewhere you could still go around wearing short sleeves instead of already needing several layers of clothing.

The only thing worse than the cold was the Chihuahua that was also in the house. “Why the fuck would I let her be on my mind first thing in the morning?” you slapped your forehead, now even more annoyed. Of all the people you could have thought of at the start your day, it had to be her.

Annoyed, you threw the covers off and immediately came to regret it as the cold air made you shiver. On second thought you should probably stay in bed a bit longer, so you went back under the covers into the warm escape from the chilling cold. You swiftly unlocked your phone and figured you might as well check up on your mom and Alex. You sent each of them a message asking how they were and if everything was fine and put your phone away. It was still too early to call them and if you had to be awake it didn't mean you had to wake them up too.

~X~

Halfway through the day and a lot of packing later, you sat down at the table exhausted with the hot cup of tea in front of you. You really needed that as the warmth of the tea seemed to seep into your very soul. Actually, you also needed a blanket around your shoulders and the nice warm fire accompanied by perhaps movie. It's been a while since you've watched ‘Kill, Baby, Kill’ and you were really in the mood for it after these past few days.

Seeing your favorite movie again would probably make your life a tiny bit better.

No, instead of that you had to deal with someone rather happy getting inside the house with an obvious bounce to their steps. You raised your head, confused and for a moment even terrified that someone actually broke in and just didn't care about making noises. And then that someone walked through the door into the dining room and you would have been a lot happier if it was a burglar.

No. Instead it was the fucking Chihuahua what a wide, frighteningly bright, and happy grin on her face and the world was going to end any moment now. You were fairly sure, and not at all being too dramatic, that Astrid Deetz, also known as Chihuahua, being this obviously happy was one of the eleven signs of the apocalypse.

“Oh, of course you're here. Well, it doesn't matter, not even you can ruin my mood,” she just  walked past you, still happy, and not throwing insults at you. She didn’t do anything! Absolutely nothing! Not even glaring at you and you could not remember the last time you were this frightened.

You scrambled to your feet and rushed outside. “Delia!” you cried out hoping the woman would have some kind of help for you maybe some medicine for hallucinations or a plausible explanation or anything really as long as it helped. You desperately needed someone to convince you that just made what happened up in your head!

It was all in your head. There was no other explanation, which made it even more concerning because Astrid Deetz being in your head and part of your hallucinations was not a good sign for you. Frankly, at this point you had no idea which was worse, Astrid being happy or you thinking about the damn Chihuahua to the point of hallucinating seeing her happy.

~X~

“Damn it Delia, why couldn’t you just get this delivered to the damn house?!” you hissed, a lot like the creatures inside the box you were currently carrying. You knew you had fear of heights before, but apparently you also had a fear of snakes. Which was made a lot worse by the sounds the snakes were making and you were praying that the people Delia bought the snakes from didn't scam her and actually defanged them.

Sure, in theory you were safe. The box was sealed, and safe, but your brain still came up with frightening scenarios. As safe as the box probably was you were still frightened that they would somehow find their way out and bite you and you did not want to die due to snake bites.

‘How many times am I going to risk my life in one single week?’ you wondered, and you really shouldn't have because you had a few more times before the end of this trip.

You finally reached the house and couldn’t have been happier to see it as you rushed up the stairs and set the box on the table for Delia to do whatever she intended to do with the snakes. You really hoped she wouldn't make you go with her because at that point you might actually think staying with Rory would be more pleasant. And just to be safe you immediately turned to Delia when she walked into the room. “I'm done with the snakes, I did my part the rest is up to you,” you urgently informed her before she could get more great ideas.

Delia just laughed. “They are defanged, don't worry,” apparently they were, you weren’t about to check.

You slumped slightly, doing your best puppy eyes to get her to let you stay out of this. “I am still not comfortable around snakes, so please don’t ask me to help you with them,” well at least she didn't look like she would push you to join her as she smiled and patted you on the shoulder.

“Come on, I'm not that cruel,” she smiled at you and then shook her head in amusement at the relief showing on your face. “I thought it would be a good experience is for you to watch, but it’s fine if you don’t. Oh and Y/N, you can rest tonight, you don't even have to go to the wedding,” she was telling you one good news after the other. “We have a few more things to do tomorrow morning and then you can go back home,” Delia surprise you but maybe you should have expected it. She had her moments of kindness and you've been on the receiving end plenty of times, despite all the less pleasant, more dangerous and difficult moments you had with her.

“Thanks Delia, I really appreciate it,” you told her as Astrid joined the two of you.

“Snakes?” Astrid looked at the content of the box, surprised by what she saw and for once you couldn't blame her. Personally, you didn't quite get why Delia got them herself but she wanted them and she got them. Something about Ancient Egypt and Pharaohs from what you understood.

“Actually asps,” Delia corrected her, and you had to admit she actually sounded excited about them.

“Why? Are they a wedding gift for Rory?” Astrid asked, hopeful that the answer would be yes.

“Now that would’ve made it worth carrying them,” you knew that wasn’t their purpose but  no one could force you to stop happily imagining Rory freaking out over the snakes.

For the first time since you've known her, Astrid actually didn't have a rude remark or an insult for you, and actually just rolled her eyes with a smile which was almost freaky but not exactly an unwelcome change.

“Too late they've be defanged, guaranteed harmless! And they're for me.” Delia shattered your dreams well, yours was never even allowed to begin because you knew from the start what she wanted to do with them. Still for a moment you could hope that she would at least use them as a prank. It’s not like they were one se only! She could use them for more than one thing. After all, she already got them, why not just use them on the bastard as a very funny prank. It would not change anything about the snakes, and they could still be used for the ritual thing she had in mind.

Well, you were left with only your dreams.

You left the two of them to check if there was anything left unpacked, you were just about to head back upstairs when Lydia rushed down and you turned around, not sure how to react to the frantic woman.

“You got your wish, we're leaving! Pack up your things, I'm driving you back to school,” Lydia seemed absolutely frantic, like she just saw a ghost, which, well, she was supposed to be able to see them. You watched from the stairs as she went by you and toward the front door

“Wait! What happened” Astrid called after her.

“You wouldn't believe me if I told you,” Lydia denied answering Astrid’s question.  That actually made sense, especially if it had something to do with ghosts, which this house apparently had at one point. So going by their relationship and the issues Astrid had with her mother you guessed it was something paranormal in question.

Delia, however, did not make that connection. “Oh you're calling off the wedding?” she went after Lydia outside and just for a moment you and Astrid exchanged looks do you just shrugged finally realizing that you couldn't even begin to try and have a normal conversation with her. That's how used you were to just fights and banter and insults and everything that came along with this hatred between you.

Eventually you just pointed at yourself then point upstairs and then point at her and outside. The message being clear, you would, rather regrettably, check up on Rory while she would go and check up on her mother.

To that Astrid, just as unsure of how to interact with you like a normal human being, just went and gave you a thumbs up and you both went your separate ways, one up the stairs to the attic and the other outside to talk to her mother.

~X~

Lydia was stuck in the office, just contemplating everything about her and Astrid’s relationship.

Apparently, her daughter was not gay. In fact, she had a date with a boy. Her first date was with a boy, not with the girl as she expected it would be. Did Lydia really mess up that much that she wasn't even capable of seeing how things actually were? Her daughter, who she believed was gay and actually had a crush on you and was just unable to properly act up on those feelings, threw her a curveball and was going on a date on Halloween night with a boy she met 2 days ago.

How did she miss the signs?

Her concerns were now even bigger because, unlike you, this boy was a complete unknown for Lydia. She didn't know his full name, she didn't know his parents, granted she didn't know your parents either but that was beside the point, she didn't know how he spent his time, what his interests were. She didn't know anyone who knew him, and she was now overthinking it and panicking and was getting even more nervous and afraid for her own daughter because this was a mess, and she was disappointed in herself as a mother for mistaking her daughter’s sexuality.

Maybe Astrid was just bisexual. Maybe. Maybe Lydia just got so deep into preparing for a girlfriend that she forgot that there were other options, all equally daunting for her as the mother of a child that would soon start, that actually just stated dating, and find her own love and heartbreak and everything Lydia herself went through all those decades ago.

Also did her daughter actually just tell her that she crashed through the fence and that's how she met the guy? Like it was just something people did for fun? How did that even happen?

Lydia began breathing deeply, huffing and taking very loud, very deep breaths. She could not go down that train of thought.

~X~

He liked her.

Jeremy liked her. Astrid knew that much, she could see signs that he wanted to kiss her, that he really didn't want to spend any time handing out candies to the kids and instead actually wanted to spend time with her.

And she, at least logically speaking, wasn't opposed to the idea. At least it would prove to her that some feelings she may or may not have were, in fact, not real and just her heart playing with her brain so she would kiss him to prove her heart wrong.

Astrid let him approach her, she felt his hands on her, hugging her and she hugged him back, and he held her like he hasn’t been touched in years. Like he was desperate to feel someone’s touch, someone’s kind and positive touch. Astrid could almost feel his breath on her lips and then she just couldn't do it, because there was an infuriating Barnacle plaguing her thoughts at that very moment.

She pulled away, separating from him even though she knew how it looked. “Sorry I just I think we are rushing too fast into this,” she apologized and he seemed understanding at first. At least from the looks of it, he just turned to the window and looked rejected “I'm not saying I'm opposed to kissing you eventually, but we just met two days ago,” she tried to cheer him up but then he turned to face her.

“No, you’re right, I'm- I'm sorry I just got excited because you can see me and for over 23 years no one saw me and I just thought we had something,” she must have heard him wrong but then she looked down and saw it.

He was floating and that's when she realized all the stories her mother told were actually true and she was actually seeing a ghost these past few days

~X~

You were in the living room, with everyone aside from Astrid and Rory, plus Jane, just lazing around on the sofa and texting Alex. You weren’t in a costume, you had no intention of dressing up for the Halloween.

The truth was, you kind of hated Halloween. Well hate might be a strong word, mostly reserved for Astrid and maybe another thing or two. No the actual word you were looking for regarding Halloween was more like indifference brought upon by that's one time you got dressed as a pumpkin and got teased for by your classmates.

It wasn't fun. It was actually horrific and ever since then you just didn't bother celebrating Halloween. So, what if Astrid was currently on her ridiculous date? It had nothing to do with your current mood. Even if you did hated the guy more than you hated her for some reason. You should have felt sorry for him, after all he was the one who had to deal with being on a date with the Chihuahua.

So, no, you did not care about Astrid being on a date with some random dude.

You just realized you’d be all alone. Delia would be at the cemetery doing whatever she seemed to want to do with the snakes and Lydia would be preparing for her wedding and Rory would be giving out the candy. And you were fine with that. You would just be hanging around on the couch in the living room waiting for Delia to sign all the papers and then you could just go ahead and leave, just start packing what little things you brought here and get ready to go back home. Luckily Delia promised she would arrange a car to come pick you up.

“Where's Rory?” Lydia asked out of blue, almost as if she was asking out of obligation, because she should know where he was and not because she actually had to know where he was. Especially since she had Chihuahua’s first date to worry about.

“Supermarket swapping out the candy I bought for carrot sticks, because Rory loves to fun suck everything even Halloween,” of course Delia did not miss a single chance point out the kind of person Rory was, because Lydia apparently couldn’t see him for who he really was. Even if it didn’t change anything you figured she did feel the need to, in her own way, warn her stepdaughter about him because as far as you knew telling Lydia that Rory was not who he was presenting himself as wasn't working. “Gotta run, see you at the church,” she turned back to Lydia and with a hopeful look added. “Unless you're calling off the wedding.”

“No Delia,” Lydia sighed and just noticed Delia was leaving, that was how focused on Astrid she was. “Wait, why are you going to the cemetery?” Lydia asked. It just crossed your mind that she in her panic earlier today did not see the snakes Delia bought.

“To commune with my dear husband spirit,” was all Delia needed to say. She quickly waved at you and was on her way leaving you alone with Lydia and Jane and from the looks of it, Jane was going to leave soon so that would just leave you and Lydia alone in the house for a while. At least until she would go and get Astrid. Oh, and until Rory came back.

Still, it could be fun. You haven't had the chance to be on your own wait the Lydia Deetz and you actually were curious about her. And it had nothing to do with maybe not wanting to be alone while a certain Chihuahua was on a date with a guy she met two days ago, while she spent so damn long hating you. Yeah, that had nothing to do with it.

Nothing at all!

You did not care where that stupid Chihuahua was or how quickly she fell in love like dumb ass.

“The closest we ever got to Disney was when Astrid dressed as Cinderella’s dead mom,” you absolutely did not filter out what Jane mentioned about her daughter and scouts or whatever group her daughter was in and you absolutely did not think Astrid’s costume sounded exactly like her.

Jane said something something fruit salad mortgage something something non triggering and then asked the question that was annoying the hell out of you, that is, she asked where Astrid was.

Lydia had this soft, yet somber smile on her face. “On a date,” she said, like a parent learning to accept their child was growing up. “Her first. I think I'm more nervous than she is. The boy lives over on Jefferson,” Lydia really did sound nervous when she said that, and you guessed between their rocky relationship and all the things that happened Astrid’s first date at this moment wasn’t something Lydia was entirely prepared for.

Something something perfect sales records something something on the market for years something something once more you're pretty much tuning out the words of the woman the Deetz family hired to sell their house. And you were doing good, tuning her out, that is until she said three words: the murder house and you immediately sat up and stopped texting Alex. A sinking feeling inside of your guts was almost telling you to pay attention because you just had a bad feeling about what was going to they said next.

“Murder house? Which house?” Lydia asked now frantic and you sort of pieced together that's maybe the house show left Astrid at wasn't that far off from looking like a murder house. Because if the house looked normal and if Lydia you got to see the parents or that boy she would not be looking this afraid right now.

“125,” James said and just from the look of Lydia's face you knew that was the house Astrid was in and so you jumped to your feet and rushed to get the car keys.

“Fucking hell Chihuahua, what did you get yourself into?” just as you've got the keys you saw Lydia rushing out. “I'm going with you!” you quickly told her and followed after her into the car. The woman was clearly in shock but all she cared about was just getting to Astrid, nothing else mattered.

You did not dare to tell her you would get there in time. You had no idea how all of this worked, sure you believed in ghosts and you've been seeing glimpses of strange things throughout your life. You still had no idea how any of that actually functioned. You had no idea if they could harm Astrid.

If the guy she was with was bad news then she probably was in danger and especially if Lydia, the most competent person to judge if her daughter was in danger from ghosts was also panicking. “He killed his parents 23 years ago!” okay, Astrid was definitely in danger. “If I just didn’t let her into that house, if I just went in with her! What kind of mother am I if something happens to her-“ Lydia was mostly talking to herself.

“Hey, wait, wait, don't go there you couldn't know!” You tried to get her to calm down. “You're the expert but you couldn't know! Just focus on saving her so you can berate yourself later,” you needed her focused because if she wasn't, you had no hopes of getting Astrid back in time. And you really, as much as you didn't like Astrid, did not want her dead or in danger.

~X~

The moment the car began slowing down in front of the house you just ran out, without even waiting for it to stop and ran up the stairs ignoring the for sale sign in front of the house. You ended up bursting through the doors so hard the handle might have gotten a bit damaged because the doors were old.

You stumbled when you entered the house, you felt sick for a moment when you saw the man. But you did not see him clearly, it was like there was a mist around him.

"Astrid!" Lydia yelled and it snapped you out of your confusion. That man was a ghost, mist meant ghost, at least at this stage of your ability to see ghosts. So, you rushed right through the woman going down the stairs.

"Wait! Deetz!" you yelled as loud as you could as you ran up the stairs two steps at a time. You saw the light and broke through the door, but Astrid just walked through something.

"What the? Barnacle?" your eyes met and you reached out to her but the ghost guy grabbed her forearm and pulled her along and the portal closed before you could reach out and grab her hand.

"Astrid!" Lydia cried out, but it was too late as well.

If only she reached out to you. For the first time since you met her you cursed yourself for not being at least civil with her. "Damn it!" you slammed your fist on the old table, right next to some thick book. "What do we do now?"

Lydia grabbed the book on the table, your outburst probably caught her attention. "Come on, I have a crazy idea," you saw uncertainty in her eyes, fear that maybe not even what she had in mind would be enough, but she had to hope. You both rushed down the stairs, every second mattered and you couldn't waste time on just talking. "Can you drive?" she asked, clearly intending to go through the book.

"Of course," you nodded and ran to the car, starting the engine once more as Lydia sat down next to you.

~X~

You had no time to waste, as you drove around the house and parked the car right in front of the entrance to the house, not even caring that you would somewhat block the path for the kids. They could avoid the car, it didn't matter, you just had to be quick and find a way to rescue Astrid, so up to the stairs you drove.

“Y/N?! Where’s the rush? You're nearly drove into the house!” Rory exclaimed as he was on top of the stairs preparing to hand out the candy to the kids, but you just ran past him not really wasting a moment to stop and chat. You didn’t even turn the engine off, just parked the car.

Lydia gave him some excuse or whatever as you both rushed upstairs. She already told you where to go so you just grabbed the crowbar on the way upstairs and started removing the boards Delia and Lydia put there just an hour or so ago. By the time Lydia came up the stairs as well you were almost done and you both pulled the last wooden board out of the way and went into the attic and from that point on you could only watch her as she found the solution.

The first thing that caught your eye was the small scale model of Winter River, done in amazing detail, and if things were any different you would have spent hours studying it.

“I can't believe I'm doing this,” she took a deep breath. “Beetlejuice Beetlejuice Beetlejuice!” you had no idea what was going on as she repeated that word? Name? Whatever it was three times.

And then the freakiest thing happened the mist slash smoke surrounding the paranormal vanished from your vision as the zombie-looking guy with green hair and striped suits and rather unhealthy-looking skin emerged from the Winter River model. “The juice is loose,” he said and vanished, only to appear right next to Lydia.

“I need you to tell me what this means,” she skipped the formalities and just showed him the pages of the book she found in that room where Astrid was.

“Let's have a look,” he pulled out a magnifying glass. “Long story short, your daughter is screwed,” well, fuck! “She decided to trade lives with a boy, he gets to come back while she's stuck on the other side, permanently. One way ticket to the Soul Train,” this guy, Beetlejuice, explained and you were just absolutely confused about what was going on. Afterlife actually existed, and people could come back.

More importantly… “She did what?! Why would she do that? Who does that?” you demanded. Astrid was smart! What did that ghost offer her to make her accept giving up her life? Or did he just outright trick her? “Shit, we need to get her back,” you turned away from Lydia and Beetlejuice and ran your hand through your hair, not even sure you would make it in time.

“The Soul Train?” Lydia asked for further explanations.

“That's right! The last stop, The Great Beyond,” he said and you just leaned back against the wall. Was there even anything you could do at this point? Astrid was on the other and you were over here in the living world. But then again Beetlejuice was from that other world. Was that why Lydia called him? Because he could somehow move the two of you into the world of the dead?

Wait, were you about to go into the world of the dead for Astrid? Not knowing the risks, or the consequences, or if it would be dangerous? You knew nothing about it, it was a complete unknown that you weren’t even sure existed five minutes ago!

Somehow you knew the answer was yes. You would take all those risks to take her back, because you plain and simple couldn’t live with yourself if you just let her die.

“Can we go in after her?” You asked as you once more turned toward Lydia and Beetlejuice.

“Quid pro quo, I want something in return,” while he replied to you he was looking at Lydia, as if he would only accept something from her.

Maybe those were the rules? Since she summoned him?

“Of course you do. What do you want?” Lydia asked ready to give him anything he asked for as long as it would save her daughter.

“Well I've got this ex-wife-“ Beetlejuice began and you've spent enough time with Delia and you knew a tangent when you saw one.

“Get to the point!” You exclaimed. Each second could be vital in keeping Astrid alive, and you did not want to waste it on his tangents.

“You want me to marry you,” Lydia knew what he wanted, and you just turned to look at her because what the fuck was that about? How would that even work? All of this was too much and the only reason you were keeping your sanity was because you had a goal in mind.

You weren’t sure you’d be keeping your sanity for much longer as so you watched this Beetlejuice act like getting married was Lydia's idea, like she just proposed to him because she wanted that. And then he made her sign some contract because apparently, he needed that in writing. You were in the most absurd situation possible and you half- expected to just wake up and see that everything was fine. Like this was all just a fever dream and you would wake up go to the work at the library you'd see Astrid there being annoying and being a Chihuahua and getting on your nerves and not on the way to swap lives with a ghost and die.

“What's the plan on getting in?” Lydia had enough of his bullshit as well and just demanded to know how you all would get in.  

Beetlejuice just vanished again and appeared in front of the wall, crouching and drawing a bomb with the fuse. He then just went and lit his thumb on fire. This was all absolutely ridiculous because the drawn fuse just lit on fire and the bomb exploded and instead of looking outside of the house you were looking into some office.

“Deetz, you're gonna be the death of me,” you said, ready to just go through.

“Trust me kid I know the feeling,” Beetlejuice said.

“I did not ask,” fuck it, you were going in, and you were not getting out without Astrid.

Taglist: @alexkolax @osnapitzmel1 @bee-keeping @nebthetautora @lololauser

@nwestra @rroyale-109 @gemz5 @social-pomegranate @mirage018

@the-thing-withfeathers @hello-mtf @leafanonsforest @jaxon-nathaniel-drake

Masterlist / First part / Previous Part / Next Part

[leashybebes]

tentatively excited for this fic 👀👀 gonna take a little while because work (ugh) and i need some time to actually plot it out and figure out the structure and whether i actually wanna bite the bullet and do the more complicated version. basically we are looking at a long term fic where they find each other again a way down the line so I'm not sure how much of what i have so far will make it verbatim into the final thing but for now, have some sal!!

The first time Tommy's aware of waking up, the room is dark - as dark as hospitals ever get, anyway. He can't feel much of anything, just a sort of full-body ache that speaks of the good drugs. His right leg looks suspiciously bulky under the covers, so definitely in a cast, from his ankle up past his knee. The mask on his face is annoying in a dull, distant way, and the longer he's awake, the more his head hurts, making itself known above the general thrum of dull pain.

He can feel sleep already threatening again so he takes the time he has to look around. He's in an individual room, there's a drip going into his hand, and he can hear the low-level hum of hospital noises - staff talking quietly, machines beeping. And - and Sal's asleep in the chair next to the bed, third day stubble on his face, snoring quietly. Tommy feels a rush of affection for his old friend as sleep tugs at him.

The next time he wakes up, it's to the sound of Sal talking on the phone.

"Okay, I gotta go, sweetie," he says, as soon as he realises Tommy's awake. "Be good for your mom. Uncle Tommy says hi."

Tommy wiggles his fingers in an attempt at a wave. Sal rolls his eyes and hits the call button, tossing his phone onto the table at Tommy's bedside.

"Jesus Christ, Kinard. Drive much?"

Tommy rolls his eyes, gestures at the mask on his face.

"Nah, that's staying on," Sal promises. Tommy rolls his eyes and gives Sal the finger.

"Happened?" he manages.

"Lady coming the other way lost control, sounds like you tried to swerve, over-corrected, rolled a couple times."

"Well, shit. She okay?"

"Couple scrapes," Sal says with a shrug.

"Truck?"

"Oh, completely fucked," Sal says cheerfully. "You want me to call the kid?"

Tommy blinks, confused. "Kid?"

"Buckley," Sal says, like it's obvious.

Tommy gives him the best stink-eye he can muster. "Broke up, asshole."

"Yeah, but like. Two weeks ago. I know you, Kinard. You get your lil claws in deep. Dontcha think he'd wanna know?"

He probably would, Tommy thinks. He'd probably call out from work and jump in the Jeep and gun it all the way up to Sacramento.

"Don't, Sal."

"Yeah, yeah," Sal grumbles.

"Hey. Promise."

Sal rolls his eyes. "Okay, okay. Swear."

Tommy nods, closes his eyes. The last thing this situation needs is Evan Buckley's particular brand of chaotic, full-on care.

"How - how bad?" Tommy manages, gesturing down towards his leg.

Sal's pause says it all, really. "Think they're more worried about your big, dumb head for now."

"Sal."

"Let - let me get a doctor, okay?"

Tagging some folks who requested it. Let me know if you want in (or out! I won't be offended, this is v definitely not a quick fix-it fic and they're gonna miss a lot of each other's lives so I know it won't be everyone's thing!)

@silversky9 @typicalopposite @my-ari-fan-blog1

[melancholy-of-nadia]

heart on the window #1 (m) | ksj

title: heart on the window (m) pairing: ksj x reader(f) rating/genre: m (18+) ; smut ; roommates au / streamer/cam boy au / office worker au, childhood rivals to awkward roommates to lovers? au summary: You lost your job, got cheated on by your boyfriend, and had to give up your home—all in the span of a few weeks. Life hasn’t been kind lately, and just when it feels like you’ve hit rock bottom, your mom suggests an unexpected solution: move in with Seokjin, her friend’s son, who you vaguely remember as your annoying childhood rival. You haven't talked to him in like 15 YEARS. But begrudgingly, you agree, hoping for this to be a temporary fix, only to find yourself in a more complicated situation when you discover Seokjin has some dirty little secrets. As you attempt to rebuild your life under his roof, tensions rise, boundaries blur, and you’re forced to confront not only your messy circumstances but also your growing fascination with the man you thought you once knew. note: i actually didn't plan to drop something so soon post me starting my new job, but i had this mostly done but had to edit it up a bit. i've been debating to write a roommate au but couldn't decide which member, until i read @daegudrama's moon over flowers fic where jin is a "content creator" ;) also that jin dating simulator game that released yesterday was a perfect combo to add this with warnings: mild language, roommate! seokjin, stressed out reader, fluff, emotional vulnerability, jin being jin, jin's college frat buddy! namjoon cameo, drinking, implied sexual fantasizing, implied adult content live streaming (camwork), very descriptive solo mast*rbation, voyeurism, dirty talk drop date: November 28th, 2024, 9:00pm pst word count: 7.9k crossposted on ao3 here -> chapter 2

–

This is the state of affairs of your life at the moment. 1. Your boyfriend cheated on you. 2. You lost your job (not your fault) 3. Andddd now you have nowhere to live.

Well… it’s not that you don’t have a place to live, but you don’t want to crawl back to your parents' home after making a very big declaration when you were 18 that you would not be coming back to live there. 

Now in your mid 20s (that are slowly creeping into your late 20s), you regret being that loud mouth girl that didn’t understand a damn thing at that age.

You should’ve been smarter about your decisions, starting with your taste in men. You should’ve listened to your friends warnings about Mingi. 

You’re on the phone listening to your mom scolding you over your stupidity and lack of preparedness. You roll your eyes as you continue packing your items into boxes. She suggests you coming home, just as you figured she’d do, but you tell her that you feel bad about coming back at your big old age. “Then why don’t you live with Sunghee’s son?”

Who the fuck is Sunghee? “Who?”

“You don’t remember? The mother of the Korean boy you went to school with in elementary school?” You have no clue who she’s talking about. This is something that happened like 15 to 20 years ago. You can’t believe she remembers something so obscure. “I still don’t have a clue.”

“Agh, i’ll go search through some of your old elementary school photos and send you the photo of him later.” You hear some shuffling on her end, probably guessing she decided to get up and go look at your old photographs in the living room shelves.” But I recently saw his mom at a coffee shop! And she told me her son was living in the same city as you and was looking for a roommate. I mentioned that you were in some situation where you might need to move soon and she gave me her and her son’s contact info.”

“I see.”

“Oh wait, hold on, I found it.”

You hear her snap a photo and within a few seconds, you see the notification on your phone peep behind the call. You click on it and when you open the message, the memories of long ago have finally clicked.

“SEOKJIN?! That weird Korean kid?!”

“Weird kid?! You were friends with him, weren’t you?”

You scoff, “Barely, I mean, he and I were always at each other's necks because he always tried to one-up me in any way that he could.” Recalling those annoying memories from that era was making you get upset all over again. If it wasn’t him completing the times table tests at a faster speed than you, it was him showing off the Pokemon cards that you didn’t have. If it wasn’t that, it was him showing off his level and ranking in Maple Story. That damn nerd.

It’s been years, but the thought of it still urks you.

She sighs, “Well, if you’re willing to look past that at your big old age, this is probably the best option you have.”

Could you do that? Maybe. But knowing how he was back then, he’s probably grown to become some loser virgin shut-in with no life. Maybe he’s a tech bro, which would make this even worse now.

“I think about it, but this is probably the last resort option I’d even consider––”

Your mom cuts you off with a sharp sigh. "Fine, suit yourself. But you don’t have many options, do you? Just call him. He might have changed!"

You don’t answer her right away because the idea of calling Seokjin still doesn’t sit well with you. You’re stubborn, yes, but the universe has also served you a big slice of humble pie lately. It’s probably time to stop holding on to petty grudges from a childhood you barely even remember.

"Okay, okay, I’ll think about it," you mumble reluctantly.

The call ends after a few more half-hearted lectures from your mom about responsibility, and you toss your phone onto the bed, glaring at the contact info she forwarded. You can’t help but click on Seokjin’s number. There’s a photo of him attached to the contact, and for a moment, you don’t recognize him at all.

He’s…hot.

You blink. This cannot be the same kid you argued with over best MapleStory boss (Seokjin opting for Pink Bean, while you said Guardian Angel Slime). The Seokjin in this picture has flawless skin, sharp cheekbones, and full lips curled in a smirk that screams confidence. His hair is styled perfectly, and his outfit—a crisp button-up and a fitted blazer—makes him look like he just stepped out of a magazine.

"No way," you mutter under your breath.

Curiosity gets the better of you, and you find yourself typing his name into Instagram. It doesn’t take long to find his profile because he has mutual followers and a blue checkmark.

Huh? Why a blue checkmark?

…he has 200,000 followers?

Scrolling through his posts, you see screenshots of video games, clips of intense gameplay, and the occasional selfie with gaming equipment in the background. His captions are filled with gaming slang and memes you barely understand, but the sheer number of likes and comments on every post is undeniable.

One clip catches your eye—a short highlight from a League of Legends game where he pulls off an impressive play, and the comments are flooded with people hyping him up. “JinGod strikes again,” one comment reads. Another says, “Of course he’s the best mid-laner NA. Who else?”

Curious, you dive deeper and discover he has a Twitch account. 

Oh! So he’s a streamer?!

Not just any streamer, either—he’s big enough to have sponsors and a massive following. His Twitch bio is straightforward:

Seokjin | Variety Streamer | Big laughs, bigger Ws | 1 PM KST

His stream schedule includes games like Elden Ring, Valorant, League of Legends, and even Getting Over It. There’s a link to his YouTube channel with clips of him absolutely demolishing opponents, mixed with funny moments of him raging at frustrating games.

You stare at your phone, trying to reconcile this version of Seokjin with the kid you used to fight over the last Uncrustables sandwich at lunch. This Seokjin is smooth, funny, and clearly thriving in a world you know nothing about. The comment section on his posts doesn’t help—it’s filled with people thirsting over his voice and his “handsome gamer vibes.”

“Great,” you mutter. “He grew up to be a famous nerd.”

You hate to admit it, but you’re impressed. And irritated. 

Of course, Seokjin grew up to be that guy.

You put your phone down and stare at the pile of boxes scattered across your room. It’s not like you have a ton of other options, and if you’re being honest with yourself, the idea of moving in with Seokjin suddenly feels a lot less horrifying. Maybe he’s not the same insufferable kid you remember.

Or maybe he is, and this will be your worst nightmare.

Before you can chicken out, you force yourself to pick up your phone and dial the number your mom sent you. It rings twice before a deep, smooth voice answers.

“Hello?”

“Uh, hi. Is this…Seokjin Kim?” you ask awkwardly, suddenly hyper-aware of how unprepared you are for this conversation.

“Yes, who’s this?”

“It’s, um, [Y/N]. You probably don’t remember me, but—”

“[Y/N]?” he interrupts, and you can practically hear the smirk in his voice. “The same [Y/N] who used to cry every time I beat her at anything in elementary school? Of course I remember.”

There it is! The Seokjin you cared about so deeply.

 “I did not cry!” You roll your eyes, grip on the phone tightening. 

He laughs, a low, rich sound that’s somehow both infuriating and…nice. “Sure, you didn’t. So, what’s up? Why are you calling me after, what, fifteen…twenty years? Where did you even get my num–”

You take a deep breath, already regretting this. 

“My mom said your mom said you’re looking for a roommate.”

There’s a pause, and then he says, “...I am. Why?"

"I need a place..."

There’s a long pause, and for a moment, you think he’s going to hang up.

“Ah, well why do you need a roommate?” he asks finally, his tone careful, almost guarded. “I thought someone like you would have, I don’t know, a penthouse or something by now with the amazing corporate job my mom told me you have.”

Now this is going to suck to explain to him that whatever decent apartment you had earning a 72,000 salary at your old job is… nonexistent.

You blink at the assumption and quickly fumble for a response. “Haha, not quite. Most places are too expensive in this economy and I’m, uh, downsizing.”

“Downsizing?” he repeats, skepticism dripping from the word. “Why?”

“Because I want to focus on… minimalism.”

There’s silence on the other end, and you can practically hear him trying to decide whether to believe you. 

Oh this was a terrible decision to make. Now he must think you’re a fool!

You glance around your room at the boxes piled with all the clutter you couldn’t bring yourself to throw away and wince. Minimalism is definitely not your thing.

“Minimalism,” he echoes, his tone still doubtful. “Right. Well, I do have an extra room, but I’m not sure you’ll like it here.”

Your grip tightens on the phone. “Why wouldn’t I?”

“Let’s just say I stay up late…,” he replies vaguely. 

He must be referring to his streaming career that he isn’t telling you about right now. Wonder if he’s embarrassed by it.

“And I don’t really have time to deal with a high-maintenance roommate.”

The audacity! You did not ask to be attacked right now.

The jab makes your jaw tighten. “I’m not high-maintenance!”

“You sure? Last time I checked, you were the type to lose it over someone messing with your stuff.”

“That was elementary school! I’ve grown up since then.”

“Hmm,” he says, the sound light but still noncommittal. “We’ll see. Come check the place out tomorrow. Noon okay?”

You pause, thrown by his sudden shift. So he’s actually down with you as a roommate? Let’s not get high hopes up now. And if that doesn’t work, you know what? That’s okay.  You will find a way… you hope.

“Yeah, that works.”

“Good,” he says, then hesitates before adding, “And bring references.”

“References?!”

“You can never be too careful,” he replies smoothly, but there’s a faint edge in his voice that you can’t quite place.

“Fine,” you snap, already planning to forge something if necessary.

“Great. See you then.”

The call ends before you can say anything else, leaving you staring at your phone. Something about the conversation feels… off. You can’t tell if it’s his hesitance, the cryptic mention of odd hours, or the subtle curiosity in his tone when he asked about your situation.

Or maybe it could be that it’s been around 15 years since you last talked to him so this entire situation feels like a fever dream.

Whatever it is, you’ll find out tomorrow. One way or another.

The next day arrives quicker than you’d like, and before you know it, you’re standing in front of a massive gated complex that looks like it was ripped straight out of a luxury lifestyle magazine. The building towers above you, a blend of sleek modern design and Mediterranean touches. Creamy stucco walls, wrought-iron accents, and lush greenery climbing up the sides of the buildings make it feel more like an exclusive resort than an apartment complex.

The entrance is lined with tall palm trees swaying gently in the breeze, and the scent of freshly mowed grass mingles with the faint floral fragrance from meticulously arranged garden beds. A stone fountain, its water cascading in perfect tiers, sits in the middle of a circular driveway where luxury cars are parked like they belong in an auto show.

You glance down at your outfit, a simple pair of light wash boyfriend jeans and a blue collared sweater, suddenly feeling underdressed.

“He’s living here?” you mutter under your breath, squinting at the address Seokjin sent you last night again to make sure you���re in the right place.

As you shift awkwardly with your bag slung over your shoulder, the wrought-iron gates buzz, and Seokjin steps through.

If the apartment complex wasn’t enough of a surprise, he certainly is.

Gone is the awkward kid from elementary school, and in his place is a man who seems perfectly at home in his expensive surroundings. Dressed casually in a fitted white shirt that clings to his broad shoulders and a pair of ripped jeans that look way too good on him, Seokjin walks toward you with an easy confidence. His dark hair is styled effortlessly, and even from a distance, you can see the faint smirk tugging at his lips.

“[Y/N],” he calls out, his voice smooth and unmistakably amused.

You shift your bag again, suddenly hyper-aware of how you must look standing there in front of the grand gates. “Seokjin,” you reply, your voice coming out a little more clipped than you intended.

As he approaches, he looks you over, his smirk growing wider. “You’re on time. I wasn’t sure if you’d actually show up.”

“Why wouldn’t I?” you ask, crossing your arms.

“Oh, I don’t know,” he says, his tone teasing. “Maybe because I’d be the last person you’d want to ask for help.”

“Desperate times,” you shoot back, ignoring the way his eyes glint in amusement.

Seokjin chuckles and gestures for you to follow him. “Come on, let’s see if you can survive the tour first.”

He leads you through the gates, where a polished path lined with greenery opens into the main courtyard. The sound of water trickling from another fountain fills the air, and you catch glimpses of the complex’s amenities—an infinity pool that looks like it belongs in a five-star hotel, cabanas with flowing white curtains, and a fitness center with floor-to-ceiling glass walls showcasing state-of-the-art equipment.

“This place is ridiculous,” you say under your breath, craning your neck to take it all in.

Seokjin glances back, his smirk still in place. “You’re not wrong. But wait until you see the inside.”

As you step into the lobby, you’re greeted by marble floors that gleam under the warm glow of chandeliers. The air smells faintly of citrus and something luxurious you can’t quite place, and the concierge greets Seokjin with a polite nod as he leads you to the elevator.

“You’re really living the dream here,” you say, unable to hide the note of disbelief in your voice.

He shrugs, leaning casually against the elevator wall. “With the jobs I have. it has its perks.”

The elevator dings, and as the doors slide open, you catch a glimpse of the hallway—plush carpeting, modern art lining the walls, and soft lighting that makes everything feel impossibly serene.

“Ready?” he asks, stepping out and turning to look at you.

You hesitate for just a second before following him. “As I’ll ever be.”

Seokjin leads you down the hallway, his footsteps silent on the plush carpeting. You’re still processing how this guy, the same kid who used to shove his Pokémon cards in your face, is living in a place so fancy it makes your last apartment look like a broom closet.

“This is my place,” he says, stopping in front of a sleek black door with a digital keypad instead of a regular lock.

He types in the code, the lock clicks open, and he pushes the door wide to reveal his apartment.

Your first thought is that it’s huge.

The open-concept living room stretches out before you, its floor-to-ceiling windows flooding the space with natural light. The view outside is stunning—a panoramic sweep of the suburban city skyline and the sparkling blue ocean in the distance. Inside, the place is immaculate, every piece of furniture modern and deliberately chosen. The couch is a neutral gray sectional big enough to seat a small crowd, and there’s a massive TV mounted on the wall, flanked by minimalist shelves filled with what looks like expensive collectibles and gaming gear.

The kitchen is just as impressive, with marble countertops, a matching backsplash, and stainless steel appliances that gleam under the recessed lighting. A sleek island with barstools separates the kitchen from the living room, and you can’t help but wonder if this is where Seokjin spends his time making whatever expensive coffee you saw on his Instagram feed.

“Well?” he says, stepping inside and kicking off his sneakers near the door. “Don’t just stand there gawking.”

You snap your mouth shut and step in, slipping out of your shoes and placing them neatly next to his. The polished hardwood floors feel cool under your socks, and you hesitate, unsure where to stand.

“It’s… nice,” you say finally, trying to keep your tone neutral.

Seokjin chuckles, clearly amused by your reaction. “Nice? That’s all you’ve got? Most people would be drooling right now.”

You roll your eyes. “Don’t let it go to your head.”

“Too late,” he says, his grin widening. He crosses the room and gestures for you to follow. “Come on, let me show you where you’d be staying.”

He gestures toward the main living area, leading you down a short hallway on the left side of the apartment. “Your room would be down this hall,” he says, motioning for you to follow.

You step into the guest room as he opens the door. It’s spacious, with a queen-sized bed dressed in crisp white linens and a tall, minimalist dresser tucked against one wall. A sleek desk sits by a large window, which offers a view of the glittering cityscape and the ocean beyond. The soft gray walls and warm lighting make the room feel both modern and inviting.

“There’s an en-suite bathroom,” Seokjin says, pushing open another door to reveal a compact but luxurious bathroom with marble finishes and a rainfall shower.

“This is… nice,” you admit, turning to glance at him.

“Only the best,” he replies with a shrug, leaning against the doorframe. “Your hall is completely separate from mine. My room’s on the right side of the apartment, so you won’t have to worry about me invading your space.”

He nods toward the opposite end of the living room, where another hallway extends. “My room’s down there on your left. I have a bathroom in front of it too. Oh. and you’d also have the laundry room and a storage closet near your side.”

You glance back at the main living area, noting the layout. His section of the apartment seems just as private, and you can’t help but feel a little relieved that you won’t be tripping over each other.

“It’s set up pretty well for roommates,” you say carefully, trying to keep your tone neutral.

“Glad you think so,” he replies, leaning casually against the doorframe. “This room used to belong to a friend of mine. He was here for an internship a little over a year ago, but he didn’t stay long. Left everything the way it is in case other friends needed a place to crash.”

“That makes sense,” you say, looking around the room again. “So why are you looking for a roommate now?”

Seokjin hesitates for just a second, his eyes flickering toward the window. 

“Well, it would help with a couple of expenses,” 

Your brow furrows. Expenses? You glance around the luxury apartment, mentally tallying the rent for a place like this. With what you know about Seokjin’s successful streaming career—and the office job your mom mentioned—he’s probably doing more than fine financially. But you decide not to press him on it.

Instead, you nod. “Makes sense, I guess.”

“And…” He trails off, his expression softening. Oh, so he is going to explain. “I don’t know, as I’m getting closer to thirty, I guess it might be nice to have someone around. Keeps things from feeling too…quiet.”

The honesty in his voice surprises you, and for a brief moment, you see a different side of him. One that’s not teasing or smug, but… a little lonely, maybe.

You nod again, this time more slowly. “Fair enough. This does happen as we age.”

Seokjin straightens, the moment of vulnerability passing as quickly as it came. “Anyway,” he says, his tone shifting back to its usual playful edge. “We can talk about me more later.”

He gestures for you to follow him back toward the living room.

“Why don’t we sit down and talk first?” he continues, his smirk fading slightly as his expression turns unreadable. “Just want to make sure we’re on the same page before I let you move in.”

You suppress the urge to roll your eyes. “Sure. Let’s talk.”

You follow him to the couch, your curiosity about his reasons for taking on a roommate still lingering in the back of your mind. 

As you settle onto the couch, Seokjin sits across from you in a sleek armchair, his posture relaxed but his gaze sharp. It’s like he’s studying you, trying to piece together the situation without asking directly.

“So,” he begins, leaning forward slightly, “I already know you lost your job.”

You freeze. The words hang in the air, and your stomach sinks.

 “How do you know that?” you ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

He tilts his head, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “My mom told me earlier today. She’s the one who convinced me to even think about this arrangement.”

Heat floods your cheeks, embarrassment prickling at your skin. Of course. Your mom couldn’t just leave you well enough alone so she told his mom.

 “Oh,”

“It’s not a big deal,” he says quickly, likely noticing your discomfort. “Things happen, you know? Besides, knowing you, you probably have some savings tucked away to cover rent, right?”

His words hit harder than he probably intended. Sure, you’ve got a little money saved, but it’s dwindling fast. The thought of handing over any of it feels like admitting defeat, a glaring reminder that you’re not where you thought you’d be at this point in your life.

As Seokjin keeps talking, his tone casual and reassuring, his words blur into the background. You’re trapped in your own thoughts, spiraling.

How did it come to this? 

Broke, jobless, and now sitting here asking for a place to live like some helpless kid. You remember being so confident, so sure of yourself when you left home. You went through grueling years of studying finance in college and graduating. Now you’re here, facing the reality that you’re nowhere near where you thought you’d be.

It’s just so pathetic.

You don’t realize you’re crying until a tear slips down your cheek and lands on your hand.

Seokjin stops mid-sentence. “Hey,” he says softly, his voice cutting through your haze. “Are you… crying?”

You wipe at your face quickly, but it’s no use—the tears are falling faster now, and you’re too overwhelmed to stop them. “I’m sorry,” you mumble, mortified. “I don’t even know why—”

“Don’t apologize,” he interrupts, his voice gentle in a way you didn’t expect. He shifts forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he watches you carefully. “It’s okay.”

You shake your head, still swiping at your cheeks. “This is so stupid. I just… I hate being in this position. It’s not where I thought I’d be, and it’s just…” You trail off, your voice breaking.

For a moment, Seokjin doesn’t say anything. Then, he reaches for a tissue box on the coffee table and holds it out to you.

“Here,” he says simply.

You take a tissue and dab at your face, trying to pull yourself together.

“I get it,” he says after a pause, his tone softer now. “Life doesn’t always go how we plan. Trust me, I’ve been there.”

You glance at him, surprised by the sincerity in his voice. “Really?”

He nods, leaning back in his chair. “Yeah. But you’re not alone, okay? And if you need a place to figure things out, I’m offering you one. No strings, no judgment. But knowing how you’d feel bad for not paying back, just pitch in for some groceries or takeout every once in awhile.”

His words hit you harder than the tears, and you feel a small spark of hope for the first time in a while. Maybe, just maybe, this could work out.

You take a deep breath, the tissue in your hand crumpled from how tightly you’ve been gripping it. “Thanks, Seokjin,” you say, your voice shaky but genuine.

He gives you a small smile, his usual teasing edge softened. “Don’t mention it. Seriously. Just don’t leave your dirty dishes in the sink, and we’ll be fine.”

A faint laugh escapes you, surprising even yourself. “I think I can manage that.”

He stands up, stretching his arms overhead before motioning toward the hallway. “If you need help with your stuff, just let me know.”

You nod, feeling a little more grounded. “I will.”

The next morning, you’re standing outside your old apartment building, the last of your boxes stacked neatly by the curb. Before leaving the day before, you did ask Jin if he could help you move some of your stuff, and he somehow kindly agreed.

You’ve barely had time to double-check everything when you hear the rumble of a truck pulling up. Turning toward the sound, you see a sleek gray Ford truck roll to a stop in front of you.

Seokjin hops out of the driver’s seat, dressed casually in a lavender hoodie and dark wash jeans, looking every bit the picture of someone who’s done this a hundred times before. On the passenger side, another guy climbs out, taller and broader than Jin, with dimples flashing in a warm smile.

Woah, he’s kind of cute.

“Morning,” Seokjin calls, striding toward you. He gestures to the other man. “This is Namjoon. He’s here to help out with the heavier things.”

“Hi [Y/N],” Namjoon says, his voice deep but friendly as he extends a hand. “Jin told me you needed an extra set of hands, so here I am.”

You shake his hand, still a little taken aback. “Thanks. Nice to meet you, Namjoon.”

“He’s an old college buddy,” Seokjin explains, leaning against the side of the truck. “We were in the same professional fraternity back in the day. That’s how we met.”

Namjoon chuckles, shoving his hands into his jacket pockets. “Yeah, Jin somehow convinced me to join since we were floormates. Said it would look good on my resume. Ended up being one of the best decisions I made, though. The networking was great, and we had a lot of fun.”

“Too much fun,” Seokjin adds with a smirk. “I think we spent half our time organizing events and the other half trying to keep Namjoon from breaking stuff.”

Namjoon groans, his dimples deepening as he laughs. “Okay, that was one time—and it wasn’t even my fault!”

You find yourself smiling at their bickering and brief memory despite the stress of the day. Their banter feels easy and natural, a dynamic that’s comforting in a way you hadn’t expected. It’s nice to hear Jin had a pretty cool college experience.

“Well,” Namjoon says, clapping his hands together. “Let’s get started. The sooner we load this up, the sooner we can get everything settled.”

Between the three of you, the boxes are loaded into the truck in no time. Namjoon lifts the heavier ones like they’re nothing, while Seokjin teases him about showing off. You carry the smaller items, grateful for their help and relieved that the process is moving quickly.

Once the last box is secured in the truck bed, Seokjin glances over at you. “Ready to head out?”

You nod, brushing your hands off on your jeans. “Yeah. I’ll follow behind you guys with my car.”

As your car and his truck pulls away from your old apartment, you find yourself feeling a little lighter. It’s still hard to believe this is your life right now, but it doesn’t feel quite as overwhelming. Maybe, just maybe, this new chapter won’t be so bad after all.

The move-in process is exhausting but efficient. Seokjin and Namjoon take charge of the heavier boxes while you focus on the smaller ones. Your room starts to take shape, with your bed frame set up in one corner and your essentials arranged along the walls. The other boxes you don’t need immediately are stacked neatly in the living room, ready to be taken to your parents’ place for temporary storage later.

After two hours of hauling, unpacking, and arranging, the three of you are sweaty and starving.

“I think that’s everything,” Namjoon says, leaning against the couch and wiping his forehead with the hem of his shirt.

“Pizza?” Seokjin asks, already pulling out his phone.

“Pizza,” you and Namjoon echo in unison.

“And chicken wings,” Namjoon adds with a grin. “We earned it.”

“And beer,” Seokjin finishes, smirking. “That sounds good to you?”

You nod happily.

Within half an hour, the smell of pepperoni, garlic, and fried chicken fills the apartment. The three of you gather around the coffee table in the living room, the TV playing 30 Rock quietly in the background. You sit cross-legged on the rug while Seokjin and Namjoon sprawl on the couch, all of you diving into the food like it’s the best meal you’ve ever had.

“So, Namjoon,” you start between bites of pizza, “what do you do now? Not breaking stuff as Jin mentioned, right?”

He laughs, a deep, warm sound that makes you smile. “Thankfully, no. I’m working in publishing now, managing creative projects. Still a little chaotic, but at least it’s not as physically dangerous.”

“Only mentally,” Seokjin teases, raising his beer.

“True,” Namjoon admits, clinking his bottle against Jin’s.

“What about you?” Namjoon asks, turning the attention to you. “What do you do?”

You hesitate, picking at the crust of your pizza. “I worked at a fashion company, but the company underwent some layoffs. So this is kind of…a transitional period for me.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. I know it’s been a tough market, but with your focused attitude and experience, I’m sure you’ll find something new soon.”

“I hope so.”

After a few more slices and some casual conversation about work, gaming, and travel, the beers start to settle in. The atmosphere grows looser, and the conversation takes a turn into more, juicier topics.

“So,” Seokjin begins, leaning back against the armrest with a mischievous grin. “Getting into a more interesting topic…Relationships. What’s the story there?”

You groan, covering your face with your hands. “All of a sudden? Why do I feel like this is a setup?”

“It’s not a setup. We’re just curious. Plus easy topic to become closer.”

Namjoon chuckles, “Don’t bring me into this, Jin,” 

“Well…” You pause, debating how much to share. The buzz from the beer nudges you toward honesty. “Without going to deep into it, let’s just say my last relationship ended badly. Cheating, lies, the whole package.”

Seokjin winces. “Ouch. That’s rough.”

“Yeah, it wasn’t fun,” you admit, swirling your drink. “But honestly, it’s probably for the best. I’ve got enough on my plate right now without dealing with that kind of drama.”

Namjoon nods thoughtfully. “It’s hard to find someone who’s actually worth your time these days. Everyone’s either too focused on themselves or doesn’t know what they want.”

Seokjin chuckles, a slightly bitter edge to his tone. “Or they’re just not ready to commit, no matter how much they say they are.”

You glance at him, intrigued by the shift in his demeanor. “Speaking from experience?”

He shrugs, taking a sip of his beer. “I plead the fifth.”

Namjoon raises an eyebrow at him but doesn’t press further. You decide not to either.

“What about you, Namjoon?” you ask, redirecting the spotlight. “Any tragic love stories to share?”

He grins, shaking his head. “Nothing tragic, thankfully. Just a lot of learning experiences. I’ve been too focused on work to really put myself out there lately.”

The conversation continues, flowing easily despite the heavy topic. As the night stretches on, you find yourself feeling unexpectedly comfortable. Seokjin and Namjoon’s company has been a comfortable change of pace from prior weeks of being alone and dealing with the aftermath of your ended relationship and job. Being all alone with your thoughts hasn’t been easy. Lost in a whirlpool of negative thoughts. And with your closest friends, Yunjin and Wendy, living miles away, even leaning on them hadn’t been an option.

But for the first time in a while, you could even say you feel happy to be around others.

The clock on the wall creeps past 11:00pm, and Namjoon glances at his phone with a small sigh. “I should probably get going before it gets too late.”

“Already?” Seokjin teases, though his tone is more playful than serious.

Namjoon chuckles. “Some of us have a really early morning commute tomorrow, Jin.” He stands, stretching his arms overhead before reaching for his jacket. 

“I do too, you know!”

“But hey, this was fun. I’ll definitely swing by again. I’ll see you for your monthly Marvel movie nights, right?”

Seokjin grins. “You know it. You can’t miss those!”

Namjoon laughs, shaking his head fondly. “Yeah, yeah. Let me know when the next one is.”

You and Seokjin walk him to the elevator, chatting casually as you descend to the ground floor. Outside, the air is cooler, a light breeze stirring as Namjoon’s Uber pulls up to the curb.

“Thanks for helping out today,” you say, offering him a grateful smile. “I don’t think we could’ve done it without you.”

“Anytime,” Namjoon replies warmly. “And welcome to the apartment. I’m sure Jin’ll keep things interesting for you.”

Seokjin snorts. 

Namjoon smirks. “See you both soon!”

With a wave, Namjoon climbs into the car, and you watch as it drives off into the night.

You and Seokjin linger outside for a moment, the hum of the city quieting as the car disappears from view.

“Well,” Seokjin says after a beat, shoving his hands into his pockets. “Guess it’s just us now.”

“Looks like it,” you reply, feeling a strange mix of ease and uncertainty.

Well you did just unload some emotional baggage about your shitty past relationship earlier. The alcohol running through your veins isn’t helping either.

“Come on,” he says, nodding toward the entrance. “Let’s get back inside. You’ve had a long day.”

You follow Jin back to the apartment, the soft hum of the elevator ride and the quiet hallways lulling you into a peaceful state. Once inside, the two of you automatically start tidying up the coffee table and living area, picking up empty beer bottles, wiping down surfaces, and folding the napkins that had been left scattered. It’s a quiet, easy rhythm, and before long, the space looks just as pristine as when you first arrived.

“I think we’ve earned a good night’s sleep.”

You nod, stifling a yawn. “Agreed. Thanks again, Jin… for everything.”

He shrugs, his expression light but genuine. “Don’t mention it. Get some rest, Roomie.”

You laugh, “Will do.”

With that, Jin heads down the hallway to the right, disappearing into his room. You make your way to the left, to your room, the soft padding of your steps on the hardwood floor the only sound.

Once inside, you close the door and lean against it for a moment, letting the day’s events settle in your mind. Your room is still sparse, with only the basics unpacked, but it feels cozy enough. The bed, made with fresh sheets, beckons invitingly, and your unpacked boxes wait patiently in the corner, reminding you there’s more work to be done tomorrow.

You slip into something comfortable, wash your face, and settle under the covers. The bed is surprisingly soft, the kind that you could sink into and never leave. But despite the exhaustion tugging at your body, sleep doesn’t come right away.

Your thoughts drift, unbidden, to Jin’s easy demeanor since you’ve started talking to him again. His kind words. His quick, charming smile and laughter. His height—tall enough that you had to tilt your head to look him in the eye. And those plump lips of his…

Huh? No, no wait a minute!

You blink at the ceiling, catching your thoughts veering dangerously south. What the hell is wrong with you? Maybe it’s the beer, or maybe it’s the fact that kindness from a man feels so foreign after everything you’ve been through. Whatever it is, your brain is doing laps around something you absolutely should not be thinking about.

Gross. Stop it. You scrunch your face in frustration, trying to shake the image of Jin’s stupidly handsome face from your mind.

This is Seokjin, your childhood rival, the annoying kid who used to show off his stupid gaming collection and beat you at literally everything. That’s all he is. That’s all he’ll ever be.

He is just kindly letting you stay with him, but you know he’s going to be waiting for you to move out soon enough.

With a groan, you roll over and pull the covers up to your chin, willing your thoughts to calm down. Sleep. That’s what you need. Just sleep.

With a groan, you roll over and pull the covers up to your chin, willing your thoughts to calm down. Eventually, you manage to quiet your mind, and your eyes drift shut. Slowly, the tension in your body melts away, and for the first time in what feels like ages, you fall into a deep, uninterrupted sleep.

It’s the kind of sleep that cradles you, soothing the jagged edges of your worries. The stressors in your life—the layoff, the breakup, the uncertainty of your future—haven’t disappeared, but for once, they feel distant, safely tucked on the backburner. This new chapter isn’t perfect, but at least one major burden has been lifted, and that’s enough for now.

Until it isn’t.

The urge comes on suddenly, pulling you from the cocoon of rest. You blink groggily, your senses slowly catching up to reality as you register the weight pressing against your bladder. Turning your head to the side, you squint at the clock on your phone: 2:33 a.m.

You need to pee.

You groan softly. Of course. Why wouldn’t your body choose the middle of the night to interrupt what was probably the nicest sleep you’ve had in months? Throwing off the covers, you shuffle out of bed and head for the bathroom, still half-asleep and stumbling in your room as you walk inside the en-suite bathroom.

The cool tile under your feet jolts you a bit closer to full consciousness. The soft hum of the apartment at night feels oddly soothing, even as you fumble to turn on the light.

After finishing up and washing your hands, you pause for a moment, the dryness in your throat making itself known. Great. Now you’re thirsty too.

The memory of Jin mentioning the case of bottled water he keeps under the kitchen sink stops you. Sighing, you quietly slip out of your room, padding into the darkened apartment.

The space is eerily still, the shadows from the streetlights outside casting faint patterns across the floor of the living room. You make your way to the kitchen, carefully navigating around the furniture, not wanting to stub a toe or knock anything over.

Opening one of the cabinet beneath the sink, you find the water bottle case Jin mentioned. The plastic crinkles as you grab a bottle, and you wince, hoping the noise doesn’t carry too far. Closing the cabinet as quietly as you can, you straighten up and twist the cap open, taking a long, refreshing sip.

As you stand there, your gaze drifts toward the living room and the hallway that leads toward Jin’s room. You notice light seeping from below the doorway. Is he still up? Shouldn’t he be sleeping? He did mention something earlier about needing to head into the office in the morning.

Well… maybe he’s streaming? Jin has been kind of hesitant to talk openly about his side hustle, but after your harmless sleuthing on his Instagram the other day, it makes sense to have this type of scheduling. His posts, the tags, the casual mentions of late-night work—it all points to streaming. And why not? No shame in being a streamer. Plenty of people are wildly successful doing it. And he’s probably catering to overseas fans in Asia during these hours.

You shrug to yourself. Whatever he’s doing, it’s not your business. 

Deciding not to overthink it, you turn to head back to your room. But after a couple of steps in the living room, a faint noise catches your attention.

You freeze.

A voice… soft, low, and unmistakably a moan.

Your breath hitches as the sound cuts through the stillness, sending your thoughts racing. What was that…?

Haha… you must be overthinking things.

For a moment, you stand there, unsure whether to move or pretend you didn’t hear anything at all.

But now, from this angle, you notice something else. Jin’s door isn’t fully closed. It’s very, very slightly ajar.

The realization makes your pulse quicken. You’re not sure why—it’s not like you were planning to barge in or anything. But the faint glow spilling from the room and that sound… it feels like you’ve stumbled into something you weren’t meant to witness.

Your eyes dart to the gap in the doorway, then back to your water bottle. Just go to bed, you tell yourself. Whatever Jin is doing is none of your business. You’ve already overstepped enough by loitering here in the middle of the night.

But your feet don’t move.

Instead, you find yourself stepping a bit closer, trying to make sense of what’s going on. The soft glow of a screen flickers against the walls, accompanied by faint, muffled sounds—another low moan, followed by a voice, Jin’s voice, quiet but distinct.

He’s probably just streaming, you reason, though your mind betrays you, replaying the noise you just heard. That didn’t sound like any gaming commentary you’ve ever heard.

Your curiosity battles with your better judgment. This is weird. This is weird. Go back to bed, you scold yourself. Yet, you find yourself taking a hesitant step closer, your bare feet silent against the floor.

Peering at the slight crack in the door, you catch a glimpse of Jin sitting at his desk, his back to the door. He’s wearing a loose-fitting hoodie, the hood pulled halfway up, and his headphones cover his ears.

You hesitate for just a moment too long, your eyes flickering back to the gap in the door. Jin shifts slightly in his chair, and that’s when you see it—his hand moving slowly, deliberately, along the length of his member.

Oh my god…

Your breath catches in your throat as the realization slams into you. 

You catch yourself lingering, unable to look away despite every nerve in your body screaming at you to turn back. Jin’s hoodie hangs loosely over his broad shoulders, the fabric shifting slightly with his movements. His hand moves with deliberate intent, wrapping firmly around his length as he strokes himself in a slow, unhurried rhythm.

The motion is mesmerizing, almost practiced—his grip tightening subtly at the base before sliding upward, then loosening as his hand glides back down. His fingers flex with precision, coaxing soft, breathy moans from his lips, barely audible but enough to make your skin prickle.

He shifts in his chair, angling himself slightly toward the camera, his movements smooth and calculated. His legs are spread comfortably apart, the outline of his frame illuminated by the soft glow of the monitor. The confidence in his actions is undeniable, as if he’s done this countless times before, every motion intentional and deliberate for the audience he can’t see but knows is watching.

Your heart pounds harder when his strokes pick up pace briefly, then slow again, teasing, calculated. His chest rises and falls in measured breaths, and every now and then, a low groan escapes, richer and deeper than the softer sounds he’s been making.

“Yeah, you like that, don’t you?” Jin murmurs suddenly, his tone smooth and teasing, almost playful. You jump up slightly from the sudden spoken words. His strokes grow a fraction faster, his hand tightening briefly before loosening again. “Bet you’ve been waiting all day for this.”

The faint click of his mouse follows, likely scrolling through the flood of comments. A soft chuckle escapes his lips, and he tilts his head as if he’s reading something amusing.

“Oh, you want me to go slower?” he says, his voice dropping a notch, rich and deliberate. His movements follow suit, his hand sliding torturously slow along his length, eliciting a low groan from deep in his chest. “Patience. You’ll get what you’re asking for. Just keep watching.”

He shifts in his chair, leaning back slightly, his free hand brushing over his thigh. “Such a needy audience tonight,” he adds with a smirk, his tone dripping with mock indulgence. “But I guess I can’t blame you. You love it when I take my time, don’t you?”

Your breath catches as you hear the faintest hitch in his voice, a sign that even he isn’t immune to his own ministrations. “Mm, that’s it,” he murmurs, his strokes quickening again as his chest rises and falls in heavier breaths. “Keep telling me what you want. I can’t get enough of it.”

The chat on his screen is moving so quickly it’s impossible to follow, but he clearly can. His responses are measured, tailored, and completely immersed in the moment.

“You’re spoiling me tonight,” he says with a breathy laugh, likely reacting to a particularly generous tip or comment. His hand slows again, teasing, his thumb brushing over the tip of his length in a way that draws a soft, shuddering groan from his lips. “Guess I should return the favor, huh?”

His voice lowers further, almost a whisper, intimate in a way that makes your heart pound. “Let me know how much you’re enjoying this,” he says, his words melting into another low moan. “Because I’m not stopping anytime soon.”

Your pulse races as you watch him lean back slightly, adjusting his position to maintain his pace, his focus entirely on the screen and the comments it displays. The intimacy of the scene feels almost overwhelming, and it’s enough to snap you out of your trance.

You step back, your breath hitching as you force yourself to retreat. Whatever this is, you weren’t meant to see it! 

And yet the image is burned into your mind as you close your door, your thoughts swirling in a storm of confusion, embarrassment, and curiosity.

Oh my fucking god… 

The soft click of the mouse breaks you from your trance, and you realize you’ve been standing there far too long. Before Jin can notice anything amiss, you step away from his side of the apartment as quietly as possible,  your heart pounding like a drum in your chest.

You retreat down the hall to your room, shutting the door behind you with trembling hands. Leaning against it, you try to catch your breath, your mind racing. Jin, your childhood rival and now your new roommate, is apparently living a double life you never could have anticipated.

Never mind.

This new life that you’re living, will not be easy at all.

-

-

-

a/n: happy thanksgiving!! this is another very short series i plan to make with around 3-5 chapters. i'll keep brainstorming and slowly writing this along with my a(myg)dala fic series... but this is very brainrot not too heavy focus on plot so i probably won't take long to continue it compared to the other series hehe!! thank you all for the support and for reading!

➸ let me know what you think OR join the taglist for future works! ➸ check out my masterlist for other fics I have made

[worksby-d]

Would it be crazy

Pairing: dilf!Andy Barber x babysitter!Reader 

Summary: Andy remembers your birthday, and you're surprised. But why wouldn't he? 

Warnings: Age gap, love confessions tehe 

Word count: ~1,000

a/n: sorryyyy we're skipping the first date for now cause idk how to write that yet 🤪 enjoy a self indulgent birthday thought instead!!!!

After knocking on his door a second time, you sigh and reach for your phone in your pocket to double check his text. 

He asked a few hours ago if you’d be able to watch his kids tonight. You don't babysit much anymore since you're together, but you figured he's in a pinch if he's asking you instead of their mom, and so last minute. 

You definitely have the time right…

While you have it open, you send a quick message letting him know you're at the door. 

When a couple more moments go by of nothing, you say fuck it. You normally wouldn't let yourself in, all in an attempt to keep some boundaries when you know his kids are around. 

“Hello?” You call out. 

It’s oddly quiet when you step through the door, until he comes practically jogging around the corner into the entryway. 

“You're here,” he smiles, whisking you into a hug – or at least trying to.

“Yeah,” you scoff, not fully submitting to his embrace yet. You press your hands to his chest to keep him at a distance. “I've been knocking and texting you.” 

“Oh shit,” he winces. His fingers apologetically brushing against the small of your back have you close to giving in already. “I’m sorry, I didn't have my phone by me.” 

It's nearly impossible to stay annoyed with him. He wraps his arms tighter around your waist, coaxing you closer. He goes in for a kiss and you drop your hands, ready to forget all about it, but you remember where you are and look around. 

“They're not here,” he shakes his head with a smile, leaning in to steal that kiss. 

“But you asked me here to…” You raise an eyebrow. It's like he's giddy about something. “Why are you being weird?” 

“I can't believe you said yes on your birthday,” he teases. You can tell he was waiting to blurt it out. But he gives you a look, like he's scolding you for not doing something more fun than hang out with some kids for the evening. 

“Oh… I–” He's caught you off guard. The look on your face softens. You open your mouth to say something, but close it. You didn't expect him to remember your birthday. 

You settle on joking with him. 

“You used your kids to lure me,” you gasp, placing a hand on your chest in faux shock. “You could have just asked me to come over.” 

“That's no fun,” he smirks. “I needed a way to get you here. I wanted it to be a surprise.” 

“Well, it worked.” Your hands come up to gently grab his face, pulling him in for a kiss finally. Your words are murmured against his lips. “Consider me surprised.” 

When you pull away for a breath, he takes one of your hands in his to start walking toward his kitchen with you. 

“You really didn't have anything better to do tonight?” He quips. 

“Well, it's a Thursday,” you sigh. “So no. I'll go out this weekend—” 

Your voice trails off as you step into the room, seeing everything he planned. This is more than the average date night you’re used to. 

He has the table set with candles lit. Balloons and a cake. Dinner ready… 

“Did you make the food?” 

You don't mean to sound so astonished at that part, but he's usually not one to cook. 

“Don't sound so shocked,” he chuckles. “Of course I did.” 

A burning smell hits your nose and you know for a fact he's telling the truth now. 

“Yeah, yeah.” He can tell you notice it by the way you scrunch your nose. “I was fighting with the smoke detector before you got here. Probably why I couldn’t hear you knocking. I'm sorry again about that.”

“Oh, it's okay,” you laugh, patting his back as you lean against his side. “I can't believe you remembered my birthday…” 

“Why wouldn't I?” He gently nudges his shoulder, getting you to lift your head and look at him. “You told me when it is.” 

You just shrug. “I don't know.” 

“You remember mine, don't you?” He teases.

“Of course.” You give him a warning look for doubting you. 

But it's just part of the point he's trying to make. 

“So why wouldn't I remember yours?” 

He got you there. 

“Just not used to someone paying attention to me like that I guess, I don't know.” 

You're averting your focus, pretending to look through the gifts on the counter instead of working through your doubts with him. 

His face falls into a small pout and he kisses your cheek. 

“Sorry, I don’t mean to be woah is me about it,” you try to laugh it off. “Thank you for remembering.” 

“You're welcome,” he smiles. 

A bout of silence fills the room until you speak up with a whispered voice. “I like you a lot."

“I like you a lot, too,” he assures, pressing a soft kiss to your lips this time. 

When he pulls away slightly, you let out a shaky breath that you hope isn't noticeable. 

“Would it be crazy if I said I love you?” 

It's nearly inaudible, but he hears you. The corner of his mouth twitches as he represses his smile from growing any bigger. 

“Well, I don't know…” He says, acting like he's thinking about it. “Would it be crazy if I said it back?” 

You let out a laugh, laced with relief. “No.”

“So no, neither of us are crazy.” 

“I love you,” you say softly. 

“I love you, too.” 

The two of you share a kiss that's dizzying, but also feels impossible to pull away from. 

When you do, your eyes catch something on the counter. 

“Is that a cookie cake?” You ask, still a little breathless. 

“Yeah,” he nods, pulling it closer for you to look at. “I remember you saying once that you don't like regular cake, so…”

“You're killing me,” you groan, but can't help but laugh. 

He smiles, but braces himself for your answer. “In a good way?”

“In the best way,” you promise, resting your head against his chest. “I can't believe you. Thank you.” 

Tag list: @patzammit @thummbelina @pppsssyyyccchhhiiiccc @astheskycries @chris-evans-indian-fanfic @turtoix @harrysthiccthighss @mrspeacem1nusone @murdcox @geminievans1 @doozywoozy @americasass91 @dwights-new-plague @wwwmarissa92 @redhairedfeistynerd @whxre4cevans @aubreeskailynn @melchills-j @xoxabs88xox @before-we-get-started @chrissquares @christowhore @ice-dtae @mariestark @justile @rogersbarber @dilfbarber @payperhearts @vintagestarlight @miss-ariella @bemysugarbean @t-stark35 @seitmai @reginaphalange2403 @raelorns21 @mrsgweasley @pandaxnienke @brandycranby @evelineangel66 @hollyseb

[theprettynosferatu]

CW: covert hypno, misogyny, step-sibling stuff.

I

Claire was in a foul mood, stomping like a toddler through the hallway of her childhood home. Ah yes, coming back home from College was always a mixed bag. On the one hand, she loved spending time with (and being pampered by) her mom and Rick, her step-dad. But on the other hand, it meant dealing with The Asshole.

He hadn’t always been The Asshole, and that just hurt even more. Somewhere beneath his alpha male bullshit were the remains of her step-brother John. Surely that sweet, shy boy had to be inside this new, incredibly annoying person… but no matter how hard she tried, Claire couldn’t make the person she had loved as a brother emerge from the armor of pick-up artistry and right-wing bastardry John had built around himself. 

It had started during his senior year of high-school, her first one away in college. Maybe he got bullied too much, maybe he listened to too many podcasts and influencers… who knew? The point was that John started hitting the gym, spouting sexist bullshit, bragging about his sexual conquests. And little by little, in her mind, John started to disappear. Now, three years later, she could only think of him as The Asshole. And so, she tried to avoid him as much as humanly possible when she was back home.

It soured the experience for her. It seemed impossible that The Asshole was Rick’s son- after all, Rick was a good man. He had treated Claire like a daughter, with a respect and kindness her biological father had never shown; that was, when that deadbeat had even been around. Claire never called Rick “dad”, but she did feel him as a dad in her heart, and the memories of her “real” father were hazy and growing more and more faint with the years. With horror she realized her memories of John were fading as well, devoured by The Asshole. She fought to remember that The Asshole had once been a decent kid.

The Asshole, for his part, made that task incredibly hard. His off-hand comment that she’d be happier dropping out of college and being a “proper wife” had made her storm off the dinner table. Hence her stomping in that hallway, going to her room. She slammed the door. It would be a long summer. 

II

Pathetic. She couldn’t think of a better word for it. She should feel violated, perhaps- after all, she had caught The Asshole using her laptop- but she found it hard to even muster up anger. She felt disgusted, and also a bit sorry for him. His explanation was as ridiculous as she could have expected from him.

“I just wanted to make sure you weren’t being a low value whore, chatting with a bunch of dudes.”

Sure, Asshole. That’s what I need: you as the guardian of my virtue, she thought. Still, it was an excuse, and she would hold on to it. The alternative explanation was worse and even contemplating it felt abominable. And yet a little part of her, a voice deep inside her head couldn’t help but feel relief.

I’m glad my nudes are on my phone.

No. Better to not go there. John was her step-brother. Even after becoming the prick he had turned into, he wouldn’t see her… like that.

Would he?

She knew he saw her friends like sex toys, given that two of them had confessed to being somehow persuaded by his alleged charms. Needless to say, those girls were now former friends- not so much because they slept with The Asshole and more because they had given him ammo: it made it harder to argue that his toxic manosphere crap was repulsive when he could throw such conquests in Claire’s face. But not even the world’s biggest douchebag would cross the line that separated family and attraction. And they had been family, once. God, it hurt to remember.

She had screamed at him like a fucking teenager, but what was she expected to do? And he had walked away like nothing had happened, like she didn’t catch him red handed. Claire took a deep breath. Fuck it. Let it go. Don’t let him ruin your break. She sat down for an evening of happy, mindless Youtube binging.

Huh. Was the screen acting up? She couldn’t quite put her finger on it, but every now and then something felt… off. Well, it was no big deal; certainly not annoying enough to warrant an expensive trip to get the laptop checked out.

Shit. She figured the fight had left her more upset than she had thought: she had watched a two hour video essay on feminism and media representation and she couldn’t remember a second of it. A wave of fear came over her. Spacing out for two hours wasn’t normal. Maybe she was just tired. Yeah, that seemed right. Dealing with The Asshole was exhausting. She needed to sleep.

III

Relaxing ended up being easier than she had expected. She spent long hours in front of her laptop, whiling the time away, floating in a blissful state of pure peace. So what if she couldn’t always remember what she had watched? The effect was soothing, like soaking her brain in a nice hot tub. And she had at long last found a way to deal with The Asshole.

The key was so simple she felt dumb as a rock for not figuring out sooner. The way to avoid a fight was, simply, to avoid the fight. Why spend precious energy fighting a man who was incapable of changing his mind? So she didn’t. Whatever inane bullshit came out of his mouth, she let slide. Maybe give him a polite smile and nod so he would think she was actually paying attention, and daydream about her next laptop session. This was exactly what she needed: a full vacation for her overworked brain.

Around the end of the first week the benefits of Claire’s new regiment became evident. She felt less irritable, giddier, somehow… lighter. And even her libido, long buried under a pile of stress was coming back with a vengeance. Why else would she emerge from her laptop dives soaking wet, needing to pleasure herself as intensely as she needed to breathe? And the way her body felt! Before, her… playing was quick, almost as if doing maintenance on some needed but almost forgotten piece of machinery. Now every time she played with herself was a celebration. She caressed her breasts, took her time, toyed with herself… it was no longer a race to orgasm. Her own body was the greatest show on Earth.

The effects of regular self-pleasuring, long documented in scientific literature, hit her like a train. She was relaxed, energetic- and hell, even The Asshole didn’t seem so annoying anymore. Just smile and nod at him and ignore his misogynistic ramblings. And, if she was being honest, even The Asshole was right, every now and then. Broken clocks and all that. 

You really should show off your legs more. Advertise your sexual value to high-status males.

Okay, so half of that was idiotic. But the legs thing? Right on the money. Claire twirled, letting her new, short sundress flutter and fly, and giggled. It felt light. She felt light. Radiant.

Every now and then her mind went back to the laptop. The screen was acting funny. Maybe she should do something about it, but it seemed like work, and she was home to relax. The laptop thing could wait.

Do you think men would be so nice to you if you didn’t have great tits?

Those words struck a chord inside her. She pondered them after a few hours of mindless laptop time. Sure, she knew she had large-ish breasts, and she wasn’t a complete idiot: men had been extremely fucking obvious about them since she had been a teen. But were tits -breasts- that important? Surely not. Her professors valued her for her intellect.

Didn’t they?

Then why had every professor that had mentored her and helped her out been a man? 

My big tits.

No, that was ridiculous. Silly. And yet, she barely noticed her hand sliding between her legs as she thought about it. My tits matter. My tits are what’s important.

She came almost instantly, and a wave of shame washed over her. She needed to escape it. Dodge it somehow. Laptop. Watch something on the laptop. Let it relax her.

Claire’s low-cut top didn’t go unnoticed at dinner. She wasn’t really sure why she had put it on. It just felt right. Rick obviously kept quiet, but The Asshole made no effort to hide his glances and his smug smile. She should be angry, something inside her told her; but it was a distant voice, faint and growing smaller. If anything she felt… valued. Desired. Worthy. Fuck it, even if it was The Asshole, she had to admit a bit of male attention now and then wasn’t so bad. She found herself blushing at first. Eventually, it was all too much. Claire excused herself and dashed to the bathroom. She fell on her knees, rubbing her pussy -vagina- with a desperation she had never felt before. She needed to cum. The Asshole’s eyes, and his sneer of superiority, and his hateful words… she had to bite her hand to stop herself from screaming.

Claire came back to the table, flustered but okay. Or so she thought.

“Pour me a Coke”, The Asshole said. It wasn’t polite. It wasn’t a request. He had just treated her like a fucking servant.

And yet, she walked to the kitchen and made sure she poured the most perfect glass of Coke possible. She leaned in a bit while she placed it by his plate, giving him a beautiful view of her big, dumb tits. Breasts! Her breasts! What the fuck was wrong with her?

“Thank you, cunt”, The Asshole whispered.

Claire froze. She should… what? Slap him? Scream at him? Lecture him? What would be the point? No, it was better to let it slide. Smile and nod.

Smile? Smile after that? What the fuck was she thinking? Claire was mortified. Turning in bed, she wished she could take that stupid smile back and… fucking punch The Asshole for calling her a…

Why? Why, why, why? Why was she so fucking wet? It was disgusting! He was disgusting! 

…She was disgusting, getting soaked at being called a…

It was too strong. She tried to fight it, she truly did, but her pussy, her traitorous fucking pussy refused to give up, driving her insane. A cunt. He had called her a cunt. Her fingers went into her body. She wasn’t gentle with herself. No, she fucked herself without mercy, like she imagined he would use her if he had a chance. Her mind was a vortex, a mess of words and images and shame and pleasure.

Cunt. Cunt. Big-titty cunt. I’m just a stupid cunt. My tits are all that matters. I’m just a cunt. I’m just holes and tits. I don’t need to make choices. I need to do as men tell me. Men know best. Men are superior. I’m just holes…

She woke up covered in sweat. Fuck. Had she passed out? What… what was wrong with her? She was an excellent college student…

She wanted to throw up. College. All that work. Thinking. And then what? A job? Stress? She couldn’t do it. No way. She was…

I’m too stupid and weak.

It felt so fucking good to think it. It was liberating. Relaxing. It felt like the universe was simple, and she was simple, and now her place in the world was simple. It was light and fresh and it made her want to burst out in giggles. 

A shower of images and words flooded her mind. Women on their knees. Women cooking in traditional aprons while wearing chokers. Women kissing, putting on shows for men. She had no idea when she had seen all that, and suddenly she couldn’t even care enough to fight the feeling. It all just felt… right. Sexy. Natural. It was her place. It was her purpose as a woman. As a cunt. As an inferior fleshlight. She moaned at the idea of sharing this new wonderful bliss with her stuck-up college friends, and making them see the light…

She didn’t even get mad when The Asshole got into her room without knocking. She didn’t even consider covering up. In fact, she felt happy when his eyes focused on her body.

I’m useful. My body makes me useful.

“What are you doing?”, He asked. Suddenly He wasn’t The Asshole anymore. He was a He, and He was always right, and she was meant to do as He said. Simple. Sexy. Fun.

“I just rubbed my dumb pussy until I passed out”, she blurted out before exploding in a symphony of delighted giggling. 

“You know, I know how you call me. Your cunt friends told me. So I’m The Asshole, huh?”

Claire looked at him with fuzzy, unfocused eyes. She’d never think that of a Man!

“What are you?” He asked.

“Holes!”, she replied excitedly. “And tits! And porn!”

“And what do you serve?”

She blanked for a moment. Serve? She did what Men told her, but that wasn’t serving, that was just… being herself. Being a good little cunt. It was natural. Then, as if to help her out, he let his trousers fall.

“Cock!” she yelped. “I serve cock!”

“Then serve”

Duh. Of course she served cock. How could she have forgotten? As she licked and wonderful, conquering cock in front of her, she realized how silly she had been. That was why Men did the thinking. She took in its smell, its smooth texture on her tongue, the way He looked down at her and she looked up at Him. It was just natural.

She was happy, she thought as she relaxed her throat and let that cock slide deeper and deeper inside her.

In the end, she never found out what, exactly, had happened with her laptop. 

Did you enjoy the story? You can support my work at patreon.com/prettynosferatu !

[heartsofminds]

and the songbirds are singing like they know the score - part i.

"If Bradley squints his eyes, he can still make out the little five-year-old that he once knew who thought that he put the stars in the sky and cried when she found out that Jake’s real name wasn’t Hangman." or Quincy Bradshaw is growing up and no one knows what to do about it; especially Bradley.

a/n: in light of father's day, enjoy part one to bradley's precocious daughter making a re-appearance and jake seresin being reasonable for once. part two will be posted soon! the angst will be resolved, don't you worry!

It happens in between the end credits and the black fade-out screen. 

The piercing sound of the phone ringing snaps you and your husband out of your near comatose states on the couch, seemingly entranced by Molly Ringwald’s whining (which only she can get away with because she’s fucking Molly Ringwald, of course) for the entirety of Sixteen Candles. 

“Holy shit,” Bradley swallows, leaning up to sit entirely straight. His movements jostle you, causing you to wince at your cheek unsticking from its glued spot on his right pec. 

You smack your lips and sigh, trying to wake yourself up. The obnoxiously mechanical sound the phone makes causes your ears a subtle pain, and you silently curse your husband for refusing to remove the landline phone that sits glued to your kitchen wall. 

“It serves a purpose,” he had reasoned. “Don’t kill my dream of having a rotary phone.” 

And the conversation of uninstalling a 1970s landline phone from your new house was lost in the abyss of cardboard boxes and cheerios on the floor from your then beyond spunky and energetic three-year-old daughter. 

So while it sticks out like an eyesore amongst your “lived-in” and perfectly curated home, you often forget it’s there... except on occasions like this when the sporadic ringing shakes your eardrums and tightens the ever-present rubberband around your temples in the worst way possible. 

Bradley sits with his elbows on his knees, almost trying to muster up the strength to deal with the nuisance of the ringing phone. He sits for a second and sighs before hearing your body shift. 

You smush your face into a pillow; the constant ringing making you want to tear your hair out by the second. 

“Bradley!” you whine. He pats the part of your calf uncovered by your shared throw blanket with an unspoken tenderness. 

“Sorry,” he timidly apologizes. 

He stands up; his left knee making an impressive “crack” before swiping his phone off the coffee table on his way to the kitchen. 

You turn the TV off and lie in the complete darkness of your living room. The illumination of the moonlight through the glass windowed door in your kitchen shines its way to the floor in front of your couch. You have half the mind to yell to your husband to close the blinds that line the backdoor before your voice catches in your throat. 

No one ever calls the landline. Very few people even have the phone number for the landline outside of Maverick and a few close family friends. Besides, anyone who needed to reach you had your cell phone numbers anyway. 

So who the actual fuck is calling your landline at 11 PM on a Thursday? 

You hear Bradley yank the phone from its place on the wall and exhale with a huff. After sixteen years of being together, you know that huff is his tell of being annoyed. 

“Hello?” he gruffly answers. His irritation makes the question sound more like a monotonous statement. 

“Bradshaw –” 

Jake Seresin is on the other end of the line. You can recognize his voice from the other room with his cadence even though you’re not on the phone with him. Having “mom ears” does that to a person, you suppose. 

“Why the fuck are you calling my house at 11 PM?” Bradley snaps. 

You’re wondering the same thing, but you’ll have to talk to him about being so rude and huffy. Jake may actually need something, after all. 

“Well, you weren’t answering your fucking cell and neither was your wife so I had to do something.” 

Bradley rolls his eyes and looks back into the darkened living room. He’s been more on edge about you lately. 

“You can’t miss me that fucking much to be spamming my phone with calls,” he sighs and leans his back up against the wall. He notices the open blinds on the back door and walks to close them before he’s yanked back by the phone cord. 

“Don’t cream your pants. I don’t like you that much.” 

Bradley lets out a soft snort in amusement before he remembers that he’s supposed to be annoyed. He opens his mouth to ask Jake what exactly it is that’s so damn important and can’t wait until tomorrow morning when he’s beaten to it. 

“I have Quincy here in the passenger seat and she’s beyond unwell.” 

The statement sends Bradley into panic mode instantly. His voice catches in his throat and he can’t recall a moment he’s had where he’s felt like he’s had to force the breath out of himself like this. 

He lets out something between a huff, a cough, and a wheeze before remembering he can’t make a huge show of himself right now because it’ll also throw you into panic mode. 

“What the fuck do you mean she’s not well? Jake, where the fuck are you?” he whispers into the phone, trying to cover his mouth as much as possible so you can’t even read his lips if you tried. “Is she okay? What’s –” 

It doesn’t take a genius to know that Bradley is panicking. Even Bradley’s beyond intoxicated and passed out seventeen-year-old daughter sitting in the passenger seat of Jake’s truck could piece together that her father is nothing but a raging ball of anxiety at the moment, and Jake is positive that his friend is growing another patch of gray hair as the seconds pass. 

“Oh. . .fuck, I guess I should’ve phrased that better,” Jake admits. His truck comes to a halt at a spotlight and he glances over at his goddaughter. “She’s fine. She’s drunk as shit right now, but I’m on the way to drop her at yours.”

Bradley can feel the obnoxious orange ball of anxiety inside of him shift to a tumultuous rage-induced scarlett. His hand tightens around the phone cord and he has to stop himself before he yanks it out of the wall. He’s gotten angry like this before, but it never was angled toward his daughter. 

Never toward his sweet, precious girl. Never toward his amazing Quincy. 

But she knows the rules (and she chose to break them) and she knows what was told to her (and she snuck out anyway) and she knows that it’s dangerous to be that drunk (but yet she’s passed out in Jake’s truck). 

And if that isn’t both nerve-wracking and frustrating, Bradley doesn’t know what is. 

“Put her on the phone,” he speaks lowly. 

Jake gulps, knowing that he’s in one of those moods. Bradley doesn’t express anger as often as he expresses annoyance, but an angry Bradley is never someone he wants to be around. And from the way that Quincy made it sound when she called him to come get her from some random party in the middle of nowhere thirty-five minutes away from her house at 11 PM on a school night, he knows her ass is being had tomorrow morning by both you and Bradley. 

There’s absolutely no way his goddaughter is coming out of this unscathed. 

“Dude, she’s obliterated right now and I think you talking to her is just gonna make it worse.” 

“And I don’t give a fuck. I said, put her on the fucking phone now.” 

Jake shakes his head and rolls his eyes as Quincy begins to stir next to him in her seat. He’s always been the person she’s called whenever she was in trouble. He always got the first hug whenever she was brought around. He’s always been her source of comfort outside of her parents and he’s never minded it because being around her is easy. 

It was easy to carry her around whenever she asked when she was little. It was easy to give in and let her sit in the cockpit of his grounded aircraft with him and let her play with the buttons when her dad and Papa Mav refused. It was easy to pick her up from school at midday and take her to lunch. It was easy to bring her back gifts from wherever he was deployed and even easier picking them out because she’s a sucker for meaningless trinkets. 

It was easy to be her godfather and she’s a smart and relatively easy kid, but Jake has never been prepared for this part. 

Because doing what’s best for her is hard, and he realizes that when he can feel his friend wanting to put him through a wall over the phone. 

“No,” he speaks and he can hear Bradley let out a small gasp at the denial of his request, “She fucked up bad, Bradley. I’m sure she knows and you can have it out with her tomorrow morning, but right now, she’s not in any place to be screamed at and made to feel worse. You’re her dad and m’not tryin’ to take that away from you –” 

Bradley scoffs, “What exactly do you fuckin’ know about raising kids, Jake? Huh?” 

Jake grimaces and decides to take the brute of Bradley’s anger. Better him than Quincy, he figures. Besides, he knows Bradley doesn’t mean any of it. . . At least he hopes he doesn’t. 

“You obviously can’t be a dad because you just wanna have fun and dick around all the fucking time. Buying them fuckin’ candy and letting them off scott-free doesn’t do shit. You don’t have what it takes to raise a fucking person.” 

Jake doesn’t know why, but part of him gets that prickly feeling in his chest. Usually, every insult rolls off his shoulders into oblivion and he gets off on making people angry and being able to put on the facade that he really couldn’t give a damn if he tried.

But this one hurts because he knows that Bradley is right in some regard. 

He’s a runner and he lets people down. He’s nearing fifty (and God, he never thought he ever would) and has never even bothered to settle down. And he’s made peace with himself a long time ago that he doesn’t deserve a wife or a family or kids because he would never be able to love them more than he loves himself; more than he loves his career. 

To hear one of your closest friends admit that to you openly, to know that someone outside of you sees it too, makes his heart stop momentarily and forces him to feel the ache of the words meant to stab him in the chest. 

“I understand,” he swallows. He knows arguing with Bradley isn’t the right thing to do at the moment and never will be. “I’m still not putting her on the phone. We will be at your house shortly.” 

The line goes dead and Bradley is overcome with a wave of anger that drowns him like a tsunami. He knows what he said was shitty and that he has no right to do that to someone who he considers a close friend, but he just can’t help himself. 

He knows no allies when it comes to his daughter. 

The sound of the plastic phone slamming into its rightful place on the wall alarms you and part of your heart hurts for Jake. 

Jake has no concept of boundaries and has no limit to the absurdities that he often commits, but Jake also has the biggest heart that gets overshadowed by his equally big ego. You know the words uttered to him by your husband have knocked him down in ways Bradley isn’t the slightest bit aware of, and you start to silently cry for him because you know he won’t do it for himself. 

You force yourself up from your deepened spot on the couch and waddle your way to Bradley in the kitchen. The tears streaming down your face only fuel your need to make it right and to stand up for Jake and his quietly hurt feelings. 

You don’t know the full of what happened, but you heard enough to know that no one deserves to be spoken to that way. Bradley is upset (and he seemingly always has this cloud of gloom hanging over his head), but that gives him no right to be so cruel. 

The mama bear feelings are only amplified by the thirty-nine-week bump on your frontside making you tilt forward more than you usually do. Jake is a big boy and you know he can handle himself and that this situation has nothing to do with you, per se, but the lack of kindness surrounding you currently is stuffy, and you’d do anything to break the barrier to actually breathe. 

You try and stifle your cries and wipe your starry eyes before you approach your husband; silently cursing how cold your feet are and longing for the day when you can put your socks back on yourself independently. 

He stands with his hands against the wall and his head drooped between them. It’s a look of defeat; a showcase of hopelessness and frustration mixed into a burly mess of indigo and violets from the moonlight and dark sky peeping into your kitchen windows. Despite the darkness surrounding him, you can see the pink flush on the back of Bradley’s ears that has traveled to the tops of his shoulder blades. 

The anger is rampant and on the verge of explosion. Seeing your sweet Bradley like this is a sight rarer than a double rainbow. Part of you knows you shouldn’t poke the bear, but Bradley knows he shouldn’t speak to people like that. Compromising your morals is something you’ve never let yourself do and being bone tired and thirty-nine weeks pregnant is not going to change that. 

Something’s gotta give, and you decide that it’s going to be you. 

His head pops up the second he senses your presence. He knows that something is off with you after your lack of announcement. His home and heart had been preoccupied by two of the most chatty (and rather heavy-footed) women for the past sixteen and a half years. Silence is not welcomed in abundance in the Bradshaw household.

As if he didn’t have to suck in his sharp breath of frustration seconds prior, he turns to you and opens his arms. The darkness hides your tears and aggravation, but he knows that it stands next to you as an unwelcome visitor. 

Part of you wants to indulge, but an overwhelming portion of you houses irritation that won’t let you bite. 

This night was supposed to be one of peace and tranquility. You’re coming up on week three of rest allocated by your maternity leave and you finally feel like the walls in your house aren’t closing in on you. Bradley’s light load of scheduled hops and paperwork has helped with giving you company earlier in the afternoons before you have to make room for your second daughter. The way that she’s sitting on your bladder and constantly kicking your ribs in the middle of the night throws the hope that she’ll be calm and sweet out of the window and opens the door to the reality that she’ll be a carbon copy of her older sister. 

“What’s wrong?” you grumble, sending Bradley a scowl. You ignore his open arms and head to the fridge. You slam the carton of orange juice down on the counter and swing open the cabinet door to grab yourself a glass. 

Bradley furrows his eyebrows in confusion and lowers his arms in defeat. His feet drag him closer to you subconsciously. The thought that you moved away from him because you wanted space doesn’t cross his mind. 

“Nothing,” he leans his hip against the countertop, eyes scanning the thin stream of juice being poured into the glass. His nose wrinkles as you flash your eyebrows at him. That was always his tell of hiding something. 

He knows you can clock it. He just really doesn’t want to argue right now. 

You take a gulp from your glass while rolling your eyes. “Don’t lie to me. I know it was Jake.” 

“Doesn’t mean something is wrong.” His shoulders slump before he closes the refrigerator door. You had been extra forgetful in this stage of your pregnancy. 

Your lips mouth a reflexive, “Thank you” before you huff. Being lied to was something you never appreciated; especially when you know how bad Bradley is at doing it. Besides, you know that he knows you have heard quite a bit. The pointlessness of his actions starts a kindling of rage in your belly. 

“Well, that’s funny because you’re telling Jake he doesn’t know how to be a parent over the phone?” 

“I didn’t say that.” 

His spine straightens and his cheeks spill a baby pink hue that starts to spread to the tips of his ears. You think he looks just like your daughter even though you can’t see the fullness of his face. Your eyes start to twinkle before you remember that you’re pissed at him. The serious face holds a standstill. 

“Don’t play dumb. Do I need to say the exact words for it to ring a bell? ‘You don’t have what it takes to raise a fuckin’ person.’ Seriously, Bradley? What the fuck is your problem?” 

He winces at the agitation in your voice. Hearing it being said by someone other than him makes him realize how fucked up he was to say it; let alone even think about saying it to someone as dear to him and your family as Jake. Your hands heavily place the glass in the metal bottom of the kitchen sink and your heavy footsteps storm past him back to the living room. 

Bradley reaches out to grab your wrist and spins you to look at him. His hands envelop yours and place them flat on his chest. He sighs before dropping his head as if he was a puppy that had just gotten scolded. 

“You’re right,” his eyes scan your face but refuse to peer into your own, “I have no right to talk to people like that.” 

You let him hold you as your annoyance shifts to a denotation of shocked nerves that leave your heart sprinting like crazy in your chest for air. You’ve always been somewhat easy to work up, but your nerves have been oversensitive as of late. 

Penny and your mother call it your mother’s intuition maturing, but you like to call it a nuisance. Although the first baby you’ll be giving birth to will make her way earthside in a few short weeks, your first baby will always be the chunky eleven-month-old with blotchy pink cheeks and abundant sass you met on Halloween sixteen years ago. 

Bradley’s steady hand rubbing soothing circles on your back does little to help you differentiate the present and the imaginary. You aren’t sure how much time has passed or if his soft caresses continue on your spine, but you’re damn sure of what your gut is telling you. 

Something is wrong. Something is wrong. Something is wrong. 

“Is she okay?” you ask him. 

The words uttered make the world stop turning for the millisecond it took you to speak. 

You know deep in your heart that she’s not okay; that she hasn’t been for a while. Your bright and bubbly baby turned angsty and moody Senior in high school had happened overnight, it seems. What was once excited chatter at the dinner table about school and friends and club soccer and yearbook committee soon became absent, and the sound of silence from a missing spot at the dining table with you and Bradley had become the norm. 

It became extremely noticeable in the last few weeks of her Senior year; calls of truancy being made to your home phone and numerous talks about possible grounding if she didn’t get her act together becoming more and more frequent. 

Her attendance sucks but her grades remain stellar, so the idea of punishing her falls flat on its face whenever it gets brought up. You both have always known how intelligent your daughter is. You just wish she didn’t know it so well to know that you and her father are bluffing. 

And to be totally truthful, preparing for a new and unexpected baby hadn’t been part of the plan. You know that you’re not Quincy’s mother in any sense of the word, but you’re her mom and have been for as long as she can remember. Looking for your face in the school pick-up line and at soccer games and honor roll assemblies had always been her normal, and the fact that she had to share that with something embryonic (as she would call it) that hadn’t even graced real outside world oxygen (again, Quincy vernacular) was not something on her bingo card for her Senior year of high school. 

Your absences from these things, the things that are important to her but she’s far too stubborn to admit how much they actually mean out loud, were felt this year. She was raised understanding and kind but has inherited the sensitivity of her father’s heart. You know how much this entire pregnancy has deeply hurt her, and the guilt swallows you whole. 

The abyss of her unverbalized pain looms like a fog in every corner of your mind. Guilt has a funny way of turning all emotions into its twin. 

“I mean, yes? But she’s in for it once she steps foot in this house,” he grumbles. The meteoric thumping of his heart in his chest soothes you, but you know that the adrenaline pumping through his veins to move the muscle at lightning speed is sourced in anger. 

“So she called Jake?” 

Bradley scoffs. Your face is buried in his chest, but you know his huff of annoyance was accompanied by an eye roll. 

“Tried to use him as her ‘get out of jail free’ card. Knows that shit doesn’t work so I don’t even know why she did that.” 

You stifle a laugh and pull back to look at him. “I’m sorry I was so mean earlier. Didn’t mean it,” you whisper and he grins. Apologies have never been your strong suit. He would argue that you’re more stubborn than your daughter and Maverick in that regard.

“I’m sorry I was such a dick. Know you don’t like when I get like that.” 

There’s no need for acceptance. You have him wholeheartedly the same way he has you. Verbally accepting each other’s apologies has long been a thing of the past; especially when you feel like you share each other in ways that no one else on Earth would be able to understand; two halves of a whole – husband and wife. 

Your hand lightly taps his chest before you scoot past him to return back to the living room. From the digital numbers of the oven light in the kitchen, you know that it’s nearing midnight. You and Bradley had never been “good sleepers” (and now that you’re thinking about it, neither is Quincy), but you figure that you should get as much sleep as you’re still allowed. God knows that the new baby will be all Bradshaw and will probably be the worst sleeper too. 

Bradley hears your heavy footsteps trudge up to the bedroom and the soft suction of the door frame signifying that you’re about to lay down for the night. He wants nothing more than to join you and revel in the peace; remind himself to breathe and of simpler times when it was just you and him, but it had never just been you and him because it was always you and him and Quincy. 

The ache in his stomach returns at the thought. He has to put himself back in the mindset to put his foot down and let his daughter know that what she had done was incredibly unacceptable. 

It’s not like he’s mad at her for choosing to act her age for once. 

He had always worried himself sick after parent-teacher conferences because all of her teachers would comment on how mature his daughter was, but how that maturity often caused her to isolate herself. She had always been bright but at the expense of never wanting to play imaginary games with her classmates because she didn’t see the point in “pretending.” He had always thought that it was his fault; that exposing your baby to the History Channel and retired veteran chatter at the bar during the day made her not like other kids. 

And it’s not like he wanted her to be a certain way or that he was scared of her being “weird” or that she wasn’t living up the the expectation of what he thought having a kid would be like. 

Bradley had just wanted her to be kind and to feel loved, and he knows from experience that it’s hard living life when you don’t feel like the former nor do you ever feel the support from the latter. He knows a life of isolation and a sharp tongue that spears a bleeding heart. The last thing he ever wanted was for his daughter to know the same. 

Nevertheless, he’s still angry. Angry? Enraged? Pissed? 

Disappointed. 

Bradley had seen the signs as much as you have of your daughter’s downward spiral through the duration of the school year. He ignored the phone calls of truancy and let them go to voicemail and held his breath and his tongue when she answered a question he asked her a little too harshly. He ignored the attitude and the slamming of doors and the glow of her bedside lamp being on well past 2 AM most nights. 

Bradley ignored all of it because confronting it and her made it real, and facing the reality that she’s growing up and will no longer need him is something that he will never be prepared to do. 

He takes deep breaths and grabs his water bottle off the counter, unscrewing the top and taking colossal sips. His therapist had given him a printed list of techniques years ago to help him manage his anxiety. If he can’t control the speed of Jake’s truck driving down the interstate to his house, he can control the pace of the icy chugs sliding down his throat. 

Bradley wipes his mouth with the back of his arm and places the metal water bottle down on the counter. He paces back and forth before he realizes that pacing always makes him more anxious. His feet carry him back to the living room where he sits on the edge of the couch and balances his elbows on the tops of his thighs. 

All that can be heard is the subtle tick of the large wall clock hanging above the mantle and the soft buzz of cicadas in the backyard. The silence is cut in half by blinding headlights beaming their way through the curtains that line the front window and the roar of an engine. 

He doesn’t jump up to unlock the door like he usually would. His thoughts are still maniacally bouncing around his skull like a ten-cent bouncy ball. Besides, he doesn’t even know if he dares to face Jake after he had spoken so horribly to him such a short time ago. 

The old Bradley, the one who was still hurting and lonely with no wife or kids or family, wouldn’t have given a damn. Fuck Jake and fuck everyone else. 

But this Bradley, the one who is a dad and a husband and a friend and a son, gives a damn and he gives such a big one that he feels nauseous. 

The headlights flick off and the engine is killed. The silence that resumes is so instantaneous that he can almost fool himself into believing that everything is normal. That his daughter is upstairs fast asleep in her room and that her godfather is fifteen minutes away at his own house. He prays Jake won’t knock on the door and disturb it again. Jake never knocked on the door anyway, so he might luck out, he figures. 

But Bradley underestimates how nervous Jake is about this whole thing and soon enough, the sound of his friend’s knuckles rapping on the dark green wood that is the entity of his front door. 

He holds his breath as he opens it. 

He sees Jake, twenty years older than when they finally put their past behind them and became friends, and then he sees his daughter, meek and saddened and slightly drunk. 

If Bradley squints his eyes, he can still make out the little five-year-old that he once knew who thought that he put the stars in the sky and cried when she found out that Jake’s real name wasn’t Hangman. 

The Leemoore sweatshirt she has on is three sizes too big and does little to make her look like a high school partygoer, so he knows she has a riskier top beneath it. There’s no doubt Jake probably made a pit stop at his house to give it to her before bringing her home. 

Jake knows that Bradley hates secrets, so her sneaking out and also having a second secret wardrobe stashed beneath the floorboards under her bed would not make for a welcome guest upon her coming home after getting busted. The sweatshirt at least bought her a little time. 

“Hey,” Jake speaks, finally slicing the tension with a greeting. His left arm is looped through his goddaughter’s and she leans on him heavily to prevent herself from falling. 

“Hey,” Bradley says back. His face is stern. Jake knows he means business. 

“I’m sure this isn’t how you wanted to see me next.” Even though Jake is kind of pissed and anxious, there still remains a glimmer of humor within him. The complaint of many ex-girlfriends had always been how he never took anything seriously (and his serious lack of commitment too, but that’s an issue for another time), and he knows that it’s a blessing and a curse.

“Yeah, no kidding.” 

Bradley grabs his daughter’s free arm and helps Jake maneuver her inside over the steep ledge of the front door and to the asylum of the living room couch. 

Quincy’s eyes are wide open and her brain is moving in slow motion; scanning her surroundings but not being able to focus on one thing before her eyes are caught by the presence of another. She had never been drunk before in her life and the copious amounts of vomit that had spewed out of her mouth tonight discouraged her from trying to speak. Any thought of opening her mouth made the muscle memory of puking prevail. 

The rational part of her brain knows that her father wants to wring her neck, but she silently prides herself on calling Jake and kind of doing the right thing (even though she knows the right thing was not sneaking out and getting fucked up on a Thursday, to begin with). Her dad will forgive her and spending time with Jake was always fun. She just vows to make sure that she’ll never puke in front of him again because he turned green at the sight of her hunched over on the side of the road. 

Quincy lands on the couch with an incredible lack of grace. She bounces and almost slips off again, but sticks her foot out to help support her. Her vision is blurred before she focuses on the sight of her dad with the deepest frown on his face and his hands on his hips. Her eyes follow a horizontal line next to him and see Jake worrying his lip in between his teeth. A hiccup falls out of her mouth and she rushes to close it before her body can register a solution to the nausea plaguing her currently. 

The silence between the three of them is unforgiving and she can’t remember a time where she had felt so. . .embarassed. 

Here she is, about to get the scolding of her life in front of one of the adults she admires the most. All she had ever wanted was to be seen as a grown-up and it’s clear to her now that the men in front of her think anything but that. 

“You got anything to say?” Bradley huffs. His glare sharpens the more he takes in his daughter’s appearance. 

The silence he’s met with kindles a fire in his belly that shifts the anxiety he feels to the beginning of an obnoxious anger. 

Quincy can’t answer verbally because she knows she’ll throw up. She can’t shake her head to answer him either. The room is spinning and the spiraling shadow cast by her vision will undoubtedly make her throw up too. She can’t even feel her lips and anything she has to say will not be an answer worthy of her dad’s appreciation. She fucked up big time and now she has to reap what she’s sown. 

Her dad scoffs. The room inflates with tension from all three of the living room’s occupants. Quincy closes her eyes. Jake holds his breath. Bradley bawls his hand into a fist. 

Here it comes. 

Bradley opens his mouth; words like venom sitting on the tip of his tongue. Quincy closes her eyes and braces herself for the yelling that she knows is coming. 

“Hey, let’s table it for tomorrow. Yeah?” 

If Jake wasn’t already her favorite, now he certainly is. 

Bradley turns to him. His cheeks are tomato red and his wrath sitting in the base of his throat. He has half the mind to come unglued on him before he remembers the pit of guilt from earlier. The putrid watery feeling of guilt dampens his vocal chords. His sentences dig a grave in his voicebox. 

Jake is right. 

His daughter can barely sit up straight and you’re upstairs trying to sleep. There’s no point in waking the entire house and having a one-sided screaming match with someone who will only have the faintest memory of what happened the next morning. 

Bradley lets out a hefty breath of air that he hadn’t even realized he was holding in. Jake claps him on the shoulder in silent praise for his decision to drop it. Never would he have ever thought that Jake Seresin of all people would be the one discouraging him from being a total hothead. 

“Thanks for bringing her home, man. Sorry about – you know –” he attempts to apologize. Apologies to you rolled off his tongue like water rolled off waterfalls. They just didn’t have that effect when it came to other people who weren’t you. 

“Don’t sweat it. Wouldn’t be stickin’ around if I took half the shit you say to heart.” 

It’s not funny but Bradley laughs. He doesn’t know if it’s a feeble attempt at repairing the hurt he had done earlier or if it’s to absolve some of the fury that was sitting unleashed in the room, but he’s never been more thankful for Jake in that moment. 

Bradley starts to walk Jake to the front door and back out to his truck. Despite being the flashiest and cockiest person he knows, Jake has had the same car for close to twenty years. The silver F-150 had seen many drunk Bradleys and many drunk yous. He just wished that his daughter wouldn’t have been a passenger on the faux “drunk bus” too. 

He’ll never admit it, but part of him is jealous that Quincy called Jake instead of him. He wants to classify the feeling as betrayal, but he knows that it’s just envy. He knows that he would’ve called Maverick at this age instead of his mom. It’s a teenage rite of passage and nothing personal. 

“Look, it’s late and I know you’re pissed but she did the right thing. The party got busted, you know. And she uh – her friends were drinking, like a lot, and wanted her to get in the car with them,” Jake pauses, making sure Bradley is hearing the case of positives he’s building for Quincy, “She said no and then she called me.” 

Bradley nods his head and the tension in his shoulders starts to relax bit by bit. He’s oddly comforted by his daughter’s morality despite committing the precipice of what makes up an immoral teenager to get herself in this damn situation anyway. 

“Most kids don’t do that and I know she isn’t most kids so uh – don’t go too hard on her tomorrow?” 

The open door of the truck makes a high-pitched dinging noise as Jake’s legs sit half situated on the seat and halfway steady on the ground. The soft yellow light emitting from the streetlights tints the world in a sepia hue. 

“Can’t promise that. She’s in some serious shit.” 

Jake chuckles. “Serious shit or not, that’s still your baby. She needs you more than you think, you know.” 

The car door is shut and the engine is cranked. Bradley pats the hollowed metal of the truck as a “goodnight and goodbye” send-off as Jake backs out of his driveway and into the street. He watches as he rounds the corner to the stop sign before the image of his friend’s truck draws smaller and smaller and smaller until the image is microscopic. 

Bradley finds his way back inside and sees his daughter lying on her side with a throw blanket swallowing her figure. 

He heads into the kitchen to grab her a glass of water and some Advil to set on the coffee table. Bradley doesn’t recall being hungover so much as just sick to his fucking stomach the first time he drank, but he leaves it for her just in case. His eyes catch the bottom cabinet that houses the popcorn buckets and mixing bowls and grabs the largest one to serve as her “catch-all” puke bucket for the night. 

As he settles everything and makes his journey upstairs to your shared bedroom, he hears the wet wretch of what cannot be mistaken for vomiting. His heart harbors empathy for his little girl, but his brain garners no sympathy for her. Some sick part of him is glad that she’s throwing up because it’s a consequence that he doesn’t have to impose on her. She had done it to herself. 

“That’s what I thought."

He turns off the bedside lamp as he lays down next to you. You don’t stir from your deep sleep. The house is finally quiet and everything as is it should be. 

Bradley just doesn’t like the fact that this kind of peace is tainted with the fact that Quincy is growing up and that there is nothing he can do to stop it. 

[leviathxn]

“Little Girl to Little Lady”

Dads best friend! Miguel x Younger! Fem! Reader

Warnings : Cock Warming, Age gap, oral, mentions of masturbation (and slight but very little), dirty talk? Breeding king (per usual lmao) and I forgot what else but it’s sex so

Summary : Miguel and you have always been close… but even closer now

It always annoyed me whenever people would say “you grew up so fast” or “I remember you when you were just a baby”. It was even worse when Miguel O’Hara, your dads best friend, would say it. He didn’t say it often, but when it was a late night of drinking with my father he would always say it to me, almost as if he was telling himself. Whenever he said it he sounded like he was trying to reason with himself rather than just making small talk or being an emotional drunk. It wasn’t like Miguel and I weren’t close either. In fact my dad had always left me at Miguel’s house to babysit when I was younger, no naturally I looked at him as an important older figure in my life.

Well actually I looked at him more than just a supportive adult. To say he wasn’t an attractive man was a total lie. He was gorgeous, body chiseled like a greed god. He was the reason I even got sex toys and explored my kinks. Because every night he would plague my mind as I got older.

He was 20 when I was born, was married and had his daughter, Gabriella at 25. His wife passed 5 years later when he was 30. It was heartbreaking to see him and Gabriella in such despair and pain. Me and my dad had visited more often. I had felt the pain as well, especially as a 10 year old. Dana was a mother figure to me ever since my mom had up and left after I was born. Naturally this led me to help take care of Gabriella and be a supportive woman in her life. She lost her mom and I didn’t want her to feel the  loneliness that I felt. I was (obviously) 5 years older than Gabriella so when I turned 15 I was able to babysit her alone when Miguel and my father had went out. I taught her about body and how she would be changing, helped her dress up and learn makeup. It was almost weekly that our parents would come home and find us cuddled together, sleeping with a movie on.

When I had turned 19 it was a little harder to visit Gabriella but I was always a text or phone call away if she ever needed me. My connection with her and Miguel was still very strong, as they came over for “family night” often. Obviously Miguel and my dad would drink while forgetting about whatever card or board game we were playing soon after. Gabriella started to get tired, it was around 10:30 as I put her to bed in my room. Whenever she fell asleep I would always share the bed with her. That’s what led me, Miguel and my dad to be downstairs, still drinking.

I didn’t drink really, Miguel and my dad knew this, never offering alcohol unless I specifically asked for it. I didn’t have a reason to drink, my social life never landing me at parties. When it came to relationships, I was hopeless. I was usually into older guys and besides a decent fuck, I didn’t see myself getting attached to them. At the end of the day, I always thought of Miguel when they were on top of me. It was shameful but most of the time the guys were too horny to even realize I wasn’t moaning their name.

I sat next to Miguel on the big couch as my dad sat in the arm chair to our right. He smiled as he listened to my dad, looking over at me. That’s when I heard the usual.

“Seeing you take care of my little Gabriella reminds me of when you were younger. You’re much more grown now though. A little Lady instead of a little girl”. I laughed as my dad finished his drink.

“Well Miguel? Let’s look at some baby photos!” My laugh abruptly stopped as my face flushed. I always objected, saying that Miguel has seen me as a kid so many times already, that he didn’t need to see anymore or be reminded. They always laughed me off as my dad took out the book.

“Even if I took care of you then, it’s nice to be reminded. I may still see you as a kid but the pictures remind me of how much you’ve grown”. There was that tone again. The one where he sounded like he was fighting himself to reason. But to reason over what? That I was a growing into a woman? Or that he thought I still acted like a kid? I grumbled as Miguel finished his beer and flipped through the photos with my dad. Even though I objected at first, it was nice laughing all together about my funny photos. As the night went on, my father slowly fell asleep on the couch, a smile on his face. I shook him awake, helping him to bed. As I came back down I saw Miguel still flipping through the book. I sat next to him again, looking over his shoulder.

Then there was a photo oh Miguel, feeding me cake as I sat in his lap. We both looked so young. I was probably around 6 in the photo, his frame still much larger than mine. He sighed, sliding his thumb over his bottom lip. I looked at him, as he looked at the photo for a good few minutes.

“Uhm.. Miguel is everything okay?” He glanced over to me, face flushed. I had never seen him look that way. He put his bottle down, next to the many other bottles…. I knew Miguel could drink but when did he finish so many? While we were looking at the photos? Miguel definitely wasn’t drunk but he was positively tipsy. He put his hand on my thigh, running it up and down my leg. I shuddered at his touch. “Miguel?”

“I would kill to have you in my lap like that again”. He said unwavering. I felt the heat rush to my face as he said it, I looked away and shifted awkwardly.

“M-Miguel where is this coming from?” He chuckled and stopped his hand at my upper thigh.

“The only reason I’m able to say this is because of what I heard you doing to yourself last night”. My face drained. He saw that? How much did he see? I was face down, ass up with a vibrator, is he talking about that? Or is he pulling my strings? Did he hear me moan his name?

“What are you talking about? I was in my room reading.” I said, my voice wavering. I wanted to seem convincing, I really did but I was so nervous under his gaze.

“Were you? That’s not what it sounded like… or what it looked like.” He shifted onto the ground, moving in between my legs. His arms on either side of me, trapping me on the couch. I couldn’t move. I was so nervous as my body trembled. “Did you imagine me eating you out? Or maybe you imagined me fucking you, hm? You were so loud.. just for me”. He kissed my legs, slowly inching towards my inner thigh. I slightly opened my legs on instinct. He chuckled and didn’t move any closer. “Use your words querida.” He said firmly as I shook my head. This was too embarrassing for me. Even being below me he had so much control over me. He shrugged his shoulders and began to get up. I panicked and grabbed his shoulders.

“P-please don’t leave…”. I pleaded. No matter how embarrassed I was, I have been wanting this for so long, so painstakingly long. He licked his lips as he got on his knees in front of me again. Kissing my thighs again. “I thought about you… uhm well I thought about you eating me out” I choked out. He already knew that I thought about him, no point in hiding it. He smirked into the kisses and slid his fingers to the hem of my shorts. He unbuttoned and unzipped them slowly. Miguel looked at me for conformation and I nodded my head. He pulled them down and off my body, leaving me in a shirt and panties. He brought his fingers to my clothed pussy, feeling the drenched fabric.

“Ahh so wet already. Were you thinking about me today?”. I nodded my head as he looked up at me. “Why? Tell me what made you think about me”. I felt embarrassed again, hoping he wouldn’t be mad about the answer.

“When I was putting Gabriella to bed I thought about having a family with you… a-and what it would feel like to have you put a baby in me”. His laugh was deep as he put his hands on my lower back and pulled me closer to him. His lips hovered over my panties, kissing my heat through the cloth. I twitched from the contact

“Oh my… you’ve got more of an imagination that I thought. Would you want to be a mother? Have my babies inside you?” I nodded my head again and he snarled. “Words cariño.” His tone was stern, not making things easy for me

“Yes, Miguel”. He nodded his head in approval before sliding my panties down and blowing over my heat. I yelped as the sensation, his breath was hot, and it made my body shudder. “Miguel please~”.

“Please what?” He asked teasingly as he inched even closer.

“Please eat me out”. He chuckled and latched his lips on my pussy. He took no time sliding his tongue in. He lapped at my juices as I threw my head back, gripping onto the couch. I whimpered while biting on my lip. I didn’t want Gabriella or my dad to wake up. He moved his hands to my thighs as he prevented them from clamping on his head as he continued to eat me out. His tongue did wonders and he moaned into me, letting the vibration of his moan toy with me. He spread my thighs further apart, allowing him to go deeper with his tongue. I didn’t think it was possible but the sliding of his tongue left me shaking. I wanted to squeeze my legs around him so bad, I wanted him to stay right there.

“Miguel more please~” I whispered, I was so scared to release a moan that I squeaked out the words. I was surprised he even heard me as his hands moved to my ass, allowing me to close my legs. I felt the knot from in my stomach as he continue to tongue fuck me. My legs squeezed around his head as I came in his mouth. He lapped up all of it, licking his lips. I panted as he chuckled and wiped his cheeks. He played with my juices on his fingers, putting them up to my mouth and making me taste myself.

“Was that good? I don’t think any guy your age could do as good as me”. He stated proudly as I nodded my head, still dazed from the sensation.

“I’ve only ever fucked older guys… but no guy has ever done that for me in the first place”. He scoffed

“Really? So un-classy… good thing I’m taking care of you from now on hm?” I giggled at his response. He was really getting an ego boost from this. He moved me from the couch and brought me upstairs to the guest bedroom.

Him and Gabriella were over so often that it was pretty much his. The only problem was that it was right nexts to my dads, and the walls weren’t exactly thick either. I reminded myself to stay quiet so we wouldn’t wake him. “Rest for a few minutes. Im gonna clean up downstairs and then I’ll come back up and give you what you really want”. I nodded my head, feeling my pussy throb and clench on nothing. He walked out of the room, my body trembling thinking about him. I wonder how big he is…. I mean I’m already much smaller than him so he would probably stretch me out.

I let my fingers slid down to my pussy, gliding over it. I let out a breath as I slid my fingers in, toying with my walls. I bit my lip again as I finger fucked myself to the thought of Miguel. He was amazing with his tongue but his dick would be 100x better. Hitting every spot, reaching deeper and deeper… then coating my walls with his seed-

My wrist was grabbed and my fingers were pulled out. I gasped at the sudden emptiness as I saw Miguel over me, licking my fingers. I stared up at him, watching him clean off my digits. He cleaned up that fast? Or was I imagining him for that long?

“Really? You couldn’t wait 5 minutes?” I looked away embarrassed. He chuckled pushing me flat on my back. He took his jeans off and tossed them across the room. He slid his boxers down just enough. Miguel stood at the edge of the bed and pulled me towards him. I yelled as I felt my pussy press against his cock. He finally lifted up my shirt, unclasping my bra. “God you look perfect”. He stared at my flushed face, hair sticking out everywhere with lustful eyes. My nipples hardened at the cold air, perking up. He left one hand on my waist for support, the other hand lining himself up. I wrapped my legs around him as he lined himself up with me. I gulped. The most I’ve taken in is 5 inches, Miguel was at least 8 and his girth…. He pushed his tip in and I gasped.

He continued to push himself into me, my pussy stretching more and more. Tears brimmed in the corner of my eyes. He cusped my cheek and wiped the tears. “You’re almost there querida, breathe”. He got half way before my pussy clenched again. He grunted before putting both hands on my waist. He rubbed circles, trying to help me relax. “Mi amor please you have to relax or else I can’t fuck you”. The words ‘mi amor’ rung throughout my head. My body relaxed as I thought about it. I didn’t know Spanish but I knew that much. My face heat up as I brought my hands to my face. Mi amor? Would he call me that even if we weren’t fucking? Did he like me? I mean I liked him, hell I loved him. Did I love him or did I just want him to fuck me?

I was snapped out of my thoughts when I felt his push the rest of himself inside of me, I moaned out loud before quickly covering my mouth. I wasn’t ready for it as he bottomed out. He chuckled as he brought his lips close to mine.

“What got you so distracted? It’s almost like you forgot that my dick was in you”. I blushed as he stayed in place, me basically just cock warming as he spoke.

“I- uhm…. You called me ‘mi amor’ and I started thinking”. I trailed off, looking away. I didn’t want to move or else I would moan again. His eyes widened at my reaction.

“(Y/N) look at me”. I hesitated. “Look at me now.” I turned my head and met his eyes. Before could explain myself he kissed my lips. But it was warm… so warm and loving. I kissed back, wanting to feel more of his passion. I wrapped my arms around his neck, pulling him in deeper. As our kiss deepened he began to rock his hips into me. I moaned into his mouth, letting him slide his tongue in. He took immediate control and continued to fuck me.

He bottomed out quickly, beginning to pound into me. “Listen to me (Y/N), wether I had you in bed or not I love you”. I nodded my head and whimpered as he continue to fuck me. He moved his hands to my breast, latching onto my left one with his mouth and playing and twisting my right nipple. I tried so damn hard to stay quiet as his balls slapped against my ass. If I spoke now I wouldn’t be able to stop myself from making noise. “Say it mi amor”.

“I- I love you too Miguel-mphm!” He shoved his fingers into my mouth, moving his to leave hickies from my shoulders to the valley of my chest. His tip hit every spot, I felt every vein on his girth as he continued to pounded into me.

“Yeah? So that means I can put my babies in you? Fill you up with my cum all night? You would want that wouldn’t you. For me to use you as a cum dump”. A ray of yesses left my mouth, said so drunkenly. I was so dazed from his cock I couldn’t think straight. The drool started to pour out of my mouth as he pressed himself deeper and deeper. He has so much stamina. He grunted as he watched my tits bounce. “Don’t be too loud… your dad might wake up”.

Miguel put his hands on my waist, wanting to let my boobs bounce on their own. Lewd noises filled the room as I saw stars, eyes rolling back from the pleasure. He staggered, my pussy clenching on every bit of him. A knot formed in my stomach as I continued to pant and whimper. It took every ounce of will power not to break and scream out his name.

I felt the knot burst as I came, a moan escaping my lips. A few more stores and Miguel coated my walls. I felt the heat fill me up to the brim. He hovered over me before pulling his cock out. He watched as our mixed cum began to spill out of me. Miguel pressed his thumb to my hole, keeping in as much as he could.

“Don’t want any of it to go to waste right? Or else we’ll have to do this again”. He was met with silence. Well besides my pants as I stared up at the ceiling with half lidded eyes and drool still lining down my cheek. He stared at my fucked out appearance and admired his work. He went into the bathroom (connected to the guest room) and grabbed a towel. He cleaned us both up before putting on a pair of boxers. He ventured to my room as he grabbed me a pair of panties. He looked over to Gabriella, sleeping soundly. He smiled and kissed her forehead thinking about how good of a mom I would actually be.

Coming back to the guest room he saw me sitting up, cleaning up my face and hair. We smiled at each other as he helped me put the underwear on. He gave me one of his shirts as it would fit like a dress. Although the sheets were slightly stained, that was something he would worry about another time. He debated his options. He could sleep and cuddle with me and run the risk of my dad seeing us or he could send me upstairs to Gabriella. As safe as it sounded he decided to keep me with him, wanting to be with the woman he just talked about having a baby with. It’s the least he could do after he just fucked you like that.

He pulled me close and laid down with me, spooning me from behind. I used his arm as a pillow, his other hand resting on my stomach. I smiled as I closed my eyes, painfully tired after our “little stunt”. He watched me fall asleep before kissing my head and closing his eyes as well.

OKAYYY SO IVE BEEN WRITING THIS FOR A FEW HOURS NOW AND IF YOU GUYS WANT A PART 2 OF LIKE THE AFTERMATH THEN JUST LMK! I HOPE YOU GUYS ENJOYED

If I do write a part two should I make the dad find out and have angst or basically keep it hidden until the reader is old enough to live on her own

PART 2 IS UP AND ITS FLUFF - I don’t know how to link it so bear with me please and just find it, it’s “Little Lady to Little Wife”

[lexisecretaccx]

A+ Student Pt.5

Masterlist!

(Fem reader, suggestive, kissing, smut, female!receiving, etc. Not proofread!)

Summary: Y/n is a great student in her college, always getting good grades. Her college professor Matt, thinks she can get even higher ones with some “extra credit.” That is until she meets her new gym teacher..

“She was talking about professor Sturniolo right?” Lizzy asks me hesitantly, I shrug. “Yeah, I’m not bothered though.” I lie unbelievably. “Pfft,” she laughs slightly, looking at me with a raised eyebrow. “You’re not bothered? You’re literally gripping your skirt so tightly.” I look down as the fabric is clenched in my fists. I let go and laugh slightly, “I guess I do care a little bit.” I sigh.

Chris’ POV

I type up on my laptop plans for the next lesson with y/n’s class, gotta make it easier because I don’t want y/n to struggle. “Mr Sturniolo?” I look up, a woman in a fitted suit jacket with a pencil skirt is staring down at me with her arms crossed. “Uh yeah?” I reply in a confused tone. “I’m gonna need you to come with me please.” She states.

“Okay.. where are we going?” I ask slowly. “The Principal’s office, an anonymous note has told us something we need to talk to you about.” She keeps her eyes forward as she walks quickly ahead. Oh fuck.. this isn’t about what happened at break? Nobody else was in there nobody could’ve heard us, or seen us..

“Everything alright Mr Sturniolo?” She doesn’t look back. “Oh, yeah.. call me Chris if you want.” I try to soften the tone in the air. “No.. I keep it professional.” We arrive at the Principals door and she opens it.

“Hello Christopher.” The principal smiles softly before dropping it. “Take a seat.. thank you Andrea.” The lady leaves the room. “Why am I in here?” I ask, trying to play dumb. “Do you value your job Mr Sturniolo?” He leans on the desk and peers at me from above his glasses. “Yeah of course, I love my job.” I smile.

“Do you respect the workplace and its rules and guidelines?” He asks again staring into my eyes. “Yes I do.” I nod, he grabs something from his drawer and places it in front of me. A mirror. “You seem to have a little.. a lot of things on your neck, do you not?” I look in the mirror at my neck, which is plastered in hickies.

My face drops, “Oh uh.. I had my girlfriend over last night I didn’t know-” I start to explain.. lying obviously. “It’s okay Mr Sturniolo, I don’t need personal details but make sure to cover it up, this is a first warning so you aren’t in trouble.” He smiles softly.

I sigh softly, “I’m sorry.” I scratch the back of my head, “it’s alright, us men like our women but sometimes we have to hide it.” He chuckles and I awkwardly chuckle back. I get up to leave and the principal gives me a little wave. I quickly rush back to the gym and throw on my jacket, which almost covers all of the marks.

It’ll have to do.

Y/n’s POV

I pack up my stuff and leave the sociology classroom, “I fell asleep.” Lizzy smiles as we walk to the exit. “Really? I couldn’t tell.” I sarcastically joke, she let out a few snores causing people around her to laugh. “Did I snore loudly?” She asks nervously, “meh, it was like semi loud.” I laugh and she groans in embarrassment.

“Right I gotta go, my mom needs me,” Lizzy rolls her eyes, “my aunt and uncle are visiting.” She sighs. “Does that mean?” I start to say but she finishes my sentence. “My annoying little cousin is here too.”

Lizzys cousin Theo is like 10 years old and the most annoying kid ever, he will tell his parents any gossip Lizzy says while she’s on the phone, he will constantly go through her stuff and he told Liz’s mom about my secret boyfriend 2 years ago and then my dad found out.. wasn’t fun.

I start to walk home as I get a text from Matt. “I have 2 hours where Chris and Nick aren’t here, at 5. Come over.” I smile and reply, “okayy.” I put my phone away and start to walk home faster. I hear footsteps running behind me, Mason. “Hey.” He smiles, breathing heavily. “How far did you run?” I laugh slightly.

“Just from the bench down there to.. here.” His cheeks are slightly flushed. “I thought you were an athlete, how are you out of breath from that?” I scoff. “I am an athlete y/n, I just didn’t stretch.” He rolls his eyes. “Why are you walking with me?” I ask him, raising an eyebrow. “Oh I am meeting my friends this way to walk home.”

“What are you doing in like an hour?” He asks me, breaking the silence. I look up at him with confusion. “Why?” I hesitantly ask. “I dunno if you wanna like get coffee or something.” He shrugs. He’s got nice intentions but no.

“I’m busy sorry.” I sigh, trying to act sympathetic. “Oh.. no worries, it was worth asking.” He smiles. About 10 minutes pass and I’m about to turn down my street, “I thought you were meeting your friends?” I tilt my head, “yeah I am, in the field down there.” He points down the main road and smiles softly. “Oh okay, this is my street so I’ll see ya.” I smile back.

“Bye y/n!” He calls as I walk away. He’s a sweet person but I just can’t find him attractive, hopefully he finds someone else to like. I walk through my front door to see my dad laying on the couch with a Pepsi in his hand watching sports or something. “Hey dad.” I smile, “hey pumpkin, how was your day?”

Pumpkin is the nickname he’s called me for the past 12 years, because when I was 6 around Halloween we went to a pumpkin patch with mom and I was running and fell face first into a pile of pumpkins and it went all over me. I cried but he thought it was funny to call me pumpkin after that. Now I find it a sweet nickname but I hated it when I was a kid.

“It was okay, I’m going out in like an hour.” I tell him, he nods. “No worries, stay safe though.” I walk upstairs to my bedroom and lay on my bed, spreading my limbs out on it. I take a deep breath before going in the shower.

After my shower I dry my hair and get dressed into a basic fit, I want to be comfy bc I know what’s gonna go down. I do some makeup, not too much, and I go downstairs to leave. “Bye dad!” I call as I leave, “see you later y/n!” I hear from the kitchen. I walk to his house, as it’s only 15 minute walk away, although last time I took a cab.

I finally arrive at Matts house and I see the expensive car is gone. I knock the door hoping Chris and Nick are not there. Luckily Matt opens in and smiles when he sees me, “I’m guessing either Nick or Chris drive the Porsche?” I smirk, “yeah Chris spent a stupid amount of money on it, I drive it sometimes too.” He explains as we walk in.

We sit on the couch, “Deja vu.” I laugh softly, “yeah, except this time I won’t freak out.” He chuckles, “prove it.” I taunt him with a smirk, he tilts his head and grins before leaning in and kissing me, this time feels more passionate.

His hand finds place at the back of my head and the other one on my thigh. My hands entangle in his hair as he pushes me back on the couch slightly, deepening the kiss. His tongue explores my mouth and I let out a soft moan as his hand rubs my upper thigh. He breaks the kiss partially to say something.

“Let’s go upstairs, don’t wanna make a mess on my couch.” He breathes out. I nod and go to stand up but he picks me up like a princess and carries me up the stairs, walking into his room which has a comforting vibe to it. Before I can take it all in he throws me down onto the satin sheets.

“Bet Chris didn’t do this did he?” Matt smirks as he slides my shorts off pulling me to the edge of the bed. “No, it was different because he had to stand and hold me the whole ti-” I start speaking but Matts hand covers my mouth. “I don’t need to hear how my brother fucked you okay?” He looks at me before removing my panties quickly.

He kneels at the end of the bed, his hot breath fanning against my inner thigh as he moves my legs onto his shoulders. “Gonna make you feel good, treat you for being such a good girl in class.” He peppers kisses along my thighs closer and closer to my heat as I squirm. I can’t believe I’m actually doing this with him, he’s had a change of heart now that he knows Chris fucked me first. He’s gonna make this a competition between them I know it.

He starts to kitten lick my folds to tease me, I whine pushing towards him for more. He grabs my hip with one hand, pushing it against the bed to stop me moving. Without warning he dips his tongue inside of me before swirling it around my clit. My back arches off the bed as I moan out.

He grabs both my thighs and pulls me closer, his tongue lapping at my heat. “Fuck Matt..” my hands travel down to his hair as I grip it tightly. He continues to swish and swirl his tongue around me, occasionally dipping it into me causing my back to arch and my grip on his hair to tighten.

“Matt.. I can’t.. I’m gonna cum.. please..” I whimper as his pace doesn’t slow. He hums against me, the vibration hitting my clit in the right way which results in me reaching my high and coming undone. He licks up the rest of my arousal before bringing his face up towards me, I wipe the sweat off of my forehead and breathe heavily.

He leans to kiss me, my arousal still on his chin and I turn my head away, “wipe that off ya lips before kissing me.” I chuckle softly, “you don’t wanna taste yourself? Hm?” He continues to try and put his face by mine, teasing and joking around. “Definitely not, it’s gross.” I squirm, “I disagree, I could have my head between your thighs every day.” He smirks, lifting his shirt to wipe the arousal from his mouth.

“Will you kiss me now?” He grabs my cheeks and brings my face to face his. I nod and he pushes his lips to mine his tongue instantly exploring my mouth, I bite his lip softly and he groans. “Fuck I need you.. to feel you.” He whispers lowly. “Please do..” I whine softly, “You’re gonna take it like the good girl you are.. yeah?” He asks, looking me in the eyes with lust.

“Yes.. of course.. definitely.. I will.” I speak rapidly, needing to feel him inside of my walls. He starts to unbuckle his belt, not breaking the eye contact. He begins to pull down his pants but then.. Slam.

Both of us look towards the bedroom door and back at eachother, “that was a car door right?” I whisper and Matt nods, he checks his watch. “It’s 6pm they said they’d be back at 7.. shit.” He re does his pants back up and I sit up, “get your clothes on.” He throws my panties and shorts at me. His entire tone and body language has changed and now it’s more tense.

“Jeez okay..” I put my clothes back on, I feel gross he didn’t clean me up or anything but I can’t go to the bathroom because they’re home. “What do I do?” I whisper, “just shut up a sec okay?” He snaps, “oh.” I sigh and sit back on the bed. “Matt?” I hear Chris call from downstairs, “stay here.” He spoke softly and I nod, “good girl.” He mumbles before leaving the room and closing it behind me.

I grab my phone from his dresser and open it, 4 missed calls from Lizzy? What the fuck? I text Lizzy, “hey everything okay?” She replies almost instantly, “No. But it’s fine now, no thanks to you though.” Fuck. “I’m pretty busy right now Liz I’m sorry.” I would help her right now but I don’t know what’s happening with me and Matt.

She leaves me on opened. Great, I don’t even know what’s happening or what her problem is. Matt comes back in and grabs my arm, quickly leading me downstairs and through the front door, “see you on Monday.” He whispers flicking his hand so I leave shutting the door behind me. So rude, I thought he was actually giving a fuck about me. It’s raining too, I’m gonna get hypothermia.

I turn to walk down the street away from his house and I hear someone call my name, I look up quickly to see.. Chris?? “Y/n? Why are you by my house?” He asks walking closer, my eyes widen in fear. “Uh.. I was.. fuck, I don’t know.” I lie looking down at my feet. “You stalking me?” He chuckles, I laugh lightly and shake my head.

“No, not that.” I sigh, “it’s cold and raining, you wanna come in for a warm drink or something?” He smiles lightly, I can’t go back in there especially if I just got kicked out by Matt. I thought Chris got home with Nick? “I can’t sorry, I’m going home.” I smile softly, “oh okay.” He looks disappointed. “You were in my house weren’t you?” He steps closer so we are inches apart.

“What no! Why would I be-” I go to like but he cuts me off, “you were with Matt. I know because I heard you shuffling around upstairs when he came downstairs to greet us.” He spoke sternly. “If you were inside then how are you out here?” I ask, looking up at him. “I watched you leave from my bedroom window, then I snuck downstairs and got out quickly to see you.” He sighs.

“So you were stalking me?” I chuckle, “you were the one inside of my house,” he laughs softly, “about that, what were you and Matt doing?” He asks me, but I know he knows the answer. I tilt my head at him, “we didn’t fuck.” I cross my arms, “I never said you did.” He smirks, “I’d rather not go into details.” I scoff.

“Mhm, he wouldn’t have been able to fuck you as good as I can.. right?” He leans down slightly and I shrug. “Right?” He asks again more aggressively. I smirk, “sure whatever you want to believe.” I go to turn around to walk away. “Let me drive you home, you’re gonna get wet ma.” The nickname causes me to turn quickly, “I already am.” I smirk, “in what way?” He tilts his head.

“Not the way you’re thinking, that’s inappropriate Mr Sturniolo.” I bite my lip lightly, “I’ll bring my car around, so Matt doesn’t see you.” He nods and rushes around the corner, the tension was so strong but the rain is getting worse I can’t think about anything other than my hands freezing off. The Porsche drives around the corner and pulls up, I open the passenger door and get in.

“Thanks.” I breathe out, he presses the seat heaters on and leans in the seat behind him and pulls out one of his jackets. “Put that on, you should wear it to school on Monday.” He smirks, “it’s a college not a school.” I scoff, “same thing, and I can take the jacket back if you’re gonna be ungrateful.” He looks at me before laughing slightly.

“You know.. I should be mad that you were with my brother but for some reason, I don’t give a shit.” He adds, turning on music, “Maybe it’s because you’ve got a bigger-” I stop myself, “a bigger??” He asks, “Ego.” I huff. “Sure, sure.” He smiles.

He pulls over for a moment “Wait where do you live? I just realised I don’t know where I’m going.” He looks at me, “we don’t need to go to my house right now.” I grin, “what’re you thinking?” He tilts his head, “I think we should go for a drive and chill out.” I smile.

“Does chilling out include you riding me in the backseat or..” he laughs and I do too, “Chris!” I say and pause for a moment. “Maybe.. just keep driving.” I add. He smiles widely and starts to drive again..

A/n: I haven’t written this in a while but omg I’m excited to continue, I’m pretty busy with school atm but I will try to update asap. Also sorry for edging y’all with this.. why am I kinda team Chris tho 😖 and Matt is kinda an asshole sorry not sorry

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