#but like. imagine having a parent who refuses to fucking talk to you in your own fucking house

[camgoloud]

he still has his tonsils. by the way if you even care

[moe-broey]

FUCK YOUR FATHER FUCK YOUR FATHER FUVK YOUR FATHWR FU--

[neimaami]

You dream about me? (M)

SYNOPSIS: Jungkook takes you out to eat...except food isn't the only thing he's having tonight. aka, he fucks you against his bike :)

WARNINGS : SMUT, unprotected sex (this is purely fantasy! I condone safe sex), dirty talk, titty sucking, fingering, multiple orgasms, JK pretending he's a bad boy but he's actually a sweetheart, FLUFF, non-establish relationship, friends to lovers (?)

word count: 5.3k

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Your usually neat and respectable bedroom was an absolute disaster. 

The one thing your parents had drilled into your head, over and over again since the moment you were born—was how to behave like a woman. You had old parents. A mother and father who were two whole generations behind yours. Parents with mindsets set in stone—unchanging, no matter what. It wasn’t exactly torture growing up with them, but it did come with a whole lot of expectations—ones that no longer fit into modern day society.

One of them being, ‘a lady should have a clean room no matter what, in order to appear civilised and educated’ two words come to mind - fuck that. You were a woman through and through, whether your room was in pristine condition, or if your room looked like a pig sty, which was currently the latter. Putting together an outfit you never imagined yourself wearing wasn’t easy—especially one that went against everything you’d been taught. So why did something so wrong feel so damn good? 

Usually, your closet was full of bright, pastel colours, ones that rightfully represented your outgoing and bubbly personality. Even though most of your articles of clothing were picked out by your mother, somehow your tastes aligned…for the most part. Sometimes she’d show up with a shopping bag full of crocheted ponchos and actually expected you to wear them. That is one thing you refused to wear - ponchos. They were unflattering, baggy, uncomfortable, hideous even - and they hid everything you had going for yourself. 

Ponchos? A big no.

This time you were in search of clothing on the complete opposite side of the spectrum. Jungkook had invited you to go out to a diner with him. You weren’t exactly sure what it entailed, he didn’t specify, but in your mind it was a date, at least it’s what you hoped it was. You wanted to impress him above all else, you wanted a jaw dropping, show stopping outfit that would land you in his bed - tonight. Thinking back on all the times you had spent in Jungkook’s company, you had learned that his usual attire consists of black leather and worn out jeans. Even though you were sure he’d tease you relentlessly for ‘stealing his lingo’ as he likes to call it, you wanted a change. You used Jungkook’s name as an excuse, because truthfully, for the longest time, you have wanted to break this continuous cycle of being a notorious rule-follower. Even if it was as silly, as simple as an outfit change, it was a step in the right direction. One that you wanted to - no, needed to go in.

As you rummage through options on the floor, you feel your phone buzz in the back pocket of your sweatpants. You reach behind you and drop your gaze to the home screen of your iphone. Your heart races in your chest at the sight of the contact name; there is a singular text message from Jungkook: 

omw princess, wear something sexy for me, yeah? ;)

Oh sexy you’ll give him, alright. Then the words ‘on my way’ dawn on you and realisation strikes you. Shit, you hadn’t even picked out an outfit, let alone showered and done your makeup. Thankfully you had already picked out 3 suitable options for clothes and had tried them on countless times. The hardest part was picking out which one out of the three was best. But you didn’t have time to dwell on the options, Jungkook would be showing up at any second. 

“Arlight, let’s do this shit.” You mutter under your breath, walking over to your messy bed and eyeing the three options wearily. It was almost embarrassing how seriously you were taking this - especially for someone who you weren’t even dating, but alas, this was Jungkook, the hottest man you have ever had the privilege of seeing. Your hand instinctively reaches out for option 2. The outfit consisted of small leather shorts that stopped just below your ass, and a tight, below the shoulder black top.

The moment you step foot outside, a chilly breeze greeted you—not surprising for 8:35 PM. You muttered a curse under your breath, annoyed at yourself for forgetting a jacket. As you walked down the pavement and rounded the corner of your apartment building toward the parking lot, your eyes landed on Jungkook. Leaned back against his sleek black motorcycle, he looked as sexy as ever. His black hair pushed back, tattoos giving him that edgy look craved to want. You caught the slight raise of his eyebrows, surprise evident as you approached.

He lets out a low whistle, straightening up and taking a slow, deliberate step forward. “Fuck…look at you.” He drags his eyes over your figure, desire simmering beneath his gaze, a look so intense that it sets your whole body on fire. With a flick of his fingers, he tosses the cigarette onto the gravel, embers glowing for a fleeting moment before fading. “Are you trying to impress me, baby?” His lips curl up into a cocky smirk, taking yet another step forward - his chest grazing against yours. 

“Depends…did I succeed?” He hums in response, reaching out to grip your hips with his big hands and pulling you further against his chest. You couldn’t help but admire the colorful, intricate designs of his tattoos covering his left arm, it made you want to trace them with the tip of your fingers. They especially popped under the soft glow of the moonlight. You remember him mentioning how he was going to get them re-colored - and by the looks of it he has. The parking lot was relatively quiet, with only a few people locking their car doors before heading out.

“I don’t think I’ll be able to concentrate on anything tonight with you looking like this” Your heart flutters at his words. It’s almost laughable how just a few sweet words from the man in front of you can stir such strong reactions from your body. His thumbs run smooth circles on the small strip of skin between the hem of your top and the waistband of your leather shorts. 

“Maybe that was the goal” You flirt with a teasing smile, your hands run over his arms, feeling the way his muscles ripple beneath the palm of your hands. He wore his usual white wife beater - it was skin tight and displayed his bulky stature perfectly. He lets out a raspy chuckle, leaning in to press a featherly light kiss to your cheek, his lips barely grazing the warmth of your skin.

“Yeah?” He smirks against your cheek “you wanted me to look at you, didn’t you baby? To notice you…” He lifts his head up to meet your gaze, one of his hands reaching out to softly grip your chin - forcing your eyes to lock on his. He lets his gaze wander over your face tentatively, noting the way your cheeks flushed a deeper shade of pink. He was definitely making a mental note of this moment. It made his smirk widen, a hint of cockiness pooling within the depths of his eyes. “Well I see you…here, in my thoughts, in my dreams…” His voice is low and sultry, using his thumb to pull down on your bottom lip. At this rate you weren’t sure if the both of you would be making it to the diner.  

“You dream about me?” you whisper - eyes wide and shining under the moonlight, you press a light kiss to the tip of his thumb, all while your eyes are locked on his. The cocky smirk on his lips falters slightly at your action. His eyes intensify, boring deeply into yours. Your breath catches in your throat as the world around you stills. But it’s gone as quickly as it came, his cocky, playful side coming back out.

“I jerk off to you too” He smirks and shoots you a wink, clearly feeling very proud of his quick wit. You groan in annoyance and take a step back, crossing your arms over your chest. Slightly disappointed. 

“You ruined the moment” You complain, to which he lets out a boisterous laugh, his bunny teeth coming to view. The sight alone momentarily distracts you from any frustration you had been feeling. 

“Come on, let’s get out of here, princess…” He wraps a hand around your wrist, fingers curling against your pulse point, as he tugged you towards his motorcycle. That darn motorcycle, you were afraid he’d choose that piece of machinery over you one day. You couldn’t help but think back to the day where he so trustingly gave you permission to drive his motorcycle around the block of his apartment. He had been a nervous wreck, babbling on and on about how you should be careful, that if you got so much as a scratch on the paint he’d kill you. It wasn’t your first time driving a motorcycle, so you had somewhat of an experience, you weren’t blindly going at it - which had given him a sense of relief. Still, Jungkook remained a nervous wreck, his chest had pressed against your back as he hovered his hands over the handlebars of the motorcycle…just in case. You smile at the fond memory.

He grips your hips and lifts you up to straddle the leather seat of the machinery, before swinging his own leg over the seat. He hands you one of the protective helmets.

“You okay to put this on? Or do you need help?” He says as he reaches out for his own helmet. You roll your eyes and successfully tug the helmet on and tighten the strap beneath your chin.

“I’m not a child, kook. I know how to put on a damn helmet.” He shoots you a smile over his shoulder, not at all phased by your remark. The dimple on his left cheek popped out momentarily. Your heart races in your chest.

“Sass. That’s what I get for trying to be a gentleman.” He scoffs as he successfully puts on his helmet and revs up the motorcycle.

You snort and wrap your arms around his waist, scooting forward on the leather seat to press your chest against his muscular back. “The last word I’d use to describe you is ‘gentleman.’” It was a teasing jab, no real cruelty behind your words. 

“I never said I was, I said I’m trying to be.” With that he kicks up the stand. You tighten your arms around his waist instinctively, it was always quite nerve wracking sitting on the back of Jungkook’s motorcycle - he was unpredictable in more ways than one. The tires crunch against the gravel as he eases out of the parking lot, the streetlights casting fleeting shadows over his sharp features. Then, with a smooth twist of the wrist, he takes off, the wind whipping past you as the city blurs into streaks of neon and asphalt.

₊˚ ‿︵‿︵‿︵୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿︵‿︵ ˚₊

“You drive me crazy-” Jungkook rasps out, his breath fanning across the shell of your ear. “Can’t get enough of you…” His hands reach down to grip the back of your thighs, arms flexing as he hoists you up effortlessly and walks all the way back towards his motorcycle. He wastes no time latching his lips onto the side of your neck, sucking deep dark, purple marks. You were a whimpering mess against him, your hands gripping onto his shoulders for dear life, your legs tightening around his waist. You didn’t even care for the fact that the two of you were just about done exiting the diner, that the owner could catch you both if he so much as looked out the big windows. Apart from him, the parking lot of the Diner was empty, the two of you had been the only ones left inside.

The date had gone better than expected, you laughed, talked, kissed, but the both of you didn’t last much longer - couldn’t last much longer. The long gazes, the lingering touches, it was becoming all too much to handle. Jungkook had treated you like a princess all night, not that you were surprised. From the moment you met Jungkook a couple of months back, you have always had an inkling feeling that Jungkook wasn’t this ‘badboy’ everyone said he was. Not with the way his doe-eyes shone big and wide as they looked into yours, head nodding with each word you spoke. You didn’t expect the way he treated you so delicately, so softly, like you might break if he said the wrong thing, touched you the wrong way…He truly was a gentleman, no matter what others may come to believe. Or maybe, just maybe, he was this way with you, and only with you. 

He sets you down onto the leather seat of his black motorcycle. His hands squeeze the muscles of your thighs as he settles his body between your spread legs. His chest molds against yours - His growing erection pressing directly against your clothed clit. You bite your lip to stop the moan threatening to spill from your lips. You tighten the grip of your hands on his shoulders. He couldn’t help but let out a low groan as he started to grind his hardened cock against you. The tight confines of his jeans were starting to feel like torture. The friction was so delicious it made your brain turn to mush. You spread your legs even further, bucking your hips up to grind your hips against his, as a result he throws his head back in a deep, drawled out moan. His eyebrows furrowed in pleasure. Your heart stops in your chest at the unforgettable sight. This man was going to be the death of you. 

“Fuck…you’re gonna make me cum in my pants if you keep doing that” He rasps out, his hands moving up your body to grip your tits over the black top you wore, giving the mounds a good, rough squeeze - Your strangled moan echoes across the empty parking lot. With gritted teeth and a clenched jaw, Jungkook tugs the material down your arms, letting the fabric pool against your waist. You shiver  when the cool air hits your newly exposed skin, nipples pebbling against the fabric of your bra. 

“J-Jungkook…we’re still outside…” You remind him nervously, taking a quick peek behind his shoulder for any living soul. He doesn’t seem to even acknowledge your words - his hand already sliding around your body to toy with the clasp of your bra. He cursed under his breath as he struggled against it for a couple of seconds. You couldn’t help but let out a giggle to, which he shoots you a glare before the bra successfully unclasps. The cool air of the night only serves to send a shiver down your spine. 

“Relax, there’s nobody here…” When your bra falls to the dusty ground, he leans in to capture one of your rosy nipples into his mouth. Your brain is suddenly too fuzzy to even remember what you were worrying about as you felt his tongue on your skin. His hands gripped your waist tightly, pushing your tits even further against his face. You reach out to thread your fingers against his black locks, giving it a rough tug as his tongue swirls around your sensitive nub - teeth grazing against it. 

“Hmmph…Kook…” You moan out breathlessly, your hips moving on their own accord against his growing erection. He releases your nipple with a small ‘pop’, a string of saliva connects your nipple to his lips before it breaks. He stands up straight, looming over your smaller frame. 

“You’re so fucking sexy, you know that?” His breath comes out slightly ragged, his hooded eyes darkening at the sight of your reddened cheeks. “So sensitive…I love it when you blush for me.” He whispers under his breath, thumbs brushing over your sensitive nipples, taking a couple seconds to admire the way your tits rose with every breath you took.

“Touch me kook…” You whimper, hands desperately reaching out to grip the waistband of his jeans and giving it a good tug towards you. He’s impossibly close now, his pelvis pressing tightly against yours. Gripping the back of your thighs, Jungkook forces them to wrap around his slim waist. “Or are you all talk no bite?” You challenge, to which he raises a brow - surprised at your sudden confidence, A smirk tugging at his lips. He leans down, breath fanning across the shell of your ear.

“Oh I’ll touch you alright, maybe even fuck the attitude right out of you while I’m at it.” He releases his grip on your breasts, settling them against the cool leather of his bike instead. He grips the edge of the seat, one arm on either side of your body, caging you in. His face was now inches away from yours. “Is that what you want, baby girl?” He whispers huskily “Does the princess need a good, rough fuck?”

Your cheeks bloom at his lewd words, the palm of your hands already feeling clammy with sweat. You could only nod dumbly, your eyes shining with pure, unadulterated lust. This man could so easily reduce you to something resembling a brainless zombie. He lets out a dark chuckle, the deep sound sends a fresh wave of heat coursing through your body. “So eager” He hums, leaning in and placing his lips on your uncharacteristically softly. You moan against the warm, soft, pillowy lips, his teeth grazing your bottom lips enough to where your breath hitches in your throat. His big hand cups the side of your face, tilting it slightly to the right as he deepens the kiss. His tongue sliding against yours naturally. It felt so right, so good. He suckles on your bottom lip before pulling away.

“Tell me baby, what is it you need from me, hm?” His voice is a breathless whisper, grinding back against the heat of your core that pressed intently against his painfully hardened cock. One of his hands travels between your bodies, to cup your pussy over the leather of your shorts, the palm of his hand grazing over your clothed clit. You could only gasp at the feeling, the warmth of his skin seeping through the fabric.. His lips continue their torturous graze across the skin of your neck. “Want me to taste this sweet pussy? Maybe use my fingers on you?...” 

You shake your head, your arms shooting out to grip his biceps. He pulls back with a tilt of his head “No?” He questions, his eyebrows slightly furrowed in confusion. Had he done something wrong? Maybe he had misread the situation? He pulled his hand away in case you were second guessing yourself.

“I don’t want to wait.” You reach out to pull his hand back, the other already reaching down to toy with the button of his jeans, he quickly captures your wrist in his hand, pulling it away from where he needed you most. “Wha-” You look up at him in confusion.

“I don’t want to hurt you” His eyes softened ever so slightly, and you couldn’t help but feel a pang in your chest at the sight. “I’m not exactly…small.” He could have easily said that for an ego boost, but looking deeply into his eyes you could tell this wasn’t the case, all you could see was concern…care. 

“I’m not a virgin, Jungkook.” You argue back, mind still fuzzy from lust, clearly not reading the situation or reacting to it as you probably should have. Using your other hand, you reach out to toy with the button of his jeans impatiently, successfully undoing it. He shakes his head, face scowling in disagreement as he captures your other wrist in hand, gripping them in one of his large hands.

“That doesn’t matter.” His voice comes out slightly frustrated, but mostly caring, he releases your wrists to grip your waist instead, pulling your chest to his. “Just because you’ve had sex before doesn’t mean you don’t need the proper foreplay-” 

“But I’m so wet for you, kook…” You whimper.

That makes Jungkook short-circuit. He swears he almost came in his pants.

With not so much as a word he pulls the zipper of his jeans down enough to where the fabric pools down to his ankles, leaving him in his white wife beater and tight boxer briefs. “You’re positive?” He eyes you wearily, eyes raking your face for any sign of regret or reluctance.

You gave him a reassuring smile and nodded “Positive.” You promise. “Just please…touch me kook, I don’t think I can wait much longer…” desperation was evident in your voice as your hands raked your nails down his back. He visibly shudders at the feeling.

“Fuck…you’re going to be the death of me” He groans, pulling the waistband of his boxers down enough so that his cock sprung free. Your breath gets caught in your throat. He wasn’t lying, he was huge. His cock was girthy, long and had veins running up the base. You could see the way it shot straight up, slapping against his abdomen. The tip is bright pink, shining with beads of pre-cum that slid down to lube his shaft. You gulp.

“You okay?” He asked in concern, reaching out to cup the side of your cheek, thumb rubbing smooth circles against your skin.

“Y-yeah…on second thought…maybe I do need the foreplay…” You bite your lip nervously, slightly embarrassed - you take in the way he let out a breathless chuckle. He reaches down to unbutton your leather shorts, you raise your hips off the leather seat of his motorcycle to help him slide them off. He easily slides them down the expanse of your legs, placing the material across the leather seat - not much could be said for your bra. 

“What do you need?” It was a simple question really, but your mind was going miles per hour. Too unfocused for coherent thoughts. He decides for you, slipping his fingers into the waistband of your panties as his fingers graze over your slick folds. You let out a shuddering breath. He leans his free hand back down against the leather of his bike, pressing his chest to yours as he rubs your clit in deliberate circles. The calloused pads of his fingers run up and down against your slit, coating them in your wetness before circling your entrance. His eyes remain locked onto your face at all times, searching for any signs of discomfort.

“Please…” Your eyes flutter closed, voice coming out in a breathy whisper, almost inaudible…but he heard it - oh he heard it alright. His cock pulsed painfully in his jeans. He began to slip two of his fingers inside you, hissing at the way your walls tightened around them. He easily glided them knuckles deep inside you. You were so damn wet there was practically no friction.

“So tight…” He rasped, slowly starting to pump his thick fingers in and out of you. His fingers curled and motioned a ‘come here’ sign. You shudder at the feeling, letting out a small, breathless moan against the side of his neck. Your right hand comes up to cradle the side of his cheek, pressing your lips against the side of his face. Your warm breathy pants fanned his scorching skin.

“That’s it baby” He coos, his fingers working even faster inside you, watching transfixed at the way your face morphed into one of pleasure. The tips of his fingers curl to find that spongey, soft area inside you, the area to which he begins to slam his fingers against, over and over again. You let out a surprised sound, a loud moan tearing from your throat as he begins to part his fingers in opposite directions, scissoring your pussy open, stretching you out for what was to come. “You’re so fucking wet…all for me, isn’t that right?” His voice dripped with oozing confidence and overpowering lust. His fingers only picked up the pace while his thumb worked in tangent, applying just enough pressure to your clit that leaves you a whimpering, moaning mess. The parking lot was still empty, still dark, the two of you caught up in your own little bubble.

“Ohh my…oh god-” You gasp, throwing your head back, his eyes narrowing to the sensitive skin of your neck to which he takes the opportunity to latch his lips against, sucking even more deep, purple marks. His breath hitches when he feels your velvety walls clamping down against his fingers, your hands were a scrambling mess against his body. Gripping his hair, shirt, wrist, arms…anywhere you could latch onto, bracing yourself. 

“That’s it pretty girl, that’s it…let go for me princess” His deep voice encourages, leaning down to crash his lips to yours in a sloppy kiss, his tongue swirling against yours. You hum into the kiss, your body trembling against his as you feel the growing burn in your lower abdomen. His lips against yours muffle the moans that threaten to spill as your orgasm finally crashes over you. The hand gripping onto his hair only tightened as your eyes rolled back in your head, your pussy spasmed around his fingers. He pulls back just enough to see your face contorted in pleasure, he groans at the sight. 

“Fuck yes, so sexy baby” He slurs, his eyes dark and hooded as he slows down the frantic movement of his fingers, helping you ride out your mind-blowing orgasm. When your breath calms down he extracts his fingers from inside you, bringing them up to his mouth for a taste. Your cheeks redden at the site of his tongue swirling around his coated fingers. He hums deeply at the taste before pulling his fingers out from between his lips and crashing them against yours. “I can’t wait-” His voice was muffled against your lips, reaching down to give his painfully hard cock a couple of fast strokes. 

  He stands up straight, gripping the back of your thighs and using his strength to manhandle you, scooting you towards the edge of the seat. He brings your thighs towards your chest, tapping the back of them. You reach down to grip the back of your thighs.

 “I’ve got you, baby” He says through ragged breaths, his eyes filled with lust - one of his hands gripping your hip, the other gripping the base of his cock as he slaps it against your slick folds. You moan at the lewd slapping sound. “You’re on birth control, yeah?” He pauses, eyes on yours.

When you nod he groans and presses the tip of his cock against your entrance. He let out a shaky moan before pushing inside. The initial stretch is a lot, almost painful as your nails dig into the skin of your thighs. His grip on your hips tighten as he lets out a whimper. Your whole body shudders at the sound. Never in a million years would you think Jeon Jungkook was the type to whimper. 

“Ssooo…” He hisses, shuddering as he bottoms out inside you. “Tightest pussy ever.” He strains, a vein popping out from the side of his neck, chest rising and falling rapidly. His hooded eyes locked onto where the both of you were connected. “Can I…?” 

“Please” You breath out impatiently. He pulls back just enough to leave the tip inside before slamming back down against you, taking you to the hilt once again. He throws his head back in pleasure, eyes shuttering closed. 

“Oh fuck-” He chokes “I’m gonna…” He bites his lip, stilling his cock inside you, the grip on your hips tightened. Your eyes widen at the implications of his words.

“W-we can take a break, kook” You let go of the back of your thighs and circle them around his waist instead, reaching out to wrap your arms around his broad shoulders. He leans his forehead against yours as he shakes his head. 

“Shut up-” He growls in frustration and embarrassment, a pretty pink blooming across his cheeks. His hands snake around your body to grip the globes of your ass. You let out a strangled moan as he uses his grip as leverage, slamming his cock inside you in fast, rough thrusts. He groans against the side of your neck, nuzzling his nose against your cheek as one of his hands lets go of your ass and grips your thigh instead. He throws it over the crease of his elbow before leaning his hand back against the edge of the leather seat. His hips never faltered their relentless pace.

“Oh Jungkook!” You cry out in ecstasy, your fingers digging into the skin of his back, clutching onto his wife beater for dear life. He nips the lobe of your ear, teeth grazing against the skin,  only further igniting the assault on your senses. The cool air around you only dropped in temperature the darker it got. It was practically pitch black except for the singular street light which lit up just a small circle of concrete below it. The diner lights closed, the both of you completely isolated in the public parking lot. 

The sound of skin slapping against skin echoed throughout the empty lot, except for the moans and groans spilling from both your lips, lost in the throes of passion. His lips were on yours, silencing your needy whimpers as he picked up the pace of his thrusts, his balls slapping against your ass. He groaned deeply against your lips as he felt you tighten around him, your walls squeezing him so hard his hips stuttered. He pulls back from the sloppy kiss, his nose brushing against yours with each thrust of his hips. “You gonna cum for me, pretty girl?” His voice comes out ragged and out of breath, eyes hooded and dark. You nod through heavy pants.

He reaches down to rub fast, hard circles on your clit, adding just enough pressure to drive you insane. With a last shuddering whimper, the second orgasm of the night washed over you, coating his cock with your juices. He let out a strangled moan at the feeling of your juices dripping down his shaft and onto his balls. With a couple more deep, hard thrusts, he pulls out with a reluctant groan. He fists his cock in his hand, throwing his head back as he strokes it hard and fast. Spurts upon spurts of thick, hot cum land on your bare tits, some on the black top that was still bunched up around your waist. Jungkook looked like he was in pain - in the best way possible. His head was thrown back, his eyebrows furrowed and his lips slightly ajar.

As both of your orgasms start to subside, he pants and gives you a one-over. A goofy grin broke onto his face. You couldn’t help but smile back. “What is it?” You giggle breathlessly.

“Oh nothing…” He shrugged, reaching down to grab your bra, using his hand to remove the dust as he handed it to you. As you take the bra you raise a brow at him suspiciously. He reaches down to pull up his boxers, tucking his softening cock back inside. He then adjusts his baggy jeans into place. He reaches down into one of the pockets to hand you a kleenex packet. You gratefully take it and start to wipe yourself clean before clasping your bra in place. 

“Tell me.” You press even further, sliding your hands into the sleeves of your black top before hopping off the bike, the gravel of the parking lot crunching underneath your black boots. You quickly put on your leather shorts. He takes a step forward, reaching out to wrap his arms around your waist, pulling your back against his chest. 

“After that…I don’t think I’ll ever get enough of you” His teeth grazed against the lobe of your ear, sending shivers down your spine. “You’re mine now, baby.” He presses a soft kiss to your cheek. “My girl.” 

[rafesangelita]

♡ when a double date with rafe leads to him feeling a sense of familiarity + you may have revealed your biggest secret yet..

warnings: mean!rafe. enemies to ???, suggestive language, lots of cussing lol, slight angst, mild sexting, light degradation (reader and rafe just like being snarky towards each other), sexual tension, flirty banter (?), slight arguing

a/n: this is part two of this fic right here! if you’d like to be added to the taglist just comment on this post or leave me an ask <3 i do plan to write three more parts to this!

links: previous | next | mini series masterlist

wc: 2.9k

[1:19 AM] countryclub: we have the same area code.

you felt cold sheer panic run through your veins at the revelation, your heart beating in your ears as you kept rereading his message. you refused to believe what he said to be true. this couldn’t be happening. sharing the same area code could only mean one thing— both of you resided on the island.

sure, the island was small, but it couldn’t be that small.. right? your mind was reeling, everything that you two had talked about, the pictures that you two shared, over the last few months ran through your mind at lightning speed. tossing your phone to the side, you rested your head in your hands, trying your best to piece something, anything, together. this mystery man didn’t talk like anyone you knew, or so you thought. you chewed on your bottom lip, your chest rising and falling as you realized that you hadn’t even confirmed if you two shared the same area code. for all you know he could just be making up some lame excuse for leaving you high and dry.

yeah, that had to be it.

[1:33 AM] brattydiaries: fuck you. i don’t believe that.

[1:35 AM] brattydiaries: i don’t need you to come up with some elaborate lie in order to spare my feelings. if you weren’t serious about reaching out to me in the first place, then you shouldn’t have asked for my number.

rafe was pacing back and forth in his room, the taste of tequila from his earlier activities still lingering on his tongue. he scoffed once your messages came in, his eyes narrowing at his screen as he scratched the back of his neck. insinuating that he didn’t really want to talk to you was just flat out insane. nowadays, all he could do was imagine the way your voice would sound in his ears while he pounded you in, the thoughts and images of you taking up his headspace.

[1:38 AM] countryclub: are you fucking stupid?? i was very serious about wanting to talk to you, you live in my fucking brain.

[1:39 AM] countryclub: 252. that’s the area code for kildare island.

[1:39 AM] countryclub: and judging by the way you post your nail appointments every two weeks, along with all the sexy lil try-on hauls you did for me, i could confidently say that you’re not a pogue.

your eyes widened in horror. only someone who lived on kildare island would know about the whole ‘kooks vs. pogues’ thing. besides the confirmation with the area code, you knew he wasn’t lying. you stared blankly at the screen, having no idea what to say or even do about this situation. having these kinds of blogs and letting anyone you knew in real life find out about them was social suicide. maybe not so much for rafe, but you? you were a totally different person out here. you had a reputation to uphold, you couldn’t risk the scrutiny you or your parents would face if anyone ever found out.

as mad as you were at the mystery man behind the screen for ghosting you without an explanation, you could understand his sudden disappearance now that you currently felt sick to your stomach at the realization. he was far too close for comfort. based off of his username, you knew you two had to be running in the same social circles, your blood running cold at the thought of this person being someone you might’ve had contact with before. figure eight wasn’t big enough to keep a secret like this, it was only a matter of time before you two would unintentionally reveal yourselves to one another.

[1:50 AM] brattydiaries: this can’t go on any longer. sorry not sorry.

you ignored the small pang of hurt in your chest when you pressed send. apart of you hoped that he wouldn’t let you off so easily. you couldn’t deny the thrilling feeling that sat in your tummy at the prospect of knowing who he is but also being utterly clueless at the same time.

[1:55 AM] countryclub: nah.

[1:55 AM] countryclub: i got you right where i want you now.

there was no way in hell rafe was going to just allow you two to go back to not talking. he did it once, but he wouldn’t be able to do it again. especially now that he knows everything he wants is on his side of the island. just in arm’s reach. obviously, he couldn’t physically stop you from blocking him, but at least he knew that if you responded to him then you two were on the same page.

and sure enough..

[1:59 AM] brattydiaries: whatever.

were you scared shitless? yes. did you believe that this was going to backfire in some way? most definitely; but you’d be lying if you said you didn’t want this. whatever little sexting arrangement you two had going on, it was the only relatively exciting thing you had going for yourself and you weren’t necessarily ready to let it go.

[2:03 AM] countryclub: so can i call you or what?

you shook your head even though he couldn’t see you.

[2:05 AM] brattydiaries: fuck no. goodnight.

rafe smiled down at his phone before getting ready for bed, both of you finding it nearly impossible to get any kind of sleep. when you woke up the next morning, you were met with at least a dozen messages from chanel.

[8:10 AM] chanel ♡: topper just dropped me off at home..

[8:12 AM] chanel ♡: crazyyyyy night.. but anyways! me and you are going on a double date tonight. idk who topper is bringing but you don’t get to say no because love me, okay!?

[8:12 AM] chanel ♡: LMAO imagine it’s rafe

[8:18 AM] chanel ♡: omg you srsly need to wake up already and come over so you could help me choose an outfit!!

you continued reading through her texts, already dreading tonight’s plans as you decided to go ahead and get the day started so you could get this whole ‘date night’ thing over with. even though chanel jokingly said topper would bring rafe to be your date, you really hoped that wasn’t the case. the last thing you felt like doing was fighting or bickering with him because of your indifferences. after spending the afternoon rummaging through chanel’s closet, she finally settled on a dress that she hasn’t worn out before. “where are we even going?” you asked.

“topper said it’s a surprise so he’s picking both of us up from here.” she smiled, her words making you roll your eyes. you hated not knowing what you were getting yourself into. yet again, here you were, sexting with a stranger who just might not be a stranger after all. by the time topper texted chanel that he was outside, you two were in full glam, ready for whatever tonight may bring you. topper opened the doors for both of you, his eyes widening slightly at the sight of you two. “we weren’t sure how to dress, sooo..” topper nodded, “yeah, i can see that.”

topper had on a casual outfit, a stark difference to the mini dresses and heels you and chanel currently wore. “now is probably a good time to tell us where we’re going.” you quipped from the backseat. at your cattiness, chanel flashed you a glare. “rafe offered up his boat, so i figured we’d just have a couple drinks, have a good time, ‘you know?” you scoffed, crossing your arms over your chest as chanel happily agreed. this was bullshit. not only did you have to spend the next few hours with rafe on his stupid boat, but you were sure this ‘double date’ was going to turn into a third wheeling act real fast.

fifteen minutes later, and rafe was reaching out to help you onto the druthers, an annoyed look written all over his face as you tossed your purse at him first. “what? i don’t want my bag to fall in the water, okay?!” taking hold of your hand, rafe caught a glimpse of your nails, the french tip design looking oddly familar. you squeezed his palm, stepping onto the deck with a sigh. topper and chanel had already made their way inside the cabin area, both of them laughing as they slid the door shut, leaving you and rafe all by yourselves. it was moments like these that made you wish you could be anywhere else.

rafe scanned your outfit, his eyes lingering on your cleavage before you turned around, annoyed. “i guess it’s a good thing topper didn’t mention i’d be spending majority of my night with you. ‘cause i wouldn’t have came.” you snatched your purse back, your heels clicking against the deck as you sat on one of the cushioned chairs near the lounging area. rafe grabbed his cooler, deciding to entertain your antics since all you two had was time. “mmm, i don’t know about that. apart of me thinks you like arguing with me. i know i do.” you scoffed, a bittersweet smile gracing your lips.

“yeah? i bet. female attention seems to be something you lack.” rafe laughed, taking a seat next to you. “oh, i can guarantee you that’s not the case.” he scooted closer, unscrewing the cap from his beer. yeah, right. you knew all about rafe’s inability to hold onto a relationship, rumors of his emotional unavailability spreading around the island like wildfire. “no? i’m sorry, i just assumed since, you know.. you’re a full time asshole.” rafe put his beer down, his adam’s apple bobbing in his throat as he swallowed thickly. “only with you, i am.”

you laughed, finally meeting his gaze. he was a lot closer than you thought, his cologne filling your senses as your eyes flickered down to his lips for a second. “so i’m special then?” you had a faux innocent look in your eyes as you blinked up at him, the sight making his jaw clench. “no,” he smiled, leaning in, “but i can be nice. i can be real nice.” the insinuation made your cheeks heat as his face was just mere inches away from your own. tilting your head, you flashed him a sweet smile before shoving him in the chest.

“that’s never going to happen.” rafe acted like you didn’t have any effect on him, but inside? he was fighting every urge to pick you up and take you back to tanneyhill. he couldn’t help but feel like he knew you more than you let on, your demeanor reminding him of a certain someone. “can i ask why?” he watched as you grabbed his beer, your lipgloss smudging around the rim as you took a swig. “why i don’t like you, or why i won’t let you fuck me?” rafe leaned back in his chair, his thighs spreading as he crossed his arms over his chest.

well you definitely had a way with words..

rafe took the time to get a really good look at you. he had a feeling about you that he couldn’t quite put his finger on, the familiarity driving him crazy. he was determined to figure you out. “both.” he answered, taking his beer back from you. slipping your heels off, you brought your feet up and got comfortable in your spot next to rafe. “well i only realized i didn’t like you when i found out you had been talking about me first. so, really, i should be asking you why you don’t like me.”

rafe blinked. all this time he thought that you felt the way you did just because. “how come you never asked me then?” you stayed silent for a few moments before shrugging. “everyone has always made their assumptions about me. about my parents, about my life.. but no one really knows me, or what really goes on in my home. i just let people think whatever they want.” rafe’s eyebrows knitted together in confusion. “what do you mean?” at his words, you realized you may have said too much.

putting your defense back up, you backed away from him slightly before you scoffed. “you’re the last person i’d ever confide in, rafe.” the man next to you immediately recognized what you did, having veered away from being vulnerable a countless amount of times himself. rafe couldn’t help but keep digging. “let’s go tit for tat, then. you tell me something, anything you want, and i’ll say something in return. ‘that way it’s an even exchange.” apart of you hated him for making this so easy.

“i’m not doing that with you.” your voice sounded different. it lacked that usual bite and now rafe felt bad for opening his mouth in the first place. before the awkward tension could settle over you two again, you got up with your phone in your hand. “where are you going?” rafe watched as you slid the door open to the cabin area. “inside. i need to make a phone call.” you lied, walking past chanel and topper who were aggressively making out on the couch in the corner.

locking the small bathroom door behind you, you sighed, taking a moment to let go of a breath you didn’t know you were holding. what even was that out there? unlocking your phone, you sent chanel a text that you wanted to leave even though the chances of her seeing it was extremely slim. you stalled, deciding to freshen up your makeup as you waited for this so-called ‘date’ to end already. you were reapplying your lip gloss when your phone went off, making you mutter a ‘thank god’. instead of the notification being a message back from your best friend who was currently getting her face sucked off, it was from tumblr instead.

[9:14 PM] countryclub: what are you doing right now? i could use someone to talk to rn ngl

you looked up from your screen and stared into your reflection. this message came at just the right time.

[9:15 PM] brattydiaries: that makes two of us. i’m not with the sweet talk rn though, but i could use a distraction right now for sure..

[9:16 PM] countryclub: define ‘sweet talk’ cause i had every intention of asking you for some sexy pics and maybe a phone call if you’re down with that?

you refrained from laughing at his text, his bluntness throwing you for a loop. you couldn’t deny the giddy feeling you had in your tummy when you thought about hearing his voice. biting your lip nervously, you pulled the neckline of your dress down, exposing the lace of your bra before snapping a few pictures.

[9:19 PM] brattydiaries: 3 attachments

[9:20 PM] brattydiaries: here’s the first half of your request. make me wet and just maybe i’ll accept the call..

rafe was outside on the deck looking over his shoulder every two seconds to make sure you weren’t coming back in time to see the explicit photos currently illuminating his screen. he cursed under his breath, his eyes raking over the soft swells of your breasts. you were so fucking perfect, he couldn’t believe you were so close yet so far.

[9:22 PM] countryclub: fuckk you’re unreal.

[9:22 PM] countryclub: i hate that i’m wrapped up with something right now, otherwise i’d be sending you paragraphs about how pretty your tits look for me.

you sighed in defeat, making a mental note to send him a text once you were finally in the comfort of your own bed. with you still in the bathroom, rafe took his time examining the photos, his eyes widening slightly as he zoomed in on the dainty diamond pendant of your necklace, the background looking like something he has seen before.

[9:25 PM] brattydiaries: aww, too bad.

just then, chanel knocked on the bathroom door, her hair looking slightly out of place once you opened it. “i just saw your text. you ready to go?” you nodded, adjusting your dress before stepping out. “sorry to cock block you, i just had a really weird moment with rafe.” you explained, tossing your phone back in your purse. chanel waved you off before interlocking her arm with yours. “don’t even worry about it, we’re going back to his place, anyways.” she reassured you.

topper was already outside on the deck once you two made your way out of the cabin. glancing at rafe, you quickly looked away once you saw that he was already staring at you. “well, thanks for letting us use the druthers.” chanel smiled, in which rafe just shook his head. “ah, don’t even worry about it,” he held your stare, “..i had a good time.” blinking away from him, rafe’s eyes caught onto your cleavage once again, except this time; a sparkle from right above your neckline took him out of his reverie.

that necklace..

before he could piece anything together, you were moving with chanel, not sparing rafe another look as you were getting back onto the dock. the car ride back to your place was deadly silent. all except for the music topper had playing in the background. by the time you had gotten home and showered, you felt your world come to a stand still when your phone started ringing, an unsaved number with kildare island’s area code showing up at the top.

accepting the call, you held up the receiver to your ear with a shaky hand before speaking.

“hello?”

“..you sound pretty.”

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[rhiannonsknife]

Okay hopefully this one will go through lol

But imagine mean Jackie is at a sex store with Jeff. Maybe they’re looking for vibrators or something, Jackie desperately wanting to have some sort of orgasm when they have sex so she suggests that. Then you walk in all alone. You both make eye contact but you’re the first one to look away. She watches you walk over to the strap-ons and is immediately intrigued but also insanely jealous. I mean who would you even use it with? So after a restless night she goes back the next day to purchase one. She doesn’t tell you about it the next few times you hook up, keeping it locked away secretly in her closet. Not until she sees you talking to Shauna and clearly flirting (you weren’t she just gets jealous easily) she invites you over, Jeff is at some thing with his friends and her parents are out for the night. When you get there you notice the energy is different. Jackie seems cold which isn’t abnormal so to say but there’s a hint of aggression with it. As you start fucking her she stops you and you thinks she’s gonna kick you out but instead she makes your dream come true and fucks you into oblivion with her brand new strap.

I feel like I should sign off with an emoji but I’m not sure which one to choose so would it be okay if you picked one for me?

── TAKE ME LIKE YOU DO IN YOUR DREAMS

— summary: secretly hooking up with jackie taylor.

— warnings: nsfw content. mdni. internalized homophobia. cheating. fem!reader. jackie is a lesbian in denial (but what else is new?). masterlist.

jackie taylor does not belong in a place like this.

she tells herself that at least six times before she even steps inside, and then again once she does.

her posture is tense, arms hugged tight to her chest, and she swears that once they have what they need, she’ll walk out of here and never think about this again. not once, not ever.

from the second they step through the door, her discomfort is obvious.

she’d already made jeff drive at least five towns over. at this point, they might as well have crossed state lines, all to make sure they wouldn’t run into anyone they knew. so no one would catch her vibrator shopping on a random saturday afternoon like she was…some kind of person who did that, someone who needed to.

which she doesn’t.

it’s ironic, a childish assumption that there’s anything inherently wrong with this, yet jackie can’t help it. not when shame is all she’s ever been taught.

not that her mother would ever call it that, nor that mrs. taylor would ever sit jackie down and have a talk about vibrators or the sex shop five towns over. that would imply too much familiarity with the subject. no, what jackie was given wasn’t a conversation, it was an awareness.

an awareness of her body. of other people’s gazes. of what she should want, and what she definitely shouldn’t. an awareness of every precaution she needed to take if she wanted to end up in a good place. with a good husband, a good home, a good life.

it wasn’t shame, it was ‘protection’.

it was her mother’s hand tightening around hers whenever they passed a lingerie store at the mall, how she would pull jackie’s gaze forward, chin lifted high in silent disapproval, scoffing at how desperate some people were to sell sex.

jackie learned to be aware of her body before she even understood what it was for, to cross her legs properly, to never give the wrong impression.

which is why, even now, standing in a store that’s brightly lit and weirdly sterile, with neat rows of toys and magazines and shelves she refuses to look at too closely, her skin still crawls.

jackie doesn’t know what’s worse, the fact that she’s desperate enough to even suggest this or the fact that jeff jumped at the idea: she’d barely gotten the words out before he was nodding, leading her toward the car like this was just another errand to check off the list.

now, as he browses the shelves beside her, looking over vibrators with all the excitement of someone picking out a new gadget at the mall, jackie feels a suffocating pressure settle all over her.

she wants to scream. or vanish. or, at the very least, stop remembering every time they’ve had sex lately and how increasingly detached she’s felt from her own body.

it’s not bad, technically. jeff is sweet enough when he tries. something is just missing, something important that jackie can’t quite figure out.

that’s the reason they’re even here: she’s starting to think she can’t keep faking it. maybe this will help. maybe if she doesn’t have to lie about it so much, she won’t dread it as much either.

“jax,” jeff calls out, holding up what looks like a sleek pink vibrator with an excited grin. “what about this one?”

she can barely look at it. “yeah. sure.”

jeff, oblivious as ever, nods and heads toward the checkout. jackie lingers in her aisle before following, gaze fixed straight ahead, careful not to stray toward the magazine rack near the register, where half-naked women stare back at her, glossy and posed and soft in a way that makes her feel hot and itchy and terrified.

she looks at the floor instead. this is fine. this is normal. she has a boyfriend. they’re buying something to improve their sex life. she should want this. she does want this.

and then, just when she thinks she’s in the clear and the worst is over, you walk in.

immediately, jackie freezes. all her mantras and attempts to at least appear calm and collected shatter altogether. whatever you’re doing out here, this far from wiskayok, and why you had to choose her sex shop, her day to be here and get whatever it is you need from this place are all questions that remain unanswered as your eyes meet across the room.

you don’t acknowledge her, which could be due to jackie’s countless reminders that “no one can know” but still stings, even if it’s her fault. you just move past her, unbothered, past the counter where jeff is now chatting with the cashier (thankfully with his back turned to you, because jackie would rather die than for him to recognize you), past the shelves full of things she refuses to look at, and head straight toward the back of the store.

and jackie, against her better judgment, watches you go, moving through the store with obvious familiarity. her skin prickles as her eyes trail over your body, at the marks she knows you’re hiding under the collar of your shirt.

jackie knows where you were last night and how you’ve gotten them. she remembers, to a point where she can practically hear it ringing in her ears, what you sounded like, what you felt like, what it was like to press her hand over your mouth to keep you quiet.

the hickeys across the side of your neck, and all the way down your chest because she’s greedy, are jackie’s. the person you should be here with is jackie.

instead, you’re scanning the shelves on your own, fingers trailing over packaging, pausing in front of a display that makes jackie’s head spin as she scans whatever it is that has caught your attention in your corner of the store.

strap-ons.

her mind scrambles, tries to latch onto a rational thought. all she can think is: what would you even use that for? who would you use it with? and, worse, why does her brain conjure up the image of it strapped to her hips, of you sinking down on it, mouth open in a soundless gasp? jackie has to rub her thighs together right in the middle of the aisle.

“jackie?”

she whips toward jeff, pulse rabbiting. he’s still standing at the register, bag in hand, watching her expectantly. it takes a second for her to understand what it is that he’s looking forward to so much. “you coming?”

right, other people do enjoy jackie’s body. other people, just never herself, unless she’s with you.

jackie swallows hard. “yeah,” she says quickly, following him out of the store without looking back.

jackie lasts exactly one week before she finds herself back in that store.

to be fair, the vibrator does work, shockingly well, actually. when she’s alone.

it takes her a few nights to admit it, curled under the covers, sheets tangled around her legs, muffling every sound just in case. it’s not at all why she and jeff bought it, and certainly not what he expects her to use it for.

as far as jeff knows, the thing lives in a shoebox under her bed, only to be unearthed when he’s around and she needs a little extra help (a phrase she still hates) getting there.

not that jackie has ever gotten there with jeff to begin with.

in reality, she’s started looking forward to the nights when her parents go to bed early and jeff doesn’t linger with a hopeful smile and a hand on her thigh. nights when she can slip her bedroom door shut, dig the box out from beneath her bed, and finally, finally, let herself feel something that belongs only to her.

the first time, jackie hates herself for how easy it is.

with jeff, orgasms weren’t even on the table and with just her fingers, it always took forever. a slow, sometimes frustrating climb that relied more on fantasy than sensation.

with the vibrator? revolutionary, truly.

her mind wanders every time. not to jeff and his awkward fumbling with it when they’d tried it together, pressing in all the wrong places. to you and where you stood in the strap-on aisle, your fingers brushing over one of the boxes, tracing the picture like you were considering all the possibilities that came with it.

the thought is what sends her over the edge every time.

it’s also why, the longer the week drags on, the more restless jackie gets.

things still aren’t working with jeff, regardless of what they try to improve them. no matter how well-meaning he is, it doesn’t feel right. not how it does when she’s alone.

and surely, that has to be her fault. jackie should be trying harder, should be more relaxed. more open.

it’s hard to fake it when you’ve tasted the real thing, though, hard when jeff’s hand between her legs just feels like an interruption and his expectant voice in her ear (“is this good?” “are you close?”) sounds more like pressure than pleasure.

it’s not his fault, it’s only ever hers.

she can’t stop thinking about it: about you, about the aisle, about what you might be doing with it, who you might be doing it to.

and so, on a tuesday morning close enough to graduation that no one is gonna mind her absence, jackie fakes sick.

it’s easy to convince her mother: all it takes is an extra layer of blankets, a weak cough and a mumbled ‘i think i need to sleep this off’ when she peeks in before heading out for errands to convince mrs. taylor that attendance is impossible.

she waits a full thirty minutes after the door shuts before jackie finally throws the covers off, changes out of her pajamas, and grabs the keys to her car.

the fact that she’s skipping school for this only deepens the humiliation. it feels absurd, some personal failing jackie doesn’t have the words for. at least this time, she’s alone and allows herself to push those thoughts out of her mind until after she’s gotten it done.

get in, get out, and don’t make it a thing.

the store is empty when she pushes through the front door, which is, of course, the entire point of coming on a weekday morning.

the only one around is the cashier. it’s the same one from last time: a woman in her twenties with heavy eyeliner, a septum ring, and a magazine open in front of her who doesn’t look up when jackie walks past.

jackie moves quickly. she doesn’t let herself think, scans the aisle she’s been obsessing over for days and grabs the first strap-on that looks…acceptable. not too ridiculous. nothing hyper-realistic.

her palms are sweating as she carries the awkward weight of it through the store. once she makes it to the register, her heart is beating so fast she thinks she might pass out.

the cashier barely glances up as she rings jackie out, scanning the box with all the enthusiasm of someone who has done this a thousand times. “you want condoms with this?” she asks.

“what?”

“condoms,” the cashier repeats, popping her gum. “some people use them for easier cleanup”

jackie stares, mute.

that earns her a glance. the woman raises an eyebrow, finally looking at her properly. “first time?”

“no,” she blurts, which is considerably the worst answer. now she sounds like someone who has done this before. her cheeks burn ten times hotter, and she wants to sink into the floor.

the cashier hums, entirely unfazed. “cool. you want a bag?”

jackie nods. she barely waits for her change before grabbing the bag and bolting for the door.

the box swings against her leg as she rushes through the parking lot, and she’s never been more aware of how much noise a small plastic bag can make.

jackie yanks the car door open, flings herself into the driver’s seat, and slams it shut behind her.

all week, jackie thinks about the second box under her bed.

when she was younger, it used to be monsters hiding down there that kept her up at night, forcing her to sleep with a nightlight on. the nightlight, she still has. the monsters, however, have been replaced by not one, but two very real things. except they’re sex toys. and jackie knows she’s being ridiculous.

for someone with self proclaimed little secrets, she’s got two of the physical kind, hidden beneath her bed frame like some dirty little proof of everything jackie swears she isn’t. one that she’s used, one that she hasn’t. one that she never even meant to buy still sits in its packaging, unopened, untouched yet there.

it wouldn’t be so bad if she could stop thinking about it.

even worse is that she can’t stop noticing you, now more than ever.

it’s one thing when you’re with her, just another mistake she can ignore in the morning. at practice, though, when you’re laughing with the rest of the team, smiling like you don’t have a single fucking thing to be ashamed of, it makes jackie feel sick with irritation.

why is it that your world keeps spinning, just like that, even when you’re harboring the exact same secrets? how do you live with all that?

jackie is so far gone in her own head that coach scott pulls her aside as the others run laps. “you need to focus,” he says. “you’re almost out of here. but as long as you’re still wearing that captain’s band, you have to show up. lead.”

jqckie nods, biting the inside of her cheek hard enough to taste blood. he’s right. she knows he’s right. she shouldn't be this distracted, especially not over a sex toy under her bed.

back in the locker room, still stewing in the embarrassment of it all, she thinks the shame might settle in for good.

then you’re there. laughing.

you and shauna are posted up by your lockers like it’s any other afternoon. you’re leaned against the bench, head tilted toward her as she says something jackie can’t make out over the noise. whatever it is, it makes you grin, wide and easy like nothing is off at all.

all’s normal. stupidly normal.

when the room finally clears, and it’s just the two of you left, she realizes her hand is still gripping the edge of the bench, her knuckles white with it.

you’re halfway into your jacket, arms sliding into the sleeves, as jackie finally speaks: “do you wanna come over?”

mid-movement, your eyes flick up to her in the mirror. “what?”

jackie slams her locker shut with more force than necessary, the metal clanging loud enough to make you flinch. she hoists her bag onto her shoulder without looking at you.

“jeff’s out with his friends,” she explains. “and my parents are gone for the weekend.” jackie fully turns to look at you. “figured we could...hang out.”

your brows draw together, visibly thrown. “well, that’s a first” you huff, pulling your jacket in place. “are you sure you’re feeling okay?”

jackie’s grits her teeth. “do you want to come over or not?”

“yeah,” you say, grabbing your bag. “yeah, sure”

in the end, that’s what makes the two of you so alike: for all the lines you draw, all the justifications you make, neither of you stays away for long.

the front door has barely clicked shut before her mouth is on yours.

not that you’re surprised. jackie was the one who invited you over, and it’s always like this anyway: rushed, her hands already gripping your waist before you have time to speak, her lips claiming yours like she’s trying to swallow all the words you might’ve said.

you don’t mind. at least, that’s what you’ve been telling yourself. being jackie’s something is better than nothing.

even so, there’s a feeling you can’t shake. it starts as soon as you step inside and follows you up the stairs and into jackie’s room. her gaze never meets yours, and her hands, when she locks the door behind you, tremble.

you notice it even as your back meets the soft pillows on her bed, and her body presses down on you as jackie climbs on top.

jackie has never been as sure of herself as people might think, she simply knows how to fake it. a performance that's usually flawless seems to be cracking today.

the slide of her hands beneath your shirt pulls your attention back. her fingers move up your stomach, all the way until jackie’s palm is pressed to your breast, kneading softly. a sigh slips past your lips, unbidden and your hips lift, seeking friction, the pressure of her thigh between your legs enough to keep you chasing it.

you’re just starting to reach for her, fingers curling at the base of her neck, ready to tangle in her hair and pull her closer-

and then she stops.

you whine, breathless, trying to pull her back, as her hands fall from your body and her weight lifts off you. with your shirt still halfway pushed up your torso, you sit and watch jackie get to her feet, smoothing her hair back with both hands. “jackie?”

if this were about her not wanting to touch you, that would be something you could understand. it took her time to get comfortable being the one giving instead of just receiving, always insisting that as long as she wasn’t the one doing anything, it couldn’t be wrong. if she’d fallen back into that habit, it would be a sudden change, but one you could work with.

what doesn’t make sense is her endless silent treatment that stretches for days after each time you see her, and makes you wonder if you’ll ever hear from her again. it’s the emotional whiplash that leaves you reeling, not the physical pullback.

she still doesn’t speak. instead, she crosses to the foot of the bed, sinks to her knees, and starts reaching underneath.

“what are you doing?” you ask, scooting closer to watch.

no response.

a second later, jackie sits back on her heels, clutching something to her chest. it takes you a moment to register what you’re looking at, then you see the brand and the picture on the front. jackie, who’s still not speaking, shifts on her feet, her fingers curled so tensely around the edges that the cardboard bends.

“when- when did you get that?” you stammer.

“doesn’t matter,”

“do you even know how to use it?”

her head jerks up. “what kind of question is that?”

you hold up your hands. “i don’t know! i just-”

“i’ve seen jeff do it. it can’t be that hard if he figured it out.”

you gawk at her.

jackie groans and throws her head back. “you know what? forget it!” she mutters. “it was stupid, i don’t even know why- look, just forget i even-“

she moves to shove the box back under the bed, but you reach for her wrist before she can. “jackie,” you squeeze her. “it’s okay.”

she sighs, closing her eyes, her body relaxing under your touch. you take the box from her hands. “do you wanna…try it?”

jackie stays where she is, chewing her bottom lip raw.

“i can do it for you” you offer gently.

her eyes snap open, panicked. “no!”

you raise your eyebrows.

snatching the package from your hands, jackie clutches it as if you just threatened to take it away forever. “i mean-” she clears her throat, blinking rapidly. “no. i wanna- uh- i want to be the one to...put it on”

of all the things you’ve expected from jackie taylor, this wasn’t on the list. then again, you suppose it only makes sense, given her experiences with jeff. so, you nod. “okay.”

jackie eyes you, like she’s waiting for you to laugh or tease her, while you just offer a small smile. “let’s do it your way.”

she opens the box quickly, movements bordering on frantic, tearing through plastic and cardboard before she pulls the harness out and holds it awkwardly in both hands, flipping it back and forth.

“how the hell does this thing even-” jackie mumbles under her breath.

“here let me-”

“i got it,” she snaps, stepping back.

trying not to grin, you raise your hands in surrender. she huffs and glares down at the harness, fidgeting with the buckles. after another a minute of fumbling, stripping out of her pants and leaving her just in a lacy pair of panties, she finally gives up and thrusts it toward you. “fine. you do it.”

you smile, taking the harness. “that wasn’t so hard, was it?”

“just- just shut up and help me!”

you kneel in front of her, the shift in position making jackie tense, like she’s only just realizing the implications of what she’s letting you do.

you don’t comment on it, your focus is on the harness, adjusting the straps, tightening the buckles, testing the give. the leather is still a little stiff from being new, but it’ll mold to her.

above you, jackie stands still while you tug the straps into place, fingers brushing against the smooth skin of her thighs.

“okay,” you say, giving the waistband one final pull. “step in.”

she hesitates, then does as you say, her movements awkward while she lifts one leg after the other. making quick work of it, you secure the straps around her hips to sit snug at her waist. once you’ve smoothed the last buckle into place, you glance up.

“comfortable?”

jackie swallows, nodding once. “yeah, i think so,”

the harness is a nice fit now, the leather settling against the soft fabric of her underwear. the only thing missing is…

you both look down at the same time.

the dildo still sits in the box.

out of the corner of your eye, you catch the flush spreading up to her ears.

“jesus,” she mutters under her breath, eyes darting everywhere but the smooth, silicone shape she picked out in a moment of jealousy and impulse.

“you, uh…wanna do the honors?”

“you do it already!”

carefully, you remove the toy from the packaging, holding it steady as you maneuver it into place. jackie watches with a mix of concentration and poorly concealed mortification as you make sure it sits properly like the rest of the harness.

when that is done, you sit back. “well?”

jackie looks down at herself. then at you. then back at herself.

“oh,” she says, voice a little higher than usual.

“oh?”

she shifts again, adjusting her stance to test how it feels. “it’s just…a lot”

“yeah. it usually is.”

“this is so fucking…stupid”

from below, you tilt your head. “is it?”

before blurting the agreement that already sits at the tip of her tongue, jackie hesitates.

earlier, it was awkward adjustments and stubborn determination. now she’s standing above you, a little embarrassed, but taller than she’s ever felt. and you’re still kneeling in front of her, hands resting on her hips. you haven’t let go.

the energy shifts, all the teasing fading. awareness settles in between you.

you don’t move. neither does she.

jackie’s pulse pounds against her throat, and you see the moment it hits her, the moment she realizes just how much this has changed things.

with a force that’ll later disgust her, she understands why jeff loves it when she does this for him. the view from above, with you at her feet, is one she’s already trying to commit to memory.

“h-holy shit-“ she croaks. her hand falls into your hair before she can gain enough self-control to hold herself together.

just when jackie thinks it couldn’t possibly get any better than this, you lean in and your lips brush the silicone.

it’s not real. she knows that. she knows she can’t feel your mouth on it, not in any physical way. the sight of you, though, the heat in your eyes, nearly doubles her over.

you close your lips around the tip, suck gently, and jackie forgets how to breathe.

this isn’t what it’s like with jeff. with him, she plays her part; responsive, sweet, makes the right noises and faces. she’s never been sure if it’s what she wants or just what she thinks she should want.

now, her mouth hangs open without her telling it to, and she doesn’t need to remind herself to make those gasping sounds. they come to her naturally, without even feeling the sucking of your lips and the press of your tongue against the base of the toy.

it’s strange, and new, and completely outside the lines she’s always drawn for herself.

jackie never thought she’d be in this position, not metaphorically and certainly not literally; however, now that she is, she’s realizing something else: she likes it.

she likes how you look kneeling for her, lips swollen, eyes wide, the faintest sheen of spit where your mouth are wrapped around her.

she never had this kind of power over anything. always someone’s daughter, someone’s girlfriend, someone’s idea of the good girl.

this? this is only hers.

the power of it makes jackie dizzy.

you must see it flicker across her face, the uncertainty laced under the awe, because you lean in and press a soft kiss just under the ridge. your tongue follows. “you’re doing fine,” you whisper. “you’re allowed to like this.”

her hands settle on your shoulders. “i don’t know what to do.”

“you don’t have to know. you just feel it.”

so she lets you take your time, lets you lead. with each slow bob of your head, each pass of your tongue along the shaft, that tension starts to ease from her posture. jackie’s hands slide back into your hair, and her breathing goes ragged.

by the time the full length glistens with your spit, she’s shaking all over.

her need rises beneath her careful touch, and she urges you back with a gentle pull at your scalp. when your mouth releases her with a wet pop, she lets out a sound that lands somewhere between a sigh and a groan.

jackie could arguably watch you suck her off for hours if you’d let her, but there’s something else she needs more than that, more than your mouth.

“come here,” she whispers.

immediately, you comply. as soon as you’re close enough, her hands find your waist and pull you in. you stumble a little and end up with your hands braced on her shoulders. jackie steadies you, her thumbs pressing against your hipbones.

as you lean in to kiss her, your breath mingles in the little space left between you.

the kiss is softer than either of you expected; a slow collision, so unlike all your previous encounters, less urgency, somehow.

it’s not just the nerves, it’s just new. new because of what’s between you, attached to jackie’s hips.

you shift against her and the silicone tip digs into your thigh. jackie makes a surprised sound. “this is…gonna take some adjusting,” you murmur against her kiss-swollen lips.

“yeah,” she agrees, nose brushing yours. you kiss the corner of her mouth and stumble toward the bed, neither of you quite sure how to move with this new thing between you.

she bumps her knee against the frame, and you both laugh, a tangle of limbs and awkward angles until your bodies slide together in a way that works.

there’s a pause. a breath. her hands on your waist, yours against her back.

and then jackie shifts beneath you, settling into the sheets, and it makes sense.

“okay,” she says softly and kisses you again. her hands travel up your sides, pausing at the hem of your shirt. a quick nod against her mouth is all the confirmation she needs to peel the fabric upward, knuckles skimming your ribs.

“can i-” she starts.

“yeah,” you breathe. “you can.”

she lifts it over your head. when it catches at your elbows, you help, and when it’s off, she just stares. reaching for her hand, you press it over your ribcage to let her feel your breath steadying there.

“see?” you whisper. “still me”

jackie’s thumb strokes over your skin in response, and her eyes meet yours. “you make this way too easy,”

“you make it way too complicated,” you counter gently, smiling. that earns you another kiss, deeper this time, a little more sure.

it has a tenderness to it that you once wished your first time had: jackie is looking at you like she’s never seen your body before and is only now realizing it’s yours, not something made available for her sake.

her hands trail over your bare skin, gradually revealing more of it as she strips you out of your pants and bra.

she doesn't seem uncertain of what she wants, but for once afraid of touching something she's not sure she deserves. that, in itself, is a kind of permission you didn’t expect to grant her, offering yourself up to someone who’s never been taught how to take. jackie is learning. she’s figuring it out, still trying to reconcile the softness of the moment with the hard weight strapped to her hips.

“i don’t wanna hurt you,” she admits.

“you won’t,” besides, she has done worse with the countless times she pushed you away and kicked you out. this can hardly hurt more than jackie’s rejection.

she lets her hand settle between your thighs, testing the distance with her fingers and feeling, with a sudden intake of breath, the wetness pooling there.

“jackie, it’s okay,” you shudder, feeling the slide of her digits through your folds.

the harness presses into her hips when she shifts between your legs, silicone nudging your thigh as she adjusts. her breathing is uneven all over again.

with a hand on her waist, you guide her, fingers anchoring her through the nerves to finally press forward.

jackie doesn’t thrust so much as ease, bit by bit, gathering arousal on the toy until she’s pushing in with all the caution she can muster, watching your face the whole time. when the tip slides inside, both of you stop.

you sigh, eyes fluttering shut as you adjust to the stretch.

jackie doesn't move. “are you sure this is…?”

you nod. “yeah.”

“okay.” she doesn’t sound convinced, but she’s trying. trying so hard not to let go too fast and become the thing she’s always been wary of. it’s strange how carefully she holds herself still once she’s inside you, so different from the jackie you thought you knew.

her hands are planted in the mattress next to your shoulders, attentively searching your face for signs she should stop or do something better.

you reach up and cup her cheek. “you’re- fuck- doing really good.”

without thinking, her hips push the strap all the way into you. between your bodies, your legs wind around her hips to pull her closer.

that undoes her a little.

jackie’s mouth parts, and she makes a sound you’ve never heard from her before. she presses forward again, a little deeper, her rhythm unsteady, but improving. the slide of her hips is still too careful, you can feel the tension in her, no longer nervous but restrained.

you whisper, voice low against her mouth, “you can move, jackie”

she swallows. “i don’t wanna, like…ruin it.”

“you won’t.” you kiss her. “i want this. i want you.” and, because you feel like you might actually lose it if she doesn't properly fuck you, you add: “fuck me, jackie”

when she braces herself to move again, it’s with the certainty you’d hoped for, followed by a proper thrust. your body welcomes the motion, your head tipping back with a low moan that you don’t bother holding back. it shatters whatever was left of jackie’s hesitation.

you're not only enduring it, she realizes, you're meeting her, body to body. your back arches, nails pressing into her skin, and your legs lock firmer around her waist to keep her near and buried to the hilt.

on every thrust, you pull her in closer, and every breathless sound you make is another piece of proof she didn’t even know she needed that she’s capable of giving something that feels good. you want this with her, and it’s written all over your body.

jackie’s motions grow more confidently, still learning the mechanics, yet no longer afraid to hurt you. she can hear how wet you are around the toy, and feels your walls tightening as if your cunt is trying to suck her in deeper.

she pulls back, thrusts in again, and you gasp her name into the hollow of her throat.

she’s fucking you slow and steady, your body rising from the sheets to meet hers, your hands running up her back and resting at her shoulders.

“god-” she whispers, breathless already, “you’re really into this.”

you laugh softly. “took you long enough to notice.”

jackie bites her lip, her pace picking up. she’s watching you closely, taking her cues from the little noise you makes when she hits just the right angle.

when you lean up and murmur against her mouth, “you can go harder,” she falters.

“are you- are you sure?”

“jackie-” you try to say flatly, though your breath hitches and the words morph into a gasp when her tip hits your g-spot from that angle again. “fuck me harder”

your moan vibrates through her in response to her allowing herself to let loose like you seemingly want her to. her hands grip your waist, her hips snap forward in slow, rolling waves, and you take her every time, eyes rolling back.

“yeah?” she murmurs, hypnotized by the sound of her name falling from your lips. “you like being fucked like this?”

the second it slips out, jackie instantly freezes. it hits her like a slap, his voice, not hers. that cadence, that phrasing. she can hear jeff in it, that cocky lilt he used every time he thought he was doing something impressive.

she cringes inwardly, lips pressing tight, momentum stuttering.

god, what was that?

she’s about to apologize, maybe even pull out, when she hears you. “fuck, jackie,” you breathe. “yes. i do. just like that, please-”

jackie blinks. you don’t look like you heard a recycled line from a man who never made her feel like she was worth saying it to. she said it, and even if it was clumsy, even if it came from somewhere borrowed, you still wanted it from her.

your hips lift to fuck yourself on the strap, encouraging her.

“yeah?” she asks. her voice lacks his arrogance now, only genuine curiosity remaining.

you nod. “say it again.”

she tries, “you like how deep i’m- i’m fucking you?"

your whole body tenses, and your answer comes in the form of a broken moan.

she moves again, snapping forward with purpose and you gasp with your head thrown back. “fuck- oh my god, jackie-”

jackie uses words again, this time her own. “you look so fucking good like this,” she pants, pushing slow and deep, grinding into you. “you’re taking me so well.”

you keen beneath her and the sound goes straight to her clit, where the harness is rubbing against her.

“god,” she groans, ducking her head down to kiss your neck. “you’re so hot when you’re like this. you- you feel so good.”

she doesn’t care that she can’t feel it the way jeff did. this is better anyway, and even though jackie wishes she could feel your cunt convulsing around her, the sight of you taking her makes up for the lack of physical sensation.

besides, she feels it everywhere else. if not with a real cock, there's still the press of your skin, the wet heat between your thighs that makes obscene sounds every time she bottoms out and how you pull her in with your legs and your hands and your voice. she feels it in how alive she is in this moment, how present, how impossibly wanted.

it’s not a performance anymore.

she can tell you’re getting close, body clinging to hers with every instinct trying to pull her in deeper, to have her somewhere she’s never reached before.

jackie knows what usually happens, how it goes when he is close. he gets louder, messier, and more possessive. he finishes fast, then detaches faster.

you’re nothing like that. your hands move over her arms, her back, pleasure depending on her.

you’re not quite there yet and she leans over you, arms braced beside your head, searching for that angle. you gasp when she finds it, ankles tightening around her waist.

“there?” jackie breathes.

you nod, speechless, and she repeats the motion.

and, because she knows that alone wouldn't be enough for her, one hand slips between your bodies. she finds your clit with ease, swollen and stiff underneath the pad of her index and middlefinger. the ragged moan it tears from you is something she’ll replay in her head for weeks.

jackie moves in circles, matching the rhythm of her thrusts. she kisses your cheek, your neck, your collarbone, breathing you in. “you can come,” she murmurs against your skin. “i’ve got you.”

your hips start to stutter, as if you were waiting for permission, gripping her like you’ll fall apart without her there. jackie doesn’t let up. she stays with you, moves with you, until...

“jackie!”

your whole body tenses, then trembles, muscles tightening, and jackie feels the moment you fall over the edge. your mouth parts in a silent cry and your cunt clenches around the strap.

she stills inside you, letting you ride it out, her fingers softening their rhythm until they’re barely brushing over you.

you’re boneless under her now, flushed and gasping and shaking faintly, and jackie can only stare.

you’re beautiful.

she did that.

your eyes flutter closed for a second, barely enough to recover. then, slowly, your body starts to move. you’re still breathing hard when you push yourself up on shaky elbows, trying to catch your breath as your gaze sweeps the room, landing on your shirt where it’s crumpled on the floor.

it shouldn’t surprise her, this is how it always goes. you hook up, and then she tells you to leave.

except that, this time, she didn’t say anything. she didn’t push you away, didn’t put her wall back up. yet here you are, pulling your shirt into your lap, preparing to go like you’ve already been dismissed.

what does that say about her?

“where are you going?”

you turn to look at her, shirt bunched between your fingers. “i thought-” you blink. “i mean, i figured you were gonna…you know?”

“kick you out?” jackie finishes. for the first time, she hates how bitter it sounds. she looks away, her hair falling into her face as she leans back. “my parents are out of town,” she reminds you after a beat. “gone for the weekend.”

“…okay?”

jackie shrugs a little harder. maybe if she moves enough, it’ll disguise the fact that she doesn’t know how to ask. “so. you can stay.”

it’s the best she can do.

you set your clothes down, then slowly reach for the blanket and pull it up over yourself again. you lie back without saying anything more, body settling into the mattress beside hers.

once jackie dares to glance over, you’re by her side, breathing beginning to even out. still close. still warm. still here.

her hand drifts to the space between you, fingers inching forward until her palm rests open on the mattress.

neither of you speaks. neither of you looks.

when your hand finds hers, your fingers brushing gently before lacing together, jackie doesn’t pull away.

[23victoria]

𝔬𝔲𝔯 𝔡𝔦𝔯𝔱𝔶 𝔩𝔦𝔱𝔱𝔩𝔢 𝔰𝔢𝔠𝔯𝔢𝔱

*☾⋆･ﾟ pairings: 𝔰𝔢𝔟𝔞𝔰𝔱𝔦𝔞𝔫 𝔳𝔢𝔱𝔱𝔢𝔩 𝔵 𝔶𝔭𝔲𝔫𝔤𝔢𝔯!𝔣𝔢𝔪!𝔯𝔢𝔞𝔡𝔢𝔯

word count: 6.4𝓀

*☾⋆･ﾟ synopsis: you knew it was wrong, sneaking around with your dads best-friend, but you couldn’t control it…he was just too fucking hot, plus, his dick was big 𝔠𝓌!☠︎ age gap, corruption, semi-public sex, rough sex, car sex, fingering, anal fingering, oral (f & m), degradation, riding, body worship, daddy kink, overstimulation, size kink, belly bulge, dacryphilia, breeding kink, pregnancy talk, spanking, nipple play, dirty talk, pussy worshipping, cum play, cockwarming

authors note: there’s an age gap, age is not specified in here so you can control the age cap, it is father bsf so…yea, it’s just porn tbh, i kinda struggle with this idk why, kinda losing motivation (help me) but i hope you enjoyyy! ask, likes, and reblogs are appreciated!!

𝔴𝔞𝔫𝔫𝔞 𝔟𝔢 𝔞𝔭𝔞𝔯𝔱 𝔬𝔣 𝔪𝔶 𝔱𝔞𝔤𝔩𝔦𝔰𝔱? CLICK HERE!

*☾⋆･ﾟ f1 MASTERLIST KINKTOBER MASTERLIST

You sit at the small corner table in the cafe, legs bouncing with barely-contained energy. The gentle hum of chatter fills the space, the occasional clink of ceramic mugs and the whirr of the coffee machine adding to the background noise. But all you can focus on is the pounding of your own heart, the jittery, electric current racing through your veins as anticipation claws at you. You know it's wrong—everything about what you're doing today goes against what you’ve been taught, especially by your dad. He raised you better. If he knew…

You shake your head, trying to push the guilt away, but it lingers, gnawing at the edges of your excitement. God, the thrill and anxiety of it all is making it impossible to sit still. Your hands wrap around your coffee cup, fingers tapping against the ceramic as you bring the drink to your lips, trying to steady yourself. But the butterflies in your stomach refuse to settle, and you can’t deny that part of you loves the rush.

After all, how could you resist? His touches, those fleeting moments of eye contact, the way he smirks at you like you’re sharing a secret with just one glance—how could anyone resist? The fire that ignites in your belly every time you catch his gaze, the way his mere presence sets your skin alight with longing. It’s not like you planned for any of this to happen. It just…did.

Your parents had moved back to town when you were 18, and that’s when you first saw him—your dad’s best friend. Older, of course, but Jesus, the man was stunning. Tall, broad-shouldered, with a deep voice that made your heart flutter every time he spoke. You knew from the start that he was trouble, but back then, it was just a crush. Just harmless glances when he came over to hang out with your dad, harmless daydreams about what it would be like to be noticed by him. You were sure he knew, even then, but he never acted on it. Neither did you. Not until that night.

It was the night everything changed. You were 23, out with friends at a club in a different city, far enough away from your hometown to feel a sense of anonymity. The music had been loud, the alcohol flowing, and when you saw him across the room, your heart skipped a beat. You had been out of town, miles from anyone who could know or judge you, and when his eyes met yours from across the bar, you knew. This was your chance. The tension that had been simmering beneath the surface for years finally exploded. One drink led to another, and before you knew it, you were in his hotel room, breathless and aching, as he made you his in ways you could have never imagined.

God, you still get shivers thinking about that night. The way he touched you, how full he made you feel, how he whispered your name like a prayer while he pounded into you, hard and relentless. The way you screamed for him. No one had ever made you feel like that—no one else even came close. That night sealed everything. He was yours, and you were his, no matter the consequences.

And now, here you are, a year later, still sneaking around, still caught in the web of secrecy and desire. Every stolen moment feels more thrilling than the last. The guilt still eats at you sometimes, like now, sitting here waiting for him, knowing full well that it’s wrong. Knowing full well that he’s your dad’s best friend and that there’s an age gap that would make people talk. But fuck, how could you regret it? He’s the best thing that’s ever happened to you, and you can’t bring yourself to walk away, no matter how much you try to reason with yourself.

You glance around the cafe, checking the time on your phone again. He’s late, but he always makes you wait, probably enjoying the fact that it drives you crazy. The need for him is clawing at your insides, and the week you’ve been away for work hasn’t helped. You couldn’t see him—only a few rushed phone calls and texts exchanged here and there. You missed his touch. You missed his lips on yours. You missed the way he made you feel whole.

God, you need him now. You shift in your seat, squeezing your legs together, trying to alleviate the ache between them, but it’s no use. Your mind is swirling with images of what’s going to happen when he finally gets here. You close your eyes, leaning back in your chair, letting your thoughts drift back to all the times you’ve been together, sneaking around like teenagers, fucking in every place you could find—his car, the back room of his shop, the bathroom at your parents' house during a party when no one was looking. There’s no shame left in it, only raw, desperate desire.

The door to the cafe opens, the bell above it chiming softly, and for a moment, your heart stops. Is it him? You open your eyes, trying not to be too obvious as you glance toward the entrance, but there’s no sign of him yet. You sigh and take another sip of your coffee, willing yourself to calm down. But then, you hear it—the unmistakable sound of his voice, deep and smooth, ordering a coffee at the counter. It’s the same order he always gets, but today, there’s an extra word slipped in—your secret code. A signal that he’s here for you.

Your heart leaps in your chest, and you quickly stand, grabbing your purse as you casually make your way toward the back exit. You don’t dare look at him as you pass by the register, knowing you’ll give everything away if you do. Instead, you focus on the door, slipping out into the alleyway behind the cafe. It’s quiet, the faint hum of the town’s traffic in the distance. The cool air hits your skin, making you shiver, though it’s not just from the cold.

You wait, leaning against the brick wall, your pulse racing as you stare down the alley. It only takes a few minutes before you feel him—his presence behind you, the warmth of his body pressing against yours as his hands slide around your waist, grabbing your ass possessively. His lips are on your neck in an instant, and you can’t help but moan as his teeth scrape against your skin.

"You always look so fucking good in this dress," he mutters, his hands impatiently gathering up the fabric of your sundress, sliding it higher until his fingers meet the skin of your thighs. "I’ve been thinking about you all week, baby. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw you like this—squirming under me, so needy."

His words send a wave of heat through your body, your cheeks flushing as your mind spins with the memory of all the times you’ve snuck off together, the thrill of it never fading. But this time, after being apart for so long, it feels even more intense. 

"Fuck, I’ve missed that," he breathes, his voice gravelly, his hands tightening their grip on your hips. "I’ve missed you, baby. You have no idea."

Your chest rises and falls rapidly, your mind clouded with lust as he pulls your panties to the side, his fingers teasing your entrance as he rubs you slowly, deliberately. "I missed you too," you manage to say, your voice thick with need.

He presses you against the brick wall, his body shielding you from view as he leans in, capturing your lips in a hungry kiss. His hand trails down your side, the warmth of his touch sending shivers up your spine, and you can feel the heat between you building with every second.

You gasp into his mouth as his hand slips beneath your skirt, his fingers finding their way to your core with ease. He doesn’t waste time teasing you; instead, he plunges two fingers deep inside you, his pace relentless from the start. The sudden intrusion leaves you breathless, your hands flying to his shoulders, nails digging into his skin as you try to steady yourself.

“Seb…” you moan, your voice barely a whisper as his fingers curl inside you, hitting that spot that has your knees buckling. He smirks against your lips, his mouth never leaving yours as he continues to kiss you, his tongue sliding against yours in a dance that leaves you dizzy with desire.

“Fuck, baby,” he mutters against your mouth, his voice rough and low. “You’re so fucking wet.”

Your only response is a broken moan as he picks up the pace, his fingers working inside you with expert precision, curling and twisting in just the right way. It’s too much, the pleasure building inside you too quickly, and you can feel yourself spiraling, your body arching into him as you claw at his shoulders, trying to hold on.

“Seb, I—” you start, but the words are lost in a gasp as he presses his thumb against your clit, circling it in time with his thrusts. Your head falls back against the wall, your moans growing louder despite your best efforts to keep quiet. It’s impossible, though, not when he’s touching you like this, not when he’s pushing you closer and closer to the edge with every flick of his wrist.

“You gonna come for me, baby?” Seb growls, his breath hot against your neck as he continues to pump his fingers in and out of you, his pace never faltering. “Come on, I want to feel you.”

It only takes a few more seconds before you’re falling over the edge, your orgasm crashing through you with a force that leaves you shaking in his arms. Your eyes squeeze shut as you cry out, your whole body trembling as you come around his fingers, your nails digging into his shoulders hard enough to leave marks.

Seb grins as he watches you fall apart, his fingers slowing but not stopping as he rides out your orgasm, drawing every last bit of pleasure from you until you’re left panting against him, completely spent.

“You taste so sweet, baby,” he murmurs, pulling his fingers from you and bringing them to his mouth. He sucks them clean, his eyes never leaving yours as he licks every drop of your release from his fingers. “Fuck, I’ve missed that taste.”

You can barely catch your breath, but the sight of him licking his fingers clean sends a fresh wave of arousal through you, and you bite your lip, trying to control the smile tugging at the corners of your mouth.

Seb chuckles, his hand cupping your chin as he leans in to kiss you again, his lips soft and sweet against yours. “C’mon, let’s get out of here before I fuck you against this wall.”

He pulls you away from the wall, his arm around your waist as you make your way toward his truck.

As you walk, Seb’s hand drops to your ass, giving it a soft smack. You yelp in surprise, shooting him a playful glare, but the smile on your face gives you away. “You’re terrible,” you tease, but there’s no real heat behind your words.

He just grins, his hand lingering on your ass as you reach the truck. “You love it,” he murmurs, and you do—god, you really do.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Once you’re both in the truck, Seb starts the engine, his hands resting on the steering wheel as you settle into the passenger seat. But you’re far from done with him. Leaning over, you press a kiss to his neck, trailing your lips along his skin, and you feel him tense beneath your touch.

“What are you doing, honey?” he asks, his voice thick with amusement, though there’s a hint of tension there, too—the good kind.

“Nothing,” you say innocently, your hand slipping down to rest on his thigh. You rub slow circles there, feeling the muscles beneath his pants twitch under your touch, and you hear him let out a low groan.

Next thing he knows, your fingers are unzipping his pants, freeing his already hard cock. Seb lets out a sharp breath, his eyes darting between the road and you as you wrap your hand around him, stroking him slowly. “Fuck…” he groans, his grip tightening on the steering wheel as his hips jerk up into your hand.

You lean over him, spitting on your hand before rubbing it up and down his length, your thumb brushing over the tip as you watch him fall apart beneath your touch. His head falls back against the seat, his eyes fluttering closed for a moment before he forces them open again, trying to focus on the road.

“Fuck, baby, we’re almost there—let me concentrate,” he mutters, but he doesn’t finish the sentence, his words trailing off into a low groan as you bend down, taking him into your mouth.

The taste of him, salty and warm, spreads over your tongue as you bob your head, your hand still stroking the base of his cock as you suck him off. Seb’s hand flies to your hair, gripping it tightly as his hips jerk up into your mouth, and he lets out a string of curses, his voice rough and low.

“Shit, baby,” he groans, his fingers tugging at your hair. “You’re gonna make me fucking crash.”

You smile around his length, hollowing your cheeks as you take him deeper, your tongue swirling around the head of his cock. He moans, low and guttural, and you feel him twitch in your mouth, his whole body tensing as he gets closer and closer to the edge.

But just as he’s about to come, he slides a hand down to your ass, rubbing your clit through your panties before slipping his fingers beneath the fabric. His touch is quick, precise, as he fingers you while you continue to suck him off, and the sensation of it all—the taste of him on your tongue, the feel of his fingers inside you—is enough to send you spiraling again.

You moan around his cock, the vibrations making him groan loudly as he fucks up into your mouth, his hips thrusting harder now, chasing his release. “Fuck, baby,” he growls, his thumb circling your clit as his fingers pump in and out of you. “Come for me.”

And you do—your body tensing as your orgasm hits you hard, your vision going white as you clench around his fingers. Seb groans loudly as he feels you come around him, his own orgasm following quickly after as he spills into your mouth, his body shaking from the intensity of it all.

You swallow every last drop, licking your lips as you pull back, watching him as he tries to catch his breath. His hand slides from your hair to your cheek, pulling you up to him as he presses his lips to yours in a messy, breathless kiss. “Fuck, baby,” he mutters, his voice still rough. “C’mere and give daddy a kiss.”

You happily oblige, your lips crashing together in a sloppy, heated kiss, your bodies still trembling from the intensity of your shared release. He pulls you onto his lap, his hands gripping your hips as he kisses you deeply, his tongue sliding against yours in a way that makes your head spin.

By the time you finally pull apart, you’re both out of breath, your foreheads resting against each other as you try to calm down. The truck pulls to a stop outside your spot, it’s a hidden clearing in the middle of the woods, where the trees create a perfect circle of privacy, and the open sky above provides a perfect view of the stars at night. It’s secluded, untouched, and filled with the most intimate memories shared between you and Seb. He turns off the engine, his hand slipping back to your ass as he grins at you.

“You’re playing a dangerous game, honey,” he murmurs, his voice filled with amusement as he opens the door, stepping out of the truck. He reaches for you, his hands sliding beneath your legs as he lifts you out of the truck, carrying you like you weigh nothing.

You giggle, your arms wrapping around his neck as you press a soft kiss to his lips. “Maybe I like playing dangerously,” you tease, your voice soft and playful.

Seb chuckles, his hand smacking your ass playfully as he carries you toward the truck bed. “Two can play that game, honey.”

You moan as he kisses your neck laying you down in the back of the truck. A gasp escapes your lips as you feel the straps of your sundress being pulled down. Seb’s eyes are focused on you—dark with desire, his lips curled into a soft smile as he watches your reaction. His mouth dips lower, his lips brushing over the swell of your breasts, his tongue flicking over your nipple before sucking it into his mouth, as he pulls your sundress down further, exposing you to the cool morning air.

“Mmh,” you hum softly, the sensation of his mouth sending ripples of warmth through your body.

“I’ve missed you so much, honey. You and this sexy body of yours.” He switches to your other breast, his hands holding you firmly as he takes his time worshipping every inch of you. “God, your pussy… fuck, I love your pussy so much,” he groans, his words sending a fresh wave of heat pooling in your core. “The taste of it, the way it feels around my fingers, my cock… Just thinking about it has me so hard.”

Your breath hitches as his words sink in, a mix of arousal and anticipation building deep inside you. Seb always knew how to make you feel desired, cherished, and completely out of control with need. The way he talks to you, the way he touches you—it’s like every part of him is made to drive you wild.

His kisses trail lower now, leaving a path of fire down your stomach as he works his way between your legs. You spread them instinctively, knowing what’s coming next, your body already aching for him, needing his touch more than anything. He pauses for a moment, looking up at you with a smirk, his hands gripping your thighs as he pushes them further apart.

“So beautiful,” he mutters, his voice thick with lust as he kisses along the inside of your thigh. “And all mine.”

You moan softly, your hands tangling in the blanket beneath you as his lips get closer and closer to where you need him most. The anticipation is driving you insane, every second that passes feels like too much, but Seb knows exactly how to take his time, to make you beg for it without even saying a word.

When his mouth finally reaches your core, a gasp escapes you, your hips jerking up instinctively as his tongue flicks over your clit. The sensation is almost too much, the pleasure immediate and overwhelming as he starts to eat you out, his mouth relentless against you.

“Fuck, Seb,” you moan, your back arching off the blanket as his tongue swirls around your clit, sending wave after wave of pleasure crashing through you.

He growls against you, the sound vibrating through your core as he licks and sucks at your clit with precision, driving you higher and higher. “You taste so fucking good,” he mutters, his voice muffled as he buries his face between your legs, his tongue working magic on you.

Your hands fly to his hair, tugging at it as you moan loudly, your body already teetering on the edge. “Seb, oh my god…”

“You like that, baby?” he murmurs against your clit, his fingers sliding up to tease your entrance as he continues to devour you.

“Yes, yes,” you moan, your body trembling as he inserts two fingers inside you, curling them just right as he pumps them in and out, matching the rhythm of his tongue. The pleasure is too much, too intense, and you can feel yourself spiraling out of control as he pushes you closer to the edge.

Seb smirks, taking your moans as a yes, his fingers thrusting deeper inside you as he flicks his tongue over your clit with even more pressure. Your body responds instantly, your legs trembling as the pleasure builds to an almost unbearable peak.

“Oh fuck, Seb,” you cry out, your head falling back as your body tenses, every muscle tightening as the orgasm rips through you.

Seb doesn’t stop, his mouth and fingers working you through your orgasm, his tongue relentless as he pushes you even higher. Your legs shake uncontrollably, your body completely at his mercy as wave after wave of pleasure crashes over you.

When you finally come down, your chest heaving and your body trembling, Seb pulls his mouth away, but his fingers remain inside you, still moving slowly as he cleans you up, his eyes watching you intently.

“Feels good baby?” he teases, his voice soft but filled with pride as he watches you catch your breath.

You nod, still too breathless to speak, your body completely spent from the intensity of your orgasm.

Seb leans down, pressing a soft kiss to your lips as his fingers slide out of you slowly, leaving you feeling empty and longing for more.

“God, I love you like this,” he whispers against your lips, kissing all over you.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

You’re still trembling, lost in the aftershocks of pleasure as Seb kisses his way back up your body. His lips are warm against your skin, grounding you, pulling you back from the blissed-out haze that has settled over you. The sun is rising higher, casting golden light through the canopy of trees surrounding your secret spot, but the world beyond the clearing feels distant—irrelevant. The only thing that matters right now is the heat radiating from Seb’s body, the way he presses against you, his hands roaming over your sensitive skin.

You can feel the shift in his energy—the tension, the need that hasn’t been fully satisfied yet. He kisses you deeply, and the hunger in that kiss makes your stomach tighten. You feel his hand sliding down your side, gripping your thigh as he positions himself between your legs. The tip of his cock brushes against your entrance, and your breath catches in your throat.

“C’mon, baby,” he murmurs against your lips, his voice rough with desire. “You can’t be tired already. You can give daddy a few more, right?”

Your heart races at his words, at the idea of what’s coming next. Your legs are still shaking from the intensity of his touch, but as you nod your head, your body responds in ways that words can’t. “Yes… yes, Seb,” you whisper breathlessly, your hands resting on his strong shoulders as you brace yourself for what’s to come.

He smirks, a flash of something dark and teasing in his eyes as he shifts his hips, the tip of his cock sliding along your wet slit. The sensation sends shivers through you, your body hypersensitive, already craving him. You gasp, your fingers tightening around his arms as you feel him position himself at your entrance.

And then, in one slow, deliberate thrust, Seb pushes inside you.

A yelp escapes your lips as the stretch of him burns through you, the sensation overwhelming. He’s big, and the way he fills you—bottoming out until you’re impossibly full—takes your breath away. “Fuck,” you moan, your head falling back against the soft blankets beneath you, your eyes squeezed shut as you try to adjust to the intensity of it.

“It’s too much,” you whimper, your voice shaking as you grip his arms, your nails digging into his skin. “Seb, I—”

“Shh, baby,” he soothes, his lips brushing against your ear as he stills inside you, his chest pressing against yours. “Yes, you can. You can take it, honey. I know you can.”

You nod, gasping softly as he starts to move again, his hips pulling back before slowly thrusting forward. The drag of him inside you is agonizing in the best way, every inch of him stretching you, filling you, making you feel so completely his. Your legs wrap around his waist instinctively, pulling him closer as his pace starts to pick up.

The tenderness melts away, replaced by something primal. His hips snap forward with more force, the sound of his skin slapping against yours mixing with your moans as he sets a relentless rhythm. Each thrust feels deeper, rougher, hitting a spot inside you that has your back arching off the blanket, your body completely out of control.

“Oh fuck,” you cry out, your voice breaking as the pleasure builds rapidly inside you, your fingers clawing at his back as he drives into you harder, faster. “Seb, I—”

He smirks down at you, his eyes dark and wild with lust as he watches you fall apart beneath him. “You like that, baby?” he growls, his voice thick with satisfaction as he thrusts even harder, bullying your body with every stroke.

You can only nod, your words lost in the overwhelming pleasure. He knows exactly what he’s doing, knows exactly how to push you to the brink. Each thrust is aimed perfectly, hitting that sweet spot deep inside you that has your vision blurring and your body shaking.

You feel yourself tightening around him, the pleasure too intense, too consuming. “Oh fuck, I’m—” you try to warn him, but it’s too late. Your orgasm crashes over you, your body convulsing as you scream his name, the pleasure so overwhelming it borders on painful.

Seb doesn’t stop. He fucks you through it, his cock driving into you relentlessly as tears prick at your eyes, the intensity of it all too much to handle. Your legs are shaking uncontrollably, your body completely wrecked as he continues to thrust into you, prolonging your orgasm until you’re nothing but a trembling, whimpering mess beneath him.

“Aww, honey,” Seb murmurs, his voice thick with both affection and lust as he leans down to kiss the tear-streaked cheeks he’s caused. “You look so pretty when you cry. Gosh, you’re just perfect. Fuck, just look at you. So beautiful.”

His words make your heart race, and a fresh wave of heat surges through you as his pace increases, his hands gripping your hips tightly. He’s not letting up, not giving you a moment to recover from the intensity of it all. You gasp, your body responding to every thrust, every word, every touch.

“You feel so good on my cock, baby,” he growls, his voice deep and rough, sending shivers down your spine. “The way you squeeze me… fuck.”

Your eyes meet his, and the fire in his gaze makes your stomach flip. It’s almost too much—the way he looks at you like you’re the only thing in the world that matters. You’re already breathless, on the edge, when he suddenly leans closer, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispers, “I can’t wait to get you pregnant.”

A moan escapes your lips before you can stop it, and Seb’s lips curl into a smirk against your skin. He pulls back just enough to look at you, his eyes dark with satisfaction at your reaction. “Oh, you liked that, huh?” he teases, his thrusts becoming even harder, even more deliberate. “You like the thought of me fucking you over and over again, filling you with my cum until you’re pregnant?”

Your breath catches in your throat, and all you can do is nod as the pleasure builds inside you. “Yes,” you moan softly, your voice barely a whisper.

Seb’s grip on your hips tightens, and in one swift movement, he hooks your legs up onto his shoulders, changing the angle as he thrusts into you with more intensity. You cry out as he goes deeper, hitting a spot that makes your vision blur. “Yeah, baby,” he growls, his pace quickening. “You want that? You want daddy to get you pregnant? Have you nice and round, carrying my child, letting everyone know that you’re mine?”

“Yes!” you cry out, your voice breaking as his words push you closer and closer to the edge. “Fuck, yes, Seb!”

He grins down at you, his breath ragged as he pounds into you relentlessly. The sound of skin slapping against skin fills the air, mingling with your desperate moans. “You like that, huh? Want the whole world to know you’re mine. That you’re a slut for daddy, letting me fuck you pregnant,” he growls, his words sending shivers down your spine as your body tenses, the pleasure coiling tight inside you.

“Yes, yes, yes,” you scream, your nails digging into his arms as you teeter on the edge of release, your body trembling with anticipation.

Seb leans down, his face inches from yours, his breath hot against your skin as he whispers, “Then cum for me, honey. Let me feel you cum all over my cock.”

With one final thrust, you’re gone. Your orgasm crashes over you like a wave, your body convulsing beneath him as you scream his name, your vision going white from the intensity of it all. Seb doesn’t stop, his hips still driving into you, fucking you through your orgasm until you’re a trembling, moaning mess beneath him.

“Fuck, look at that pretty sight,” he groans, his voice full of admiration as he watches you come undone. “God, you’re perfect.”

You can feel his pace falter as he gets closer to his own release, and you cling to him, your legs still hooked over his shoulders as he drives into you one last time. With a deep groan, Seb spills inside you, his body shuddering as he collapses on top of you, his breathing heavy and labored.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Sebastian’s body presses against yours, his warmth surrounding you in the most comforting way as you lay there, side by side in the truck bed. He kisses the top of your head, his lips moving down the curve of your neck, soft and tender. Every touch from him sends shivers down your spine, and even though your body feels spent, there’s something about the way he holds you, the way he whispers against your skin, that ignites something deep within.

He pulls you closer, your back pressed to his chest, his hand resting on your hip as he lets out a soft sigh. “Honey,” he murmurs, his voice low and filled with affection, “you think you can give me one more?”

You feel the flutter of anticipation deep in your belly at his words. Your body is exhausted, every muscle aching from the intensity of everything that’s already happened, but something about the way he asks, the way he coos at you, makes you want to give him everything you have left.

You whisper a soft, breathless, “Yes.”

Sebastian smiles against your neck, his lips grazing your skin as he pulls you even closer. “That’s my girl,” he says, his voice filled with praise. “Ride me, baby. I wanna get a full view of you, my beautiful girl.”

Your heart races at the thought, the idea of being fully on display for him, letting him watch you as you take control, sending a thrill through you. Slowly, you shift, moving to straddle him. Seb’s hands never leave you, his fingers tracing up your sides, helping guide you into position as you sit above him. His eyes are dark with desire, watching you with an intensity that makes your whole body heat up.

Your hands rest on his chest, his strong, broad frame beneath your fingertips as you steady yourself. He gives you a reassuring nod, his hands moving to your hips, gently guiding you as you reach between your legs to grasp him. You can feel how hard he still is, the tip of him pressing against your entrance, and you bite your lip at the anticipation of the stretch.

“Go slow, baby,” Seb whispers, his hands rubbing soothing circles on your waist. “I know it’s a lot, but you can take it. You always do.”

You sink down onto him, inch by inch, the stretch almost overwhelming after everything you’ve already been through. A soft whimper escapes your lips, and Seb tightens his grip on your hips, grounding you. “I know, baby,” he coos, “but look at you. You’re taking me so well.”

As you finally take him fully inside, you let out a soft gasp, feeling the familiar fullness, the way he stretches you like no one else ever could. Your head falls forward, your hands gripping his chest for support as you try to adjust. That’s when you hear Seb’s voice, rough with lust. “Fuck… look at that.”

Your eyes flicker down to where your bodies are joined, and you can see it — a slight bulge in your lower belly where he’s buried so deep inside of you. The sight of it, the visual proof of how full you are, sends a fresh wave of arousal through you, and suddenly, you’re moving on top of him, your hips starting to roll in slow, deliberate circles.

Seb watches in awe, his hands moving to cup your breasts, his thumbs brushing over your sensitive nipples as he groans. “That’s it, honey. Just like that. You’re so fucking perfect.”

His praises fuel you, and you start to pick up the pace, moving faster as the pleasure builds inside of you once again. Each movement draws soft gasps from your lips, and you feel yourself slipping further into that blissful haze where all that matters is the way he feels inside of you, the way his eyes are locked on yours, filled with so much adoration and desire.

“Faster, baby,” Seb urges, his hands gripping your waist now, guiding your movements. “I want to feel all of you.”

You obey, quickening your pace, but it’s not long before Sebastian starts to thrust up into you, meeting your movements with his own, the intensity increasing with each second. His hips drive into you harder and deeper, and you’re starting to lose your balance, your hands slipping on his chest as your body struggles to keep up with the relentless pace.

Seb notices immediately, wrapping his arms around your waist, pulling you flush against him as he takes over, fucking up into you with a rhythm that leaves you gasping for air. Each thrust jerks your body, sending shockwaves of pleasure through you that make your vision blur and your voice come out in broken moans.

“Oh fuck, Seb, too much—ahh,” you cry out, your nails digging into his shoulders as you try to hold on.

But Seb doesn’t slow down. If anything, he thrusts harder, deeper, his pace almost brutal as he chases both of your releases. “You can take it,” he growls, his voice low and commanding. “You’re my good girl, right?”

“Yes,” you moan, your head falling back as the pleasure becomes too much to bear. “Yes, Seb, but—”

“Shh,” he interrupts, his lips brushing against your neck. “I know it’s a lot, but you can do it. I know you can.”

His words make your whole body tremble, the praise mixed with the roughness of his movements sending you spiraling. Your orgasm is building fast, the pleasure coiling tighter and tighter inside you with each thrust, and you can feel yourself right on the edge.

Seb feels it too. “You gonna cum for me, honey?” he asks, his voice rough and breathless. “You gonna cum on my cock?”

You nod frantically, your words coming out in a desperate moan. “Yes, Seb, yes, I—”

“Cum with me,” he growls, his pace becoming erratic as he thrusts even harder, hitting that perfect spot deep inside you. “Now, baby.”

The command is all it takes. You shatter around him, your orgasm tearing through you with a force that makes you scream his name. Your whole body shakes as the pleasure overwhelms you, your vision going white as you convulse around him. Seb isn’t far behind, his hips slamming into you one last time as he groans your name, his release spilling inside of you, filling you so completely.

You collapse against his chest, completely spent, your body trembling from the intensity of it all. Seb’s arms wrap around you, holding you close as he catches his breath, his chest rising and falling beneath you.

“Fuck,” he mutters, his voice soft now, filled with awe as he presses a kiss to your temple. “You did so good, honey.”

You’re too exhausted to respond, your head resting on his chest as you try to calm your breathing. Seb doesn’t seem to mind your silence, his hands moving soothingly up and down your back as he holds you.

After a few moments, he shifts slightly, still inside you, and you whimper softly at the overstimulation. “Let’s stay like this, baby,” Seb murmurs, his voice low and affectionate. “You gonna keep daddy’s cock warm, right?”

You can’t help the soft moan that escapes your lips at his words, your body still too sensitive, but the idea of keeping him inside you, staying connected like this, sends a wave of warmth through you. “Yes,” you whisper, your voice barely audible.

Seb smiles against your skin, his lips brushing your ear as he speaks. “Good girl,” he praises softly. “Keep my cum inside you all day, so you can carry my child, right?”

You nod, too overwhelmed to do anything else, but the thought of it—of him filling you over and over until you’re pregnant—makes a fresh wave of arousal pool low in your belly. It’s a thought that would’ve terrified you once, but now, with Seb holding you like this, it feels like the most natural thing in the world.

Seb kisses your temple again, his voice soft and comforting as he murmurs, “You’re everything to me, baby. My perfect girl.”

You smile softly, your body sinking into his as you let his warmth surround you. Maybe there were doubts before, maybe there was fear, but here, in his arms, with the taste of pure bliss still lingering on your skin, you know you made the right choice. There’s no room for regret when it feels like this—when he makes you feel like this.

*☾⋆･ﾟ taglist! @ham1lton @ietss @animeandf1lover @nelly187 @heartsfromtaeyong @bloodyymaryyy @nor-4 @zacian117 @mel164 @uhhvictoria @hadidsworld @zabwlky1999 @sya-skies @lillysbigwilly @avengers-assemble123456 @santanasaintmendes @km-23mr @hookhausenschips @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @Ronpho @minekarina @aeongism @Formula1-motogpfa @slagclarens @aleexvqa @f1updates4you @booksandflowrs @chaostudee @winkev1 @strawblueberrys @Blakesbearblog @cel-b @perfumejamal @aykxz98 @pandora-08 @szalovebot @tellybearryyyy @exotic-iris13 @magixpracticality @oledoledoffen @pear-1206 @oliviah-25

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[yummybrainzz]

Yandere! Rich suitor idea

Hear me out-

The rich suitor that your parents have in mind for you to marry once you turn 30, the guy who's parents your parents are best friends and how they've been imagining their offspring getting married for decades! And how you absolutely can't stand your unofficial fiance!

Of course, he couldn't stand you either. All your lives grown up together with both your parents insinuating that you two will carry on their names. Each year you two would be sent off to some exotic vacation (your parents loosely supervising) and each year you both failed to hold a conversation without fighting. The pressure was always too much for you, you hated the idea of being tied down to some guy only your parents liked. And no matter how beautiful the boy was, he simply wasn't your type. He was too pretty, too spoiled, too prissy with his blonde hair tied in a ponytail and his stupid eyebrow piercing that made no sense considering his personality.

The guy you were supposed to marry felt the same, he couldn't understand what his parents saw in you. You were too wild, he couldn't imagine trying to carry on a family with how you barely even wanted to do school work. He didn't even consider ugly just so... Weird! With your weird, odd sense of fashion and refusal to think about your future , you were definitely not his type. You two hated each other.

Until the summer you two turned 21. The yearly vacation y'all took started off like any other. With both you dreading the sight of each other. But that changed very quickly once he saw you. This was the first year you two were alone, and maybe it was the fresh alcohol in your systems or the soft lights in whatever high class restaurant you were in, something clicked in your suitor's brain.

Turns out a year (or a couple) can really change the way you see someone. Whether he knew or not he started to admire the way you refused to comply with the strict set of rules set by the high class society you two lived in, and how you didn't care what anyone else thought of your peculiar way of self expression. It was admirable he had to admit.

And the night you two shared an accidental drunken kiss, it made the hair on his arms stand up, it made his face flush red(which he blamed on the liquor), and it made his heart pound in a way he never thought possible.

Every bone chilling reaction was forced out of him and it made his skin light on fire. After that night, he only wanted more to come out of your relationship.

But, the attraction was simply one sided.

You still only saw the same prissy boy. He still refused to look at things from more than one perspective, he still poked fun at your style of clothes, he still refused to say thank you to whatever person who was serving him!

He was everything you hated all wrapped up in one ball of a man.

And when he dropped the idea of getting married the next morning while you were still recovering from your hangover, you almost vomited.

-

"Ew! What the fuck are you talking about?!" You yelled while almost dropping the mug you had in your hand. The guy was just insulting you yesterday like he always does and now he's talking about marriage?

"You act as though marrying me is the worst thing possible." Andrew sighed while sipping on a glass of orange juice. He looked out the nearby window onto the private beach of the resort while leaning on the nearby wall. It didn't show but your response clearly hurt him just a bit.

"'Cuz it is." You groaned in frustration while sitting down on the living room couch. The guy you hate proposing is definitely not helping with your pounding headache.

You took a sip out of the mug of coffee and tried to rub away the ache from your temples. Why now of all times to propose? You two had at least 5 more years of freedom before yours and his parents would put their foot down and set a date for you two to sign the wedding papers.

"I mean- why not now? Its be better sooner than later, it would be like ripping off a bandaid-"

"Hell no." You sighed and set down your mug on the coffee table next to you and dropped your head onto a pillow. How were you going to deal with this?

"Anyway," you paused trying to gather your words, "don't you hate me? Why would you want to tie the knot so soon? I mean, you're an attractive guy right? Why don't you try out other options before having to-"

"I don't want other options."

You lifted your head and stared at Andrew for a second. The pink dusting his fair cheeks and avoidance of eye contact was all you needed to know.

You looked away from his face and stared at the wall behind him. Your head hurts even more than when you had woken up.

"I'm leaving."

"What?"

"I said I'm leaving." You hauled yourself off the couch and into your room. You could hear Andrews faint footsteps and even more of his questions but ignored it. You packed your backpack, only the necessities and a small bag of seashells. You were getting on the next plane and heading back home. Or wherever you could land first.

You were not staying here. You refused to marry. Not yet at least.

But as you try and open the door to leave, a large hand slams it shut before you can completely open it.

"Andrew. What the hell are you doing."

"You are not leaving." Andrew says while placing his other hand against the door, caging you.

You never realized how muscular Andrew was before this moment.

"Yes, I am. Now let go of the door-"

"No." He says in a much firmer tone.

It dawns on you that you're on a private beach with no one to hear you yell for help. You see one of his hands leave the door and for a second you think he's come back to his senses and stopped whatever crazy shit he was thinking- but instead he snaked his hand around your waist and lays his forehead on your shoulder.

"You're not leaving."

-

HEHEHEHE JUST A THOUGHT THOOO

Not proof read forgive me 😔

[faiszt]

𝟎𝟎𝟓.⠀ DEAR─GOD⠀⠀٭⠀ֹ⠀۪⠀ ❝ ⠀art donaldson.⠀ ꒰⠀single:⠀꒱ ⠀so ︎ close ︎ to ︎ what⠀❞⠀⠀bot drop⠀⠀♥︎⠀⠀PRE⠀ ̸ RELEASE

⠀⠀❝ֹ ֹ⠀ haven’t see you in two years, but⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ baby, we still breathe the same air ⠀ּ ּ❞

BOT⠀♡⠀ ꒰⠀all the no-good thoughts⠀꒱⠀ ─ SUMMARY ♡⠀ back then: art donaldson, retired former tennis player, a absolutely legend for his time, so acclaimed in his good guy image... if they only knew his little secret, the little secret he had with his daughter’s best friend.

WORD COUNT⠀♡⠀ 2.5k⠀ ─⠀⠀ CONTAINS⠀♡⠀dilf!art x young!reader. smut content. agegap ꒰ 25 · 45 ꒱ hard & strong language. cheating. slightly mentions of god. blowjob. dirty talk. slightly size kink.⠀+ 18, minors who interact with this will be blocked.⠀⠀⠀⸜ ꒰ ˃ ᵕ ˂ ꒱ ⸝ ೂ

two years ago. fourth semester of college, you had already lost count of how many times you had been stressed, cried, gotten angry and felt your family putting more and more weight on your shoulders. summer break at home were hell, the worst kind, as if your dad were the devil in the flesh.

’cause of this, like an angel, your roommate—and best friend—suggested that you shouldn’t go to your house, but to hers. lily felt lonely all summer, most of the time, not that her parents weren’t around, they just had a few (many) other things to do. you were always there for her, so she felt like she should do the same for you this summer.

bad idea, the worst idea that could’ve crossed her mind.

it wasn’t as if art and tashi’s marriage was still on good terms, quite the opposite, they only stayed together ’cause it seemed too late to waste their energy on a divorce. almost fifty years old now, what could they do?

that’s why they ran away from each other all the time, just like they were a couple in front of the cameras, they didn’t even sleep in the same room at home anymore. everything still seemed so normal to them, lily never even cared about it, almost as if she was trying to be completely oblivious.

this got worse when art learned that you liked tennis, that you had already watched many of his matches and in a way, you had an admiration that he had never really seen so closely. he was dazzled, pretending he didn’t mind—though he was paying attention to every step you took. twenty years younger than him, was he freaking out? yeah, he was.

you were already an adult enough, sure, but you were still too young for him... and, shit, you were also his daughter’s best friend, what the fuck was he thinking when he imagined you in his bed? art had dealt with everything he needed to deal with... now he had to deal with you too.

and he knew exactly how to deal with you.

“i saw you playin’ tennis with lily,” yeah, right, you had seen him watching you and his daughter play tennis on the court, nothing much, just having fun—you had noticed that he, somehow, saw it all as a competition. “you’re pretty good, why didn’t you pursue a career?”

1am, you were staring at him while sitting on the bed, not understanding exactly why he was starting a conversation right now, especially shirtless. “ahn, well... it’s just that i wasn’t that interested in tennis to the point of... you know, wantin’ a career.” you could see the surprise in his eyes as he crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against the doorframe.

“damn... i get why you and lily got along.” he gave a low, dry laugh, just remembering the thousands of times he and tashi had tried to make lily follow in their footsteps, which she had always refused—so they had just accepted it and forgotten about it. “anyway, do you need something? are you feelin’ comfortable here?”

“yeah, thank you...” you nodded in agreement, giving him a weak smile, trying to be polite even though you were still getting used to their whole family dynamic. “sorry if i’m being intrusive, but what are you doing up, mr. donaldson? i’m just curious.”

a white-toothed smile appeared on art’s face when he heard the way you called him, it made him feel old, definitely, but it also warmed something inside him. “nothing, i think i’m just havin’ trouble sleeping... everything’s fine, don’t worry.”

then, he sighed, looking around. the house was quiet, he knew how fast his wife and daughter slept, he also used to sleep fast a few months ago. but, now his mind was clouded by no-good thoughts, and god, he wanted to get rid of it, but he knew he wouldn’t be able to until he acted on the root of the problem.

“you don’t look sleepy at all either...” he grumbled. “wanna keep me company? i made coffee.” you could even refuse, but there was no way, he was looking at you like a sad, abandoned puppy, not like a forty-five year old man should.

you got up and followed him downstairs, the lights in the whole house were off, except for the one in the kitchen—making the whole place a little melancholic, kinda dark, way too quiet. art poured a cup of coffee for you, then one for himself, trying to hide how much he was watching every little expression you made.

he wanted to tell you that you looked beautiful in those pajamas, and that, maybe, you’d look better without them. but, he just swallowed hard, sipping his coffee in silence. “what are you lookin’ at?” his cup tapped lightly against the marble counter, he was smiling again, with a spark of something you couldn’t quite identify. “i like walkin’ around here shirtless, i hope you don’t mind... look all you want.”

your eyes narrowed a little, a confused laugh escaping you, was he really saying what you heard or was it just in your head? your best friend’s dad... so blatantly telling you that you could look at his bare chest all you wanted. “mr. donaldson, i...” he coughed before you could continue your sentence which he could almost imagine what it’d be.

“no mr. donaldson me, i’m not that old... just call me art, please?” cursed was the time lily invited you to spend the summer break at her house—when you weren’t exactly aware of how tempting her dad could be when he wanted and needed something. “so, come on, pretty princess, let’s be honest... you’re not just lookin’ for the sake of it, are you?”

you sighed heavily, glancing at him from the corner of your eyes as he stopped beside you, taking the coffee cup from your hand. dear god, you thought, noticing the way he leaned against the counter, looking you up and down. “i’m listenin’ to whatever you wanna tell me.” art whispered, so close to your face you could almost feel the heat of his body.

“your wife’s sleeping upstairs, art.” you didn’t really know what to say, your brain was almost short-circuiting with the implication of his words. your heart was racing just thinking about the danger of simply kissing a married man with his wife and daughter sleeping upstairs.

his only reaction was to chuckle softly, now leaning more against you as one of his large hands gently caressed your shoulder. “and so was i when she cheated on me,” he clicked his tongue. “it’s not a revenge, actually, i don’t care about it. but if you do, we can just act like this never happened.”

a little weird, he was giving you the chance to walk away, though he already knew internally that you wouldn’t leave and he was fuckin’ right, you didn’t move a single muscle to be away from him. “i don’t know if i believe you.”

“so let me show you why you should believe me...” art’s hand on your shoulder pulled you closer to him, until your chest was pressed against his bare one, your eyes just in front of his lips like a silent invitation. “desire cannot be faked, sweetheart... i can’t pretend, and neither can you.”

his hand came up, grabbing the back of your neck before crashing his lips against yours in a kiss that was as messy as hot—it was the dirtiest mistake you could ever make, but it felt so right and so good that you almost wanted to pray as you kissed him. he was the worst of men, so maybe you were the worst of women.

art moaned against your lips, his tongue swiping across your bottom lip before his large hand ran down your back. “can you be quiet for me? we don’t wanna wake anyone up... yeah?” his breath was warm in your ear, his lips brushing against your neck before he gave you another one of his smiles that you now understood what they meant.

too late to regret anything, he had already placed you on the counter, pushing the coffee maker as if he couldn’t care less about that bad coffee he had made earlier. he was holding your chin, kissing your lips with fervor and messiness, like he could barely process where your lips actually were ’cause he just wanted to kiss you so badly.

it was too risky to do much, but art wasn’t thinking, neither were you—the rush was taking over, more than it should’ve, so you pushed him back. but, this wasn’t you giving up, no, not at all, you pulled him with you to the other side of the counter, pushing him against it, hands running down his bare chest, stopping at the hem of his pants, wanting to see if this was really real or just a bluff from that old man.

his breath caught in his throat as he leaned back a little, hands braced on the edge of the counter behind him as he enjoyed the sight of you getting down on your knees in front of him. as if he were a god waiting for your prayer, your god.

art felt like he could come just from this holy sight, but he held back, running his tongue over his slightly swollen lower lip, reddish after what you did to it.

you pulled down his sweatpants like he was just another one on your list and he was obsessed with every second of it, he had forgotten what it was like to want something as much as he wanted you. “you’re the one who’s gonna need to keep quiet...” you teased him, tracing the line of his bulge, making him feel his legs weaken.

your mouth was on him in minutes, knees on the carpet, art’s knuckles were turning white from the way he held himself against the counter—gasping every time your hand squeezed his balls and made him see stars. his cock was throbbing inside your mouth, desperately begging for release. he wouldn’t last long, not when his desire was screaming inside him.

“mhnm... fuck... where did you learn that?” opening his mouth was enough for a low moan to escape him, his blue eyes watching intently the way he pumped into your mouth. “you’re being so good to me, pretty... princess...” he began to stroke your hair, letting you take him deeper and deeper.

art wasn’t a small man and he was quite proud of his size, not that many women had access to that, but he liked to see your cute little face struggling not to choke—though he was thrusting his hips forward just to make you feel him all the way to the roof of your mouth. “no, no... no choking... take me like a good little girl, yeah? you can do it.” he gasped, rolling his eyes, the hand in your hair going to your cheek.

he could see your effort to please him and, fuck, that was the most arousing thing he had seen in months.

you were the worst friend and guest in the whole world, but that didn’t matter now that your host felt so good fucking your mouth like you were his fleshlight—he’d be lying if he said that wasn’t the best blowjob he’d ever received, maybe it could also be his need speaking louder.

art was getting closer and closer to the edge, it wasn’t hard to notice that, he had been without the right incentive for a while, you were making him look like an idiot, but he couldn’t take it anymore when you were what he needed, you didn’t even need to touch him that much to make him go all the way.

“slow down... or i’ll come...” he said between sighs, as if you weren’t already so invested in this that you’d actually listen to him, he didn’t know you well enough yet to know how you could be. “shit... why... why are you going faster...?”

what was the fun in giving an older man a blowjob if you couldn’t make him whimper for you while you swallowed his whole cock?

“keep whimpering or i’ll stop.” you said, pulling your mouth away from his reddish length for just a measly second, just so he could see that string of saliva that connected you to him. art felt pathetic, just like he had twenty years ago and he wanted more of that guilty youth you made him feel.

he might not obey you, but he did the opposite, just nodding his head as he positioned his hips forward again, almost begging you to make him come down your throat. “don’t stop, please... make me come...” he grumbled, nibbling on his bottom lip, waiting for you.

he had to cover his mouth with his wrist when you went back to sucking him, so hard and good that he’d barely be able to stand if the counter wasn’t behind him. even so, you could hear his whimpers, begging for you, for your mouth, for your tongue. “your mouth... fuck, it’s so good... i need it everyday...”

you could see when his breathing started to get more labored, his eyes opening with difficulty, trying to stay calm even with the sensation completely dominating him. then, he was coming undone on your tongue, thick jets of hot seed hitting your throat as he used both hands to hold your head in place.

“swallow it all, every drop.” he said with a low growl, forcing you to take every drop of what he was offering you until it was empty and softened outside your mouth. “jesus christ, you made me a mess...” a chuckle escaped him as he felt lighter.

you got up from the floor when he offered you a hand after the heated moment between you, watching you with a loving gaze—he didn’t even understand why, but he was looking at you like that without noticing. “can i sleep now, mr. donaldson?” you called him that again just for the teasing, making him roll his eyes.

“stop it... and yeah, you can, but...” he grabbed your hips, pulling you into his bare chest after pulling his sweatpants up again. “only if you promise to do it again tomorrow.”

“a promise, huh? okay, that’s a promise then.” too bad for you, you didn’t know this would haunt you two years later.

REQUESTS ARE OPEN.⠀⠀feel free to send me asks and suggestions in my inbox, you'll be welcome. ꒰ ˶> ˕ <˶ ꒱ ♡

©⠀𝐅𝐀𝐈𝐒𝐙𝐓, 2025.⠀don't use my work without my consent.

[mountainsandmayhem]

Maid Discreetly - Chapter One

Tommy Miller x Female OC - 18+

Summary: After what he did to your best friend, fuck Joel Miller and the horse he rode in on! But a twist of fate has you falling for his brother, who is also your dad’s friend. Oh, and did you mention that you hate him? Can love really conquer all, or is this just kinky hot sex with an older man? TW: Reader is a fully described female character, the girl in the mood board is not just for vibes, that person will be described in detail. She's badass though, I wish I was her. Eventual smut and open door scenes featuring sub/dom dynamic. Tommy has a filthy mouth and she's a stubborn brat. The slowest of burns. Warnings for this chapter in small red below the cut. AN: First of all, thank you to everyone who made BDSMaid such a success. I expected 2 people to read it (@mermaidgirl30 and @littlevenicebitch69) but boy oh boy was I wrong! Thank you @for-a-longlongtime for encouraging me and letting me scream about these two and to @lotusbxtch for being in my corner always. I can't believe Joel Miller's fictional cock brought me so many life long friends xo WC: 3.2k

My Masterlist || Story Masterlist || Joel and Kim

CW: swearing; drinking alcohol; parents just being parents, ya know?; Tommy being a dick

You

It’s silly, and completely self indulgent, but the Greater Austin Business Awards has always been a highlight of your year. It’s an evening full of glitz and glamour, of delicious food cooked by Michelin Star chefs, and golden champagne chilled to perfection. Year after year it’s the perfect evening, your dad or Maid Discreetly usually taking home an award. This year though, it was your mom who was going to be honoured. Just like you, she works at Maid Discreetly, her title though is much more impressive than yours. Tonight, she will take home a beautiful glass plaque, etched with her name right below ‘CFO of the Year’. You didn’t think anything would make the night any more idyllic, and nothing could ruin the evening; that is, until you looked at the list of award winners. When your eyes drifted down the nominees another name caught your eye. Your stomach twisted as you read it over again. Listed amongst five other businesses nominated for their outstanding contributions to environmental impact was Joel Miller, JM Construction. 

Joel fucking Miller, you thought to yourself. The asshole who broke your best friend's heart almost one year ago was going to be in the same room as you. Not only did he break a girl that you thought was shatter proof, he ruined her chances of getting her law degree here, leaving her with no choice but to move to California. You knew the latter of the argument was dramatic; Kim always imagined herself going to Berkeley, but you missed your best friend and her bubbly, and sweet redheaded ways.

You: Voldemort is nominated for an award Kim: Who? You: I refuse to say his name Kim: LOL you’re so dramatic Kim: Don’t do anything to get you kicked out You: Just some light yelling then? Kim: He’s not worth it. I’m fine, and I’ll show him by becoming more successful than him You: You get me all hot when you talk like that! Miss you. Kim: Miss you too, facetime date soon? I gotta go, just getting to the office.

Kim didn’t not say that you couldn’t say anything, so technically you weren’t going against girl code by ripping Joel a new one - lightly, of course. Truthfully, even if she had forbidden it, it’s not in your nature to not defend your friends or family. Growing up you were always encouraged to speak your mind, and tomorrow night was going to be no different; you just have to get Laren to point Joel out to you. 

The next afternoon you meet your mom at the most expensive spa in downtown Austin. This is the aforementioned self indulgent part; your father giving you and your mom his black AMEX and letting you pamper yourselves, not to mention the brand new Chanel dress you bought for the event. You lay on the plush spa bed, your freshly exfoliated, waxed, massaged, and lotioned skin wrapped in a white robe that’s softer than anything you’ve ever felt. The room smells like mint and jasmine, the soothing music washing over you as the aesthetician applies all sorts of lotions to your face. For most, this would be a time to wholly relax, and while every muscle in your body feels heavy, your mind is racing with what exactly you want to say to Joel tonight.

‘Joel? You don’t know me, but I know you. How dare you do that to Kim.’

No, you think to yourself as steam hits your face to open your pores. I really gotta give it to him, make him realize what he fucked up. 

‘Are you Joel? How dare you treat the kindest person in the world that way. I curse the day you were born, fuck face.’ 

Whoa, too mean! You say to yourself. Speaking your mind is natural to you, but being outright mean was never your strong suit. Your last ex was outright awful to you, and where you weren’t afraid to tell him to “fuck all the way off” when he told you that breaking up with him was the dumbest thing you could do, you could never find it in you to attack his character. As if a light bulb goes off, it comes to you. Joel needs your company, not the other way around. 

‘Joel? I just wanted to let you know that if you ever speak to one of my maids again, I’ll have you removed as a client. Not that you care, but Kim’s fine, thriving really, no thanks to you. On behalf of her entire friend group, go fuck yourself. You’re a piece of shit.’

You smile to yourself as your facial comes to an end. The stuffy boomers that frequent these events might not appreciate the swearing, you’ll win them over with your smile and charm though if they overhear anything. As you pad down the hall to the hair stylist and makeup artist waiting for you and your mom, you solidify your plans; once Laren points him out, it’s on. Part of you hope’s he has a date with him, all women should know what kind of man he is.  

“Where’s Laren?” You ask as you and your mom sit at the posh white and gold table close to the stage a few hours later. The giant centerpiece composed of white roses, pearls and greenery in the middle is so tall that you can barely see the person sitting across from you, a string quartet plays from the corner of the space. The ballroom of the hotel has muted beige walls adorned with gold sconces that cast warm light upwards. The crystal chandeliers around the room are on, but kept dim. This could easily be someone’s wedding instead of a business gala.

The strap of your fitted midnight blue dress slips down your arm as you sit. Your mom places it back on your shoulder with one hand, the other holding her third glass of champagne since arriving twenty minutes ago, as she responds, “She’s not coming. Her and your aunt are sick.”

You slump back slightly in your chair, crossing your arms over your chest. This is going to be nearly impossible now. “Sit up straight, kiddo,” your dad says, his voice soft yet stern. 

“I’m almost twenty five,” you state as you straighten and grab your water glass, hoping the cold liquid will extinguish the rush of frustration that courses through you. Without Laren, none of this can happen. You have access to all of Joel Miller's information; his address, phone number, the credit card number the company charges for his cleaning services too. Everything except his identity. Maybe you could ask your dad to point him out? He would have been the one to get him to sign his contract. 

Your dad settles in the chair on the other side of your mom as you pull out your phone to try to google Joel again. Just as you open your web browser, your dad leans forward, his hand touches your wrist before he speaks. 

“You’ll always be a kid to me,” He says, smiling as your eyes meet his. You force a closed lipped smile back. 

And that right there is why asking your dad is out of the question - always a kid. Even though your business degree hangs on the wall of your office, your dad still sees you as that little girl who cried when he dropped you off at your first ballet lesson. You’ve been working for your dad for about eight years. He hired you at seventeen as a maid, and you’ve worked your way up to where you are now, leading the hiring and training departments, as well as coordinating schedules when clients need added services or maids fall sick. Recently, you took on supervising the procurement department, as well. You’re grateful for every promotion and extra task you’ve been given, but what you really want is to help with the client side of things, to start learning how to be your dad, you just aren’t sure he feels the same way.

You spend dinner glancing around the room, hoping to be able to figure out who Joel is. Truthfully, he could be anyone, this whole space is full of wealthy, handsome older men. You press your full, red stained lips together and excuse yourself from the table. Your nude Prada heels click along the floor as you make your way to the bathroom, and you strain your ears as you pass every table for any mention of Joel. After washing your hands you look at yourself in the mirror, smoothing the loose curls of your dark brunette hair that stop just below your shoulders. Your signature winged eyeliner could not have come out more perfect tonight, nor could your staple matte red lip. The clapping of the crowd has you hurrying back to your seat.

You sit on pins and needles as the awards begin, they’re intensified when pictures of each nominee light up the large screen at the back of the stage; win or lose, you’ll know exactly who Joel is now. Butterflies erupt in your stomach when Joel’s category is announced. Pictures of each of the nominees splash across the screen, but when JM Construction is announced it’s just their logo and when Joel doesn’t win you are right back at square one. You down a glass of champagne to wash down the acidic taste of disappointment that lines your mouth. You don’t think you’ve been this dispirited since Santa Claus didn’t bring you the Mia St Clair American Doll in 2008.

Your father presents the award to your mom, and after she dabs at fake tears with her napkin, she hauls you up on stage with her. You feel a cool breeze on the back of your thighs as you climb the stairs, the slit up the back of your pin skirt parting with each step up that you take. Unlike most people, you actually enjoy being in front of groups of people, and the depraved thought that you may have just shown almost all of Austin's most wealthy your ass on your way up the stairs has you fighting a devious smile.

As the awards end, the party begins. You don’t feel like drinking the free wine or champagne, so you head towards the bar. A group of four women meander ahead of you and the urge to push past them is tamed only by the mention of the one name you’ve been trying to catch all evening.

“Yes, same Joel Miller,” the one woman says quietly. “Her husband played poker with him. I heard they had topless waitresses!”

“Clubs like that don’t exist,” says another woman. 

You smile to yourself. You were one of those topless servers, and you know clubs like that definitely exist. You’re devastated for Kim, but so very jealous of what she got to experience at JMKink.

“I’d be divorcing him too, that’s disgusting.” That statement comes from a woman with yellow blonde hair and a cross necklace, you recognize her from an obscenely large family photo that used to hang in one of the homes you used to clean. You also remember her from that time you walked in one time on her and her husband having a threeway with the pool boy. 

The first woman speaks again, “Heathens. I don’t know how that’s legal! And worse, he’s here and getting nominated for awards.”

The fourth woman, who has been surprisingly quiet the entire time finally pipes up. “He is kind of handsome though.”

Her friends look at her like she just said she was going to marry Ted Bundy or something. “What?” She says defensively, “Obviously what he’s doing is gross, but he is a handsome man. I can see the appeal for young, impressionable women.”

“Trash doesn’t mix with class,” the yellow blonde woman, who was being taken to Paris when you walked in on them says.

You outright scoff at their insinuation that Kim was impressionable when really, women like them are the problem. Prudes and hypocrites 

The blonde woman spins to face you. “Do you have a problem?”

“Nope,” you smile at her as her eyes widen in recognition. “Feel like pointing out who this ‘trash’ is, or should I start pointing out ‘trash’, too?” You use air quotes around the word trash, never taking your eyes off her.

It's her turn to scoff now, rolling her eyes. You raise an eyebrow and cock your head at her, silently challenging her. You might not be quick with insults, but you have no issues calling her out, especially since she tried to get you fired, claiming she caught you with the pool boy. Thank god your dad saw right through that and she ended her contract at Maid Discreetly. The few heartbeats of heated silence are broken when she jerks her head towards the corner of the room. 

“Black suit and bowtie, leaning against the doorframe,” she says through gritted teeth.

You follow her gaze, eyes landing on Joel. Without another word you spin towards him and start to walk away from the women. This is it, your moment to tell Joel exactly how you feel. You hate that as you get closer you can see exactly why Kim fell in love with him. Tall and broad, with dark hair and eyes; you’re surprised to see she’d fall for a man with a mustache that full, but he pulls it off in the same way cowboys or Tom Selleck does.

You steel your face, repeating your pre-determined lecture in your mind over and over. The click of your heels draws Joel’s attention, and his eyes burn a trail from your toes to your eyes; him checking you out only pisses you off more. You stop in front of him, despising that even in three inch heels you have to crane your neck to meet his eyes. This man looks like the type that can show you a good time, really talk you through it, but before he can get a chance to try to charm you, you poke a perfectly manicured finger into his chest and speak.

“Joel? I just wanted to let you know that if ever speak to one of my maids again, I’ll have you removed as a client. Not that you care, but Kim’s fine, thriving really, no thanks to you. On behalf of her entire friend group, go fuck yourself. You’re a piece of shit.”

His hazel brown eyes dance around your face before he smirks.

This motherfucker!

Tommy

Tommy didn’t want to be here, so much so that he stood on the balcony sipping his bourbon as the awards were called. He only stepped inside when he heard the category Joel was nominated in being announced, and when someone else won he let out a relieved whoosh of air, spun around and went back outside. Every person in his room was just trying to prove who was wealthiest; Tommy probably wasn’t even in the top fifty in this room, where Joel easily would have been top five. That nagging voice in his head kept reminding him that he’ll always be in his older brother's shadow.

The awards wrapped up, and after waving down one of the girls handing out champagne and convincing her to bring him another bourbon, he leaned against the column by the door that led to the balcony. He was calculating his exit, as soon as the crowd around the bar cleared he was high tailing the fuck out of here. 

Before he even knew what was happening, a sharp fingernail jabbed into his sternum as he was getting yelled at. Now he really didn't want to be here, but fuck was this scrappy brunette in front of him pretty. So pretty that he blocked out most of the words that tumbled from her lips as he watched the flush spread across her cheeks and down her long, soft neck. He stopped himself from thinking just how low that blush went down her chest, even though the sweetheart neckline of her dress was like a beacon to her perky breasts. 

He likes a girl with a little fight in her, a girl with confidence and who is unafraid to be herself. This girl, who is currently telling him to go fuck himself, is all of that. Plus, she looks like she walked right out of a 1950’s film; almond shaped green eyes that slowly turn amber as they reach the pupils, full lips painted red, and her pin up style dress that bunches around her curves perfectly. The only thing bringing her into this decade is the slender gold septum ring that sits tight to her slightly upturned nose. 

He can’t help himself but to smirk when you finish chewing him out.

“You got the wrong guy,” he says, lowering his voice to a deep timber before adding a mischievous, “Sweetheart.”

 You step back and he immediately misses the warmth of your body close to his. “Oh…”

He should stop there, let her apologize and get out of here like he planned. Instead, he steps into your space, dropping his face close to yours and whispering. “I’m his brother,” before turning on his heels, stuffing his hands in his pockets and walking outside.

You shock the hell out of him when you say, “Well you can fuck yourself by proxy then!”

Again, he should stop, let it go, but goddamn he wants to see you all riled up and flustered. He turns back to you, his long legs eating up the distance he created in two strides. His dick revels in the little gasp that passes your lips at his sudden movements.

“You know, sweetheart,” his eyes stay locked with yours, “Your little tantrum would be a lot more believable if you weren’t undressing me with your eyes.” 

He watches as your jaw goes slack and your cheeks flush an adorable crimson. Were you actually just thinking about him naked, or did he just cross a line? Just in case it’s the latter, he prepares himself for the slap he rightfully deserves.

“What? I wasn’t…how do,” you sputter, trying to form a comeback. “You’re disgusting.”

He smiles again before he watches you spin on the balls of your feet. Perfectly manicured toes showing in the peep toe opening of your heels. The angel on his shoulder begs him to stop, but the devil on the other side tracks the way the slit on the back of your dress flashes the back of your olive tone upper thighs, already sun kissed by the exceptionally warm June Austin has been experiencing. 

He clears his throat and then calls after you, “I’m at table twelve if you want to see the real thing.”  

He watches the stutter in your step, hoping that you’ll come back and yell again. Instead, he keeps his eyes glued to your ass as you disappear into the crowd. Not until he can no longer see you does he turn around and go back outside.

[sweetimpurity]

Older Neighbor Miguel Part 3 NSFW!!

Part 1 Part 2

a/n: w.c. is 2.5k and it's longer than I thought it would be but I'm gagged and obsessed. Hope you like it! Might just tease you guys a little longer <3

The sun shines through the window, golden hues cascading over the blankets, your legs on the bed, the soft pillows warm after bathing in the light. It’s morning. It’s been a few days and you haven’t been able to stop thinking about that dream. It’s ingrained in your mind, the feeling of him, his voice, the look in his eyes. It almost makes the embarrassment of being seen half naked melt away. You’re almost glad it happened. It felt so real, making your thighs squeeze together at the memory. You head downstairs to start the morning, finding your parents at the kitchen table.

“Morning…” You smile softly, greeting them, walking over to the kitchen counter. Glancing out the window, at his yard. His house. Seeing if any of the windows are open, if he’s outside. Just a glimpse of him would get you hot. “Oh, honey…” Your mom starts, walking to the sink and putting her plate down. “I hope you don’t mind but I volunteered you to do some babysitting. Would you be up for it tomorrow, 3 to 8?” She asks kindly. You’ve babysat a lot of kids in the neighborhood since high school and your mom is close to a lot of the parents around. Figuring maybe it’s the Scott family again down the street since they have so many kids; always needing childcare. “Yeah I can do it. I’ll text Lisa and tell her I will.” You nod, taking a sip of orange juice and looking over at the breakfast your dad’s made. “Oh, it’s not the Scott’s, it’s Gabriella next door… O’hara?” She asks and you choke on the juice in your mouth, almost spitting it out. Your dad instantly asks if you’re okay when you suddenly start choking like an idiot. “Yeah- no yeah I’m fine-” You cough over the sink, eyes wide, clearing your throat, your mind spinning, heart thumping. 

“Miguel has a late meeting that day and I offered for you to help him out. And he said he’ll pay.” She says, but you can’t handle this. You wonder how he feels about that. He didn’t outright ask for your help but seems like he didn’t refuse it either. He’ll pay? What the hell is going on? “Uh… yeah. I can do it.” You say, feeling a bit nervous about it but also weirdly excited. To see him. To be near him. Gabriella is also a really sweet girl so you know watching her for a few hours will be a breeze. 

Your parents leave for their respective duties, leaving you at home. And all you can do is think about him. The dream you had. It’s embarrassing now, since he probably just thinks you’re a weirdo who walks around in her underwear. He probably got second hand embarrassment. You should be dreading seeing him again. But you can’t help but crave it. Crave him. 

…

“Shit.” He had muttered after talking to your mom across the fence. When she elected you to babysit his daughter after he mentioned in passing not having anyone to watch her after school tomorrow and his ex is out of town. He should have said no, to spare you both the embarrassment. He almost had a hard time looking your mother in the eye when she said it. Knowing he’d had a dream about fucking you nights before. He shouldn’t be having those kinds of thoughts, although they keep happening. You’re so pretty and young, fresh out of college and he feels like a creep for seeing you in your underwear like that. Even if it was an accident. What will you think? 

He can’t help but feel this tension across the fence. Like there's an electric current from your house to his, even though the two of you haven’t even seen each other since the incident. Maybe he’s imagining it. You’d probably never feel the same way. “What…?” He mutters, looking down at the mail he’s been absentmindedly sorting while he’s thinking all of this over. This isn't his mail. This has your dad’s name written all over it. 

He trudges out of the house, walking across the yard to your house. Checking your mailbox to see if his mail was also accidentally delivered here. A simple mixup, probably a new mail delivery person. When he sees the mailbox empty, he walks up the walkway to your front door. Preparing for your dad’s usual grumbles about the mail always being screwed up and packages being late. Knocking on the door. His eyes widening when your pretty face answers. 

…

“Oh sorry- hi good morning.” He says, a stack of mail in hand and like a deer in headlights. His and your hearts nearly stop. He should’ve known you’d answer the door, but it’s like he’s in a daze. You’ve been thinking about him all day and then he just shows up at the door? He’s a big man. Tall and broad. So seeing that look on his face and hearing his words just spilling out like he can’t stop them. It’s endearing. 

“Hi!” You reply once you find the voice to speak. Swallowing hard and looking up at him. Fuck, he’s hot. He looks like he’s on his way to work. Something smart with science in a tall office building in the middle of the city. White button down tucked into his pants, leather belt and sharp, handsome brown shoes; and the smell of his aftershave mixed with cologne wafts in through the open door. And here you are, in your pajamas, a tank and some little shorts. It’s the middle of summer, but why does this keep having to happen? He shows up all the times you’re barely clothed. This time there’s nowhere to hide. “So I… got your mail by accident. Here you go.” He says, reaching the stack of envelopes across the threshold. His dark eyes scan over your face when you look down. He wonders if you’re wearing those pink panties right now. “Thanks, wow must have just been a mistake then?” You look up and he nods, not even having heard what you said because he was distracted looking at you. Your hair, your bare shoulders and way your breasts sit so perfect and pretty in your tank top. He remembers seeing them spill out of that bra. Beautiful and soft looking. What the hell is wrong with me? I feel like I’m creeping on you.

“I think… you might have my mail too? I didn’t see any in the box.” He says after clearing his throat. Your mom got the mail this morning and she must not have had the chance to look at it very closely. “Yeah, maybe let me go see.”

When you turn away, he has to force himself to stop watching your ass, your hips and the way they sway. Is it obvious that I’m drooling over you?

It’s obvious. And you can’t stop the satisfaction you feel, grabbing that stack of mail off the kitchen counter and knowing you’ve got this big man on a leash right now. This could be fun. You take a deep breath, calming your thumping heart and return. “Here it is!”

He smiles when you return, his hands clasped in front of him because of the thoughts going through his mind right now. He’s a man, not a teenage boy. And yet here you are, you’re this young thing making him feel all horny and hormonal. 

“Thank you... oh and thank you for offering to watch Gabriella tomorrow, I know it’s short notice.” He adds, hoping you’re cool with it. Wondering what’s going on in your head. “No problem, she’s sweet, I’d be happy to help.” You nod, smiling up at him knowingly and it makes him feel a little warm. “Well she’s excited too” He nods. It’s not a lie. Gabi’s always trying to talk to you when she sees you around. She’s seven and loves asking about where you got your shoes, your new dresses and how you do your makeup. She’s a very cute little girl, very polite too. 

He debates bringing up what happened a few days ago. But it seems like things are cool and you’re not totally freaked out. That’s good. 

…

Tomorrow comes, and at three you head over to his house. Walking across the yard and to the door, using the spare key he gave to your parents in case of an emergency. Waiting a bit until Gabi gets home off the bus and making lunch with her. Talking about all the little things her mind comes up with. She thinks it’s cool to talk about girly stuff with a girl that’s older. She just thinks you’re the coolest. She was just waiting for school to end until she could come home and hang out with you. To feel like a big kid. 

It’s funny being in his home. You’ve never really been inside like this since they moved in. But you’ve also been away at college for most of that time too. You catch a glimpse of his bedroom as you walk by, the dark sheets and neatly folded blankets. His shoes at the door. Mostly dress shoes but a few pairs of beat up Nike’s, his shoe size impressive. You can’t resist opening the medicine cabinet in the bathroom, pulling the cap off his cologne and smelling it. The scent is like a drug to your brain. It just smells like a man. Maybe you’re creeping on him a little in return. 

Soon the time is nearly 8pm and you’re helping Gabriella into bed. She really is a sweet girl and you’ve learned so much about her and her life. A lot of things that let you know Miguel is a really good dad. All the memories she’d recall with him, vacations and school projects, along with little things like trips to the park and him taking her to work with him. You studied all the family photos on the wall. Most of them of Miguel and Gabriella, some with what looks to be Miguel’s parents and his brother maybe? There’s one photo with his ex in it. It’s in Gabi’s room next to her bed. She’s a beautiful woman, undeniably. Definitely his same age and you can’t help but wonder about the history. Would you have a chance with someone like Miguel who’s already lived a whole life? He’s got everything worked out already and you haven’t even started yet. 

You don’t even know why you have these thoughts. When did the thought of sleeping with him turn into spending your life with the guy? It could all just be fun. If you do manage to sleep with him, it should just be for fun. Because after listening to his little girl talk about how wonderful he is; looking at the pictures on the wall; even observing the way he sets up his home, the color of the pillows on the couch, the dish rack by the kitchen sink, the settings on the kitchen table. This man’s a man. You’d fall in love with him so quick and easy. 

Your thoughts are interrupted by the front door opening. Gabriella is settled in bed by now and your job here is done. Waiting in the kitchen and giving him time to adjust. Smiling to yourself. 

He stops at the kitchen door after walking in. His work clothes as attractive and sharp as always. His hair slightly less kempt than it probably was this morning. “Hey…how’d it go?” He greets, undoing the buttons at his wrist and rolling his sleeves up a bit, it’s been a long day. He leans against the kitchen doorway with his arms crossed. “Hi. Gabi’s in bed.” You smile, you could suck the soul out of him right now. 

“How was she?” He asks, unable to stop his eyes from roaming your pretty face. Could you be wearing those pink panties right now? Why must he have these thoughts? “She was perfect… She's so sweet. We painted our nails and I helped her with her homework.” 

“Wow… busy day.” He nods, walking across the kitchen, past you to the fridge. His cologne wafting past you. “What do I owe you? What’s your usual rate?” He asks, grabbing sparkling water from the fridge. “Oh it’s fine, you don’t need to pay me. You get the next door discount.” You joke.

“No, I insist. I said I would pay.” He chuckles softly, twisting off the cap and drinking some from the frosted cool bottle; your eyes flicking to his forearms, tanned and toned. “How about… $200?” He offers, and your eyes blow wide. “$200 for five hours? No way… that’s too much” You shake your head, but he pulls out his wallet from his back pocket. That’s like $40 an hour. 

“Here… I have it right here.” He holds out two hundreds from his wallet. The money just appearing. “No I… it’s too much.” You refuse, not taking it. He can’t believe this. He’d spend a thousand dollars on you to get you anything you want. He’d love to do it with the way he’s been thinking about you for days. It’s no issue for him. And here you are refusing. He places it on the kitchen counter between the two of you, sliding it across. Your heart thumps in your chest. Your hand goes out, hovering over the bills before sliding it back to him. “Just pay for my dinner instead.” 

“Dinner…” His heart pounds in his ears. He has to make a choice. If he takes the money back, he agrees to do as you ask. Pay for your dinner. Take you out. He’s hoping that’s what that means. He’d get a chance to get closer to you and know you wanted him too. He could entertain this little thing going on between you two. Or. He could slide the money back and insist you take it. Go home and that will be the end of it. Refusing the chance to have you, to take you. 

He slides the money back towards himself. Scooping it up and putting it back in his wallet. Success you think. You smile to yourself, feeling so satisfied. “We can be in touch?” You say and it’s at this moment he’s wrapped around your finger. “Yeah. Definitely.” 

“I guess I’ll be seeing you.” You say and grab your bag off the kitchen table. Slinging it over your shoulder. “Goodnight, Mr. O’hara.” 

If you hadn’t turned to leave, you’d have seen him blushing all the way to the tips of his ears. Mr. O’hara. Just like his dream. Your sweet voice as he sheathed inside you. This is too much. He hears the front door close, letting out a deep breath and rubbing his forehead. “Hah…” 

He checks on Gabriella who’s sleeping peacefully in her bed. Going to his bedroom and winding down for the night. Unbuttoning his shirt and pulling it off along with his tank top underneath. Walking to the bathroom in his boxers to brush his teeth. He stands in front of the sink, in the dim light of the bathroom, only the nightlight illuminating the tile. Opening the medicine cabinet to grab his toothbrush and something falls out. He looks down, flicking on the light when he sees it. A pile of pink and lace on the porcelain. He reaches down without a second thought, your panties dangling off of his fingers. What have I gotten myself into?

taglist: @miguels-cock-piercings @sana-4 @peachey-pie @milkyardbetter @chrissymodi-frost

@pxtched @izakopanyi2 @lazyjellyfish300

@nina-from-317 @bammzyboomy @naomihaha2099 @bruh-anator3000 @buttertubz

[thecreelhouse]

one breathes life unto the other

Paring: Steve Harrington x Reader (GN terms & pronouns, reader has breasts & a vagina)

This is part two of one sin leads to another (both also on ao3), I highly suggest reading this first so you’re not lost! Also, this is the end of this little two-part fic. MDNI!

Summary: The catastrophic destruction of Hawkins leaves Steve utterly hopeless. You refuse to give up on him, trying to find a shred of comfort to offer among tragedy.

WC: 10k+

Includes: angst, hurt/comfort, a lot of grief and survivor’s guilt, suicidal ideations, PTSD, mentions of blood and wounds, mentions of memory loss, brief appearances of other characters, friends to lovers, fuck-ton of feelings, smut— handjob, soft dom!reader, sub!steve, dirty talk, PiV sex (unprotected), nipple play, oral fixation, praise kink, etc.

A/N: I wanted this out months ago, but life happened. This one is heavier than the first, focusing on Steve’s feelings/pain post-s4 destruction, but there’s comfort smut and a realistic happy ending as promised. If it’s not your cup of tea, I understand. Please heed the warnings if you decide to read! I appreciate y’all so much<3 title is from dusk - chelsea wolfe, and dividers from @strangergraphics!

Despite only just reconnecting with your childhood best friend again, you still knew the way to Steve’s house like the back of your hand.

What you weren’t so great at navigating were the roads all torn to shreds, cracked wide open. Down the street, you can see the front of Steve’s house, with no smoke or fire in sight; you assume his was one of the lucky ones that weren’t sucked into the ground.

Rolling to a stop, feet away from a fissure in the ground, you sigh; foot on the brake, chin atop your resting hands on the wheel, you break the silence.

“Steve?”

He barely has the energy to acknowledge you, weakly humming in response. It’s hard to fight the weight tugging his eyes shut, but he somehow manages to.

“I don’t think I can get any closer to your house from here.”

You offered to drive, after all was said and done; everyone was hurting, emotionally, physically, but you knew Steve was in no shape to be behind the wheel.

“S’just a bump in the road,” he murmurs, not bothering to peer out the windows. 

“I’m not wrecking your car trying to get through this shit.”

“Drive in the grass. Who cares?” He still won’t look out the window, stare landing on you instead. “All these fucks are gonna move after tonight anyway.”

Steve’s not wrong about his neighbors, wealthy enough to quickly find homes elsewhere, you know that. Hell, his parents will probably never set foot in Hawkins again after tonight; won’t even come home to assess the damage, gather personals, just leave a mess for their son to handle.

But the damage hasn’t discriminated what paths to take; some houses are crumbled wrecks, too, falling into the mini canyons the earthquake created. If you could even call it that.

“It’s not safe—“

“I don’t even care if the car gets scratched up—“

“Even if I found a way around this shit, there’s a chance we’d fall right through the ground.”

Silence falls between the two of you, and you wonder if Steve fell asleep. Seconds of quiet feel like hours, but he eventually answers, and it’s not one you’d like to hear.

“Fuck it. Not like this was worth surviving anyway.”

Your heart sinks, and it sinks fast. Never once have you heard him so hopeless before. Not even in the past day.

“Steve, don’t say that—“

“Bet it was nice to just… be asleep during this shit.” He throws a hand out to the ruins of a nearby house, void of any faith left in existence. “Not even know the ground opened up wide under your house, die in your sleep— it- it’d be so quick, you’d never even know. You’d be stuck in a dream, forever.” 

You want to counter that with the fact his dreams— more often than not, are nightmares— but you hold your tongue.

The last 24 hours alone have changed you drastically; you can only imagine the amount of change Steve has undergone time, and time again these last several years. But this isn’t him; no past, present, future version of him would ever sound like this.

 This is a polar opposite of the Steve you’ve always known.

You blink away tears, scorching hot, while your throat threatens to close, aching as you do your best not to give into your emotions.

Don’t be a crybaby. Don’t cry, don’t cry, please don’t fucking—

“How can you say that?”

No tears, not yet, thankfully. You’re shaking, though.

“It’s true—“

“It’s not true, Steve. I- I can’t imagine how awful this all feels, how heavy this weighs on your heart every time something terrible happens, but you can’t believe that.”

“Well, I do, so deal with—“

Rage shoves sorrow into the backseat, takes control before your mind can catch up with your mouth. You slam your hand on the steering wheel.

“Don’t you dare tell me to “deal” with you feeling so hopeless like it’s… like it’s some fucking chore. I know you feel awful, you have every right to, but I’m not going to ignore the way you’re talking, either.” Resting your head on the wheel, you sniffle harshly. “Eddie is dead, an- and Max… she’s barely hanging on. I am not trying to guilt you, but goddammit, Steve, this group can’t afford to lose you, too.”

You take a deep, shaky breath, sitting up again.

“Dustin looks up to you and Eddie, you’re both practically older brothers to that kid.” Steve slinks down in his seat, almost trying to make himself small, picking away at the callouses on his fingers. “Don’t make that harder on him.”

A mirthless laugh bubbles out of his chest. “Now you’re definitely guilting me—“

“Fine! Maybe I am! A- and maybe that’s fucked up, but we all need you. We need you here.”

“Always needed, but no one ever wants me to need them.”

You’re balancing on a line between empathy and anger, a very dangerous, thin, wavering line. So, you don’t respond, you only reverse his car away from the fissures, find a safe enough spot to park it on the street, cutting the engine. 

“Get up. We’re walking.”

“What?”

You’re already out of the car, slamming the door behind you; rounding the hood, you tug his door open, hand outstretched towards him.

“Out.”

“Just leave me here.”

“I—“

A shrill static flows out of the walkie on the floor of his car, followed by a tinny voice.

“Hey… what’s the status on your house, Dingus?”

Dustin cuts in, “Robin, you’re supposed to say ‘over!’” He sighs dramatically.

The sound of the kid’s voice— somehow strong enough to still be a little shit after the traumatic night— brings tears to Steve’s worn eyes, fixated on the floor. He can’t bring himself to grab the walkie to respond, so you do.

“Uh, we have to park a few houses away, the street’s all torn up. I think his house is safe, though.” You’re quick to add, “Over”, before Dustin can scold you. While Steve rubs his glazed-over eyes, a hint of a chuckle escapes him. It gives some relief; an ounce, but it’s relief, nonetheless.

While you give the others the rundown, you watch Steve disconnect from the present, face blank and weary stare off in the distance. They agree to meet at his house, since everyone else’s are blocked off by carnage, or completely uninhabitable from the destruction.

Next step: convincing Steve that rotting away in the car isn’t an option.

“Do you want me to help you out? Or do you want to wait for Robin? Because she might drag you out.” You feel like you’re trying to bargain with a child mid-tantrum. He scoffs, crossing his arms; how fitting. “And if she doesn’t, you know damn well Dustin will. Do not make that child drag your grown ass out of this car—“

“Okay, okay, Jesus.” Cautiously, he climbs out, hands gripping the door’s frame. His stare flits to yours, only for a moment; it falls to the cracked ground. “I’m sorry. This— I can’t stop thinking— it just feels like…”

Steve trails off, unable to either find the right words, or unable to speak them into existence. You give him a moment, but he just runs his hand through his hair with a sigh.

“C’mon.” Gingerly, you wind your arm around his torso, tucking it under his arms to help him walk. It’s impossible to remember where his wounds are under his shirt and jacket, so you do your best to keep a gentle hold; he winces as your hand brushes against a raw spot. “Sorry, should I let go?”

It embarrasses him how quickly he responds, swallowing down his pain as he gasps, “Please don’t.”

“S’okay, I got you.”

What should be a five minute walk feels like an hour long trek, weaving around the fissures and splits in the ground; illuminating red, the sweltering heat radiates out, while thick smoke billows out of a few. Some neighbors are missing their cars, or parts of their house have been swallowed by the ground beneath them. You wonder how many of them were home when this happened.

You wonder how many of them are still alive.

Steve has to pause every now and then, catch his breath and assess the surroundings; one wrong step could be fatal for the two of you. 

“God, I can’t wait to sleep,” He murmurs as his house comes into full view. A sigh of relief spills out at the sight of his house completely intact— at least, from the front, it seems. “Gonna crash as soon as we get in.”

“You can’t go to bed like that, you’ve got…” You give him a once-over, grimacing, “… Upside Down gunk on you.” He snorts as you make your point. “And you have to clean your wounds.”

“Yeah, do I? Thought I’d let them get gross this time around.”

“Ha-ha. Very funny.”

The rest of the journey is uneventful, much to your relief; you get Steve inside and help him up the stairs. He begins to wander to his bedroom, but you gently redirect him, hands on his shoulders, pushing him into the bathroom. 

“Nope. You’re gross. I’m gross. I can guarantee we’re both still covered in each other’s—“

Steve groans, more out of disgust than anything.

“God, yeah, okay. Yeah.” He carelessly shrugs his jacket off onto the tile floor. Dirt, soot, and dried blood sprinkle off the leather, tainting the pristine surface. “I’ll… tomorrow.” He’s too tired to care about complete sentences right now.

Removing his shirt is another story; the fabric catches on his bandaging before he can pull it over his head. He winces, hissing in pain. 

Blood soaked through his makeshift bandaging from his wounds— which really should’ve been re-dressed by now, but there were bigger concerns at hand. Now, it’s been— and still is— seeping through the fabric, through his shirt, sticking it uncomfortably to his skin as it dried over, and over, against the gashes on his torso.

The discomfort makes his head spin, like he hadn’t paid much attention to the severity of his injuries until this moment; he reaches for the edge of the bathroom sink, breathing shakily.

“Did it— is it kinda hot in here?”

“Hm? No, I kinda think it’s a little cold— shit—“

Steve’s knees buckle, and you don’t completely catch him in time, but you attempt to anyway. Quickly, you throw your arms out behind him as he falls; you lose your balance as he stumbles back against your chest, slamming against a wall.

“Okay,” you groan, holding onto him tightly. “You need to be at the hospital, not here—“

The fear in his eyes reflects in the mirror before you, breaking your heart.

“Yeah, no, that’s not an option—“

“It’ll have to be if you’re just gonna bleed out on the floor—“

“Well maybe that’s for the best,” he grumbles, finding his footing again only to lower himself clumsily to the floor. “The room’s spinning like I have the worst hangover, I have a headache the size of Alaska, and—“ He squints up at you, frowning. “There weren’t four of you before, when did that happen?”

“Yeah, I’m calling 911–“

Steve uses the little strength left in him to grab your ankle, anchoring you in place to the floor.

“Don’t.” He forces himself to sit up, wincing with a sharp hiss. “M’fine, and there’s no reason for me to take up a bed a the hospital when someone else might need it more.”

You drop back down to the floor in front of him, “Are you fucking kidding me right now?” Sounding more wounded than pissed, Steve can’t meet your gaze; he averts his stare as he tilts his head back against the wall, staring up at the ceiling. “For once, can you stop putting others needs before your own? You mean well, I get it, but you need help, too.”

“I can’t go.”

“Give me one good reason why not.”

That’s when you notice a tear cascade down his face, then another, and another.

“I’ve never seen anyone outside of our friends deal with this shit. What if I— shit, this is so stupid—“

You take his hand in yours, embracing it with a reassuring squeeze.

“If it upsets you, it’s not stupid at all.” 

His eyes screw shut, attempting to stop the tears, but his body betrays him, only letting them flow freely.

“I can barely handle seeing any of our friends getting hurt, and I just know if I see anyone else we know, it’ll make all this shit more real. A- and I can’t see Max. I know we should visit, but—”

“Steve, it was only a few hours ago. They’re taking care of her, and probably wouldn’t allow visitors anyway, and you’re in no condition to check on others right now.”

His shoulders jump as he suppresses a sob, but it’s no use when the dam breaks. He blankets his face with his empty hand, splaying it over his spiraling expression. He shouts into his palm, voice raw from agony, “We shouldn’t be living through this shit- why the fuck are we living through this shit?!” 

Sliding closer, you keep your voice calm, even as it wavers with the threat of your own cries; somehow it’s easier to push your emotions aside to take care of Steve, though.

“We shouldn’t… and I don’t know why, but we’ve survived it this far, so we gotta keep going.”

Steve shakes his head, his cries steadying into full-blown sobs. Hand falling away from his face, you notice how swollen his eyes are already.

“I don’t want to, I don’t fucking want to!” He removes his hand from your own, glaring back at you. “I don’t want to be strong, or brave, or any of this fucking bullshit.  I just want to go to sleep, and never wake up. I want th- this shit to go away. I want to go away.”

It’s years of turmoil, torment, and trauma, all spilling over into what he believes to be a last ditch effort to end the suffering.

“Can’t help my friends—“

“You do, Steve—“

“One of them is dead!” He’s inconsolable; while it’s better to let out the emotions than bottle them up, you’re scared of the way he’s spiraling so rapidly. “One of them is dead, one is barely alive, we all got hurt one way or another— I couldn’t— I just want everyone to be safe, but I can’t even protect anyone.”

“It’s not your job, and realistically, you can’t protect everyone. No one can. We do our best to watch each other’s backs, help out where we can—“

“And you,” his bottom lip curls into a trembling pout, while his bloodshot eyes bore into your own. “You could’ve been killed, and it’s my fault you were hurt to begin with. Then those— the fucking vines, god, the more I think about it, the more I realize how insanely fucked up that was.”

“But we survived, Steve. I’m okay, I promise.”

“That shit was against our will,” voice cracking, he runs his hands through his hair, tugging with stress. “Wh- what the fuck do you mean you’re okay?!”

You scoot closer, hands softly grabbing his face on either side. 

“I’m okay, ‘cause it was with you. I wish you never went through that, never even saw what happened, but you saved me anyway.” Calmly, you reassure him you’re fine. Granted, you’re not, you’re far from fine, really, but you’re more stable than he is right now; if he won’t take care of himself tonight, you will.

His grip slips out of his hair, expression softening with your touch. 

“We’re beat up, and mentally, we’re fucked. For life, probably, just from those stupid fucking vines.” Tilting your head forward, you rest against his, sighing. Steve shudders with a small, broken noise, face twisting up with grief. His tears drip onto your cheeks while he reaches out to you. “But we’re alive, we’re home.”

He brings you closer, cautious of the physical state you’re both in. The moment he ducks his head into the crook of your neck, the cries build back up.

“I don’t want this to be home anymore.“

“I know, sweetheart,” you hold him close, choking back your own tears. 

There’s no bright side to look to, no silver lining hiding in the clouds; you have no words of comfort that’ll actually relieve his pain. Reassuring he’s not alone won’t do much here either.

What the fuck do you do? How do you convince him surviving this tragic, reoccurring, living nightmare is worth it?

Instead, you let him sob it out, whisper anything you can think of to remind him you care, his friends care, that it’s worth sticking around than disappearing forever.

 Time is lost on the both of you, and if he needed all the time in the world to cry on your shoulder, you’d let him. When he starts calming down, he begins to murmur something into your shoulder, but makes a frustrated huff.

“What’s on your mind?”

“Will you… would you mind… helping?” He nervously asks, face still squished against you shoulder, breath tickling your throat. “Helping me, I mean… with the- in the—“

Steve has put everyone first for so long, it’s as if he forgot how to ask for help for himself. You realize it’s not that he doesn’t want to ask, he doesn’t really know how. Not without feeling like a bother to others, or that his problems are minuscule to anyone else’s.

“Of course, I’d help you with anything, y’know.”

He slides back, loosening his grip with a teensy, tiny, fraction of a smirk, “Anything? You’d rob a bank with me?” 

“I’d even bury a body for you,” you joke, but cringe at yourself; the timing isn’t the best.

Read the fucking room.

Yet he allows his smile to grow, not much, but enough for it to be visible. “For me? Not with me?”

Snorting, you roll your eyes teasingly, rising to stand with your hands held out. “Can you stand?”

It takes patience, soothing encouragement, and keeping him upright to get him undressed and into the shower safely. Unfortunately, that’s not the hardest part of this process.

Steve leans against the shower wall while you strip quickly, worried to watch him collapse again. As you fiddle with the water temperature, you hear his breath hitch; you glance over your shoulder to check on him, still facing the shower head.

“What’s wrong?”

His gaze is fixated on your back, eyes wide with concern.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were hurt?”

Your brows scrunch together, turning to him as the water finally feels comfortable enough. “What are you talking about?”

Trembling hands gently spin you around by your shoulders while he examines your back.

“Shit…” He breathes, fingers gliding along your skin. “Your back is all scraped up.”

“Goddammit.” Poking your head out of the shower, you glance down to your shirt on the floor; sure enough, there’s blood stains on the back of the garment. “Is it bad?”

“The marks don’t look deep—“

“Then I’m fine.” You push past the sharp stinging in your wounds as water rolls over them. 

“Bullshit.”

“Fine, okay, yeah. Compared to you, though, I’m okay, so let’s clean you up first, alright?”

Steve’s first instinct is to argue, but one glance at the look you give, and he bites his tongue instead. Allows you to guide him under the water, murmuring for him to take his time. You brace yourself for his cries as the blood and grime washes out of the gashes on his body, but they’re nonexistent.

It hurts, it really, really fucking hurts, more than any other injuries he’s had in the past— and that’s saying a lot after everything he’s endured, yet he can’t react. His emotions feel frozen, stuck in between bottling them back up, and breaking down all over again.

“I hate that you’re quiet right now,” you suds up soap between your hands. “If you need to cry, or scream, or whatever helps, you can.”

Steve shakes his head, stare far away in some distant thoughts, exactly like earlier, while trying to coax him out of the car.

“Okay… well, you’re safe with me. You know that, right?”

“Don’t want to scare you after… all of that.” He means the outburst he had— minutes, maybe hours, who fucking knows— ago.

“After tonight, you’re the farthest thing from scary.”

The light teasing leads him back, just enough, to the present, to you; he snorts, and it brings you some relief.

“Was I scary before?”

“Oh, the scariest,” you quip, careful to keep your touch light as you massage soap onto his forearms. He groans as you sweep your fingers along his biceps, aching from exertion. His limbs feel heavy with pain and grief, but your touch is a soothing balm amidst the suffering. “Never met anyone as scary as you.”

He’s not used to this, being doted on with extra care and precision, and the bonus hint of playfulness, too— but maybe he can get used to it, as long as it’s with you.

You take your time, washing around his wounds, trying to avoid and divert any soap slipping into his wounds. It surprises you how still he stays, but you notice the way his jaw tightens when your fingers wander too close to some of the gashes. 

“You doing alright?”

“Kinda, y- yeah, nothing I can’t handle,” he mirrors your words from earlier, after the vines finally released you. 

“Can you turn around for me?”

Steve’s eyes snap wide open, “What? Why?”

Your brows knit together, “So I can clean up your back too?”

“Oh. Right.” He turns, hands planted on the shower wall for support. You continue your meticulous work of cleaning away dried blood and soot from the Upside Down off his skin. In time, he’s free of any filth that hell left behind.

Tenderly, you massage any areas far enough away from the wounds, hoping it brings some relief.  It’s relief in itself to watch his shoulders relax, while he releases a soft sigh. It goes on like this for a bit, until you get closer to Steve’s hips. That’s when he tenses up again.

“Does it hurt?”

“No,” he strains out.

You’re not buying it. “Steve, what’s wrong?”

He doesn’t answer you, rather, mutters to himself, “Christ, am I really—“ Steve forces a laugh, hair flopping forward as the water weighs it down. Sighing, he leans his head against the wall, eyes shut. “Ah, fuck.”

“What’s up?” Your hands wind around his hips, fingers brushing low against his hard-on. “Oh. Well, I guess you’re up.”

It bubbles a laugh out of him, a real one; it’s weak, but you’ll take it.

“Wow, that was—“

“Smooth, right? I know.”

He doesn’t answer, only turns slowly, hand splayed out against the tiled wall for support.

“Second time in 24 hours I’m hard when I shouldn’t be. That’s fucking embarrassing,” he mutters, shaking his head with a bashful smile. You quirk a brow at him, a smirk curling along your lips.

“Second time? When was the first?”

Steve’s eyes meet yours over his shoulder, before looking away. He murmurs, “When I found you.”

Oh. Duh.

“Why are you embarrassed? It happens. The— getting hard part, I mean. Not the whole… weird mind-controlling pollen that turned us into insatiable freaks thing, that… that doesn’t happen. Often. Ever. At all.”

The two of you hold one another’s stare for a second before bursting into a fit of laughter. He’s caught up in the brief moment of joy, he doesn’t notice you step closer, eyes pinching shut as he snorts. Not until your hand slides around his shaft, then the laughter dies abruptly; his breath hitches for a moment, then he shakily exhales.

In a languid motion, you stroke him with one hand, while the other finds his face, palm resting on his cheek. His head lolls into your touch with a whimper.

“Hey, you don’t— it’s— don’t feel like you have to do this.”

“I know I don’t. I want to.” Your thumb rolls over the head, catching a bead of pre from the slit. You laugh softly, hand sliding down to his neck while you kiss the opposite side.“Actually, what I really want is to get on my knees for you, but there’s no way I’d get back up right now.”

Steve begins to smile, but you stroke him just right, enough pressure over that prominent vein to lure out a beautiful, breathy moan.

Without disturbing his injuries, you lean as close as possible into him, head resting on his shoulder to gaze up at the pleasure written all over his face. The blush on his face has crept down his neck, spreading along his chest; you can feel the heat under his skin turning red. His eyes screw shut as he bites his lip, muffling the sweet sounds you’ve grown to love in the last 24 hours.

For a split second, Steve appears tortured in his expression, but sinks deeper into bliss. Your hand on his length slows, while the other lets go of him, concerned.

“Are you alright? Does it hurt?”

He shakes his head frantically, managing to look down at you without losing it right there. 

“N- no, it— pl- please keep going.”

 His back arches off of the wall, reminiscent of the way he writhed on the floor for you earlier. Now, though, he’s not bound by vines, nor is he in a frenzy, looking for a way to put the fire out. It’s your gentle touch turning him to putty; a drastic contrast from the way you treated one another in the Upside Down. One hand slides around your waist, holding you even closer, while the other cradles the back of your head, kissing the top and lingering there. His moans are quieted while he nuzzles into your wet hair.

 God. This man is un-fucking-real.

“When you said no one ever wants you to need them… that just isn’t true,” you mumble into his neck. “I need you, and I want you to need me, too.” You’re trying not to get emotional while giving your friend— boyfriend? whatever— a hand job, but the vulnerability won’t stop pouring out. “I’ve always wanted you. I’ve always needed you. And I’ve always wanted you to feel the same.”

Steve tucks his head against your shoulder, “Close…”

“You’re so good, Steve. So good to everyone. So good to me.” You wish you could shut up, you’re probably ruining the moment, but it’s true. It’s all true. The praise seems to spur him on, regardless; he’s thrusting into your fist and panting. “Shhh… let me take care of you, for once. I got you. Do you trust me?”

“Yeah, I- I do,” he’s whining into your skin, sucking marks along your shoulder. “I trust y- you, I  really—“ He chokes back a wavering whimper.

“Don’t be afraid to be loud with me,” you reassure him, stroking him at a steady, delicious pace. “S’okay, Stevie. I got you.”

Just as Steve finally reaches his peak, about to release some of the most sinful, beautiful moans you’ve ever heard, the front door slams shut.

“Hellooooo?”

Eyes clamped shut, he bucks wildly in your grip, whimpers building into those sounds you were oh so lucky to hear earlier. You already know from experience he is loud, and you just encouraged it, but you’re forced to mute his audible bliss, throwing your hand over his mouth.

Steve’s eyes spring open, glancing down at the hand over his mouth, trailing his gaze to you, only to nearly cross as they roll back. The vibrations from his moans shake you to your core, but never mind that. He spills over— your hand, the shower floor, his stomach, your leg— it’s all a mess, matching his demeanor. 

“Good boy,” you whisper, rewarding him with soft, slow kisses, planted along his neck, under his jaw. He shudders, your hand still guiding him through the last of his climax, but then he jolts under your touch, squirming and panting under your palm. Barely finished, another wave of pleasure rolls through him, and he’s shooting pearly, thick ropes everywhere again.

“Is that really all it takes to get you off? Just some praise and kisses?” Steve nods aggressively, eyes fluttering shut as he slumps against the wall. “Fuck, that’s hot.”

“Are you guys here?!”

His head falls back against the tile, catching his breath. “Ah, shit.”

“Yeah… um, sorry for the whole ‘be loud for me’ thing… kinda got carried away and forgot they’re coming over.” When your hand slips away, he gives a drained, yet content smirk. 

“Thought this whole time—“ He holds a finger up, trying to ease his breathing steadily. With lids still hooded, he glances over your way, smirking ever so slightly. “— You weren’t into taking control.”

“What? Why do you say that?”

“I thought it was just that pollen and the vines earlier.”

BANG!

“Christ on a fucking—“

“I hope you’re not dead in there!”

“We’re actually far from it—“ Steve slaps his palm over your mouth this time, glaring as you whine.

Well. This is horrible timing.

“We’re alive, just— just give us a minute!”

“Us?” Nancy’s tone would pair well with a pearl-clutching expression. “Are they—“

“You two are gross!” Robin chastises through the door, kicking it for emphasis. “Wasn’t once enough?!”

 Dustin gasps, “Once? Wait, are you saying—“

“I can’t believe this is happening right now,” Steve grumbles under your palm, head falling onto yours, sighing. You pull his hand off your mouth, rolling your eyes.

“Steve was bleeding out, and I was trying to— ugh—“ Frustration overwhelms you while calling out your defense; to be fair, you’re not lying, just… not telling the entire truth. “— can y’all for once, just once, not make it weird?!”

Though they don’t sound like they’re buying it, Robin, Nancy, and Dustin murmur apologies through the door before walking away.

Sighing with relief, Steve’s arm slides around your waist, reeling you in closer. Water continues to tumble down between your bodies, rinsing away evidence of his arousal. Under calmer, lighthearted conditions, you’d be happy to clean him with your—

“Hey,” Steve’s hand cradles your face, leaning in to kiss you softly; it’s quick, but reassuring, breaking you from your thoughts. “Thank you. For taking care of me, I mean.” He’s got a dazed smile on his face, one that doesn’t reach his eyes, but he’s content, just enough in this moment.

“Not sure if you’re thanking me for making sure you didn’t bleed to death, or for the handjob, but you’re welcome—“ He clasps a hand over your mouth again, eyes wide.

“Shhh!”

“Not even 24 hours ago, you were railing me with a buncha’ fucking vines—“

“Oh my god.” With a groan, he glares at you, “Please shut up—“

“And now you’re too shy to talk about a handj—“

Both hands fly up to cover your mouth, which you only giggle under them.

“You’re so lucky we’re not alone right now.” It’s cute, watching him try to take control all on his own; he’s a flustered mess without the pollen running through his system.

“Oh, please, like you’re in any state to fuck me at all.” You slip out of his grasp before he can pathetically try to silence you once more. He rolls his eyes, but again, a hint of a smirk lingers.“Lemme bandage you up before we go downstairs.”

“Hang on,” he grabs your hand, stare falling to your back again. “Gotta take care of your back, first.”

“It’s fine, really—“ Hands flying to your hips, Steve gently leads you under the water again. His forehead rests against yours, lips brushing together.

“Let me take care of you, too.” 

He sounds so broken, desperate to repair something within him by doing what he knows best— putting others before himself.

You don’t have the heart to deny him right now; with a simple nod, you allow him to dote on you, too.

“Fucked up we can’t order food right now,” Robin grumbles, digging through the kitchen cabinets. “Could really go for some comfort pizza.”

Dustin frowns, “Robin, people died.”

“Like I don’t know that— I’m trying not to think about how many people we might know that didn’t survive tonight, so let me whine about pizza, okay?!”

“Pizza would be in the freezer, not the cabinets,” Steve, fighting sleep that he needs in the worst way, counters. He’s leaning against the kitchen island, chin in hand, elbow on the table, falling asleep every so often. It’s when he begins to fall over that he wakes up, and repeats the process all over again.

“Okay, y’all just go— go be comfy somewhere, I’ll make something.” When Steve lingers while everyone else files out, you narrow your eyes. “Steve, babe, that means you too.”

“You don’t need help?”

“With what? I still know where everything is.”  You begin opening cabinets and drawers, not looking when you name the contents correctly. “Plates, silverwear, mugs on the bottom, glasses on the middle shelf, top shelf has the nice glass—“

“How the hell do you remember this?”

“— The really fancy glass is in that hutch,” you throw a thumb over your shoulder in its direction, rummaging through a drawer. “The one your mom hated us running around when we were kids.” Steve’s silence catches your attention, finally looking up. “You alright?”

He opens his mouth, ready to speak, but can’t find the words he needs. He loses them, like a dream slipping away after waking up, just dissolving the longer he thinks about it.

“Steve? Did I say something wrong?” You step closer to him as he shakes his head, running a hand over his face with a sigh. “Is it weird that I remember this stuff? I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable.”

“You didn’t, you don’t,” his voice splits with despair as he gets up suddenly. “I— I need to lay down.” You don’t get a chance to comfort him as he rushes to the stairs, wincing and hissing from the deep aches and stabbing pain all over his body. 

Instead, you’re left standing alone, stumped, and a little hurt.

What did I do?

“What happened?”

Nancy’s soft voice, laced with curiosity, startles you out of your thoughts.

“Sorry,” She grimaces, but notices how tense you are. “Are you okay?”

“I… don’t know. Not really, I guess.” You still stare where Steve was moments ago. “I have no clue what’s going on. I think I upset him,” You tell her what happened, slumping into a chair nearby, sighing with defeat. “He just… froze, and left.”

Nancy seems to catch on immediately, nodding with her lips pursed. “He didn’t tell you?”

“Tell me what?”

She slides into the chair next to yours, sighing with a shake of her head.

“He’s been pretty beat up the last four years, but the damage left behind is worse than he likes to let on.” She glances down at her hands, folded in her lap, speaking carefully. “He’s still himself, but sometimes he— he has these memory lapses, and gets really frustrated with himself, even if it’s out of his control.”

You feel sick. This is a detail he shouldn’t have left out while reconnecting with you. You’d never judge him for what he can’t control, and of course one could only take so much damage before there’s heavy consequences.

“I think the trauma kicked it off, because it’d happen at times when we—“ She cringes, pausing, not wanting to cross a line, but you’re not bothered by the past they have.

“S’okay, you don’t have to tiptoe around it, Nancy.”

Offering an apologetic smile, she continues, “He’d forget things here and there, when we were dating, but it wasn’t enough for the alarms to go off, at least not for me. It changed quite a bit after Billy nearly beat him to death. We weren’t really close anymore at that point, but it was still noticeable, even from a distance.

“Some days seem to be better than others… at least that’s what Owens said. Then last summer, he was even more roughed up, and this time has to be the worse yet.”

Yet.

God, you want to vomit.

“It’s the trauma and head injuries combined,” she explains, voice wavering. “Steve’s still Steve, but sometimes he just… loses himself for a bit. It’s not so life-altering that he can’t be independent, but it’s gotta be terrifying just… forgetting your own life, even for a second. Especially while we’re still young.”

“So that’s why he left,” you realize aloud; Nancy nods solemnly. You need to check on him. “I— do you care if I go—“

“I got it under control, it’s all good.” She rushes over to the pantry, pulling out boxes of pasta— angel hair’s easy enough to make with low energy. 

“Thank you so much, Nancy.” You wipe your eyes as you head for the doorway, but she calls your name, spinning you back around.

“I’m glad you two found each other again, even if the timing is shit.” Her sincere sentiment eases any lingering tension. “He needs someone like you.”

The door to Steve’s bedroom is ajar, and he’s sitting on the edge of his bed, looking through a book.

“Steve?” You call out softly, poking your head through the door. He whips around, dropping the book, facing you with a bloodshot stare. “Shit, sorry, I just— I wanted to make sure you’re okay.”

He gives one, dismal laugh, “I think you know the answer to that already.”

You step inside, gently shutting the door behind you. As you move closer, you notice he wasn’t holding a book, but a photo album; when he dropped it, some of the photographs spilled out onto the floor.

Most of the images are of you and him throughout your childhood years.

You crouch down, collecting and handing them back to him. Your eyes meet his own, soaked and swollen in sorrow.

“Why didn’t you tell me about the memory loss?” It’s not out of anger, or hurt, it’s out of concern, if anything at all. 

“Would you believe me if I said I forgot?” He chuckles, but again, it’s lifeless. “I wanted to say something, but I kept pushing it off, and really did just… forget.”

Shuffling next to him on the bed, you wind your arms around him as he continues.

“When you brought up that old memory, it scared me that I couldn’t remember. The photos help, and shit eventually comes back to me, but those moments where everything dissolves away is—“ He chokes up, “It’s fucking terrifying.”

Steve rests against you, head on your shoulder as his arms lock around you, like you too, would dissolve at any moment.

“I scared you enough earlier, didn’t wanna do it again.”

“It scares me for you, but really, I could never be afraid of you. This is out of your control.” You kiss the top of his head, fingers running through his hair, gently scraping along his scalp in soothing, slow repetitions. “But you can’t get rid of me that easy, Harrington.”

The two of you sit in a comfortable silence, holding onto one another for dear life.

After managing to stomach some food and water— all five of you weren’t hungry in the slightest, but needed something in your systems before sleeping— you finally get Steve alone again, cozying up to one another in his bed. Clothes strewn around the room, you burrow under the covers, tangling around one another without fabric barriers— aside from bandaging, wanting to feel as close as possible.

You figured the two of you were both far too exhausted and depressed to fool around, but he’s determined to try and return the favor; you’ve tried telling him there’s nothing to return, you were happy to distract him, make him feel good, even for a little bit, but he wouldn’t have it.

“As much as I want this right now, we both really need sleep.”

“Please? I jus’wanna be good for you,” He nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck, sporadically leaving kisses on your skin. “Please…”

It pains you to say no, but you shake your head anyway. “Steve, you were ripped apart earlier, a- and flung around like a damn rag doll. I need more than anything for you to rest, okay?”

Silence hangs heavy above the both of you, buried beneath the sheets of his bed. Steve’s the first to shatter the quiet, barely above a whisper:

“What if you leave? What if I go to sleep and wake up and you’re gone?”

You lean up on your arm, trying to get a better look at him, but it’s too dark to make out his expression.

“Why would I leave?”

“Everyone always leaves.” He shudders a breath, adding, “You did.”

“Whoa, wait…” You’re baffled. “Steve, you left me behind. You walked away from our friendship for some—“

“Earlier, I mean. When you ran off. You just… left.”

“Because you were saying awful shit to me—“

“‘Cause you didn’t need to get tangled up in this mess!”

“It’s too fuckin’ late to argue that, Steve. It’s said and done— why the hell are you upset over this now? I don’t get—“

“I could’ve lost you!” His voice breaks into a pitchy rasp, trembling against you. “All of this has been so… so… confusing. Do you know how relieved I was to see you come through that gate, but how badly it pissed me off you’d even put yourself in danger to begin with?!”

“We talked about this—“ The sheet covering your naked form falls as you abruptly sit up, scoffing. “I was scared, and you never even asked what I was afraid of. Did it ever cross your mind I was scared to lose you?”

Steve shakes his head with a mirthless, forced laugh. “You said you were scared because everyone left—“

“And you never let me finish that thought, ‘cause you were too focused on being some… some know-it-all dickhead.”

“Yeah, yeah that’s real mature,” He sits up, close to you, but it’s still too dark to make out the details of his expression, whatever that may be right now. “Did it ever cross your mind that I never wanted you to see that place? That maybe I never wanted you to experience a hell like that? That— this— all of this has ruined my life. I’d never want you to feel what I feel— or what I don’t feel sometimes.”

“I’d follow you into hell, any form of it, if it meant helping you stay alive.” You say it so calmly, like it’s a no-brainer, and it is. 

To Steve, it’s just another display of your well-intentioned naivety. He grabs you by the shoulders, hands shaking through his grip.

“What don’t you understand?” His voice cracks, weakened by exhaustion and hopelessness. “Why would I want you to do that? I want you safe. Not down there with me. I wanted to you stay here. Stay safe.”

“Well, sometimes, when you care about someone, you do stupid shit for them—“

“No, no way, you don’t get to use that as an excuse,” He flatly laughs. “You don’t see me pulling stupid shit ‘cause I love you.”

Your ears ring, nearly drowning him out as he begins to nervously ramble.

He what?

“A- and look, I get— I’m sorry. I really am. I know we said earlier we’d leave that shit behind, but I need you to know it was out of—“ He pauses, catching himself before letting the word slip again. “It was never a mistake fixing our friendship. Not for me, at least, but you’ve always deserved better. Fuck—“ His hands leave you to press the heels of his palms into his eyes as he sighs; that much you can tell from the sliver of moonlight creeping in through the window. “I never wanted you down there ‘cause you deserve better. You always have. If anyone deserves to live a normal life, it’s you.”

“Oh, fuck normal, Steve.” Pulling his hands away from his face, you lace your fingers between his. “When has normal ever been my thing? I don’t care how much it pisses you off— I love you enough to follow you into hell, and did.” 

This is the version of you he knew all those years ago, before leaving you behind for a chance of a higher status that never would matter in the real world. A version so unapologetic your own skin, to defend what and who your heart embraces the most.

You’re climbing onto his lap, swinging a leg over to straddle him, and all he can do is watch you with a perfect balance of hearts and stars in his eyes.

 One hand leaves his to cradle his face, skin tingling as he turns his head, kissing your palm. “I’m sorry I caused so much trouble, with the— y’know—“ Talking about the vines is a little difficult without the intoxication of that sinful, stupid, demonic plant you found. “But I’m not sorry for loving you.”

Steve’s struggling to find the right words, eyes searching your own for any doubts, any signs to keep his guard up; all he can find is the sincerity you’ve always shown him, but it’s deeper now, rooted in love. 

His hand reaches to the back of your neck, fingers splaying out and up to clumsily pull you towards him. You gasp once his lips meet yours, matching the hunger he kisses you with. It’s passionate, but slow, at first; in mere moments, he’s pressing his free hand to your back, pushing you even closer into him, whimpering into the lip lock.

Bucking up against you, his bare length glides along your slick heat; you’re caught off guard, completely forgetting the two of you never bothered to get dressed before bed.

“Shit—“ You throw your head back and grip tightly onto Steve’s shoulder. He hisses in pain, pulling you from the haze you’d began to lose yourself in. You immediately release your hold, realizing he was bruised badly. “Fuck, Steve, I’m sorry.”

“S’okay, I kinda— I forgot the vines did that,” He rests his head back against the headboard, wincing as the burning ache lingers. “You were right, we should just go to sleep. Neither of us are in the best shape right now, and—”

“What if I do all the work?” Your offer catches his attention as you run a hand through his hair. “I’ll be gentle, I promise, and you wouldn’t have to do a damn thing, ‘cept take it like a good boy.”

Steve shudders, cock kicking underneath you, still nestled between your folds. He wants it. Wants it bad. Real fucking bad. But, ever the gentleman that he is, there’s still concern over your current state.

“Yeah, but you’re not… you’re pretty beat up, too.” He swallows a gasp, hips twitching as he holds himself still. “Don’t wanna hurt you just to make me feel good.”

You shrug, like the pain’s not a big deal, and really? It’s not, not one bit. All you feel is love and heartache all at once, and you both need a distraction, to channel out the energy built up in that confession.

“I’ll let y’know if it’s too much,” You kiss his forehead, leisurely making your way down to his lips, only ghosting yours over his own. “But I’m gonna be so real with you, Steve—“ When you shift your hips, sliding tauntingly slow along his length, he whimpers, biting his lip to muffle what would’ve been a beautiful sound. “Can’t stop thinking about fucking you since yesterday.”

“Oh, fuck…”

“Shh, gotta be quiet for me, honey.”

It’s a surreal sight, having Steve writhe underneath you with overwhelming desire, whimpering again with his eyes rolling back as you call him honey.

That’s when it clicks; all Steve’s ever wanted is someone who can be as soft with him as he is with them. He just wants to be seen as precious and important as he sees you— wants to feel as treasured as he tries to make you feel.

And god, Steve Harrington is the most precious, important soul in your life. He’s so treasured, every fiber of his being— everything, even the stubborn, bitchy moods— you love all of him. Always has been near and dear to your heart, and always will be.

“Do- don’t think I can,” He pants, desperately trying to keep his voice at a whisper as the head of his cock catches at your entrances. Bucking up into you, he’s rushing out, “Just need t’be inside you. S’all I want, all I need— I- I need you so bad, angel.”

“I know, Stevie,” You grind down onto his cock, biting your lip to mute your own pleased sounds. “It’s all I want, too.”

His arms wind around you, reminiscent of the vines in their selfish urgency, but otherwise, his embrace is filled with a tender adoration.

Eyes flicking down to where your bodies meet, you glance back up at Steve, and oh, what a fucking wreck he is already; stare hooded with lust, mouth parted as he pants, the anticipation of your next move has him on edge, to say the least.

You search his expression for a final grant of consent, and he offers it in the form of a frantic nod, whimpering, “Mhm.”

The stretch as you slowly impale yourself onto him will take time getting used to; it was easier under the spell of some fucked up aphrodisiac, but completely tuned into reality has you taking it slow.

“Fuck. Fuck— Were you this—“ A moan attempts to leave him, until he strangles it into a grasp while you sink further onto him. “T- this fucking tight yesterday?”

Jaw falling open, you keep the cry of bliss to yourself, fully sheathing him while your breaths fall shallow. “M’sorry, I— give me a—“ Steve surges forward to kiss you, hoping it calms at least one of you. 

He breaks the connection, just barely, to whisper against your lips, “I know, s’okay—“ The way you scrunch your eyes shut catches his attention, drags him out of the fog of lust, just for a moment. “Hey, hey, look at me,” Gently, he holds your face. “If it hurts we- we can stop.”

Your gaze is glassy as you open your eyes, shaking your head as your body trembles.

“I- I don’t know how to— it’s like you’re—“ You take a deep breath, then another, for good measure. “Yesterday was… intense, but you… you’re here, we’re both here.”

Steve’s puzzled. “Well, yeah, f’course we are—“

“I thought— shit, m’sorry, I was trying so hard to— I didn’t want to fuckin’ cry.” You mirthlessly laugh at yourself; the action flutters your walls around him, but again, for your sake, he finds the strength to ignore it, pushes back a throaty groan. “S’like… knowing we’re somehow still alive makes it I- I sound insane—“

“Not even close, honey.”

“I feel— you feel closer, somehow. I- I- don’t know how to describe it, but I feel you everywhere, and now that I know y’feel the same, it’s— you—“

“Shhhh, sweetheart, just breathe for me,” You take a deep breath, inhaling rapidly and constricting around him; with a sharp gasp, his cock throbs inside of you. “Okay, not— fuck— not like that, or I’m gonna lose it.”

The lapse of restraint gives you a step up, helps you regain control over your emotions. With a few more slow breaths, you settle down, anchor yourself into the present.

“Are you okay?” You manage to ask, and Steve, in need of rest more than anything, smiles dopily at you.

“M’good, you?” He grabs your hips, lazily guiding you back and forth on him. 

“Uh-huh.” When you discover a rhythm gratifying enough for you both, he moans out, too tired to react in time to quiet down. “Steve.”

“Can’t help it,” He leans into your neck, kissing and failing to keep his mouth busy. “Not with a pussy like this.”

Flexing his hips into you, there’s nothing you can do in time to cover the quick yelp you make,“A— ah! Oh my god…” 

Steve tries his hardest to hold back his needy sounds, but has to bite down onto your shoulder to muffle the noise somehow. 

You rush out in a whisper, “Oh, fuck, Steve! Shit…” Riding him with a steady pace, you pant, “Wish I had something to gag you with.”

“M’sorry, m’so sorry,” He whispers frantically as you bounce on his cock. While you keep a gentle hold on his face, he parts his lips, turning his head towards your thumb, inches from his mouth. A brilliant idea crosses his mind, “Shit… use those.”

“Use… what?” He manages to flit his tongue out to the pad of your thumb, whimpering some more as his taste buds hit your skin. “Oh. You want this?” You bring your hand closer, and happily, greedily, he sucks your thumb in, tongue lapping around your digit.

“More,” He mumbles around your thumb. “Please… more.”

How could you deny his simple, yet sweet, request?

Sliding your thumb out, you replace it quickly with your pointer and middle fingers; selfishly, Steve takes in your ring finger, too, sucking sloppily on all three. With his mouth stuffed, just enough, he begins to drool a little at the corners of his mouth, while gazing up at you so lovingly.

“You’re fucking perfect, Steve.” You praise him, grinding down into his lap. He twitches, desperate to fuck up into you, but holds his composure. “So good for me, so, so good… this feel okay?”

Tears prick his lash line as he nods wildly, still gagging himself on your fingers as you fuck him.

“Here I was, trying to make love to you, but you still need it to be filthy, huh?”

“Mhm,” is all he can manage to reply with, but nearly loses it when you remove your fingers. “N- no, wait—“ The noise of protest dies on his lips as your hand curls around the back of his head, guiding him toward your chest.

“Would this help?”

“So fuckin’ much— mnph!” You push his face into your chest the moment he latches onto your nipple. He laps and sucks with abandon, drooling all over your breast as you lift and fall over his length.

You push his hair away from his eyes, running your fingers through it softly a few times. A rosy blush dusts over his cheeks, watching you watch him; he’s a bit embarrassed by how turned on he is just from this alone, but that’s clearly not stopping him.

“You’re so pretty like this, Stevie.”

Against your fluttering walls, he pulsates over your sweet words. He paws at your chest, toying with your neglected nipple, still swirling his tongue around the other.

“Can’t wait ‘til we’re alone so I can hear all those pretty moans you make,” You murmur to him, feeling him twitch inside you again. He’s whimpering again, stifled by his oral fixation. “I wanna take care of you, all of the time… would y’let me?”

He nods feverishly, teeth grazing along your nipple, earning a pitchy gasp from you. Lips glistening as he pulls back, a thread of spit still keeps him leashed to your skin.

“You’ll let me do the same, ye- yeah?” Steve asks, tucking his bottom lip between his teeth to quiet a groan; you lean back, arching yourself into him and finding a delicious angle for you both while you still ride him. “Jesus… you’re unreal.”

“Mhm… just gotta…” You trail off, biting down on your fist as a squeal threatens to form. “Gotta heal up for me first, okay?”

Steve shoves your hand away, holding your face again; he whispers his promises of healing, ones he plans on keeping. As he babbles on, drunk off the shared bliss while you meld together, he begins to get emotional. “I promise, yeah, I really do, I mean it, m’gonna get better, gonna be okay,” He whispers, kissing up your neck, avoiding any heavy bruising from the vines left behind. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry…”

“Sorry? For what, Steve? Nothing’s wrong—“

“I fucked up, saying I didn’t wanna be here anymore. It’s so… fuck, it’s so hard sometimes to find reasons to stay.”

Your thrusts begin slowing to a stop, “Don’t ever apologize for telling me how hurt you are. I want you safe, and happy, but if you need to get it out, you get it out—“

“Yeah, but I shouldn’t—“ Steve attempts to guide you back into your steady pace, needing the physical connection to steady his train of thought. “I really wasn’t thinking—“

“I love you, and I mean that.” You’re as careful as can be, but wrap your arms around him, leading him to rest against your shoulder as you start grinding on him again. “This has to be hell… to relive over and over…” He can’t help it, bucks up into you, taking your breath away. 

“Y’got every right to want the pain to end,” He’s going to leave aching bruises behind with the grip he’s got on your hips, fingers digging into your curves. “B- but it can’t end like that.”

What an emotional rollercoaster to ride while fucking.

“It won’t, I swear,” Voice wavering, he lifts his head. His eyes, filled with endless emotion, meet yours; pain, adoration, fear, passion— it’s all on display in his bloodshot, spent, tear-lined gaze. Resting his forehead on yours, he whispers, “Never, ever.”

“Good, ‘cause I- I— o— oh— kay—“ Steve finds your clit with ease, toying with it slowly. “If I c- can’t disappear, you can’t either— christ, Steve, don’t stop.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it, honey.” Your thighs tense up, squeezing around his body. His hips jerk up, slamming himself into you, so he plants his feet on the bed, intentionally fucking up into you. “Shit, you’re close, huh?”

You barely nod as your jaw slacks, body trembling as pleasure hits you all at once. Steve kisses you, just in time to muffle your cries of bliss. Your high racks through you in convulsing waves, coaxing him to the edge of his own climax.

He practically swallows your moans and mumbles against your lips, “M’gonna— I’m— honey, please—“

“Let go, Stevie,” You manage to tell him through pathetic whimpering. “I got you, a- always.”

Returning the favor, you smash your lips against his, muting his symphony of ecstasy, much to your disappointment. He forces gravelly groans down your throat while he sloppily runs his tongue over yours, sucking softly on it. With a borderline violent grip, he pins you closer to him, as close as physically possible, spilling over into you. Your aftershocks are enough to milk his cock for everything he’s got; he better sleep well tonight after this.

You’re so lost in the moment, drunk on passion, it takes a moment to realize he’s babbling something between kisses and winded breaths.

“Don’t let me go.”

Shaking your head, your nose brushes against his, feeling the dam of your emotions finally crumble. Your tears mix with his, holding him with great care.

“Wouldn’t dream of it, honey.”

Sleep breaks itself apart for you both; if one of you has a nightmare, the other stays awake to provide comfort. Steve’s taken more painkillers than his stomach lining can handle, and still continues to toss and turn from the deeply embedded ache in his bones. You have a harder time falling back asleep than he does— after all, it’s not his first rodeo.

Maybe, at most, you gain an hour or two of continuous rest, but daylight breaks far sooner than either of you would prefer it to.

It’s a little bizarre, hearing birds chirp outside among the never-ending sirens that have droned on through the night; the early morning skies paint the world outside his window in soothing hues of orange and pink.

You don’t dare to look longer, fearing the billowing smoke will break the little bit of illusion left that things are alright. If you avoid peering through certain windows in his house, you can’t see the bleak reality; you stay put, shielding yourself from the truth, just a little longer.

“Hey, Steve?” You’re draped over him from behind, cautious of where you rest your body onto his. You’re quickly learning you like any position where you’re wrapped up in one another, but being the big spoon for him might be your favorite yet.

“Hm?” His voice is gravelly, and you wonder if it’s always like this in the morning, or if it’s just free of charge with the suffering he’s endured all night.

It’s a naive question to ask, but you still want to know how he feels; after all, he is the seasoned veteran out of the two of you. “Do you think the world’s really ending?”

He exhales roughly through his lips pressed together, falling into a pause. “… I don’t know, honestly. It’s, uh, pretty scary, huh?”

Burying your face into his neck, you shrug. “Yeah… but it’s not as scary as it’d be going it alone.”

Squeezing your hands, holding them close to his chest while carefully pulling you closer against him, he sighs. His lips meet the backs of your hands, warmth lingering as he keeps them close.

“I take back what I said last night.” He whispers into your skin, “M’really fuckin’ glad we made it home alive.”

“Even if home’s hell right now?”

“Yeah,” Rolling over, Steve’s hand embraces your jaw, resting softly on your neck. He traces your bottom lip with his thumb, stunning hazel stare holding your own; it’s still bloodshot, but there’s now faint traces of rest, at least. “‘Cause it’s still home with you.”

[i-yap]

MY FAVORITE IS DICK GRAYSON FORVER WILL BE DICK GRAYSON AND HERE IS WHY

DICK GRAYSON X Y/N ( FRUSTRATED ME EDITION)

- first of all , he is the hottest character in dc (literally the comics have written this line by line)

- he is the real one with communication issues. You think jason struggles with that? NO jason uses any chance to tell me people how much he suffered. But dick? He wears a smile, he hides everything he is feeling

- the only person who gets to see the real him is YOU. The stress, the pressure, the mommy daddy issues...cmon. and bruce prolly was the worst at raising grayson and learned from his mistakes for the rest

- dick is someone who tries to be happy. Who tries to have a normal life. Who tries not to let his issues affect him . But they do which is why he has so many fucked up relationships. But when he meets you he wants to keep you, he needs to keep you with him. So he tries yet again to open up, fix his issues, love you the way you truly deserve.

- AND let us all not pretend we are all not stressed asf in life. He is so joyful and bright and will almost never dull the mood. Car karaoke ? Done. Skinny dipping in some random lake you drive by? His suggestion. Amusement parks? He is excitedly pulling you to all the rides and WILL 100% WIN YOU THE BIGGEST TEDDY

- he is deep, he js in touch with his feelings and he knows how to take care of you. Idk abt u guys but I have issues . I want a man who gives you those words of affirmation, who makes it super obvious he likes you.

- he needs you just as much as jason or tim or damian do. He also never had genuine love, he also has been a soldier a leader the person responsible all his life. He needs yo hold you, he needs that peace and quiet away from everything he has to deal with . He wants someone he can come home to and just show how drained he is .

- he is so kind to the world but he WILL BURN IT FOR YOU . I refuse to believe any other opinion on this. No matter how big a hero this guy is...remember how he killed joker for jason? Someone he said he hated? Broke the no kill rule?? Yea imagine what he will do for you.

- and how dare u suggest he isn't jealous/ possessive. He gets so cranky..not insecure and u don't have to coddle him and avoid all other men ...but u do have to give him extra kisses

-HE IS THE REAL GREEN FLAG fuck the whole " a hero will sacrifice you for the world but a villain will burn the world for you" NOT HIM NO HE WILL KILL EVERYONE OKAY cuz how date anyone suggest taking you away from him after everything he has done for the world. You are his reward and you better remember that.

- slow waltzing in the kitchen while he sings you his favorite love song, giggling in a pretty cafe while sharing a piece of cake( he is feeding you the whole thing and will kiss you when u Ask why he isn't eating any himself) , getting tipsy and walking back home all sweet and drunk and in love. He is adventurous and wants to experience everything With you.

- best part, everyone around u will love him. I'm sorry but I like it when my bf is liked by the old ladies and my parents and my boss. He will make you the power couple, even if you aren't as "powerful". He is your biggest loudest supporter always. Always introducing you to ppl as if you cured world hunger , telling everyone just how smart and kind you are taking any opportunity to talk about You. And dancing with him at galas makes you feel like a princess

- he will get the best gifts, say the sweetest things, be the most supportive kind eyes only for you guy once he genuinely falls in love.

I love jason a lot too, and tim and bruce too. Like yes I daydream about all of them But I just hate how underrated my boy here is.

[1-800-local-slut]

Hey 👋 . Hope u doing well . I got a bit of a long request that I think you will like . Imagine this with me cause the idea just came to my head as I was reading ur powerpuff girl!reader . So danny phantom inspired reader , she obviously with mark grayson but I wanna focus on a specific danny phantom episode. So like it's an average day saving lives with our man invincible and this random girl who looks exactly like reader comes needing their help . They discover that ciecil has been trying to make a clones of dp!reader incase she go's rouge and dp!reader and mark are angry as heck at this information. Now I got some many ideas on how rest of this continues but I really want the rest of ur perspective on this since you be cooking better than me .

Danny Fenton was my cartoon crush growing up, thank you for this love. Anyways, I loooove the way you think. I think I know the episode you're talking about (I'm sorry if it's the wrong one) BUT I raise you this: the reader was raised by the GDA, closely by Cecil and she never thought he would do something like this to her? Oh my heart hurts just thinking about it (I'm smiling hard asf while writing this)

Mark Grayson x Black! Ghost-powered! Reader!

Warnings: angst, rage really, Cecil sucks here guys, reader has daddy issue

Note: the main character has powers like Danny Phantom, was raised in a lab, this is written from the point of view of you and Mark so all of Cecil's actions are seen as evil even if they've been explained. We know he wasn't trying to kill Mark but to you and Mark it looks differently

༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺

It was always awkward to sit down and have dinner with the parents. Like when you meet your friends' parents before going upstairs to hangout and they clearly don't like you at all but begrudgingly let you and your friend leave the table. It's ten times worse when it's your girlfriends' parents.

It's 20x worse when it's your ex-boss. Like when your girlfriend was a government experiment who can transform into a ghost at will that was raised by the GDA and raised closely by Cecil, who made a clone of your girlfriend in case she turned evil that attacked your girlfriend before getting beat the fuck up? No? No one else relates? Just Mark? Well okay, he has had an original experience.

It was awkward.

The Chinese restaurant was loud, with people mingling around. Mark was trying to contain himself, just as much as you were. You were shaking from rage beside him, the forks on the table trembled beside you and your eyes were now a vibrant green.

Mark kept his grip on your hand to keep you from attacking Cecil in this restaurant. You glared at Cecil, refusing to speak a single word. Cecil stared back at you looking infuriatingly tranquil.

The three of you sat in uncomfortable silence.

Not for much longer though. Cecil cleared his throat, opening one side of his scarred face and began some sentence you did not care to hear.

"Well-."

"I did not ask."

Then back to silence.

Mark had his outs with Cecil. He doesn't take kindly to a chip being implanted in his brain, and normally he'd just try to leave. He'd get up, taking you with him. But Mark knows you. He knew there was no way in hell he was getting you out of this restaurant quietly. Maybe verbally silent but you would probably throw the fish tank at his head on your way out. The moment Cecil crashed your date he gave up.

You were either going to sit silently until the check came, or you were going to curse Cecil clean out again before leaving. Luckily for everyone else in the restaurant it seemed like you were choosing to sit silently. Luckily for Cecil he wasn't going to have to hear your scathing insults again

Unfortunately for Cecil, Mark really wanted to go home instead of sitting there looking at Cecil's face. The day was long enough. You two already had dinner planned, now he just wanted to go. Take his beautiful girlfriend and fly home. Maybe stop at Mcdonald's on the way home to get you an apple pie so you could feel better. So, Cecil's wicked self was going to have to get cursed out once more if the conversation went left. Which it was going to. Because Cecil can never say the right thing.

"What she means to say is: why are you here, crashing our date after you ruined the bond we had?" Mark opened the door for the conversation to begin.

Truthfully, he was tired of Cecil, he needed to get the circus out of the way. Your teeth were loudly grinding together, as you tried to hold it together and you yanked your hand from Mark's grasp. From the corner of his eye, he saw your shaky hands grasping the edge of your dress and pulling at it. The dress yanking was almost representative of the last shreds of your self-control being torn apart

"Well. I just wanted to have a conversation. You two know what I've done. I'm not proud of it but it needed to be done." Cecil began, straightening his tie. His blue eyes avoided your glowing green ones.

"Okay. And you are here at our dinner table because...?"

With an eye roll and a self-righteous sigh, Cecil leaned back in his seat.

"Because you two wouldn't take my calls. I had to find her somehow."

Then there was a loud slam. You were standing up, arms shaking and nails scratching into the table. Other tables went silent and even the wait staff stopped moving.

"You lame bitch!"

Well, there we go.

"You funky, fake, low down, lying bitch!" You continued, cold air slipping into the restaurant. Your curls began to turn white from the bottom of your defined curls as your arms shook. The lighting flickered momentarily. A father ushered his wife and children quickly out of the restaurant while others waived down their waiters for the check.

" 'Oh! She's not taking my calls, poor me! I'm so sad, and old and nobody likes me! It's not like I'm a lying fuck who uses teenagers like pawns, I've done nothing wrong! I only stole her DNA after buying her from her birth parents and raising her in a lab as if she was my daughter then cloned her against her knowledge then trained that clone to try and kill her if anything went wrong! Poor me, poor Cecil!' You whiny bitch, how dare you?!" The mocking tone mimicked a baby crying on the steps, as you dramatically waved your hands around to make fun of Cecil.

Mark would've laughed if the restaurant wasn't quickly emptying. He was starting to think he should've just kept quiet. Green flames roared from the kitchen; chefs screamed in terror and objects all around began to float and fly about hazardously.

"You need to calm down. I came to try to talk to you," Cecil ducked as he nearly dodged a tea pot flying at his head.

"Not end up on the ten 'o clock news. You know I care about you. It doesn't have to be this way." He continued, his voice cracked. A sliver of emotion escaped.

A dry chuckle was his response as you rolled your eyes.

"Cut me a fucking break Cecil. I already told you that I don't like you! You care about me cool; I don't care about you. You lost that chance when you cloned me and then let that clone escape and try to kill me. Which failed by the way, kind of like your first and only marriage."

You sat back down next to Mark, throwing your phone and other things back into your purse. You clearly did not care to argue with Cecil. You said your piece and Mark could see you slowly coming to a brutal realization. No matter how much you cussed Cecil out you weren't going to feel better.

Because Cecil hurt you. He hurt you bad. There was a hole in your heart, where the bond you had with the man who raised you was gone. And nothing was going to heal that but time and space which Cecil did not want to give you.

A plate smashed on the ground as your nail got stuck on the lining of your purse and you pulled in frustration. Cecil let out a sigh as Mark slipped his phone and wallet into his pocket. The best thing to do to avoid a damages bill in addition to the cheque was leave.

"I wasn't trying to hurt you. It was just a precaution. Would you just give me a chance to explain?"

For a moment you stopped. there was a flicker of the girl Mark meant almost two years ago. The girl that loved her dad. She didn't doubt him; she tried to rationalize almost everything. It was her dad. He was a good guy; he did things to keep people safe. She loved him and he was supposed to love her. Just for a moment the green eyes returned to brown but quickly went back to a glowing green. Just at the idea of finally having peace of mind.

Everything in the restaurant clattered to the ground, and the remaining bystanders quickly fled the cold room. The kitchen staff sprinted for safety and made it out the door and the sound of police sirens approached rapidly. Ironically Mark's second phone started to ring.

You dubbed it the 'Invinciphone', and it was probably ringing to report a superpowered disturbance. Your other phone began to buzz inside of your purse. The disturbances being called to handle the disturbance, how poetic. Mark would've laughed if he had time too, now he had to plot your escape.

Cecil rubbed his fingers across the bridge of his nose. He was no doubt stressed, pissing off the people who he really needed as his allies and probably experimenting on puppies or some shit.

"Listen. I can get this called off. You two don't get arrested or end up with warrants out for destruction of public property." He placed his phone on the table. One phone call. But you don't need to hear out shit. Not from Cecil. Mark will take jail time over watching you destroy yourself from this conversation. Guilt seemed to possess his body, if only he just sat there and engaged in the staring contest.

"The call is on you guys. But maybe make the choice before we get tear gassed. I just want you to hear me out."

The choice was ultimately yours. Because Mark already choked the fuck out of Cecil for trying to kill him, and he choked him again that day you ended up unconscious in the hospital after fighting yourself. He had nothing else to say to the man. The choice, just like the pain you felt from Cecil's evil ass, was yours.

The gears clicked in your head slowly. Your hair went back to its original color, your eyes now their natural deep brown. No more floating items and flames erupting from the kitchen. Sadness took over your face, hanging heavy on your features like chains pulling you down.

Hands folded in your lap; you stayed silent for one minute. Then two. Your eyes trained on the phone on the table while you thought. The next emotion on your face was disappointment.

"...You set this up. You came here, you knew I would get angry. You know I can't control my powers when I get this upset. You knew how bad you hurt me then you used that to get me angry. All you had to do was wait for the police to get called. So, you could give me an ultimatum and force me to stay. Because you would let the police arrest me. If I escaped, you would let the military hunt Mark and I down.

You knew I'd be held in a prison where people with superpowers are treated inhumanely. Because you set up those systems for us to be abused in prison. And you did all this, using the pain you caused me. So, I would listen to you say a bunch of bullshit I don't care to hear."

Cecil shifted in his seat, his fingers itched on the table, and he glanced away from you. The three of you sat in a sobering silence. But things were different. As the room returned to normal temperature, Mark felt his rage heating up.

He'd been used by Cecil, and while it hurt, he didn't take it so personally. How could he? He had his own father. While that guy was a lying asshole, he was a good father. He had 17 years with his dad who was his actual dad. He didn't have to learn to trust his father only to have it broken. His entire life, up until the end, his dad loved and cared for him. Cecil wasn't his dad.

And he wasn't supposed to be yours either. He knew you were an experiment. But Cecil knows what Cecil is. So why would he even allow himself to get close to you. How could he allow himself that act of selfishness and then punish you for its years later? Then to take it further to use the love he gave you as a weapon.

Before he could speak, a chill ran across Mark. Your hand was raised in front of him in order to stop him. You needed him to just bear witness. And you're his girl, so in this situation Mark would do whatever would make you feel better.

"Call them off Cecil. Say your piece. Then we're leaving."

Cecil stood up, stepping away from the table leaving you two behind for a moment.

"...What do you wanna do?" Mark whispered, hands finding yours. He brushed a piece of your hair out of your face. His eyes found yours and a ghost of tears in your eyes.

"I just need to let him hear himself talk. If you need to leave, you can. I can get him to leave us alone, but I have to let him think I'm hearing him out."

You must not know him. No way was Mark about to disappear and leave you with this evil fuck. His forehead pressed against yours. You were tangible. Couldn't just fall through you, you weren't a ghost right now. Like most times you were tangible. The only issue was that Cecil didn't see you that way. He saw you as a weapon he couldn't fully control, the ghost girl who he could control through the human half.

"Fuck this guy, let's just leave! The police can't stop us." Mark whispered while you closed your eyes. You were giving up. Giving up on fighting, giving up on trying to stick it to Cecil. All you could do right now was play his stupid game.

"Don't let him hear you say that. He'll get the reanimen on you." You teased through the cracking of your voice and bubbling of your pain.

Cecil came back, clearing his throat before sliding into the seat across from you. You and Mark separated except your hands. He was the grounding force keeping you human here. You were his grounding force from jumping across the table and choking Cecil out AGAIN.

Instead, he sat in silence again.

"You made us stay here and did all this only to say nothing?"

"Mark."

"I can't stand this guy. Sorry."

But Cecil ignored Mark's loud disdain. He loosened his tie completely then exhaled as if he was fighting himself.

"It wasn't my intention to hurt you. You know I care about you. I raised you. But I have to look out for the people. It's my job, you know that. Yes, you were my little girl. I still care about you. I still see you as my little girl. I cloned you, because I had to be ready for the worse. Your powers are unstable. You can't control them. Tonight made that clear.

It doesn't have to be hostile between us, is what I'm trying to say. I made a mistake but I still...I care a lot about you."

The red and blue lights outside dissipated, then the crowds of people slowly melted away. You sucked in a deep breath and squeezed Mark's hand for courage.

"Okay. I don't care about you anymore. I can't. I did, and you used that and almost cost me my life by making a clone of me that was programmed to kill me if I went bad. So, I really cannot care about you anymore. I have too much pride and dignity as a young woman to let myself be disrespected by someone who has no understanding of boundaries.

It is your job, yes. Your job has consequences. One of those consequences is that you no longer have access to me. I will not come to Christmas. I will not come to dinners on Sunday. I will not invite you to any sort of milestone in my life. You have your job to do, now I hate you and your job.

I have never given you any sort of impression that I am evil. You clearly saw something in me. You made me this way. I am an experiment. I was genetically modified in a lab, you know that. I don't even know my actual birthday. My 'birthday' is the day my powers were deemed a success. My entire life was engineered by you and I refuse to have any further part of it. You made me and then punished me.

You made me, then turned on what you created, before creating something that's sole purpose was to kill me. For no reason other than you could no longer control me and you because you saw me as an object to control rather than the child you raised and said you loved."

Cecil nodded, gnawing on the inside of his cheek and looking down. Mark felt the sweat from your palms, your skin cold and clammy.

"You made the issue worse, by following us here and then antagonizing me. You showed me that when things don't go your way you will attempt to manipulate me. I can no longer trust that anything you do or say is genuine. You hurt me. You hurt my boyfriend. What we had, that bond we had is gone. You killed it. I need space and time to be able to be around you. Do you understand?"

"I don't want to lose you." For once, Cecil came out with honest emotion. He was clear with his feelings. When it didn't matter anymore, he was honest with you. When it was too late. The bond of father and daughter was long gone, and it started to die the moment he tried to kill your boyfriend.

With a sigh and a shake of your head, cold tears escaped and slipped down your cheeks.

"You already have." The conversation was done with.

Mark stood up, making way for you to get up. You got out of the booth, wiping tears from your face. Mark's arms wrapped around your hips to support you. He could feel the emotional exhaustion radiating off of you. You two went to fly towards the ceiling, instead of going for the door.

"And tell Donald to stop sending me flowers."

Then you were gone, you two went through the ceiling thanks to your powers granting you two the ability to pass through the wall. In the empty Chinese restaurant, all that remained was Cecil. Cecil, and the dead body of that father-daughter bond he killed.

[danadiadea]

was answering someone, accidentally wrote a full ass ✨️anti-James Potter Manifecto✨️, then noticed I can't reblog the OP... But decided that it deserves to be posted anyway. The points therefore are in a seemingly random order, but bear with me.

Disclamer: I know that people who do awful things can also have good qualities. Sirius grosses me out if my mind, but I admit he has some positives and can be liked for them. My problem with James is that he objectively has very little good deeds. He could be an SAer and a shitty fuck with some admirable qualities too, but he... isn't. You people just want to praise a rich aristocrat for what's not even a bare minimum.

Not to say that him being a good friend to Remus included letting him out of the Shack where he could've killed someone and laughing at it (all of them are gross for that, James included. Remus would've been so "helped" if he killed or infected a person. No wonder Sirius brought it just one step further so easily!) and yapping loudly about his lycanthropy; and to Peter – degrading him and playing him for a joke. And oh yeah, he "saved" Snape from being killed – I wonder how had Sirius managed to dehumanize Snape to the extent where he considered Snape's life unimportant? No James' part in it, I'm sure. Not to add that he used it to paint himself as a hero, knowing full well that the victim can't speak the truth, and later sexually assaulted that very same person, and that it had saved his two friends from Sirius' idiocy – so it was James' best interest (it's funny how they imagine James "saving" Snape. yeah, sure, that's how he'd talk to a boy he doesn't even consider a person with rights to his own body: "oh don't go Severus, it's dangerous!". also to be clear, animagi James was in no danger himself at all). And liking your friends is not... a virtue... it's a minimum..... just as with that "gave Remus money" thing which is not even in the books, but even if we count it as canon – this is the LEAST a loaded privileged person can do! Being filthy rich and sharing some money is not a virtue, stop praising the rich for the things they're obliged to do!

The thing is that James wasn't even a particularly good parent or husband! It's already dumb to say "someone is a good person just because they love their family and friends even though they are a piece of sadistic shit" because Vernon and Lucius are RIGHT THERE – but James didn't show any respect for Lily as a person, he'd been a total prick towards her; and the only good thing he did to Harry was... playing with him I guess? And saying he'd "hold off Voldemort", which was dumb, considering he had no wand, Lily supposedly had no place to run since she wasted time blocking the door with a chair instead, and the whole betrayal thing (and the lack of Invisibility Cloak accessible) was a direct result of James' arrogance! Again – this was his own family. Loving your own family is not something one should be praised for lmfao.

James Potter's only good deeds were being a good friend to (a fucking psycho) Sirius Black, and being a part of the Order where Mundungus Fletcher also was so idk how heroic it is per se (also, being anti-bad people doesn't automatically make you good, not to say that in every war there would be sadistic jerks, who use it to vent their aggression, on both sides. you can fight the right wing and be a shit of a person!), and following beliefs James' parents had, not differently to Regulus or Draco – he just got luckier. That's it, I fear.

Also on the "defied Voldemort thing" – we don't even know what that means. We know he and Lily refused to join DEs, does that count? Does a marriage of a Pureblood and a Muggleborn count – it defies Voldemort's ideals! We don't ever see or even directly hear about James' encounters with DEs (aside from hp prequel I guess) or Voldemort, so sorry, not counting things I don't know about. anyway, stan Horace Slughorn, a man who canonically fought Voldemort himself.

James’ bad deeds were choking people with soap and publically undressing them without their consent (a Muggle raised boy with Muggle surname, for "existing" no less), using illegal spells, letting out werewolves, blackmailing girls and ignoring their refusals, being sexist and classist and lookist and pathetically toxic macho man, hexing people for fun, lying to his girlfriend about leaving her ex-friend alone, taking part in constructing a stalkering map, leaving his wife and infant in the Fidelius hidden house to go play heroes on a bike with Sirius, deciding that Pettigrew was useless enough to be a better secret keeper than Sirius or (so conveniently distrusted werewolf) Remus or James himself or even Albus Dumbledore.... And considering he had all the privileges and possible means to become someone like Cedric Diggory, that's not even funny how people excuse him.

(painting having a kid at 20 while being a soldier and participating in a war as a good thing and not as being clinically insane is a choice. With all the respect for Harry and Teddy, James Potter and Remus Lupin should've discovered condoms)

(talking about additional content like harry potter prequel and the meeting with the Dursleys, James was fucking shitty in both! Bragging about being rich will never not be shitty howewer unpleasant Vernon might've been, and leaving unconsious DEs with Muggles is direct danger to their lives: I wonder what would they do when they wake up at the Muggle police station. So is speeding on the Muggle road. And showing off with the stolen snitch in SWM – decided it was too petty to mention in the main text, but whatever, this fucker could've afforded his own)

[triassictriserratops]

I know we all love talking about jealous Katniss but I want to talk about jealous Peeta because reading the books now as an adult makes me realize how obvious he was about being jealous, he’s just not possessive or a jerk. Because it’s hilarious to me that he just keeps bringing stuff up that he’s jealous about but trying to be subtle. “I thought he was your cousin””she’s just mad because of her boyfriend” “is that really the only time you’ve kissed Gale”. Good grief, he brings up Gale more than Katniss ever does. But it also matches his character that uses words for everything. He just keeps bringing up stuff while Katniss is like WTF. Post marriage he doesn’t really get jealous but once in a while I’m sure there may be a minor thing here or there that makes him jealous and he brings it up during dinner to Katniss who is just focused on the food

Jealous Peeta absolutely FED me, It was NOT SUBTLE.

and we know there were a LOT more moments of jealousy than he let on. he makes a point of telling Caesar that he knew other boys liked her - so i imagine there was a bit of locker room talk and a LOT of Peeta biting his tongue and taking his frustration out on the mat instead.

(Once, he got a record-breaking - and SLIGHTLY arm-fracturing - win when one of the guys on the team talked, in detail, about what he wanted to offer Katniss as a trade the next time she came by his parents' shop.)

I fully imagine that Peeta was aware of, and HAAAAATED the fact that the two went out to the woods together. He NEEDED to believe they were cousins. Like, for his sanity. because he can't IMAGINE that Gale would actually fumble the bag by being alone with Katniss every single morning for 4 years and NOT making a move.

And Peeta was trying to undermine Gale, too. "I hear the girls talk about him a lot - baby girl, that man is a whore, i wouldn't do you like that."

no and then the HIJACKED jealousy???? UNFUCKING REAL. Every single barrier that boy put up for himself was GONE. ERADICATED. He was SEETHING with a jealousy he couldn't even really understand and just sitting at that table like:

So of COURSE he has to turn it around and try to make HER jealous. Make her realize how unimportant she is. He could have anyone. He could even take Annie.

"Fuck Everthorne and their star-crossed bullshit." (because he TOTALLY viewed them as star-crossed. Nobody believes in the existence of Everthorne more than Peeta Mellark)

"And fuck Katniss too, and NOT sexually (unless?...) No, FUCK HER (biblically???) NO."

Honestly, I personally don't see him getting jealous at all after "so after". Once she gives him the security and peace of saying the words - he'll never doubt her. Not once. And Katniss loves in an all or nothing way. And with Peeta, it's ALL.

If anything? It's Katniss. Post-marriage Katniss has a bow with the words "for trifling hoes that wish they could" etched into it. It's specifically her "that's my WIFE" bow and she's just ITCHING to use it.

That being said, while he may not be jealous Peeta is VERY competitive whenever Gale is visiting the district. For, like, the stupidest shit. Gale comes to town carrying a buck so he'll just go and move bags of flour, one in each arm, like it's nothing. (He's actually sweating HARD but he refuses to admit it)

[loveandleases]

Tormenting Chris and Jade submission for balance: I forgot to ask how they'd react to the poly route with Kara X Isaac. Chris's desire to love and support Kara in direct opposition to their desire to judge any dynamic with Isaac--

Love having some balance. (Called for a scenario so rest will be under the cut!)

Chris taps along their phone, their finger hovering just above the screen, caught between pressing and not pressing, between action and restraint. One name. One person their mind refuses to release. They can still see your face clearly; hear the way their name sounds when it leaves your lips. Their expression is taut, posture rigid as they scan the apartment around them—pristine, perfect, just like their life used to be. Until you came into it.

A scoff escapes their lips as they run a hand through their icy-blonde hair. How typical, they think, people stirring up trouble, thinking Chris cares what you do.... How did they even know? Is it in their face? In the way their thoughts creep in, reminding them of what was lost—or what, no, who, they tossed aside?

Jade’s voice rings in Chris’s ears, the memory of her words sharp and biting: “MC was always so hard to please, always unsatisfied despite everything our parents had given them. Since they couldn’t have you, they settled for Kara. Isaac was just the cherry on top—a person with a jaded past that they could take pity on. Along for the ride, because everyone knows the rumors about Isaac. Never staying with someone for too long unless they get bored.”

Their jaw tenses as their eyes linger on the photo laid out on the coffee table—your smile, a smile they hadn't seen in so long. You give it so freely, so easily. To Isaac and Kara of all people. One on either side of you, Kara’s lips close to your ear, whispering something while Isaac’s hand rests casually on your knee. Isaac was never good enough to be friends with Kara, not after everything Chris learned. They deserve to be with you even less. The number of times they’ve seen their hand roam on people’s bodies…they shouldn’t be touching you so freely. So openly. Where people can see, where Chris can see.

The photo cuts deeper than Chris anticipated, and before they can stop themselves, their fingers are already dialing Kara’s number. Their leg begins to shake with annoyance, the phone ringing louder than their pulse. Kara always picked up quickly—never more than three rings. So why isn’t she now? Was there always something there? Was there something going on behind the scenes?

Were the two of you… no, Kara wouldn’t do that to me. You wouldn’t do that to me.

Kara finally answers, her voice groggy with sleep. “Hello?”

Chris freezes. It’s four in the morning. They’d spent the whole night obsessing, thinking about the three of you—disgusting.

Chris opens their mouth to speak, but the sound of Isaac’s groan and your voice cuts through the silence. “Who is it?”

The question makes their blood run cold. You’re both there? Why are you with her?

“Chris?” Kara’s voice breaks through their thoughts, sharp and concerned.

“Tell me this is a joke.” Chris’ voice cracks, disbelief flooding their words. They force out a thin, bitter laugh. “This is a joke, isn’t it, Kara?”

“Chris, how di—”

“Let me talk to them.”

“Wh—who?”

“Let me talk to my fiancé.”

The line grows quiet, and Chris can’t help but imagine the look that passes over the three of you.

“Former fiancé,” Isaac adds, a cool edge to his voice, as Kara reluctantly hands you the phone.

“Why are you with them?” Chris’s voice is quieter now, rawer, the reality of it all begins to settle in.

“I don’t think that’s any of your business.”

Another scoff. Chris’s anger surges, bubbling up and threatening to spill over. “Of course it’s my business. You’re my f—” They stop themselves, letting the word die on their tongue.

A heavy sigh escapes them as they lean back against the couch. “You’re my ex-fiancé. Do you realize how this looks? Fucking my little sister and her friend. After everything, this is how you repay me?”

“This has nothing to do with you. Who I’m with is none of your concern, Chris. Kara might be your sister, but you don’t own her, or me, for that matter.” Your words are sharp, almost like a smack to the face.

Chris’s fingers twitch, plucking at the photo until the three of you are separated—tearing you apart. “And Isaac, what? You just had to bring the trash with you, Kara? It’s not bad enough you’re sharing a bed with my ex, but now you’ve got your friend, too?” Isaac was never good enough to be friends with Kara. Especially once Chris had their background looked into. No, they don’t deserve Kara and they deserve you even less.

“Stop it, Chris.”

Despite the tightness in her chest, the guilt she carries, Kara can’t bring herself to yell. Not yet. “Don’t talk about them, about us, like you know what’s going on. You don’t know anything about it. We’re happy. I’m happy.” Her voice cracks, and for a moment Chris feels a feeling in their gut. One they’re afraid to give a name, because why should Chris Clarke feel guilty? “Isn’t that enough?”

It should be. Chris knows that deep down, under all the anger, the pain, and the jealousy, they should be happy for Kara. She found people who love her. But that gnawing feeling inside them won’t let go. The more they try to bury it, the more it consumes them. They can’t shake the feeling that you’re slipping further away—both of you.

For a long moment, they just sit there, lost in their thoughts. Kara hangs up the phone, but it doesn't stop the storm inside them from raging. Their words tumble out, raw and desperate. “You deserve better than that. Better than them. Aren’t I enough?” They know who the questions are for, and the thought alone sickens them.