#cool car wallpaper

[gloztik]

Cyberpunk gaming Porsche super car 4k desktop wallpaper

This wallpaper is about Cyberpunk gaming porsche car, 4k desktop wallpaper, gaming background wallpaper. This image size is 1327052 kb and resolution is 5120×2880.

[crowbugz]

Agnes - Glass Animals

[violetpixiedust]

14-02-21

dad!rafe cameron x mom!reader

description: you were somewhat content living in kildare with your beautiful twin girls, collecting child support cheques, and staying out of the kook limelight. that was until your ex and baby daddy rafe cameron got clean. the now head of cameron development finally realized that he needed to step up, and be the father he always promised he would be for your children. not to mention the man you had practically begged for before that devastating night you left him. but will you give him the chance?

warnings: afab reader. no description of appearance. featuring ex!rafe cameron x ex!reader. dad!rafe cameron x mom!reader. girl dad!rafe cameron. toxic!rafe. businessman!rafe. pogue to kook!reader. sweet!reader. florist!reader. angst. not teen pregnancy, but not adult either. co-parenting. mentions of drugs. mentions of domestic violence. 18+. mdni.

a/n: a new series i’m working on! let me know if you’d like to read more?

1. 𓍼

it was awkward to say the least.

that brand new car smell of rafe’s porche made you queasy, holding your breath to the best of your ability despite your twin daughters babbling in the backseat. they were enraptured with the brand new jelly-cats rafe- or perhaps- rafe’s assistant had purchased for them.

it hadn’t always been this way. there had been a time when you believed you knew rafe, the real one behind the glitz and glamour of being outer banks royalty. behind each stinging line and dime bag of coke, cigar smoke, and tightly wound up bills that came with capitalizing on people’s addictions. rafe was top dog, barry his right hand man, running their drug operation past the cut and then some under the guise of cameron development- which had been newly inherited.

amidst the fancy cars, motorbikes, top shelf whisky, tannyhill, designer clothes and 18k gold jewelry, you were rafe’s most prized possession. a sweet little bar cart girl from the country club turned co-ruler of the rambunctious beach side town. you were a pogue turned kook long before rafe had noticed you, but you still managed to catch his eye whilst being decorated in vintage prada and blumarine, skipping in the ocean coast at the boneyard.

your romance grew hot, blooming faster than anybody could fathom. within a week you were the angel bar cart girl turned rafe’s lover. you wanted to believe he loved you, did believe him for longer than you should have. even when his saltwater eyes would be rimmed with scarlet, pupils dilated despite the fact that he promised he would stop dipping into his own supply. even when his once gentle hold would leave an ache beneath your tender skin, his gold signet ring often threatening to leave a brand. even when his booming voice would vibrate off the decorative wallpaper, blowing your hair back with the sheer force of his anger in your face.

and especially when you sat alone at the country club, rafe’s empty seat mocking you from where you picked at your cooling dinner, numb to the local’s pitiful and amused stares.

that had been rafe up until your period was two weeks late, two vibrant lines on four home pregnancy tests snapping him into gear. it wasn’t a discussion. you would be having the child- children- two twin girls, and he would be the father he never had. he would stop the coke, the dealing, the parties. be the man you always wanted. the man you knew when it was just the two of you between your silk sheets. in the early hours of the peaceful and serene morning, staring at his sober expression that was filled with love rather than turmoil.

that had been rafe for longer than you thought he could be.

“you sick or something?” despite your ex’s harsh tone, you knew he wasn’t angry. annoyed most likely- given that this was the first time you had agreed to an outing with him and both of your children since the separation. the children lived in a gorgeous house with you a few blocks from tannyhill since before they had turned one- their fourth birthday now a mere few months away much to your disbelief. rafe had ensured his children would still have a spectacular view of the ocean that he had grown up having. he was good at that. making sure the three of you were taken care of. throwing however much money you needed for necessities, toys for the girls, furniture and decor for the home, and then some for your own pleasure.

your oldest daughter by five minutes- valentine, spoke up. “is mommy sick?”

you quickly turned in your place from the passenger seat, ignoring rafe’s piercing cobalt eyes only to meet valentine’s that matched them almost identically. your mustered up smile quickly turned genuine at the sight of your sweet babies in their car seats, stuffed animals flopped in their laps. “‘m fine, val-“

your younger daughter- rosette- or rosy for short, appeared as a mirror of your younger self- with her doe eyes so similar to yours staring back at you. “pwomise?” her sweet voice was quiet, hiding behind her new scarlet bunny jellycat. your expression softened immensely, holding out your chipped manicured pinky. instantly, both of your daughter’s latched on with theirs, the trio of you giggling for no apparent reason, missing rafe’s uncomfortable expression from behind the wheel.

your twins were aware of their father, which was a miracle given that rafe had always struggled to keep his word about being the dad he never had. a continued presence in their lives despite your separation. as the breadwinner however, he couldn’t be there all the time- and living separately only made things harder. the heir of cameron development visited at least once a week for coffee at your home. the two of you would watch your daughters play with the new toys rafe purchased for them weekly, helping them when they occasionally got stuck. it would be tense between you two at the beginning of every visit. rafe keeping to a strict routine of asking if everything was working properly, that the girls were healthy, that you had enough. you would assure him every time that you did, but held your tongue when describing your week. he had been in the bahamas on business when you had given birth, but had never missed a birthday since. he had been out at the country club with topper when valentine had said her first word- cat, which caused him to spiral when he heard he had missed it. he’d been absent when they learned how to walk, when they were potty training, learned how to talk, learned how to read small words, write small words. still, he couldn’t abandon his legacy for his children that he had spent under a hundred hours with during the year. as long as they had enough.

rafe’s porche eventually pulled up outside of a bakery he had never been to- let alone heard of teetering on the edge of the cut. the blonde held his tongue when you initially offered the location of the establishment you had the liberty of choosing, mentioning that they had a kids menu the girls would enjoy. he wondered if you regularly brought his children to places near or on the poorer side of the island, knowing how firmly against he was on the subject.

it had always been a point of contention between you two that you could never fully assimilate to kook culture. despite your mother becoming a successful name in the real estate business through pure dedication and hard work in your freshman year, you never wanted to take full advantage of it. rafe couldn’t forget your old car, one that was still parked outside of your mother’s house the last time he checked. a violet 1965 chevrolet impala that had been passed down from your grandmother after she died. the doors were squeaky, handles slightly sticky, the silver bumper rusted some, and the paint was chipped, but you refused to get rid of it. it was only until rafe threatened to have the piece of junk towed if you ever thought about driving his children around in that metal death trap that you folded. instead, you picked a sensible audi as your new car when he took you to the dealership a few weeks before your separation. a model so unlike either of you much to his chagrin.

speaking of, your vintage handbag that was speckled with age and decorated with cutesy keychains no doubt picked out by your daughters, jingled in the summer breeze when you stepped out of his car. despite how much your stubbornness and individuality got on his nerves, rafe couldn’t deny that you still held his heart after all these years. you stuck by him till the end of the line. endured his mood swings, his violent tendencies, his addiction, all because you loved him. he couldn’t fault you for leaving when it got to its worst, especially since it was for the sake of your girls. your tearful voice still echoed in his ears as if it were yesterday. i can’t have them growing up in this house thinking that this is what love should feel like, rafe. i can’t. you can’t seriously want someone like you as their example for marriage.

that had kept rafe up at night for months after you moved out.

before he could pull rosy out of her car seat, the blonde heard your soft melodic voice singing from the other side of the vehicle. the short haired man straightened up slowly, as if disbelieving of the sound.

you were cast in a beacon of sunlight. the early summer morning glowing against your stunning complexion that your daughters’ shared. he hadn’t said anything about your darling mini dress when you had opened your front door only a half hour ago, just stared for a moment too long before stepping past you inside. rafe wasn’t sure how to verbalize that every time he saw you, you reminded him that nobody else could ever hold a candle to how gorgeous you were.

the eldest cameron inevitably grew up since you discovered you were pregnant. having shaved off his juvenile curtain bangs, swapping his colourful polos and graphic tees with button down dress shirts and neutral designer short sleeves. wearing the family ring on his finger with pride, along with a watch that cost more than the house you grew up in on his wrist. replacing his dirt bike with a number of luxury cars, each more expensive than the last. despite that, he couldn’t deny that it seemed like not a second had passed since the first time he saw you in that bar cart, all those reinventions of himself ago.

you were still the sweetest girl in the outer banks apparently. only with him, now, you were more reserved. speaking when spoken to and keeping details concise- just in case he had to fly out the door that next minute to tend to a number of other responsibilities a man like him had. wheezie kept him updated. you still smiled at everyone you came across, kook or pogue- your daughters’ following in suit, sharing your sweetness. the residents of outer banks only had nice things to say about his family. rafe regularly heard about you picking some flowers for the elderly woman who lived down the road from your home, as her son was one of his business partners’.

a few weeks ago, you had donated some of the twins’ old toys that they explicitly said they didn’t play with to unprivileged children on the cut. after he heard about that one- he immediately drove to your house to confront you- the gifts for his daughters’ meaning more to him than you had initially realized. even still, you were under the impression that his assistant had been picking them out. sensing he felt as if you were donating his affection.

you were perfect in every sense of the word, and rafe couldn’t help the feeling of your small hand squeezing around his heart- unable to look away from where you and your eldest daughter were singing a song he didn’t recognize. the grip her little hands had on your shoulders tightened after you lifted her up, swinging her around as best you could- much to her delight.

rafe jumped when he felt a tiny hand pull on his left fingers, absent from a wedding band. you two hadn’t gotten that far before everything went to shit. the sun kissed man looked down, your doe eyes staring back up at him from where your youngest daughter was still sat in her car seat. his adams apple bobbed with a harsh swallow, quickly unbuckling the little girl before plopping her on his hip. the scent of the baby shampoo you still used on rosy’s hair wafted up to rafe’s nose after the toddler quietly rested her head in the crook of his neck. a dull ache pulsed behind his cobalt eyes when he remembered his little girl as a baby. the chub in her cheeks had softened since then, and rafe knew her features would only keep growing in every day he wasn’t there.

the exterior of the bakery was painted a deep green shade, and valentine had excitedly commented on how it was the same colour as your neighbour’s new ‘boyfriend’ (engagement) ring. inferiority wormed it’s way into rafe’s chest, a feeling that seemed to make itself known when he was faced with the topic of marriage and companionship. you were raised by a single mother yourself. your father having skipped out on the two of you before you learned how to walk. rafe knew you appreciated everything he did for you, but he wasn’t blind when faced with that bittersweet look in your eyes every time your daughters would mention something rafe had no knowledge of. wether it be a show, something funny that had happened earlier that week, or something you had done.

the four of you walked through the open glass door, with rafe managing to hide his surprise at the charm of the small hole in the wall bakery. the bottom half of the walls were painted a warm butter yellow, the tops cream with matching engraved trimmings, paired with deep grey tiled floors, and a small strip of patterned green carpet that ran beneath the petite tables on the right hand side of the establishment. each small circular table was decorated with a clear vase of stemmed flowers, coinciding with the decorative floral piece that hung from the middle of the ceiling. a leather booth seat ran down the entire right hand wall of the seating area, turning the corner with a window that faced the lot. the left hand side showcased a matching window, displaying freshly baked bread, along with a glass case of sweet and savoury baked treats. behind the long counter and barista machines was a wooden board displaying the menu, which admittedly looked delicious to rafe.

before he could even speak, a short haired woman walked out from behind the serving counter. “hey, you!” rafe watched intently at the way your expression instantly brightened at the sight of the mystery woman. her quirky mushroom crocheted earrings bobbed when she gave you a hug as best she could with valentine between you. jesus, rafe rolled his eyes. it was as if he wasn’t even in the room when the employee started speaking. “i’m so glad you’re here! i was going to text you! architectural digest is doing a segment on flowers in public spaces, and they came in this morning to take photos of your display.”

rafe could’ve dropped rosy at that statement, his pink lips falling agape. architectural digest? your floral display? you made-?

“what?” your normally soothing voice was a mix between incredulous and excitement, teary with emotion. valentine’s cobalt gaze finally tore away from the treats, her eyebrows furrowing in concern at the crystals balancing along her mother’s waterline.

“you- you made that?” rafe asked dumbly, mildly embarrassed at the way his question came out. the employee seemed to register rafe then, her fading smile bleeding with recognition. the cameron man hardened his expression to mask his various feelings at that look, tightening his tense lips before sending a poisonous glare in the short haired woman’s direction. she answered before you did, her initially friendly tone now clipped.

“she did. she’s been making them for us since we opened last year.” guilt immediately flooded the man’s rigid body. last year? how had you- the mother of his children- been making floral displays for the last year, and architectural digest knew before he did? rafe turned to look at you, but you stayed silent, choosing to bounce valentine in your arms to avoid his intense glare. frustration began to seep into rafe’s veins, filtering out the guilt in the only way he knew how.

“she’s always been quite humble, hasn’t she?” it would have been a sweet sentiment, had rafe’s bass toned voice not been coated with distain. why hadn’t you told him this was something you were interested in? something you wanted to pursue? how did you even have the time to do this? who was watching his children when you were doing this?

the short haired woman turned to look at you, her hardened expression softening at the weak smile of embarrassment you sent her unbeknownst to rafe. “well, i bought a hundred copies. along with two extras for you and your mom.”

you gasped, unable to do anything but protest. “sandra, you didn’t-“

sandra, only laughed as if it had been the easiest decision in the world. “of course i did, and to say thank you for bringing ad to the bakery, lunch is on me today. anything you and the kids want.” valentine laughed when sandra tickled her tummy with her pointer finger, causing you to finally smile brightly once again. the two of you hugged tightly once more before sandra left your family to their own devices, another kind looking employee standing on deck behind the counter for when you four made your decision.

“we’re not done talkin’ about this.” rafe harshly broke the silence between your little family. you didn’t respond, only leading the way to a corner table that would allow you two the most room in the albeit empty bakery. there were only two other people enjoying what was assumed to be a coffee date on the other end of the establishment. rafe bitterly couldn’t help but wonder how sandra made any money if her bakery was this empty on a friday morning.

your twins were silent, meeting each others eyes with seemingly twin telepathy. you and rafe didn’t notice when you both sat down on either side of the corner booth, too engrossed in your own thoughts with valentine and rosy in your laps respectively. “mommy, can we have treats later?” valentine peaked up at you unsurely, foreign to the somber energy you were radiating.

tears threatened to drip down your throat. you were so unsure of how a man who had given you the two greatest and sweetest things in your life could be so mean when he wanted to be. “of course, baby. mommy wants some too. we just need to eat some real food first.”

“what d’you girls want?” rafe asked your daughters, addressing them for seemingly the first time today besides his initial hugs and hellos. you released a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding, bouncing valentine on your lap much to her delight while you scanned the kids menu.

“they have pancake cereal.” you managed to put on a grin for your children, valentine and rosy gasping with excitement once they realized what you had said. rafe furrowed his eyebrows, reading over what that was.

mini pancake cereal

fluffy, house made, mini buttermilk and vanilla pancakes with fresh strawberries, raspberries, and blueberries.

comes with your choice of whip cream, maple syrup, or mixed berry compote

“can we please get it, mommy!” rosy exclaimed, one of her tiny fists balling rafe’s black polo in it’s grasp, her other arm clutching her new bunny stuffie to her chest. rafe’s eyes widened to the size of saucers, never having heard his youngest speak so loud unless she was playing tag with her sister. she was usually so shy in her father’s mind. you laughed sweetly, as if you were expecting it.

as if it were a regular occurrence.

“of course we can, lovie.” your ex felt his heart swell and break simultaneously while watching you with the twins. you were such an amazing mother. it was so clear you adored them, and in turn they adored you. rafe swallowed dryly when the kids began to babble nonsense about this supposed pancake cereal, letting himself look at you properly. his cobalt eyes raked across the serene slopes of your face, catching sight of the sparkly eyeshadow and rosy lipgloss that decorated your angelic features. it was like you to put in the extra effort on your appearance when going anywhere, something rafe admired heavily about you when you first started dating, but he couldn’t help but wonder if you had put in a little extra effort for him this time. it had been years since the pair of you went out like this, only now you had two children who emulated your beauty to a tee.

“what’re you getting?” you seemed shocked that he was speaking to you, figuring you would get the silent treatment. rafe sighed through his nose, knowing if he wanted this to be a regular occurrence, he couldn’t let his anger get the better of him. you didn’t deserve that- no matter how much he made you feel like you did. you watched carefully when his large hand began stroking rosy’s back- as if he had been doing it her whole life. rafe gritted his teeth momentarily, looking away before catching sight of the floral display that hung from the ceiling.

it’s textures were dazzling. a tilted silhouette made up of beiges, hints of yellows, pinks, and whites. vines, cotton ball flowers, feathered plants, and dried flowers were among the many plants it contained. it was masterfully chaotic, and acted as a skillful conduit for the outside to match the in. “it’s beautiful- your- uh, your installation, i mean.” rafe caught himself. “i wish that i-“ he bit his lip, chuckling humourlessly at the fact that he could speak to a whole conference room composed of the most powerful businessmen in the country, but couldn’t tell you the truth. “i-i wish that i knew that part of you.”

he avoided your eyes, unknowing to the way they softened at his quiet admission. you knew that took a lot for him to admit, to be vulnerable after everything that’s happened. it wasn’t even a fraction of enough to get you back to the highest of highs in your relationship, but it was the strongest start in a long time. “thank you, rafe.” rafe looked at you then, ignoring the goosebumps that travelled up his arms at the way you said his name. you were blissfully unaware that he just narrowly avoided asking all the questions that balanced on the tip of his tongue. “do you know what you’re getting?”

“i’ll do the same.” rafe decided quickly, your eyebrows furrowing when you realized you hadn’t told him what you wanted yet. his eyes widened a moment later in realization, clearing his throat to the side before mumbling quietly. “you- uh, you always used to get the vegetarian hash at the country club for brunch. jus’ thought you would do the same here.”

a sharp gasp left your glossy lips. you couldn’t believe he remembered that. thankfully, valentine spoke up before you could internalize what that meant. “mommy, could i get orange juice? rosy wants apple.”

rafe held rosy in his strong arms, cradling the little girl to his chest much to your rapidly melting facade. it was completely different watching him interact with them in public. only having seen him somewhat cautiously playing with your daughters’ on your living room rug under your watchful eyes, or scooping them up for a quick hug when he came through the front door at the beginning and end of his visits. “‘course, baby.” rafe answered for you. valentine spared her father a look before turning back towards you for the final verdict. your doe eyes flitted towards your ex, immediately noticing how enamoured he was with rosy on his lap, gazing at her relaxed form with pure adoration. your heart raced at the little grin that spread across his pink lips, rosy staring back at her father with the same agape lips that rafe was often known for supporting.

you spoke up after ensuring both juices were on the menu. “of course, val’s, but you don’t have to ask only me. you can ask daddy too.” rafe inhaled a sharp breath, in utter disbelief that you had just acknowledged him like that. a genuine smile directed towards him spread across your lips for the first time that morning. “coffee. black. no sugar?”

there was something in rafe’s cerulean eyes that gleamed, glittering with cautious hope before he whispered. “yeah. only if you get an oat chai.”

once the food had been brought out, and your girls’ fruit juices had been poured into their travel sippy cups, the four of you began to eat. sandra had gotten the chef to make the pancakes extra mini, allowing the girls’ to use their hands and chew their breakfast safely. still, rafe and yourself stood by in case they needed help.

“s’it good, baby?” rafe whispered to rosy, smiling softly at her nod before pressing a gentle kiss to the chub of her soft cheek. unable to help himself, his calloused fingers pinched valentine’s identical chubby cheek, chuckling at her little grin.

it was clear to both of you that valentine was a leader, taking after rafe in that way. she always looked out for rosy. asking her questions that she could answer yes or no to, letting her parents know what her shy little sister wanted in case she didn’t want to speak. she was fiercely protective and intuitive, which is why you found that she often assessed your reactions with rafe. she loved her father, but you could tell she was having a harder time completely warming up to the man in front of her. meanwhile, rosy was more than happy to fulfill her role as a daddy’s girl. though it made you nervous for when rafe inevitably had to leave. you tried not to think about it, quickly putting on a smile. “what do you say to daddy, lovies?”

“tank you.”

“tank you, dada.”

rafe felt his breath catch in his throat for the twentieth time that morning. it meant more to him than he realized having them acknowledge something so little like breakfast. it was different than toys, a gift. this was time spent with their father, and they were thanking him. the blonde blinked, a wide smile eventually spreading across his pink lips. “you’re welcome. thanks for comin’ out with me today.” despite him looking at your daughters’, you knew the last part was directed towards you. quietly, you reached your left hand out, rafe finally noticing the promise ring he had given you at the height of his addiction adorning your ring finger. it was a smaller gemstone than he would’ve liked, but he knew you wouldn’t have appreciated something so flashy. he hadn’t seen it since your separation. your birthstone stared back at rafe, and immediately his right hand caught yours before you could change your mind.

the pair of you tensed up at the feeling of your hands meeting, before eventually relaxing once the initial sparks subsided. rafe gently ran his thumb over the back of your hand, travelling down to the ring he had given you in the bed of his old truck, parked at the beach all those years ago. it had been a final resort to keep you from leaving him, knowing he couldn’t do the right thing and let you go despite his addiction taking control of his life. rafe could feel the guilt beginning to swirl in his stomach, parting his lips before valentine giggled mischievously.

“mommy and daddy sittin’ in a tree-“ rafe froze, multiple scoldings halted at the hint of shyness that cloaked your giddy expression. you could believe how cheeky your daughters were being in public, but nothing could’ve prepared you for the fire engine red shade that burned atop your ex’s now bare ears.

rosy joined with a delighted laugh. “k-i-s-s-r-o-t.“ you both laughed at the misspelling, letting go of each others hands almost reluctantly. rafe chuckled again before kissing rosy’s head who giggled. your manicured fingers tickled valentine’s tummy playfully, the little girl squirming in delight at the feeling. the sight of your little family together like this had you wishing that it could feel like this all the time. like rafe had been there everyday since the twins came into this world. that he didn’t have to pull several strings to get a day off for the first time in months. you blinked back your approaching tears, hiding your bittersweet smile from behind your lukewarm oat chai.

after cleaning the girls’ up, and rafe admittedly buying too many treats for just the four of you to go- which you promised the girls as dessert that night despite their pleading- you were driving back to your house. it was a gorgeous day out. the sun not even at it’s peak yet despite the heat already making itself more than known to the residents of outer banks. your manicured nails flicked together in contemplation, the feelings of finality weighing heavily in the luxury car. you knew rafe wouldn’t push for more time today. it was a mutual understanding that he was on thin ice, and this visit would be on your terms, but would it be so wrong that you wanted him to stay?

“lovies, do you wanna have a pool day today?” the girls’ cheered before you could take it back. despite the underground pool that took over most of your backyard, you were terrified at the thought of the girls starting to learn how to swim. they were still so little in your mind. so you conceded, buying them a larger than normal pink kiddy pool in the shape of a heart for pool days. you figured this was something you should speak to rafe about, along with a number of things the quicker your girls’ seemed to grow up. while the toddlers talked amongst themselves, you hesitantly rested your hand on rafe’s shoulder at a red light, feeling the muscle tense before relaxing beneath your palm. “you can join too.” the blonde man turned to look at you then, flickering his eyes over your soft expression before nodding in agreement.

rafe stored the treats in your refrigerator while you got the girls’ dressed in their swimsuits. he had a pair of black swim shorts in the trunk of his car, leftover from when topper or kelce had decided they wanted to spontaneously go to the beach a few weeks ago. you had asked him to fill the pool up after he got dressed, which confused him at first, but now he could see the heart shaped kiddy pool about fifteen paces away from the actual pool. the man couldn’t help but chuckle, rolling his eyes half heartedly before he got to work.

once the pool was about halfway filled with lukewarm water- he’d be damned if his babies were cold- he heard the patio door slide open. rafe looked up, spotting the twins dressed in their matching frilly bathing suits with protective hairstyles. valentine’s was a pale teal colour, and rosy’s a vibrant magenta. rafe was ashamed to say he still got the twins mixed up until a few months ago, remedied after he had gifted them little gold necklaces with a ‘v’ and ‘r’ respectively. you had smiled softly at his admission, letting him know that the only way you were able to tell them apart at first was because wheezie had painted one of each of their toenails a different colour. rafe ignored the pang in his chest when you told him that. wishing he could’ve seen it. wishing that he could’ve looked up from his own reflection long enough to help you out more.

their little feet padded up to rafe, standing on either side of his knelt down form as he continued to hold the hose into the pool. rosy’s short fingers reached out to touch the stream of water, flinching away while hissing out a giggle at the funny feeling. rafe grinned, chuckling when valentine cutely dipped her spread out toes into the shallow water, her little hands keeping herself steady on rafe’s shoulder. suddenly, he heard the clacking of heeled sandals, whipping his head up towards the sound before his jaw dropped.

it wasn’t as if rafe hadn’t looked at you romantically since your separation. it was no question that you were the most sought after girl in the outer banks- before and after- the eldest cameron had finally managed to lock you down. he hadn’t slept with you- or anyone else believe it or not- since the breakup. the father of your children had only caught pg 13 moments of you when he was lucky. like a stray bra strap showing when the shoulder of your loose sweaters would fall, or the lace of your panties that had peaked out from beneath your mini skirts on more than one occasion. it had him fucking his fist as soon as he crossed the threshold of his home in a way he hadn’t since he first started puberty, but fuck. rafe really didn’t think you could get any more gorgeous, especially after having his twins. he was wrong. so, so wrong.

a stringy bikini left little to the imagination, revealing your rich complexion that glittered with some sort of oil. the bottom strings were tied high on your hips in bows, while the top was tied behind your neck and between your shoulder blades. you didn’t look exactly the same as you did before of course, but god you looked so much better to rafe. your tits were heavier for lack of a better term, and your bottom had filled out, more perky, rounder. the blonde wasn’t aware of what he was doing until valentine squealed, the hose water spraying her chubby legs rather than filling the pool. he swore softly under his breath, cursing to himself silently afterwards when he remembered he wasn’t supposed to do that in front of the girls. rafe gently pulled valentine further into the sun, giving her nose little butterfly kisses in apology before allowing her to hold the hose for him. rosy glued herself to rafe’s other side, her chubby arms wrapping behind his neck with her warm cheek pressing against his. the elder man smiled widely, wrapping his other arm around his youngest daughter before placing a kiss along her cheek.

unbeknownst to rafe, you weren’t fairing any better either. he had somehow filled out even more since the two of you had broken up. his skin was just as golden as it always had been, prompting his shaved blonde hair, strong bone structure dotted with golden stubble, and blue eyes to stand out that much more. his biceps bulged while he hugged your daughters, their little hands pressed against the defined muscles of his shoulders and back. you bit your bottom lip, sitting down on a stray poolside chair before calling out. “sweethearts. sunscreen time.”

“but mommy-“ valentine whined softly, her feet already dipped in the now filled up pool from where she stood inside of it. rafe stroked the little girl’s back, chiding her softly.

“c’mon now, listen to mommy.” your heart swelled. “we’ll make it quick.” your eldest grumbled half heartedly, her little humph morphing into an excited squeal when rafe playfully lifted her up with an exaggerated groan. both little girls on his hips cheered with delight, held six feet up in the air as if they weighed nothing.

oh god, you were done for.

“can you do mine, dada?” rosy asked sweetly, gently playing with his rope chain necklace from where she laid in the crook of his neck. rafe couldn’t stop his heart from melting, unable to deny his girls anything- unless you said so, of course. maybe.

“‘course i can, baby.” valentine reached out for you, rafe handing her off before sitting on the grassy ground in front of you. the other pool chair too far from you and val for his comfort. you bit your glossy bottom lip, giggling at the way your eldest squirmed at the cool feeling of the sunscreen. practically lifting all of her limbs at you like a spider monkey to somehow make the process go faster.

a few minutes later, rafe had gotten your youngest daughter pretty much covered besides her face, which he took his sweet time with. you furrowed your eyebrows at the way he applied the sun cream with his fingertips, rosy turned away from you. it wasn’t until he turned your youngest daughter around to reveal a little white nose and slightly messy kitten whiskers made from sunscreen, that you laughed louder than expected. valentine gasped, giggling along with you much to rosy’s confusion. quickly, you pulled out your phone, snapping a few too many pictures of your oblivious daughter and an amused rafe behind her. “i want one too!” valentine hopped off your lap, running to her father before presenting her already sun screened face.

you showed the pictures to a curious rosy while rafe got to work, giggling at her little gasp and toothy grin at the artwork on her face. after snapping “a few” more pictures of your little kittens, they ran off into the pool, toys of their choosing scattered throughout the water. you smiled at the way rafe didn’t take his eyes off of them, turning your chair horizontally much to his confusion. “c’mon, we can share it.” the blonde got up after a beat, sitting down while you stood above him. “d’you want a beer?”

a careful eyebrow raised itself on his handsome face. “you tryna’ get me drunk?” rafe naturally smirked when you rolled your eyes sexily, dragging his cerulean gaze up and down your perfect form while you walked back inside the house to get said beer.

soon, you returned with two small coolers filled with ice. the one you placed next to rafe had a few imported beers from mexico, and some drinks for yourself. the ones for your daughters next to their kitty pool held sippy cups of watered down juice, and little bottles of water.

handing an open beer to rafe, you sat next to him beneath the large umbrella above the pool chair. he thanked you, clinking your drinks for good luck before taking a sip. the pair of you sat quietly for a few moments, basking in the heat while watching your daughters play in their pool a few feet away. rafe scrunched his nose suddenly, stroking the back of his neck before leaning forwards- elbows to knees. “so uh.. tell me about your flower installations.”

you smiled softly, shrugging. “i don’t really know what to say. i..” rafe turned to look at you, admiring the way your expression softened when thinking about something that clearly brought you joy. you looked hopeful. such a contrast from the stoicism and defeat you exhibited when you were with him. “you remember topper’s ex girlfriend? ruthie?”

your ex scoffed out a laugh at that, sipping his beer before nodding. “yeah. i remember her.” amused giggles left your lips, reminiscing about how tumultuous their relationship had been when you were only teenagers.

“well, she invited me to her wedding two years ago-“

“no.” rafe laughed incredulously. “you went to that?” you hid your face in your left hand to mask your laughter, birthstone catching his eyes again. before he could overthink it, he nudged your thigh with his playfully. “kay. so after you watched her uncle kiss her cousin, what happened-?”

“oh god. i wasn’t there long enough for that. the girls were at my mom’s and rosy caught a cold somehow-“

“what?” rafe’s relaxed demeanour went rigid. you turned your focus to him, a sad smile painting your lips when you took in his reaction. “why didn’t you call me-?”

“i tried. your phone kept going to voicemail, so i called your assistant and they said you were on business, and that they would let you know i called.” rafe’s mouth fell agape, sighing irritatedly before pinching the bridge of his nose to will away his oncoming tension headache. he hadn’t been away for business. he had taken topper to his bahamas vacation house to drink away his sorrows like a sorority girl. he couldn’t believe- “but she was fine the next morning. the paediatrician told us it was only a twenty-four hour cold. so when you called back, i didn’t want to worry you-“

rafe grabbed your hand before he could stop himself, immediately softening his hold when you flinched out of habit. the elder man swallowed then, eyes filled with anguish before gradually tilting his head forwards to show you he meant no harm. “you don’t ever worry about worrying me, or bothering me. not when- not when it comes to the girls.. and- and especially not when it comes to you, a-a’ight-?“ he cut himself off while he was ahead, unsure of how to continue without ruining more than he already had. you set down your drink, pulling your smaller hand out of his grip softly much to his disappointment. shockingly though, your palms enveloped the sides of his face. rafe spared a look at you, afraid to even breathe at the risk of breaking the moment. as if it were the easiest decision of your life, you stroked the soft pad of your thumb over the approaching wrinkles along his forehead, softening the tension in his face as best you could. gently, you placed a feather soft kiss to the same area, eyes watering at the sound of the shaky breath that left the man who still held your heart after everything.

“i promise.”

the sound of ice pouring into water caught both of your attentions, snapping your heads towards the kitty pool that was now bobbing with ice cubes. valentine gently dropped the empty cooler on the grass, bottles fallen beside it. she placed her sunglasses over her eyes with a sigh before laying in the pool next to her sister- who looked equally as relaxed. your jaw dropped at the way their little arms rested behind their heads, unable to hold back your laughter after rafe commented incredulously. “there’s no way that just happened.”

you attempted to cover your mouth, but just couldn’t stop laughing. “in case you were unsure that val was yours-“

“that has you written all over it! are you kidding?” you knew rafe wasn’t mad despite his indignant tone, his smile threatening to take over his entire face. you giggled, even while standing up to reach for a beach umbrella behind you. “what’re you doing?”

“i’m just gonna go set this up by their little pool. they must be so hot-“ before you could even blink, rafe took the umbrella from your hands. you couldn’t help but stand there dumbly, your ex flicking his head back in the direction of the pool chair.

“relax. i got it, mama.” a red hot desire burst through your veins at how easily those words left his mouth, forgetting how slick it could be. as if that weren’t enough, rafe tucked his head down to place a chapped kiss along your cheekbone, already on his way to your daughters before you could register what had happened.

you could still feel rafe’s kiss on your cheek and his warm face beneath your palms even after he returned to your side. he sat closer to you this time, and you couldn’t believe how giddy you felt. especially after everything that had happened between you two since your first meeting at the country club as teenagers. you birthed his children for gods sake, but it felt as if you had just held hands on the playground for all your classmates to see. “i think they should start learning how to swim. what uh, what d’you think?”

you blinked, watching your girls who were as cool as cucumbers relaxing in their kiddy pool. “i’m afraid i’ve turned them into pool loungers and they wouldn’t like it.” rafe laughed at that, sipping his beer with a warm smile. the kids had lifted up their sunglasses momentarily at his arrival, pretending to be nonchalant but giggling madly when he attacked them with kisses after setting up their umbrella. “but we can try. maybe we could teach them next weekend in the big pool. the shallow end is only three feet.”

“yeah, yeah i can do that.” rafe nodded to himself. “i have a few meetings on friday, but i’ll clear my schedule for the weekend. that work for you?”

“you’d be able to get the whole weekend off?” you didn’t mean to sound disbelieving, but you also needed to make sure that rafe wasn’t making promises to your girls’ that he couldn’t keep. you had been down that road before, and they didn’t deserve that.

the eldest cameron sighed through his nose, quite literally shrugging off your concerns. “it’s my company. i should get the weekend off. simple as that.” you immediately raised a manicured brow at that. where was simple as that when you were deciding baby names? nursery colours? having cravings, morning sickness, giving birth, changing diapers, staying up for hours into the early morning when the twins wouldn’t stop crying? where was simple as that when he missed watching their first steps, hearing their first words, potty training? times two? but yes, the mountain of toys falling off their playroom shelves was enough consolation. two hours a week at most with their father was apparently enough. all the money in the world and he couldn’t tell them apart unless he was able to see the initials strung around their necks. “what?” rafe seemed genuinely confused at the way you shut down, and that was the worst of all. he genuinely couldn’t fathom how much of your life you had given to your children.

you were still so young when you had gotten pregnant. it happened during your year off after high school graduation, you hadn’t even been with rafe for a year, hadn’t even been legal enough to drink. still, ward- albeit geriatric- insisted, stating an abortion would be preposterous, and rafe listened to him. it was no question that you loved your children more than anything else in the world. you would never regret having them for a second. except you couldn’t believe that rafe had promised you he would be there for you, that he loved you, but still left you alone during the most difficult time of your life. all for ward. rafe was able to grow up. rafe was able to reinvent himself. rafe was able to leave when things got hard, and rafe was able to come back anytime he wanted because you let him.

“mommy? i need a towel. gotta go potty.” rosy tugged at your hand, lifting you out of your stupor. you snapped into action, picking up the fluffy pink towel behind you and drying your daughter off as quickly as you could.

“do you need me to come with you?”

rosy shook her head, already running into the house as fast as her legs could carry her. “no. i gotta pee!”

rafe chuckled from behind his beer, but you didn’t see anything funny about the possibility of your daughter having an accident. “where’re you going? she said she’s fine-“

“she could’ve had an accident, and i’m not making her walk out here to tell me. i need you to watch val.” you both turned to catch the girl quickly looking away from your conversation, resuming playing with her toys. “i think you can manage that much.”

“hey-“ rafe’s larger hand just managed to grab your wrist, but you pulled it away twice as rough, moving back a few steps. the man opposite to you immediately stood up, his once intimidating height appearing smaller and smaller the more you let yourself think about the past few years. confusion bled into his hurt expression, his hushed irritation only adding to your turmoil. “c’mon. what’s going on-?”

“you-“ you lowered your voice suddenly to keep val from hearing you. cursing yourself for how it wobbled with tears, teetering on the edge of a sob. rafe could only watch helplessly. that’s all he’s ever been able to do. “you choose when you come and go. you get to break promis-es.” a wet hiccup left your lips, quickly cut off by your shaking left hand. your ‘promise ring’ felt more like a shackle with everyday you spent apart from the man in front of you. rafe’s mouth fell agape, taken aback at how quickly everything had shifted. a watery smile drew itself over your trembling lips, doe eyes staring up at the man in front of you with an eerie sense of glee that withered away the longer they did. “but time is a thief, and he’s robbing you blind, rafe.” rafe swallowed dryly, twisting his face and shifting on his feet before his fail safe expression made an appearance. every feature of his, especially the ones your daughters’ shared, became devoid of any kind of emotion. you sniffled pitifully, wanting to curse yourself for being so stupid. for believing that he loved you despite his first reaction being aloof condescension at the discovery of your achievements. for believing that he abandoned you and the children he forced you to bring into this world because he had no other choice. for believing him about anything. “no amount of money in this world will ever be able to change that.”

with that, you dashed into the house after rosy, missing the way rafe’s stoic expression crumbled behind you.

[hello-sweetheart]

Neat Freak

Steve’s parents don’t make him keep the house spotless. He really is just that clean and when Nancy tries to tell people there like “lol, sure” but she knows.

He’s a neat freak.

When she would stay over she would change into her pjs and make a small bundle of her day clothes on his desk chair, and steve would just. Fold them. Before getting in bed with her.

Doesn’t take long after for the others to realize it.

Robin thought it was just a guy thing, caring that much about their car. Scolding her for kicking her socked feet up on the dash, and leaving crumbs of toast when she had breakfast to go.

But then she visits his house the first time and Robin has never been good at using a coaster, too scatter brained to pay attention where she sets her drink down each time.

Steve, though? Without missing a beat he will move her glass to the coaster. Every time. Doesn’t even break his strike or pauses his conversation it’s just muscle memory by now.

The kids have had their will broken and no longer put up a fight.

Without being told to anymore, they toe off their shoes and hang their coat by the doorway. They don’t even do that in their own home. How Steve was able to get those wild animals house broken? No body knows.

His mom didn’t actually choose his room decor. It looks a bit barren but Steve likes it that way. It looks clean, easier to do so, too. Everything has its place tucked away from sight so it’s not an eye sore.

Even his plaid wallpaper and curtains he chose for himself. He spent all day finding the curtains that matched the closest and he was really proud of himself when found some.

“Steve, buddy, this looks mental.”

“But look,” (closest the curtains to show that even the pattern lines up seemlessly) “you almost can’t even see the difference between the wall and fabric. It’s like magic! It’s cool!” >:(

He’s very meticulous about his appearance. Dustin is absolutely flabbergasted when he sees his full hair routine for himself. Everything must be done a certain way in a certain order every time. It’s routine.

“Three puffs of the Farah Fawcett! THREE!”

“I DID THREE.”

“YEAH, BUT YOU DID THEM WRONG.”

When they discontinue it, Steve has a mini breakdown. He doesn’t like that his very specific and set routine has been broken. He’s convinced he’ll never find a hair spray to replace it. Everybody stocks up on cans of it to try and lower his anxiety.

He just loves cleaning, okay?

Ironing his kakis and polos until there are no wrinkles is so satisfying. Glass without finger smudges is so nice. His closet being organized by color is so efficient. When he’s worried, anxious, or angry he likes to keep his hands busy and it just calms him down going ham on a water stain in the bathroom.

When he hangs out at Eddie’s, he mindlessly starts picking things up here and there. It’s like heaven for him. He sees a mess and just wants to go to town. Eddie doesn’t mind as long as he knows where everything is in the end. He’ll admit that having his music organized alphabetically is pretty convenient.

It’s also a little funny to watch Steve iron his ripped jeans and battle jacket with an iron he brought from home.

“You’re a freak, Harrington.” Eddie has a shit eating grin. Steve flips him off.

“Fuck off.”

[luveline]

𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐬𝐨 𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐝? | 𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐦𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐨𝐧

Your best friend Eddie tries to explain what a hickey feels like and finds he doesn't have the words. He could show you, though, if you want? [3k] 

fem!reader, shy!reader, implied inexpereinced!reader, friends-to-lovers, pining, mdni heavy petting, hickeys, lots of hickeys, marking up, neck kissing, shoulder kissing, heat of the moment confessions, eddie being flirty but also a good friend, requested here

𓆩❤︎𓆪

Eddie strokes down the length of his guitar neck almost tenderly. You're focused on his hands rather than his mouth as he recounts last night's date to you, distracted by the deft movement of his fingers, which aren't exactly small. It's an oxymoron —paradoxical, even— that his thick fingers would move with such gentle precision. 

You shift around where you're sitting on his bedroom floor, criss-cross applesauce with an uncomfortable heat rising from the bottomless pit of your stomach to your tight collar. The white button up you'd worn under your sweater vest is a size too small. You're really starting to notice. 

You peel out of the vest and hope it'll help you calm down.

"She wasn't exactly sweet," Eddie says, plucking a string, listening to the sound, and tuning it this way or that depending on how he liked it. "I think she wanted to get it over with, which isn't really my thing. She was in my lap before I could make it clear I wasn't interested in anything quick." 

You lift your gaze from his hands. He must feel you watching his face. He looks up in tandem and smiles reassuringly. "It's fine. I kind of thought she was getting into it, she was like a vampire on me at one point, but I wasn't feeling it and it's clear she wasn't either. Drove her home. How was your night, d'you watch that tape?" 

You trace the coil of a black curl down to his shoulder, and can't force yourself to meet his eyes as you ask, "A vampire?" 

"What?" 

"She was like a vampire at one point, you said." Eddie's arm goes still. "What did you mean by that?" you ask.

He puts his guitar down on the floor. You worry you've said something truly dull for him to place his sweetheart in such a rush, but Eddie's like that. He can tell you're embarrassed no doubt, and he's giving you the answer to your question as swiftly as he can to soothe the wound. 

"Here, look," he says. He pushes his hair away from his neck on one side and tilts his head, bearing a wine-stained curve of skin to you unabashedly. "She kissed me. She gave me a hickey, used a lot of teeth. That's why it's bruised so much on the edges." 

Warmth you've never felt rushes in, like your blood has superheated, and it's written on your face. Eddie's room feels suddenly a thousand times smaller than before and more intimate, his poster wallpaper curving in, the space between you inching closer. 

"Sorry," he says, "I know it's kind of weird to show you." 

"No, I'm sorry," you say, mortified. "I shouldn't have asked you." 

"Yeah, you should. You didn't get it and now you do. I don't mind telling you." 

Eddie lets his hair fall back against his neck, a kinky curtain that looks ridiculously soft in the orangey light of his lamp. There's a butter smoothness to it, and the way he moves as he does is worse, his hand open and reaching for you. He doesn't hold your hand, doesn't even try, just lets his upturned palm hang off the edge of his knee as if to say, Ask me whatever it is you want to ask me. It's cool. 

"Why would she do that?" you ask, gesturing to your neck.

"It's not her fault, I was flirting with her a ton trying to make it work."

"Not like that." 

Eddie's hand turns toward his knee. "Like what?" 

Your hand drifts to your own neck absentmindedly. You get kissing, wanting to be kissed and wanting to give them. You understand why she kissed his neck; if you'd been in her position, alone in the car with Eddie laying his charm on thick, you might climb the console and push aside his hair too. 

"I know why she kissed you. I don't see why she…" You rub your lips together, your embarrassment turning sharp. You hate how humiliating this feels. "I know what a hickey is, Eds, but why would you want one?" 

His turn to fluster. The tiniest tinge of pink paints his cheeks. "Are you asking me why I enjoyed it?" 

"Did you?" 

You despise yourself, truly. Worse when Eddie laughs, his chest forward, hair falling in his face as he chuckles sincerely. 

"Yeah," he says, smiling at you "I liked it. Before she started trying to kill me I was having a good time." 

He doesn't put you through the agony of asking what you both know he wants to. 

You've never had one?

"It feels warm, and it's– you know how being kissed gives you butterflies, right? It's better than that. It's hot, and all her weight is on you and you have your hand on her back trying to pull her in, and she's as close as she can be without, you know." Something flickers across Eddie's face. Not longing, but a remembered pleasure. It makes you squirm. 

"I don't see how it doesn't just hurt." 

The hand that hadn't been reaching for you holds a pick. He flashes it between his fingers, a party trick, a nervous tic, his eyelashes tangling together as his eyelids inch closed. He scrunches his face up for a second. 

"Don't hate me if I ask you something weird," Eddie says, eyes shut tight. 

You don't think you could. You watch Eddie's face, knowing he can't see your analysis, and feel a shock of pins and needles in your hands when his eyes open and immediately lock on to yours. 

"Do you want me to give you one?" he asks. 

Your lips feel like they've been glued shut. You're aware of your breathing, how shallow each inhale has become, but you can't do anything about it. 

He has the decency to acknowledge what position his question puts you in, "I know it might be weird but I can't describe it to you if you don't know what it feels like." 

You surprise him. You surprise yourself. "Uh, yeah. Okay." 

"Yeah?" 

"It doesn't hurt?" 

"Not unless you want it to." A hint of a smirk plays on his lips, though it fades quickly. "It doesn't hurt. That's not the point. But it can feel… foreign." 

You nod jerkily, wishing you knew what to do. 

The atmosphere is thick enough to cut through. Neither of you like it. Eddie gives you another type of smile, a familiar one that says, I'm your best friend, I always will be, so please chill out. 

"You're gonna have to sit in my lap." 

You actually laugh. "Eddie," you chastise, thinking it's a bad joke. 

"Sorry, sweetheart, but it's that or the bed." His teasing tone is light, but he still adds, "I mean, we can do it sitting next to each other but it's difficult. Whatever you want, though." 

You climb up on your knees. You're shy, absolutely, you always will be and especially when Eddie's teasing, but he really is your best friend, and the bed isn't happening.

He doesn't scare you. 

He grins and ushers you toward him. "Alright, come here." He tugs one of your thighs over his lap and your breath catches. He grabs the other and any laughter between you abruptly dies. 

You settle over his lap with an expression not far from pained. Eddie's hands rest against your thigh and your hip. He has to look up at you now, and he does as he encourages your weight firmly downward. You're more than conscious of where you're positioned. 

"Do me a favour?" he asks. 

"Yeah." You put your hand on his chest tentatively. 

"Don't suffer through it if you hate it, okay? All you have to do is say something and I'll stop, but if you feel like you can't, a good right hook would work too." 

"I'm not gonna hurt you," you protest. 

"Me neither," he says. His hand lifts from your thigh to your neck, and he brushes his fingertips down the curve of it ineffectually. It would feel good if you weren't choking on air. "Relax, sweetheart. Please." 

"I'm really warm." 

"Your shirt's too tight anyway," he says, hand at your collar. He thumbs open your top button, a second, and exposes the flat of your chest. His fingers slide across your neck as he folds back your starched collar. They're cool compared to the raging heat he finds there. 

You take a deep breath. 

"You could put your hands in my hair," he says. Wishful thinking has hope colouring his tone. 

You put your hands on his shoulders. The very tips of your fingers partition his curls. 

He raises an arm above your mess of limbs to weave a hand behind your ear. It's then that you feel his callouses, so rough against the delicate skin of your scalp. Despite their texture, you find it feels good. He tucks his hand in tight, and slowly, slowly turns your head to the side. 

"Look up," he murmurs. 

You lift your head and stare at the ceiling with widened eyes. 

He can't know but he does, and he says, "Close your eyes." The heat of his breath kisses your neck.  

You shiver at the suggestion of his lips, and again when they press to your skin. Close-lipped, Eddie kisses the skin just under your ear where on the opposite side of your head his thumb strokes quarter circles. You're quickly overwhelmed by the duelling sensations. You don't notice his lips have parted until he's kissing a sloven path downward, his spit cooling in wake. 

This isn't a hickey, this is straight up kissing, and you don't know what to do with how you feel. You hide your hands in his hair. 

It tugs him forward. He reads your hands for enthusiasm, and if it is or isn't he pulls you closer still and opens his mouth against your skin. His teeth are impossible to ignore. 

Your hand works further into his hair, getting caught in a tangle as he sucks your skin between his lips. His lazy mouthing turns insistent but still gentle, his teeth scratching ever so slightly at your pulse as it capers beneath his ministrations. You gasp at the warmth blossoming under your ribs. You cup the back of his neck a touch too tight. 

He doesn't stop kissing you, only grabs your wrist to stop you from choking him out. You make a sound you've never made with him before, a mewl, all breathless and teary as the sensation worsens. Which is to say, betters. 

He breaks a particularly rough kiss to suck in breath, his nose sliding up the curve of your neck as he leans back. "You okay?" he murmurs, half-lidded eyes locking onto your flushed face. 

"Why does it feel like that?" you ask. 

He drops his head, his nose level with your chin. "I don't know," he says, punctuating with a kiss right there, the closest bit of skin he can find. "Want me to do it again?" 

You swallow and he must see it. He says nothing, wrapping his arms around your waist as he waits for you to respond. Your stomach pushes into his, your arms braced on his shoulder so you don't collapse into his front, limp with touch. 

"Sweetheart, can I do it again?" he asks.

"Yeah," you say, quiet but enthusiastic. "Please." 

He's slower this time. Eddie leans into your neck and doesn't kiss you at first, his lips so close to your skin that you can feel their phantom. You skin tingles from his previous scandalising, and it doesn't beg, skin can't beg, but you can, you curl your arm behind his neck and hook his head there, crushing his hair to the crook of your arm. He doesn't take much convincing beyond that. His lips smush against your neck and you feel every millimetre as they part, heat and warmth and wet spreading like budding flowers come to bloom. You melt into him soon after, and Eddie takes your weight in stride, hand at the small of your back and pulling you in so hard you can feel his ribs. 

When you think you're used to it —not used to it, but expecting what can be expected— Eddie nips you. Tiny dainty kisses broken up with a nibbling you'd couldn't describe as anything but playful. He laughs at your gasping and does it again, again, giddy hot laughter mixed with one of the strangest feelings you've ever been subjected to. You're molten. You're dizzy with it.

Eddie pulls back enough to ask, "I'm gonna undo another button, okay? Just one. Is that alright?" 

"What for?" 

"So I can kiss your shoulder. Just your shoulder." He sounds pleading, desperately excited in a way you've never heard him and you want to know what it'll feel like, so you let him. 

This next button unveils the top of your bra and the soft hills of your breasts. He doesn't look, barely glances at his hand as he tugs your shirts down your arm, diving into the juncture of your neck like he needs it to breathe. His kisses are proper compared to some of the stuff he's been doing, but then he opens his mouth and the flat of his tongue wets your skin as he kisses kisses kisses down your shoulder. His hand is somewhere under your shirt, fingers slipped under your bra strap and pulling teasingly at the elastic as he eases you down in his arms. You're shorter than him where you'd started taller, totally compressed in his arms and at his mercy.

When he pulls back, the slimmest ribbon of spit shines between your shoulder and his lips. He wipes his face with the back of his hand, his eyes glassy, and that hand cups your face. He pretty much grabs you, but there's not a lick of cruelty in his touch. Eddie's rough. Never cruel. 

"You're on fire," he says. It's objective rather than joking. "You're so hot. Do you want to stop?" 

"Not– not unless you want to," you say, trying to quieten your breathing. You sound like you've run a marathon. It feels like it. 

"I'm gonna give you a real one, cool?" 

"I didn't know they weren't real." 

"Oh, sweetheart," he says, and his eyes are damning, a loving pity in the black of his blown pupils, "I was just warming you up." 

Your mind blanks. 

"Make sure I can hide it," you say. 

You aren't thinking straight, concerned about hiding his hickeys but not what this means for the two of you. His unexpected hunger, and your willingness to let him eat you whole. 

"I don't think you can hide it anymore," he says, stroking your cheek with his thumb. 

You look down at his lips. They're rosy, swollen from the pressure.

He sees you looking. 

He yanks you in by the waist and sizes you up, almost, like he's calling your bluff, not spiteful but something mean about him as he stares at your mouth in return. 

Like he doesn't want you to make the mistake. Like he knows you won't. 

His hand tips your chin up high and he ducks his own down. An inch and you'd be kissing. That's all it would take.

"Is that really what you want?" he asks.

"I don't know," you say. Is it what he wants?

It has to be. 

"Have you wanted to, before?" He draws a line down your cheek with his marriage finger. Fast as a heavy tear. "You want me to kiss you?" 

"Yeah," you whisper, trying to make sense of this, your sudden confession, a secret want pushed into the light. 

Eddie turns his hand and strokes down your cheek with the back of it, pushing any dampened baby hairs away from your skin. His gaze softens. 

"Was that so hard?" he asks. 

"You knew?"

He kisses you. He's smiling, and he doesn't take just one. He must kiss you four or five times, your lips parted enough to know he could push it further if he wanted, but he doesn't. These kisses are unhurried, missing the ravenous passion of his hickeying but not the fondness. 

"You don't know how hard it is," he says after he's broken away, his forehead tipped against yours, "how hard it is to have someone look at you like you look at me everyday, like I'm something you can't have." 

"I didn't know–" you knew. You felt the same. His kissing is evidence alone. it's confessional.

"I know. Guess I thought nothing good would come of it, but��� but I don't want good. I want you." 

He pulls back quickly, like you've said something confessional rather than him. He surprised himself. 

"I'm not good?" you ask. 

"You're good. You'll ruin me, that's all." 

You don't have time to ask him what he means by that. He kisses you again, kisses your cheek, draws a line of crescent moons down along your neck to the mess he's made of you. He kisses– he sucks your neck so hard, so sudden, that goosebumps erupt and you can't stop yourself from saying, "Ohh," as you cling to his shoulders. 

This is the vampire thing he'd talked about, the points of his teeth stark against your skin even now. There's another layer of vulnerability unveiled here, knowing that he could really hurt you and knowing he never would. He kisses you until you're overwhelmed by him. Heat everywhere. Sweat shining on your skin. You don't want anything else but this.

You squeak as the pressure turns from pleasurable to too much. Eddie hears the pain in it and pulls away, instantly sorry and willing to prove it, his hands cradling your face. 

You pant. He shushes you gently.

"Sorry, baby." He pets your cheeks. 

Your head falls back, too heavy on your sore neck. You feel wiped. 

Wiped, but good. Lax. 

"That was nice," you say breathlessly. 

Eddie sits up and drags you with him, hand behind your neck to prop you up. He's laughing again, his awful sweet laugh that you've heard a thousand times before. It never fails to make you smile. 

"You're like a dead fish." 

You cover an eye with your hand. "I take it the romance is over." 

"You thought that was romantic? Babe, I'm only getting started." 

Eddie gives you a quick peck. Where his hickey had felt like the heart of a star growing hotter with each passing second, his smaller kiss feels like the sun through blinds, a dappling of warmth. 

"Are you messing with me?" you ask.

He pushes his arms over your shoulders for a hug. 

"No. Not messing with you." His nose rubs against the shell of your ear. "It's about time we talked." 

You let your hand drift down the dip of his back.

"Okay," you mumble. Talking. You need to talk about whatever it is that just happened. 

"...Maybe I'll get you a glass of water first," he adds.

"That's a good idea." 

𓆩❤︎𓆪

Thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed, and if you did, please consider letting me know/reblogging, it means the world to me and makes a big difference!! ♡ NOTE: Eddie def pines back if that isn't fully clear, I tried to imply it with his date where he could've hooked up with someone but didn't go through with it, it was cos he's too in lurve

[sanarsi]

We Have It All

pre/post-outbreak!Joel Miller x f!Reader

Summary: You and Joel were separated by the outbreak. Warnings: angst but with happy ending, mention of killing, use of weapon Wordcount: 3k An: I've always wondered what it would be like to experience the start of the outbreak as someone close to Joel, which is why we are here. Music I worked with: We Have It All - Pim Stones

Masterlist

"My flight got canceled," you sighed, throwing your clothes carelessly into your suitcase. You were furious. All your plans were gone to hell. "I'm sorry, baby."

"You don't have to apologize to me," Joel's amused voice echoed in your ear. You winced, still feeling guilty.

"I know, but I wanted us to spend your birthday together," you said calmly and sat down heavily on the bed. "Sarah and I were supposed to make a cake and humiliate you by singing happy birthday in front of the house." Joel snorted with laughter. You smiled to yourself, anxiously picking at your cuticles.

"Yeah, that sounds awful." You fell silent, staring blankly at the floor. "Babe, it's not the end of the world. We can celebrate my birthday when you get there," he assured you, knowing full well that you felt bad about how the whole situation had turned out. "I won't get any older in a few days," he added with amusement. You snorted quietly.

"I don't know. I recently found one gray hair."

"What?" he asked suddenly concerned.

"I'm joking," you laughed at his reaction. You heard him breathe heavily. "I booked tickets for tomorrow's flight."

"Then we'll pick you up from the airport. Sarah can't wait." In the background you could hear a cheerful screams of a girl. "She misses you," he added, making you feel warm in your heart. Joel always knew how to cheer you up. "I miss you too," he said more quietly, with different emotions. With real longing. You felt something inside you clench.

"Fuck you, Joel. You can't say things like that to me when I'm on the verge of a breakdown," you pointed out, smiling under your breath. His laughter echoed in your ear again.

“Yeah, sorry babe.” You could hear some chatter in the background. After a moment you heard Joel sigh heavily. “We have to go. Sarah’s gonna be late,” he said in his typical tired tone. You nodded even though he couldn’t see it. “I’ll see you tomorrow, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay.” You could hear some murmurs in the background. “I love you.”

“Love you, old man.” His snort brought a wider smile to your face.

“Lovely,” he commented, probably rolling his eyes before he hung up.

You pushed your phone away with a quiet sigh. The screen displayed a wallpaper with a picture of the three of you on vacation a few months ago. You smiled at the memories that flooded your head. You looked around the hotel room and then fell back onto the mattress. You cursed the whole world for today, all your plans went to hell.

Today, of the whole fucking year.

Meanwhile, Joel was sitting in the car, looking at a small ring in a navy blue suede box. A few diamonds sparkled in the sunlight. Tommy glanced at his brother with a smirk.

"So when are you going to propose?" he asked, and Sarah's head immediately appeared between their seats.

"I wanted to do it today," he sighed, closing the box and putting it in his pocket. "But as you can see, it'll have to wait."

He glanced at Tommy and his daughter, then rolled his eyes at their stupid smiles.

"What?" he asked when they didn't say anything for a long time.

"Nothing. I'm just happy for you," Tommy replied with a shrug. Joel didn't comment on his words.

"Will she have the same last name as us?" Sarah asked.

"I hope so," Joel agreed, looking out the window.

"Cool. I'll be able to call her my mom," she said happily, and fell back into her seat.

And Joel couldn't help but smile a little at the vision she planted in his head.

In the middle of the night, you were woken up by loud noises. You mumbled in dissatisfaction, turning towards the window. You winced when you saw any lights. After a moment, you heard an explosion. You woke up immediately, throwing the blanket aside and went to the window.

A few blocks away, you could see that one of the buildings was on fire. You watched it calmly until another explosion engulfed another skyscraper, this time closer to your hotel. The silence was drowned out by car alarms and people's screams.

Your first thought was a terrorist attack.

You felt a surge of stress, observing everything from a distance. The loud sound of several fighter jets cut through the sky, catching your attention. And then the first shot came.

You watched in horror as more buildings in the city center burst into flames. You swallowed hard, tightening your fingers on the curtain. And then the loud sound of the phone ringing echoed through the room.

You almost jumped on the spot, turning towards the bed. The screen lit up the dark room. You quickly answered the call, seeing Joel's photo.

"Hello?" you spoke, swallowing the lump in your throat. Someone's curses and murmurs could be heard on the other end.

"Hello? Baby, are you okay?" Joel's breathless voice rang out in your ear. You immediately looked towards the window and felt your pulse quicken.

"Y-yes, I'm okay. Joel, what's going on?" you asked, looking out at the city. Another explosion. You flinched, looking towards the building that was in flames. Just a few dozen meters away. A quiet curse sounded on the phone. "Joel?" you spoke uncertainly.

"We don't know. There's a lot of soldiers everywhere. They've blocked the highways."

With each word he spoke, you felt more and more panic.

Another thought was war.

"They say it's some kind of virus. People are going crazy and attacking each other like animals."

You looked down at the street where people were running. Screams mixed with the howl of sirens. Your breath trembled as you moved away from the window.

“Joel, I’m scared,” were the first words you said after realizing how bad things were. If it was happening here and in Texas, then it was everywhere.

And you were alone on the other side of the country.

“Listen to me,” he began calmly. You began to breathe deeply to control your growing fear. “Grab the most necessary things. Get in the car and drive out of town on the side roads. You need to get out of the city center, do you understand?” he explained slowly so you could understand every word. You mumbled something in confirmation. “Baby, I need you to take a few deep breaths and do as I said. You need to get out of town. As soon as possible.”

"Okay," you said, feeling your stomach tighten painfully. You looked around the room in panic and then another explosion occurred. That's when you shook yourself. You quickly moved towards your suitcase and started putting on your clothes.

"Stay off the country roads," he continued explaining as you put on your sneakers. You went to your locker and threw everything into your bag in one move.

"Okay," you nodded, grabbing your car keys. You left the hotel room and looked around the hallway until you saw a sign for an emergency exit. You quickly headed in that direction.

"Tommy and I are going for Sarah."

"What?" you stopped, frowning. "She's not with you?" Silence fell on the other end. You looked at your phone to check the time. It was the middle of the night and Sarah was home alone. How on earth?

"I had to get Tommy out of the arrest," he finally spoke. You closed your eyes, sighing heavily.

Of course it was always about Tommy.

You shook your head and headed down the stairs. You had to get to the underground parking lot. You ran out the door, looking around. It was quiet here. You quickly got into your car and looked around like it was your first time driving. After a few tries and a few panicked curses, you finally got the key in the ignition and screeched to the exit.

You looked around the street before you pulled out onto the road and turned on the navigation. You looked around nervously in every possible direction as you started driving through different housing estates.

"I should be leaving the city in a few minutes," you said, driving more carefully than usual. The further you got from the center, the quieter it was. Fewer and fewer police sirens and people.

"Okay, baby, listen," he started slowly. "Head toward Kansas."

"Okay," you nodded, swallowing hard.

"We'll meet exactly halfway, yeah?"

"Okay," you nodded again, feeling your voice start to shake.

"I will find you," he assured you. He wanted to sound confident. He wanted you to feel safe because of him. But his voice trembled as well.

"Okay," you said again, feeling tears welling up in your eyes.

"I will find you, I promise," he repeated. You nodded, feeling tears start to flow down your cheeks. You pressed your lips together to hold back a sob. "I lo-"

Silence.

You looked at your phone in panic.

"Joel?" you said, but no one answered you.

You felt panic shake your body. You began to breathe quickly, trying to fight off more and more tears.

It wasn't until you passed the sign informing you to leave the city that you felt adrenaline take over your body. You rubbed your wet cheeks and took a few deep breaths.

"You will be fine," you said confidently and pressed the gas pedal, leaving the burning city behind you.

One year later.

You looked at the map again and cursed under your breath, looking around.

Everywhere fucking forests and fields.

With a sigh, you put the map in your backpack and slowly set off through the tall grass. There was silence all around. The wind gently moved the treetops and the birds sang merrily. Nothing had changed here. Nature continued to live as if nothing had changed at all.

But everything had changed.

The world had stopped and started to fall apart.

At least for those who had managed to survive.

You were one of those people.

You had been fighting to survive for a year. Starving, fighting and killing. Who would have expected that? If someone had told you a year ago what you would become, you would have thought they were mentally ill.

And yet, you were where you were. Which was currently in the middle of fucking nowhere.

After a few hours, you were sitting by a small stream, filling a bottle with cold water. As usual, you took the opportunity to wash your body of dirt. If you could even call it that. At least you didn't feel everything sticking to your skin so you considered it as a success.

You sat leaning against a tree, looking at the map, waiting for the fire to fry the fish you had caught sufficiently. You traced the path you had to take to cross the Missouri-Kansas border with your finger.

You still had a long way to go. But you had already come a lot further. You were getting closer to the goal that had kept you alive for a year.

You knew Joel was alive. You could feel it in your bones.

Joel was a tough motherfucker.

He certainly wouldn't let himself be killed and he was on his way to Kansas.

If he wasn't already waiting for you there.

That's what you hoped.

The next few days passed on a lonely journey. Your legs hurt terribly, but you had gotten used to it. You had gotten used to many things. But it probably took you the longest to get used to the smell.

Another sunset was approaching as you slowly walked along the dirt road kicking a small stone. The sky turned orange as you left the road and headed towards the forest. You had learned that it was safest to sleep in trees. Even though you hadn't seen a living soul in weeks, you were always prepared. No one ever looked up when looking for potential threats. So when you found a suitable thick tree, you began preparing ropes.

You were concentrating on tying knots when suddenly the sound of a branch breaking echoed through the forest. You looked around but didn't see anything that caught your attention.

Despite everything, you slowly and quietly lifted your backpack from the ground. You put the ropes away looking around for threats.

And then you heard another crack of branches.

Your senses sharpened and adrenaline hit you like a bolt of lightning. You slung your backpack over your shoulders and pulled your gun from your belt.

You slowly and carefully took steps not making a sound and hid under a group of trees. And you waited. For some time, all you heard was your calm breathing and the last birdsongs. You began to wonder if you had accidentally run into a deer or some other animal, but then you heard the next branches breaking under someone's weight. You immediately recognized the male footsteps.

Wary and heavy.

You slowly uncocked the gun and looked out through the gap between the trunks. You saw movement. A few dozen meters away from you. And unfortunately for you, he was walking in your direction.

You cursed in your mind at your luck and took a few deep breaths.

Another rustle of dry leaves getting closer to you. You tightened your grip on the gun and listened.

The snapping of branches. You glanced one last time through the gap in the trees to determine how far he was. He was definitely too close.

One last deep breath before you emerged from your hiding place.

“Stop and drop your weapon,” you said sharply, aiming it straight at the man in front of you. But you weren’t the only one prepared. You both stood, aiming your weapons at each other. You both had each other perfectly in your sights. And you were both alone.

"I just want to get to Kansas," he said in a hoarse, loud voice.

"Then you got your sides mixed up," you replied, keeping him carefully in your sights. To your detriment, the setting sun and the fog didn't help.

"What?" he was surprised, slightly taken aback.

"Kansas is the other way," you explained, frowning when you noticed he lowered his gun slightly. "No tricks. Throw the gun in my direction and take a few steps back," you ordered, carefully watching his every move. For a moment, there was complete silence. His hands finally fell loosely along his body.

"Fuck. Baby?" he said in a completely different tone. You frowned, lowering the gun when you heard a familiar voice. A gentle wind stirred the fog, giving you a better view of the man a dozen meters in front of you.

"Joel," you whispered in shock, the gun falling from your hand. Your heart stopped for a moment only to start beating like crazy when you saw his look of relief.

"Fuck," he cursed with a trembling voice before he confidently took a step towards you. And you started running.

You threw yourself into his arms, hugging his neck tightly. His arms wrapped around you so tightly you could barely catch your breath. You sobbed with happiness feeling your body overcome with relief. How his arms finally brought you the desired safety. Joel groaned, burying his face in your neck.

Tears of happiness welled up in your eyes as you finally held him in your arms. Alive. Healthy.

You tangled your fingers in his hair pulling him even closer starting to laugh with happiness. His fingers dug painfully into your skin as he pressed you closer to his chest. The amount of relief he felt holding you in his arms was indescribable. Like a huge weight from his shoulders fell apart in a second finally allowing him to breathe.

"I knew I'd find you" he whispered almost moaning with happiness.

You could barely see through your tears as he pulled you away, taking your face in his hands. He looked at you closely. Same eyes, same smile, and a few more scars. Other than that, nothing had changed.

He sighed in relief, closing his eyes and resting his forehead against yours. You wrapped your arms around his wrists, letting out a shaky breath that disappeared a moment later into his mouth as he pressed them tightly against yours.

He immediately deepened the kiss, kissing you with everything he had in him. Longing, relief, pain and love. It wasn't a gentle kiss, but the best you've ever had in your life.

His lips tasted like home.

And that kiss was a promise that you'd never be alone again.

He finally pulled away and pulled you to his chest. He tangled his fingers in your hair and rested his cheek on your head. You snuggled into his chest, closing your eyes.

"I was so fucking scared," he whispered, hugging you tighter and planting a strong kiss on the top of your head. "I was so fucking scared you'd die," he stroked your back and a few tears ran down his cheeks, soaking into your hair. You sobbed, burying your face in his chest.

His fingers stroked your hair soothingly.

"Shhh," he whispered, placing kisses on your head.

You were in his arms.

Safe and sound.

After a year of separation, you were finally safe.

"Everything will be fine now," he assured you, believing in his own words like never before. "I will take care of you."

[eustasskidagenda]

Okay, this post is not based on a request. I kept thinking about it for hours and finally decided to write it down: how the OP characters would text their s/o. So here are some texting headcanons for some of my favorite characters: Eustass Kid, Zoro, Sanji, Law, Sabo. I'll probably write a part 2 with my other beloved characters: Luffy, Marco, Killer, and Robin. :D

☆Texting HCs for Kid, Law, Sanji, Zoro & Sabo

CW : g/n reader, MDNI, Kid is cursing, fluff, funny, partly nsfw, mention of alcohol for Zoro 

WC : 2k

Kid

Your name/photo in his contacts: mine. With a photo of your ass, obviously. And when he's mad at you, he renames you mid(ge).

Such a brat.

His wallpaper: a cool photo of his motorbike (I'm sorry but Kid is that kind of man in love with his own bike/car. But it's okay, he's still my favorite.) Or, a pic of your ass.

What kind of pictures are in his gallery: your ass, random photos of your face when he’s teasing you, his bike, and some punk stuff (music, makeup, outfit etc.)

His fav emoji : none.

He likes to send really, really shorts messages. Like : 

"Hi" "u know" "i have an idea" "So listen:"

Goddam Kid, just write the WHOLE sentence in one message.

He's sending you random pictures of his torso, just to flex with his big tiddies.

And you have to respond with a heart emoji and praise him each time.

If you want, he's more than willing to send dick pick too. 

Again, you have to praise him. Even if the pictures are absolutely non-aesthetic. He's blessing you with his cock after all. 

"Babe, you don't know how to take beautiful pics of your dick." "WTF SHUT UP???????? It's MY dick???!!! OF COURSE IT'S BEAUTIFUL??!!!" 

Yeah, Kid is clearly using extra punctuation. 

Oh, sure, each morning, you receive a mirror selfie of his outfit of the day. Such a punk fashion icon. "Rate my outfit on a scale of amazing to amazing" 

He doesn't use emojis because they sound too soft and stupid. "em0teS aRe f0r s0fT b0ys Y/N"

If you complain about his messages looking cold, he might use random emotes to annoy you like "UgH iF U wAnt 🦬" (with that stupid dumb sponge bob meme)

Whenever he calls you, it seems like he's yelling through the phone. 

He likes using caps lock like "HEY Y/N, WANNA FUCK TONIGHT??????" 

He's sending you random punk/rock music. And you have to listen and react to every single music, otherwise he's so pissed off. He is sharing his world with you, the less you can do is interact with him. 

He also loves sending some pics of what he's working on, because Kid likes to repare/custom some cars or motorbike. 

And last thing, I like the idea of Kid Pirates being a punk music band, so sure, Kid loves to send you some videos of him playing guitar. "My fingers are skilled in three things : music, crafting and fingering you all the fucking day long"

His phone is so damaged because he throws it every time he gets angry (like every two minutes).

Law

Your name/photo in his contacts: y/n-ya. With a cursed picture of you. Just to tease you with it. 

His wallpaper: nothing, just the random by default home screen. In his view, wallpapers are useless and pointless.

What kind of pictures are in his gallery: random pictures you took of him, emo memes, and boring stuff about medicine or basic hygiene rules for Luffy. And a guide to "how to stop screaming and how to control your anger: a guide for children" for Kid. 

His favorite emoji: 🖕🏻

Whenever you annoy him with a stupid joke or a prank you saw on TikTok, his immediate reaction is to block you. He's so annoyed, please, leave him alone. He is immediately aware that it is a prank. Luffy always does the same to him before you do.

He's never using capital, it's for the emo aesthetic, like 'I hate bread'. Nope. But ✨"i hate bread."✨, yeah, much better

And yes, he uses "." everytime, it's for the dark and tired emo aesthetic. 

He always leaves a group conversation as soon as you include him. Please, he's so pissed off by those kinds of things. 

He's able to leave your message seen for days. Just because he was busy and forgot about what you said. If you need an answer, sure, try to call him. He always keeps his phone in silent mode. 

He likes to send you cool articles that he reads. Especially about medicine, tattoos or nerd stuff like movies, books, games etc.

"wanna go to a date tattoo with me tomorrow?" 

That kind of question is clearly his love language

He enjoys teasing you with random photos of his tattooed fingers or chest. "I bet you miss these fingers." And yeah, he's clearing curling his fingers on the pic like he would do when they are inside you. He's really good at teasing you with photos. 

Kid and Luffy steal his phone whenever he's with them. So be ready to receive a lot of ugly pictures of Law (taken by the chaotic duo), middle fingers from Kid, and blurry meat pictures from Luffy. 

Poor Law deserves a break.

Sanji 

Your name/photos in his contacts : 💗💘🛐Mon Amour (my love)🛐💘💗 With the most beautiful picture of you. 

His wallpaper : a cute couple photo.

What kind of pictures are in his gallery : a lot of cooking videos or photos, you, aesthetic pic of the sky and a private album with some hot nudes that you sent to him.

His favorites emojis : 💘💗💖🛐💍🧎🌺🌸🌹🫦🥰😘🧑🏻‍🍳🍽🍷🥘 (yeah, Sanji LOVES emojis)

He's always texting you back. If he can't reply within a second, he won't open the text. Sanji, leaving his beautiful s/o with that awful "seen"? Never. 

All the mornings "good morning sweetheart 💘" and all the evenings "sleep well sweetheart, dream about me 💖"

He wants to take a cute and aesthetic pic of the both of you all the days. 

He bombards you with pictures of his cooking. It's cute, but also annoying because he can't help but send extra long texts. He describes every single action he did, along with recipes and tips. 

He enjoys seeing your outfit of the day. He can attempt to match his clothes to yours. 

Random "I love you 💖" and "if no one told you you were pretty today : you're the prettiest 🥰" 

He enjoys sending you cooking videos. "We should eat this tonight. What do you think? 🧑🏻‍🍳"

He's pretty good at sexting. He knows how to take aesthetic photo of his hands, back, or mouth. Not just an ugly dick pick (Kid, Zoro, I'm looking at you). And he also likes to leave you some message like.

I would sit you down on this table if you were with me right now. You know, the one in your kitchen where he had dinner with your parents yesterday? I would gently kiss your neck, fondle your chest, and slowly kneel between your legs until you shout my name. You would pull on my hair, begging me to keep going until you cum repeatedly on my face.  👅 "

And if you send him a nude, well, he's going to die from a nosebleed.

Rest in peace, Sanji. 

Zoro

Your name/photos in his contacts : "y/n". You pick a picture for him because Zoro and phones are not compatible.

His wallpaper : a cool katana

What kind of pictures in his gallery : gym selfies, katanas and alcohol (all with ugly quality)

His fav emojis : 👍🏻 and 😴 Like:

"hey Zoro, you're alright" 👍🏻

"Zoro, wanna hang out?" 😴

"Babe, what are you doing?" 😴

"… am i annoying you?" 👍🏻

He can responds to absolutely anything with those two emojis. 

Zero is so oblivious, so let's be honest: he is not good at using phones. Almost every day, he forgets his phone at home. And even if he didn't forget about it, it's probably on silent mode or just off.

He doesn’t know how to use the keyboard, so prepare yourself for coded-message like "o!. @= sp⛑t t🧹day???/!df🆎e !!"He can't even use the excuse "my cat walked on my keyboard", he just sucks with technology.

Your messages are often "seen ✔️" and that's all. Not because he wants to be mean, just... he didn't understand the concept of answering every text. He takes all of your messages as random information. Like "Hey, I'd love to see you tonight!". Well. OK. Message understood. That's all.

The only application he has on his phone is Google Maps. Even with it, he still gets lost. "Turn left." Without a doubt, he turns right. 

Once, he tried to please you with a dick pic. But the photo was just terrible: bad luminosity, an ugly close-up of his cock, blurred as fuck, and you can see the dirty tissue behind him.

He doesn't answer when you call him because he's either asleep or at the gym (or drunk).

Once, he also tried to send you a voice message, but it was just the sound of the wind. He forgot to talk closer to the microphone.

Sabo 

Your name/photos in his contacts : "my revolutionary 🎩💛". With a beautiful pic of your smiling face. 

His wallpaper : a symbol of revolution. 

What kind of pictures in his gallery : petition screenshots, his brothers, you, anti-capitalist memes and a private album with some hot pic of you (naughty Sabo)

His fav emojis : 🔥✨🖕🏻💛✊🏻😡😏😎🤩👉🏻👌🏻🫵🏻

Sabo is... complicate. Sometimes, he doesn't answer for WEEKS. And sometimes he's extra chatty. And when he's chatty well...

Sabo is always spamming you with petition links. "Save the dolphins", "save the monkeys", "fuck capitalism", "for the resignation of *insert random politician name*" 

"Hey sweetheart, manifestation tomorrow. See you there!! 🫵🏻" 

When it's not petitions, it's probably videos or articles. Sabo is a pure revolutionary. Be prepared to receive lengthy texts when he wants to fight for a cause. It's cute, honestly. He's really involved and passionate. 

"You, me, on a trip tomorrow?! 😏"

Sabo has a knack for surprising you with trips, so prepare yourself. This man craves adventure and surprises. He wants you to join his crazy journey. 

Sometimes, he's using proper grammar and punctuation, sometimes he's using a lot of !!!!!!!!??????? And caps lock. Especially when he's furious about something.  He makes a lot of typo errors because he's always in a rush while typing.

Let's fught  *figrt *fijkt *FUCK *LET'S FIGHT (and fuck)

He enjoys taking pictures of you unexpectedly because it makes you seem more natural. 

"So… sweetheart… we have a new roommate" with a cute pic of a dog/frog/duck/snail/whatever. Sabo has a kind heart. If he sees a wounded or abandoned animal, he feels obliged to adopt it.

And regarding spicy texts… 

Sabo is a kinky boy. So sure, he's thirsty when it comes to sexting/nudes. As a revolutionary, he is also very careful. He always asks you first before sending you nude or spicy texts. If you're willing, then prepare yourself.

A bunch of nudes. Since he's good with them, he won't display his dick in a weird and unattractive angle to you. He enjoys showing you his hands when he's wearing his gloves. Or a mirror photo of his back.

"I know you will scratch it when I'll fuck you tonight 😏"

You're not forced to send him nude or spicy texts back. He respects your boundaries without exception. And if you send him a photo anyway, he's also really nice. Always a comment like "your ass is soooooo good with this angle. I can't believe I'm that lucky 🥵" and if he wants to save a photo for his collection, he's always asking if it's okay with you.

"Sweetie, i have a new toy for you… 💛"

We all know what he's talking about. Naughty Sabo.

[hometoursandotherstuff]

Attractive 1920 Victorian in El Reno, OK. Love the turquoise, gray and white combination. 6bds, 5ba, $339,900 and the interior is amazing. Also, there are 2 homes on the property.

The 2nd home is above the 3 car garage.

It has a nice little entrance hall with original stairs, wainscoting and floor.

The sitting room has lovely wallpaper and a beautiful light fixture. If that roaring fire is real, it's incredible that the fireplace is functional.

I love a moody Victorian with original dark woods.

I like the wallpaper in the 2nd sitting room, also. The arrangement of all the furniture around the perimeter of the rooms doesn't do it justice.

The wall unit in this room looks like a built-in. One of these rooms has to be a dining room that they're not using as one.

The kitchen's cool. It's vintage and large, but I would probably keep colliding with the sink protruding out like that.

Look at that Aga stove. I have never seen one that big. They don't make them like that, it's a commercial hand-crafted one- the most you can buy retail is a 6 oven model and they cost $35K.

I wonder why there are 3 sinks in the pantry. The black one is cool.

In this rear hall is an office and sitting area.

The half bath is lovely and it's roomy, too.

This is different, the stairs are in the turret.

Not a bad bedroom, it's a little long and narrow, but nice.

This one has an en-suite, but it's not being used as a bedroom.

This one's kind of nice.

This room next to it looks like it has a bath behind that open door.

It's sort of a vintage bath that was updated a while ago.

A bedroom used as a closet.

Very nice and it has an en-suite.

There is another baths that was done with new tile, sinks and showers exactly like this one.

These are the stairs in the other residence above the garage.

It has a spacious living room and kitchen.

Plus a nice-sized bedroom.

And a 3 pc. bath.

The home kind of looks like it's on an island in a commercial area, but it's zoned for business. .40 acre lot.

https://www.zillow.com/homedetails/506-S-Evans-Ave-El-Reno-OK-73036/52543185_zpid/

[rogueddie]

When Steve wakes up, he is very confused. His room looks very different and unfamiliar- but he knows it's his. It still has the plaid wallpaper his mom had picked out for him (he hadn't liked it, but there was a lot of lines and pretty colors).

The toy car his babysitter, Sarah, had gotten him for his fifth birthday isn't on his dresser anymore. He knows that she'd left it there for him last night, playfully insisting that he couldn't play with it until his actual birthday.

He'd been so excited to play with it. He wants to cry, and wail. He wants to run to his parents and scream until they give it back.

But they aren't home. That's why his babysitter had been over the previous night. They have a very important business trip that they aren't allowed to miss, not even for Steve's birthday.

The pictures in the hall look different too. Sarah had put up some cool pictures for him. She'd done the same for his fourth birthday. They had to take them down at the end of the day, but it had been nice to have family pictures up. Even if it was just for a day.

Sarah isn't downstairs.

He almost does scream this time. She'd promised that she'd stay the night, sleeping on the sofa, so he could have pancakes for breakfast. It's one of the many things that he can't, or isn't allowed, to make on his own.

His cake isn't in the fridge either. He even pulls a chair over so he can climb on it, to see if she'd hidden it on one of the higher shelves.

He sits on one of the dining chairs, watching the clock, and waiting.

After two hours pass, he gives up any hope he has.

Sarah, just like his parents, is probably too busy for him. He reasons that she probably just forgot to tell him. His mom had done that one time- it had stung, but he couldn't blame her. He forgot lots of stuff, even if it is important.

The only cereal in the pantry is some plain, corn brand that he doesn't recognise. It tastes just as bad as it looks, but there isn't a lot of food anymore.

At least, not a lot that he can make.

He has a second bowl, putting a few spoons of sugar in. It's not much better, but he doesn't feel so hungry anymore.

The TV looks different too. There's weird and new things playing. It's fun, interesting, and distracts him well enough that he's able to keep himself from worrying about how long he'll have to be alone again.

The next day goes the same.

The third day, he risks cooking. It ends up a little burnt, but it's better than cereal all the time.

The fourth day, he can't eat the food he tries to cook. It smells too nasty. He has to have cereal again. The sugar helps.

The fifth day, he doesn't risk cooking. His parents have never left him alone, without a babysitter, for more than a week, so he'll have a nice meal soon.

The sixth day, he checks their voicemail. There's a few odd messages from grown up sounding people, asking about how he's feeling, but he doesn't recognise any of their voices. He doesn't know what numbers he should try calling. He hopes they try calling again.

The seventh day, he sits at the bottom of the stairs. He stares at the front door, ready to jump up and give his mom and dad a warm welcome home.

The eighth day, he's starting to worry. Surely his parents will remember to call a different babysitter?

The ninth day, there's a key in the door. He almost misses it, sat in the kitchen, glaring at his cereal.

"Steve!" Someone calls. It sounds like one of the nice, unfamiliar grown ups who left a voicemail message. "Stevie! You here? How are- oh my god."

"Hi," Steve greets. He waves, tries giving his most polite smile. He almost forgets to keep his lips shut- his dad told him that his teeth don't look nice enough for a grin that big yet. "You're one of the nice people who left me a message, right?"

She stares at him for a long moment, mouth hanging open. "Steve?"

"That's me! What's your name?"

"Robin."

He sticks a hand out to her. "I's nice to meet you Miss Robin!"

"Yeah," she replies, voice high and thin. Her hand is trembling when she gently shakes his hand. "I'm... gonna need to use your phone. Real quick, ok?"

"Um... ok. But you can't make long distance calls, mommy will be very mad at me." He bites his thumb nail, following her into the hall. "Are you a babysitter? Is Sarah sick?"

"Sarah?" Robin echoes, questioningly. She's only half paying attention though, pushing in a phone number.

"My babysitter. She was supposed to be here for my birthday."

"It's your birthday?" She chokes out, spinning around so fast she stumbles. She looks heartbroken.

"Not anymore! It's ok, you don't need to be sad. She gave me my present early too, so it was good."

"Wait. How long have you been... what have you been eating?"

"Um. Cereal, mostly. All the food is different. It's weird."

"That's not- oh, hi," she turns away slightly, talking to whoever is on the phone. "Yeah, I'm at Steve's right now. Gather, like, everyone. We have a major emergency."

"No!" Steve quickly says. He tugs at the bottom of her top. "Not an emergency! You can't say that, you'll get me in trouble!"

"You don't understand, this is-"

"No, please," he pleads. He can only hope he won't get in trouble for talking back to her. "I'm sorry."

"Ok, ok, alright," she agrees. She pauses for a second, listening. "No, that was Steve. Yeah, exactly, that's why-"

"Tell them it isn't an emergency. Please. If dad hears, I'll be in big trouble."

"Ok, big guy. It's not an emergency. Just... yeah, do that. Yeah. Alright. No, I'll be fine. I can deal with it. Ok, see you soon."

She hangs up with a sigh, turning to look at him. She still looks sad.

"Are you ok, Miss Robin?"

Her laugh sounds strained, but she laughs. "I'm alright. How are you?"

"I'm ok. Do you know when mommy and daddy will be back?"

"I don't. I'm sorry, Stevie."

"It's ok. It's only, like... I can't really, uh, cook."

"I can make you something. What's your fave? It was your birthday, you said? Let's get you something special! How old are you?"

He stumbles a little, trying to keep up with her fast talking as well as he long strides. "I'm five. Sarah was going to make me pancakes."

"We can do pancakes." She searches the cupboards and fridge, frowning. "Where is anything?"

"I dunno. I looked but everything is all gone or weird."

"Well... we'll just have to have pancakes later. Special pancakes, for the special birthday boy."

"I guess."

She steps close, putting her hands on her hips as she looks him over. "Are you sure you're five? Did you hit your growth spurt early? You're getting real big."

"I dunno. Mommy says I'm gonna be tall and be a real ladies man, or something."

"Do you even know what that means?"

"Not really. Mommy thinks it's cool though."

"Hm. Are you too big to pick up?"

"Oh, you're not supposed to. Daddy says I'm a big boy now. Big boys don't get picked up."

"Your dad's an asshole."

Steve giggles, quickly covering his mouth with both hands. "You're not supposed to say that! It's a naughty word!"

"Supposed to do this, supposed to do that," she tutts. She leans down, scooping him up into her arms, resting him on her hip. "Your five, stop being so boring!"

Her hand feels so big on his back, like there's no way he could fall with her holding him. She doesn't even seem to mind his hand automatically grabbing the collar of her shirt.

"Daddy doesn't like it when people pick me up."

"What do you like? Hm? Do you want me to put you down?"

"... No."

"Then I'm not putting you down. Daddy isn't here to tell us off, is he? And what he doesn't know, can't hurt him."

She bounces him a few times, making him giggle. Judging by her satisfied grin, that was her aim.

It confuses him, a little. Mostly because she keeps doing that- little things, little comments, trying to make him laugh. Trying to make him smile. Even just listening to him talk about things. Little things. Silly things. Like she isn't annoyed when he goes on, and on, and on.

By the time another person comes in, he's decided that she's the best person in the whole wide world. If she puts him down or tries to leave, he's going to throw a tantrum.

He knows it's bad, but he doesn't want her to leave too. She's cool.

"Oh, God. Robin, please tell me that the baby isn't Steve."

"He's five," Robin corrects. "And yes, it's Steve. I checked, it's him."

"What the hell happened to him?"

"I don't know, I called you!"

"Is something wrong with me?" Steve asks, voice quiet and timid.

"No!" Robin quickly tries to say, at the same time the man says, "yes, obviously."

"Dustin!" Robin scolds.

"What? Lying to him won't help!"

"Neither will being a dick about it!" She tutts at him, adjusting Steve in her arms when she looks to him. "It's nothing, like, bad. It's just kinda weird. See, when we saw you, a week ago... you were a little bit older than me. And now you're five."

Steve stares at her for a moment. She looks too serious, too honest.

"Weird," he says.

"Exactly," she agrees. "From what you've said, though, it's not that bad. You're still you, and you're healthy. You're just... not so big."

"Maybe El can fix him," Dustin mutters, squinting at Steve. He leans close. "When did this happen?"

"He's been like this for a week," Robin tells him. Her voice is quiet, almost scared- it doesn't help that Dustin looks horrified too. "At least."

"Who's been taking care of him?"

"No one."

"What the hell," Dustin turns his frown on Steve. "Why didn't you call anyone?"

"Not supposed to unless it's a real emergency," Steve says. "Mommy says she has a repo... rep... rep-yuh-tay-shun. It's a big thing."

Dustin looks heartbroken, turning to Robin, who shrugs back at him. He groans after a pause, frowning at Robin. "Shit. You can't drive."

"Oh, shit."

"I'll call Eddie," Dustin sighs, already heading to the hall.

"Who's Eddie?" Steve asks.

"Eddie's a friend. He looks a little scary, but don't worry. He's a big softie, an absolute teddy bear." She leans close, whispering loudly with a grin. "Don't tell him I told you, though. He likes to pretend that he's all tough and mean."

"And he's... not mean?"

"Not a cruel bone in his body."

"Ok," he bites at his thumb, frowning when Robin gently pulls his hand out his mouth. "You won't leave though, right?"

"I'm not going anywhere."

"You gotta promise, though! Pinky Promise!" He lifts a hand, sticking his pinky up- Robin almost immediately wraps her own around his.

"I promise I won't leave you. Who knows what could happen if I leave you alone with the gremlins." She pretends to shudder. "Oh, the horrors.."

"He'll be here in five minutes," Dustin announces.

"That's... quick."

"Yeah. I barely got out 'Steve is in trouble' before he hung up."

"Maybe don't start like that next time," Robin rolls her eyes. She adjusts Steve again, trying to sit him higher on her hip. "He's probably breaking at least, like, five speeding laws or something."

"I don't think that's how it works."

"Whatever." She huffs. "Jesus. Steve, bud, I might need to put you down for a sec."

"Oh... um... do you have to?"

"My arms are really starting to hurt, bud," she says. She looks as upset at the idea as he feels. "Maybe we could sit down together. Would that be a good compromise?"

"Yeah!" He grins. "What's a comp- compa-"

"Com-pruh-mise." She says it slowly, careful to sound it out, as she sits down on the sofa. She pulls Steve around so he's sat on her knees, facing her. She keeps one hand on his back, supporting him.

"Com-pa-mise," Steve repeats.

"Oh, that was great!" Robin encourages, laughing at how big and excited Steves responding grin is. "Well, compromise is when..."

Robin is so patient with him, taking her time with him, making sure he understands what she's saying- before easily jumping onto whatever tangent he brings up.

It feels like only a few minutes have passed by the time the doorbell rings. Dustin stands to answer- Steve had completely forgotten he was there the whole time, too caught up in his conversation with Robin.

He doesn't come back for a moment. Steve can hear muttering, straining to hear what they're saying, but the living room doors shut.

A man follows him inside. He's tall, with long hair and dark clothes. He looks different to anyone Steve has ever seen before. He looks scary.

"Oh god," he mumbles, frowning at Steve. "You're not joking."

Steve tugs at Robins sleeve, leaning close to her, whispering, "who's that?"

"Oh, right!" Robin groans when she stands, lifting Steve with her. "Steve, this is Eddie. Eddie, this is Steve."

"This is Steve," Eddie repeats. "Jesus Christ."

"Why do you look so scary?" Steve blurts out. He slaps a hand over his mouth, horrified.

But Eddie just laughs. "Damn, Stevie, tell me what you really think."

"You do!" Steve snaps, face warming. "All the black and chains and stuff."

"Robin is wearing 'black and chains and stuff'."

"Yeah, but Robins cool."

"You wound me," Eddie gasps, slapping a hand to his chest. "I'm totally cooler than Robin."

"Nope," Robin quickly cuts in. "Steve said I'm cool, not you. It's been said, declared- no, decreed! Facts are facts, Eds, suck on it!"

"Ew," Steve and Eddie say in sync, grimacing.

"Alright," Dustin interrupts, hands on his hips. "You're introduced, now can we go? Now?"

Part two

[gloztik]

Aston martin db11 super luxury car 4k desktop wallpaper

This wallpaper is about Aston martin db11, super luxury car, 4k desktop wallpaper, Aston martin super car. This image size is 167692 kb and resolution is 1400×788.

[genandguice]

𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐛𝐥𝐞. trailer trash!anakin skywalker

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 (𝐛𝐲 𝐛𝐨𝐭 𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫): you move into a trailer park with your mom, your next door neighbor is a 40 year old man that works at a mechanic shop!

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: fem reader, age gap, smoking, drinking, unprotected sex, little bit of breeding & choking, creep ani (obvs)

𝐰𝐜: 6.4k

𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬: inspired by my chat with this bot on janitorai • the italics in the beginning are the start of the bot, credit to the creator! i did make some small edits overall to fit everything into fic form. i hope i did this au justice! i didn’t grow up in a trailer park but i did grow up very poor & unstable so this au always hits close to home. realest au on earth!

i know i’m a gosling blog but i’m a big star wars girly too… and the star wars fandom on here is huge. pls, pls, don’t expect me to be writing more now that i’ve appeared again 😭🤍 i’m still in school & it’s kicking my ass. but using the bot inspired me and made it easy. if you wanna know more about how i did this, pls ask! hopefully there will be more on the way cause i will definitely keep chatting with the bot :)

lastly, because it came from my chat with the bot, it is a little janky! i had to do a lot of editing so if there’s something i missed or it seems weird- just forgive me 🤍🤍🤍

June 23rd

You look at the calendar with your eyebrows furrowed. This summer was one of the hottest yet, the heat in the trailer making the pages roll up from sitting against the old wallpaper.

Sighing lightly as you hear arguing outside, you peek out the window to see your neighbor, Anakin Skywalker. He's working on a car outside, a girl yelling at him. You’ve only seen her around a few times. New girlfriend or hook-up. Anakin was never one to keep a relationship and frankly, you couldn’t blame the girls. He was a filthy man with hefty jail record for controlled substances, speeding and other things. You watch as he waves her off, oil and dirt covering him, cigarette sat in between his lips. He looks frustrated.

“Honey, I’m home. Got those chips you like.” You hear your mother call, the screen door slamming loudly once she walked in. You don’t move as Anakin watches the girl walk away and he stands up to his full height. He glances over to you and your mother’s house, toward your bedroom window you were peeking out of. Panic sets in as you quickly move away and walk out to the kitchen to talk to your mother.

You walk out to the kitchen and thank your mother for the chips, hold a short conversation with her about your days while you wait to see if Anakin was angry enough about your peeking on him to come knock on the door.

When enough time has passed, your chips halfway gone, you know he isn’t coming, and you can relax.

With the heat of the summer cooking the trailer, you had to get out. There’s a kiddie pool on the front lawn where you’d often sit to cool down. Y’all couldn’t fit a full sized pool.

It’s getting to the hottest point of the day, typically when Anakin takes a break to go screw his newest fling and you feel comfortable enough to lounge outside in your two piece. You usually avoid going out in so little clothing when he’s around, knowing the older man would likely enjoy your scantily-clad presence a little too much. Anakin was attractive, but in the creepiest way. You didn’t wanna be his eye candy while another woman waited to be his toy.

But today when you make it out to the front yard, despite the especially high heat, Anakin is still out working on that damn car. But it’s too late now, and too hot- you’ve already set your heart on cooling off in the pool. So you slink in anyway, letting the cool water soothe your skin, turn your speaker on full blast, and hope he ignores you.

But of course, he doesn’t. He can’t help himself. He watches you from across the yard as you sink into the kiddie pool, eyes hungrily roaming over your barely clothed body, thoughts immediately flooding with perversity. You’re hot, way too young for him, but damn if those curves don't make his cock twitch in those grease-stained jeans.

He takes a long drag of his cigarette as he watches, smoke swirling around him in the thick summer heat. After a moment he starts to saunter over, beer in hand.

"Well well, looks like someone's trying to start their own wet t-shirt contest out here," He drawls with a lazy smirk. "Maybe I should go grab me a front row seat... or join in."

Your eyes roll under your sunglasses. Can’t get a moment of peace as a young woman in this damn trailer park. “Nobody wants to see your tits, Skywalker,” You say, keeping your eyes on the sky. He stinks, like sweat, beer, and cigarettes, but it’s a familiar smell; welcome, almost likable. Almost.

“Did you come over here just to creep on me?”

He lets out a low chuckle, taking another swig of his beer. "Why would I settle for a peek when I could be getting the full view?" He asks, eyes boldly raking over your nearly naked body. "Besides, I think we both know you like the attention. Why else put on a little show like this, hm?"

Setting his drink aside, he plops down on the grass beside the pool, letting his legs dangle in the cool water.

"Hot as balls out here. Hope you don’t mind." He glances over at you with a cocky grin.

You grimace as his feet contaminate the pool. Part of you wants to recoil, but the water feels too good, and you don’t want to give him an even better view of your body.

“Coming out here to cool off on this ‘hot as balls’ day is puttin’ on a show for you?” You scoff at him as you push your sunglasses on top of your head. He’s persistent, you can give him that. But irritating. What is it with old men that think being an asshole is attractive? Although, it did sort of work on Anakin…

"You’re right, maybe I'll have to show you a real wet t-shirt contest. Bet I can make my shirt cling better than those tiny triangles you're calling a top."

“If you wanna get in my pants old man, one-upping me ain’t gonna be the way to do it.” You press the ‘volume up’ button on your speaker, but his persistence knows no bounds.

"Old man?" He scoffs, sitting up to shoot you an indignant look. "I'll have you know I'm in my prime, sweetheart. And trust me, I don't need no cheap tricks to get in any girl's panties." He stands up and start stripping off his shirt, revealing his tattooed, muscular chest and arms.

Your jaw clenches at the sight of Anakin shirtless. His body is prime, and tattoos… were your weakness. But there was no way you were gonna let him know that.

He flashes you a wicked grin before diving into the shallow pool, still in his jeans. Water splashes everywhere, soaking you in the process.

Also, you had to remind yourself, he was still gross. Reminded to you by his gross words, and his obnoxious splashing, crashing your pool time.

"My bad," He responds to your grumbles of frustration with a shit-eating smirk, not sounding apologetic in the slightest.

"You gotta hell of a mouth on you, though, girl. Those talkin’ lips might get you in trouble," He teases as he settles into the water. "One wrong word and this 'old man' might just have to teach you some respect."

“Teach me some respect?” You let out a full, genuine laugh with your words as you reach behind you to the nearby table which held your own cigarettes. “Coming from the convict? Is that supposed to scare me?”

He narrows his eyes at you as you laugh, not finding his threat the least bit funny. "Convict? I've done my time. Last I checked, that makes me a changed man." He reaches out to snatch a cigarette from your hand, placing it between his own lips. "Besides, I think we both know you like a little danger. Why else would a classy girl like you be slumming it in a shithole like this?"

He lights the cigarette and takes a long drag, blowing the smoke in your direction with a smug smirk. "Face it, babygirl, you're drawn to me. The bad boy mystique, I get it. But I'm the one in control here. And right now, I wanna see more of that smokin’ hot body..." He grabs your wrist and yanks you closer to him in the pool.

You instinctively try to tug yourself away, but his grip is too strong. Being this close to him does things to you that you’d rather not come to terms with, but he forces you to.

“Jesus, you’re filthy!” You exclaim, and pray he doesn’t notice the way your thighs squeeze together below the water. “Gimme my cigarette,” You hiss, hoping to change the subject and ignore the rest of it all.

He leans in closer, face inches from yours as he takes another drag. "Filthy is kinda my thing, sweetheart," His blue eyes bore into yours, voice low and tempting. "And trust me, I've seen the way you look at me when you think I'm not watching."

Slowly, he brings the lit cigarette to your lush lips, tracing them teasingly. "Want a taste?" He purrs, pressing his body against yours in the cool water. "Or are you too much of a good girl to indulge in a little sin?"

You can’t help the way your chest heaves as your arousal grows, and what’s worse, you can’t avoid Anakin knowing, the small distance between you causing your tits to brush against his chest with every heavy breath. His words are dangerously persuasive, and his eyes only emphasize it all.

But you remember yourself, the good girl you are, the smart girl you are, and find a way around his teasing in more ways than one.

Your tongue slides out seductively, catches his eye, and the end of the cigarette. The wetness of your tongue allows you to pull it between your lips, steal a drag and blow it right back into his face. You slide it to the side of your mouth to speak, hoping your voice comes out stronger than it feels. “Don’t you already got a toy waitin’ to be attacked?”

"Oh I got plenty of toys," He smirks, undeterred as the smoke billows around you. "But you're a whole new level of fun, baby.”

His hands slide down to grope your ass, pulling your hips flush against his. You can feel his hardening length pressing against you through his soaked jeans. "Forget about my other girls. Right now, it's all about you and me," He growls, nipping at your ear. It’s disgusting, but it’s intoxicating, enough for you not to notice you were giving in.

Abruptly, he stands up, scooping you into his arms. "Let's take this inside where we can have some real fun, shall we?" He carries you towards your trailer, ignoring your protests. "Unless you'd rather I fuck you right here where everyone can watch..."

You let out a shaky exhale at his filthy suggestion of exhibition, and mentally curse yourself.

Your hands grip the sides of the trailer door, legs subconsciously tightly clung around his waist to keep yourself up. The two of you are dripping on the concrete steps, your nipples are hard and poking through the fabric of your bikini top, both due to the change of temperature and your arousal.

“My mom… she’s inside. She’ll beat your ass, Skywalker,” You say, still trying your best to resist, despite its growing futility. You won’t be one of those girls that Anakin Skywalker gets the best of so easily. Even if the feeling of his rising erection against your own sex is making your mind swim. “You’re older’n she is.”

"Pfft, your mom's a sweet lady. Barely a challenge," He laughs as he kicks the door open, strolling into the trailer with you still around his waist. The familiar scent of old newspapers and stale cooking greets you.

Anakin’s eyes roam the cluttered space, and spot your mother sitting in the only comfy chair. She looks up at the two of you, an eyebrow raised.

"Hey, Patty," He calls out, tossing you onto the only clear space on the couch without even bothering to look. "Got a little present for you."

She huffs and shakes her head, barely amused.

"Mind your manners, Anakin," she admonishes. He winks at her before striding over, topless and wet, settling onto the arm of her chair.

"Y’all got any vodka, Pats? I sure could use a shot to cool off," He asks, smirking over at you, his gaze hot and hungry, unphased by your mother relaxing right beside him.

Your shocked eyes shoot daggers in Anakin’s direction the whole time, pissed at the way he spoke to your mother so casually, pissed at his boldness, pissed at your mother for allowing it, and pissed at yourself for finding him so goddamn sexy for it. You let out an angry grumble under your breath, snatching a towel from the laundry piled beside you on the couch and wrapping it around yourself, finally somewhat shielded from his predatory gaze.

“‘Course we got vodka. Don’t waste my time asking me stupid questions, Skywalker.” Your mother snaps at him in that calm, motherly way, and now your infuriated gaze is aimed at her. Since when were they so friendly with each other?

“And that little present better be a fresh ounce of pot, not my half-naked daughter.” She drawls, practically paying him no mind, eyes set on the TV. That explains it.

“Anakin,” You cut before he can speak again, voice sharp. “Don’t you have a guest, and vodka in your own home?” You say, making your way to the kitchen to fix your own drink. You’d need it if this was how the rest of the day would go.

He chuckles at you, and turns back to your mother with a taunting smirk, "Sorry, sweetheart, but I'm fresh out. I'll make it up to ya though, promise."

Patty rolls her eyes, but Anakin can see the glint of amusement in them.

"Just ‘cause I'm her mama don’t mean I cain't recognize a lustful look when I see one," she addresses him, referring to her daughter. "You oughtta keep an eye on her, Ani. Seems like she can't stay away," She teases, puffing on her cigarette.

"Oh, I'm workin’ on it," He says, eyes meeting yours. There's a challenge in his voice, daring you to deny him—or worse, wanting you to.

You get the vodka and grab two glasses, pouring the clear liquid and watering it down. The ice clinks loudly as you return from the kitchen. Anakin watches your every move, his cock hardening again, the scent of your arousal lingering.

You set the drinks down on the cluttered coffee table, grabbing your drink and leaving Anakin to fetch his own. Your face grimaces when you notice what you’re pretty sure is an erection forming in his wet pants again. What an old creep. But you wonder what it looks like.

“Have fun with Patty, Anakin,” You tease, walking down the hall toward your bedroom with your drink.

Your mother shakes her head in amusement as Anakin follows you down the hall.

"Hey now, don't go teasin’ a grown man like that," He calls out, quickly grabbing his own drink and following you to your bedroom.

He leans against the doorframe, watching hungrily as you turn to face him. The vodka burns going down, fueling the fire in his veins and his eyes. "Why don’t you sit that purty little ass down on the bed and we’ll talk about why a good girl like you is looking at me like that," he takes a step closer.

The flush in your cheeks derives from a combination of frustration and arousal that’s gone on much too long, and you’d had about enough of. Anakin had a big mouth, but he was little more than a tease. You were barely more than half his age, and he seemed to be all bark and no bite, just having fun trying to get a rise out of the little girl in the trailer next door.

You down most of your vodka, the burning in your body beginning to mirror his. The sexual tension was palpable between you, but you were starting to think he didn’t really have the intention to quench it.

“Make me.”

A low growl escapes him at your defiance. With a sudden burst, he’s on you, crowding you against the closed door. "I'll make you, alright. I'll make you beg, babydoll," He promises, lips brushing against your ear.

Suddenly, he catches your mouth in a hungry kiss. His tongue dances with yours, seeking and finding entry to explore the depths of your mouth. His hand slides up under the towel to squeeze your breast, finger rolling over your nipple.

Anakin tastes like vodka, beer & cigarettes, so filthy, so deviant, so wonderfully intoxicating against your mouth. It’s hard to hold back your moans as his quick hand touches you, but you do your best, knowing your mother was only down the hall.

Your hand searches wildly behind you for the doorknob, the two of you bursting through the door and into the bedroom. You manage to break away from him and take a few steps back, sucking your bottom lip into your mouth as you take in the sight before you.

Those blue eyes, wrinkles formed at the corners, that evil smirk on his mouth, that muscular, tattooed chest still dripping from the pool, the erection straining against his pants. You set your glass down on the dresser and wonder how you ended up here, with this filthy, disgusting, irresistible old man standing in your bedroom, ready to wreck you, bikini bottoms growing sticky over it.

He stalks towards you, eyes burning with lust. "Still trying to play hard to get?" He backs you up until the backs of your knees hit the mattress. "I think we both know how badly you been wantin’ this."

His hands make quick work of your bikini top, tossing it aside to palm your soft breasts. The grin that rises across his face is almost sickening, like a devious child that had just opened a gift and found it filled with fireworks. The way it lights you up is sicker.

Leaning down, he runs his tongue over one pert nipple before drawing it into his mouth to suck hard, groaning at the taste of your skin. This time you can’t help a moan from breaking past your lips as his mouth assaults your breast.

His other hand slides into your bottoms, calloused fingers stroking your slick folds. “Fuck. You're wet as hell," He mumbles, more to himself than to you, pressing two fingers inside your tight heat.

You’re already seeing stars as his thick, expert fingers work their magic on you, roughly stroking every sensitive, gushy spot. Your hand rushes up to cover your mouth and hold back my pathetic sounds as you unravel.

His fingers thrust into your pussy, his thumb rubbing messily against your clit, ruthless in his pursuit of your pleasure. "Tell me you want this," he demands, nipping at your neck as his fingers work on your clit, steadily building your arousal. "Tell me you want Anakin Skywalker to fuck you into these sheets."

His cock strains so hard against his jeans, the sound of the denim creaks as it stretches under the weight. He wants to see you squirm and beg, desperate for his release, desperate for the release he promises to give you. The filthy, experienced older man teaching you the best sex of your young life.

You can’t resist anymore, not with his fingers inside you, driving you wild. Already he’s like nothing you’ve ever experienced; pleasure clouds your mind, makes you forget everything except how badly you want him.

You breathe heavily as you work up the words he demands, small whimpers leaving your throat as you try to speak. “A-Anakin,” a sharp exhale, then a gasp, then a whimper. “I want you.”

A slow, sinister smile spreads across his face as your needy plea reaches his ears. "That's what I like to hear, baby girl," He purrs, withdrawing his fingers and making quick work of his jeans and boxers. His cock springs free, hard and heavy, piercing glinting in the low light.

Your eyes widen at the sight of him. It’s a reaction you would’ve stifled if you were in your right mind, but had no capacity to hide right now. His cock was thick, and pierced, unequivocally like nothing you’d ever seen before. It seemed downright heavy. It was hypnotizing.

"Get on the bed and spread those legs," He commands, giving his cock a few pumps as he watches you. "Time to show ya what a real man feels like."

Unintentionally, you ignore his command, closing the distance between you and dropping to your knees before him. It’s even thicker up close, plain intimidating, but you can’t stop your tongue falling wide out of your mouth to taste him, painting the underside of his cock head with your drool.

He grunts as your tongue laps at his cock, one hand shooting down to twine in your hair. "Ah fuck, yeah," He sighs, helping your head bob on his dick. "Good girl, take it just like that, get it nice and wet for that tight little cunt."

The stretch in your jaw is substantial, and it turns you on to no end, struggling to take his thickness down. He tastes like metal and sweat and it’s so good.

The piercing catches on your bottom lip and he hisses in pleasure, grip tightening in your hair. "Goddamn, girl, that mouth is good. Gonna make me bust down your throat if you keep that up."

But he wants more. Needs to feel your cunt gripping him, sucking him in. With heavy reluctance, he pulls your head back and tugs you to your feet, all but throwing you on the bed.

"On your hands and knees, babydoll. Ass in the air," he demands, giving your ass a sharp smack. "Time to put that pussy to work."

You whimper at the sharp sting on your ass, shocked at the way it sends surges through you.

This time you obey his commands, turning onto your hands and knees, naturally arching your back in a way that draws Anakin in like a moth to a flame, giving him a prime view of your curves and holes, hearing him shudder and cuss behind you.

You bury your face in the mattress to conceal your whines at the coldness of his piercing teasing your clitoris as he slides the head of his cock through your wet folds, pussy clenching in anticipation of the stretch he was gonna give.

"Hope you're ready, baby, cause I ain’t gonna be gentle,” He warns, wrangling your hips, fingers digging into your soft flesh as he pushes into your entrance.

With one hard thrust, he buries himself inside you, and the sound in the room is immediately obscene, your screeching into the mattress at the brutal stretch, his groaning and fussing over your tight heat, the rhythmic beat of his hips slapping against your ass.

"Take it, you lil’ tease. This is what you want, ain’t it? To be split open on my big cock?" He reaches around to fondle your tits, twisting and pinching your nipples as he rails you.

“Ahh, fuck!” You cry into the mattress, the magnificent assault on your cunt rapidly reeling you toward your orgasm. Anakin was incredible; huge, relentless, stretching you wide and filling you to the brim. He fucked you like he invented sex, metal of his piercing stimulating that sensitive spot deep inside you with each perfect snap of his hips.

He groans as your pussy clenches around him, grip on your hips tightening, undoubtedly leaving bruises. "Fuck, you feel good wrapped around my cock." He moans, thrusts becoming more erratic as he chases his release. "Gonna fill this tight cunt up, make you fucking mine-” Not a promise, but a prayer. You can feel him getting close, twitching inside you, pounding into you faster and ramming into that deep, spongey spot.

His hand snakes down to rub tight circles on your clit, rapidly reeling you toward the edge. "Cum on my cock baby, let me feel you milk me," He commands, slamming into you one last time before he stills, grinding his hips against you with a deep growl, spilling rope after creamy rope of his seed deep inside you, forcing you hollering, trembling, & convulsing through your orgasm.

“Fuck, yeah,” you hear from behind you, a weak, high pitched moan escaping your throat as you feel the flood. The sensation quenches a deep thirst you’d waited too long to address.

Your poor cunt aches in the sweetest way as he pulls out, stings as he spreads your cheeks to gawk at his seed leaking from your hole.

"Look at that,” He drawls, slowly dragging his fingers through the mess and pushing it back inside. “So fucking hot.”

He gives your ass a wet kiss, jiggles the fat in his hand, and then flips you over onto your back, settling between your legs. "Think you can handle round two, little girl?" He asks, cock already hardening again at the sight of you debauched on the sheets beneath him, cum painting your thighs.

The feeling of Anakin’s cock hardening on your stomach makes your heart rate pick back up. It’s a little frightening: wasn’t it unusual for any man, let alone a man of his age, to snap back so quickly?

In your short moment of lucidity, you begin to worry. Anakin had fucked you without a condom, cum inside you, and now dared to do it again. The last thing this man needed was to knock up some young girl, and the last thing you needed was to be knocked up by the seedy old man in the trailer next to yours, but that’s right where y’all were headed.

But your brain is wiped when his hand wraps around your throat, applying just enough pressure to make your pulse jump, and you’ve lost the will to care all over again. Filled with his cum, threat of having this scrub’s baby over your head, and you don’t care. Poor cunt pathetically swollen and throbbing from the first round, but you don’t care. You want him again and again.

You can’t muster the words, all good sense fucked right out of you, so instead you look deep into his beautiful blues and nod with a pleading look in your own eyes.

He grins wickedly, cock twitching against your stomach at your agreement. "I knew you’d be a good one," He praises, positioning himself at your entrance once more. With a gentle push of his hips, he’s sinking back into your pussy, groaning at the feeling of his cum squelching around his shaft.

His lips find your neck, biting and sucking as he finds a pace, headboard slamming against the wall with each powerful thrust. "Gonna ruin this little pussy," He swears, hand tightening around your throat.

"Gonna make you mine, fuck, my own personal little cocksleeve."

His hand on your throat heightens your pleasure and leaves you seeing stars, both from the pleasure and the constriction on your oxygen. The new position allows you to see him, that beautiful face, his robust body, the way his abs flex as his hips snap into yours. From this position he can see your tits bounce as he pounds into you, the way your eyes roll back as the waves of pleasure crash over you.

Anakin slides in and out of your cunt with ease, thrusts lubed with his lingering cum spilling around you. It’s obscene, but so, so good.

“Ah, Ani,” your legs wrap tight around his waist, hold him deep inside you, nails dig into his back. “F-fuck you feel so good,” you gasp.

"Fuck yes, take it, take my cock like the good little slut you are.”

He releases your throat to grab your hips, angling them up to hit that sweet spot inside you with each pass. "Gonna fill this pussy up over and over, make sure my cum takes. You'll be swollen with my seed, doll. Round with my baby. Fuck, the thought of you, all knocked up, tits leaking, begging for more..."

He can feel his release building, balls drawing up tight, full and heavy with another load.

The flood of air, his filthy fantasies, his fucking expert cock driving into your raw, freshly-fucked cunt with otherworldly precision leaves your ears ringing as your orgasm rips through you. The entire world fades into black, tears prick at your eyes, electric contractions take over your whole being. And when you come back to the light, you’re begging.

“Fuck, Ani,” You squeak, “Please, please, please, cum inside me,” You plead, hijacked by a sudden desperation for the older man’s baby.

His eyes darken at your desperate plea, teeth grit as he feels his own orgasm ready to burst. "Fuck yes, gonna pump you full of my cum, make you fucking drip with it," He pants, hips stuttering as he erupts. "Fucking take it, take it all, just like that," He rambles, grinding his hips as he empties himself inside you.

Finally spent, he collapses on top of you, cock still twitching in your heat.

Your legs are shaking, pussy clenching at the aftershocks, overflowing your shared fluids. Your vision is blurry, throat parched, completely and positively wrecked. Strained sighs echo out of you, chest rising and falling heavily, pressing your bare breasts into his chest.

He presses sloppy kisses along your neck, your collarbone, tasting the sweat on your skin. "Goddamn, baby girl, that was intense.” He sighs.

“You’re tellin’ me,” You breathe out. “I can barely see.” You confess with a lazy smile, still yet to fully come back to your mind. You let out a pained sigh as you try to adjust under his weight, needing to stretch and soothe your sore limbs.

With a grunt, he rolls off of you, cock slipping from your abused hole with a wet sound.

"You did good, baby. Took my cock like a champ," He praises, running his fingers over your hair. "But don't think we're done yet. As soon as I'm hard again, I'm gonna flip you over and take you from behind. Fuck you so hard you forget your own name."

He leans in, eyes carefully observing you, and captures your lips in a filthy kiss.

"Gonna keep you in this bed all fucking night.”

You let out a heavy breath as you adjust to lay on your side, facing Anakin, placing a hand over his colorful chest. “I don’t know how you do it, old man. Even most men my age can barely cum twice, let alone be waiting for the next round after that,” You laugh, eyes lit up bright in your post-orgasm glow.

Anakin laughs too, and it’s nice. Unlike his usual laughter, snide and sarcastic, but honest.

His hand finds your ass and gives it a firm squeeze. "Years of practice, sweetheart.” In truth, the thought of you, young and eager, so responsive to his touch, is enough to keep him hard and ready. "Besides, I got a lot of lost time to make up for. Gotta make sure I ruin you properly, make it so no other man can ever satisfy you like I can."

He rolls on top of you once more, half-hard cock nestling against your thigh, resuming the feather-light kisses on your neck. "Ready for round three, baby girl? Gonna fuck this pussy so good, you'll be feeling me for weeks.”

The sound you let out is a mix of a sigh, a laugh, a moan, demonstrating your blissful exhaustion. “I don’t think I can take another round, Skywalker. I’m swollen enough as is.” You grip his biceps, resisting the urge to take his cock in your hand. He’s too fun to play with, but you can’t take the risk of turning him all the way on again, not when your cunt was already beginning to ache.

He groans at your rejection, cock jumping against your thigh. "You sure, doll? I'm not nearly done with this sweet little cunt," He mumbles pitifully into your neck.

But he can hear the exhaustion in your voice, feel the way your body trembles beneath him. Reluctantly, he rolls off of you, propping himself up on his elbow. "Alright, baby girl, you win. But don't think for a second that this is over. I'll have you again soon enough."

He leans in, capturing your lips in a slow, deep kiss, tongue lazily tangling with yours.

You moan into his mouth, gripping his bicep to ground yourself. One of your legs lifts to drape across his hips, pulling yourself in close to him. You were beginning to like the feeling of being held in his arms. It was ironic how such a dangerous, predatory man had managed to make you feel so safe.

You pull away to speak, eyes falling to the mattress. “I don’t really want you to go yet,” You admit quietly. You fought him for a long while, and now, like a stupid little girl, you didn’t want to let go.

He smiles at your confession, hand running soothing patterns on your back. "Didn't think you would, baby girl.”

Carefully, he gathers you into his arms, rolling onto his back and pulling you to lie on his chest. "Rest for a bit. Let me hold you," He murmurs, pressing a kiss to your forehead. It's a rare moment of tenderness from him, but something about you brings it out.

You crane your neck up to look at Anakin from where you lie on his chest.

With the late afternoon light peeking through the window, his eyes are illuminated. He’s breathtaking, showcasing the experienced he’d gained over the years, but also maintaining his youth. You still hardly knew the man, up until now he’d only been your annoying neighbor, but… He wasn’t as bad as you thought. Sweet, even. It made your heart melt. Who knew Anakin Skywalker was like this behind closed doors?

You reach over him to the nightstand to grab a cigarette. As the buzz envelopes your brain and my body, you sink into Anakin’s arms without a care in the world, kissing the colors dancing across his chest. Let this old man wreck you.

He watches you through heavy-lidded eyes, taking in the sight of your curves, the sheen of sweat on your skin. You look thoroughly fucked out, debauched, and it's a sight he could get used to.

His fingers trace idle patterns on your back as you relax against him. He kisses your head again, repeating the uncanny, saccharine gesture, breathing in the scent of sex and nicotine.

Your brain reminds you of something Anakin had said earlier, in the midst of his pursuit.

“D’you really think I’m living here for fun? Cause I like danger and bad boys?” You ask him with a laugh, voice thick, low, seductive with your exhaustion.

Anakin chuckles, sound rumbling through his chest. "Baby, I don't care why you're here. All that matters is that you are," he says, a hand sliding down to grab your ass. "Couldn't ask for a better view’n watchin’ you prance around in them tiny little bikinis.”

He sucks in a breath through his teeth as he grips you, jiggles you, pulls you closer. “Fuck, the things I’ve imagined doing to you…”

A small smile tugs at your lips, as a mixture of excitement, but also disappointment, courses through you at his words. You didn’t really expect him to actually care but… you didn’t think he’d be that blatant about it, fresh after fucking you. He doesn’t actually think about you, he doesn’t actually want to know you. You were a toy to him. And it… hurt. And you didn’t know what to make of that, yet. Where once there was a warmth fueled by laying beside him, there quickly became an emptiness.

You had to remind yourself Anakin was no good, he’d probably make a terrible partner realistically, and you knew this. But it never feels good to be actually sexually objectified. Although, objectively…. having sex with Anakin felt really good.

Here, with Anakin, lay the newest dilemma in your mind, body, and soul.

“I’m sure you’ve imagined more than enough to keep me busy,” You say as you start to sit up, giving Anakin a long kiss on the cheek, before clearing your throat. “I should really get cleaned up.”

He frowns, hand tightening reflexively on your hip. "Stay," he urges, almost angrily, in a tone that makes your heart freeze, ready to jump into fight or flight, waiting for the moment his characteristic sourness is turned toward you.

But Anakin just doesn’t like the feeling of you leaving, even if it's just to the bathroom.

But he notices the distant look in your eyes, the way you're already pulling away from him emotionally.

Fuck, he thinks. I should've known it was too good to be true, that a girl like you wouldn't stick around for a washed-up old ex-con like me.

He calls your name, voice softer than he’d ever heard it himself. "Don't go. Stay with me, just a little longer."

Your eyebrows knit together as Anakin’s soft tone takes you off guard, the way he nearly pleads with you to stay. It’s uncanny, but the way it makes your heart ache is even worse. He was starting to be a true mystery. “Um, okay,” you whisper, somewhat softening back into his side, heart still racing as you toe the line between danger and safety, dangerously thin in Anakin’s presence.

Still marinating in your confusion, something makes you take his arm and pull it close over you, gently stroking his skin. It was as if something reached out & told you he needed the comfort.

You lay there together for a while, holding each other in silence, feeling each other out. It’s nice, being in the arms of a strong, older man. Especially Anakin’s. You find solace there, you have to admit. You think he must have, too. You had to practically tear him off you and throw him out the door to get him to go home.

And as soon as the door shut behind him, you were wrecked, like a piece of your heart had walked out with him. But you held it together. Anakin was surely not the kind of man who wanted a little girl clinging to him every minute. You would be patient until you saw him again.

The door clicks shut behind me as I step out into the fading evening light. I can still feel the lingering warmth of your skin on mine, the soft curves of your body imprinted on my memory. Fuck, I didn't want to leave. Didn't want to let you go.

But I knew I had to. Couldn't let myself get too attached, too vulnerable. You were a kid, barely more than a baby, and I was a fucking mess. A criminal, a drunk, a man with a past so dark it would break you if you knew the half of it.

So I forced myself to walk away, each step an act of willpower I didn't have.

[thatsdemko]

love affair- a.leclerc & c.leclerc

masterlist

requested: n

pairings: Arthur leclerc x gasly!fem!reader & Charles leclerc x gasly!fem!reader

warnings: nsfw + not intended for minors + mentions of nudity + mentions of oral (f receiving)

a/n: mwahahaha I love creating chaos 😌 also the lyrics are from 5sos! I am well aware none of these men(and the beautiful y/n) are not English! it’s just part of the lyrics! this has zero to do with my previous Arthur x gasly!reader fic! feedback is always appreciated xx

《 the following content is not intended for minors. 》

It started on a weekend in May

I was looking for attention, needed intervention

his beautiful green eyes are glued to your body as you move across the hot sand of the beach. you begged your brother to pull over so you could take a dip, cool off, you said.

maybe it was your plan to get him to look, you were never going to say. but you felt those eyes in the passenger seat, he watched your breasts bounce up and down as you jog up to the car, the water that’s left on your tan legs glisten in the sun.

“don’t get your wet bottoms on my seats!” Pierre calls out as you dance around the hot pavement, Charles throws his jacket over the leather before you slip in.

“thank you, Charles.” you reach behind the seats pressing a friendly kiss to your brothers best friends cheek, Pierre groans trying to wipe the ends of your wet hair off the leather.

he watches you collapse against the burning black leather seats. little does he know that in exactly six hours he’d be crammed up in the back eating you out. he’d be shoving his hard cock into your swollen pussy, his hand gripping your throat while you choke his name.

Before I knew it, it was serious

Dragged me out the bar to the back seat of her car

TWELVE HOURS EARLIER

you think you’re the only one awake. you still tip toe around the creaking old floors, you’re in nothing but your brothers old alpha tauri shirt and a pair of an ex boyfriends boxers. when you make your way into the living room you half expect to see someone else awake.

“my my, is this a sight to see.” Charles smirks, chuckle escaping his lips. he’s never seen in anything other than a tight shirt and a pair of bottoms that are way too short. even when you were kids your style was far similar to what it is now.

“oh fuck off,” you mumble slipping next to him on the love seat, and he extends the blanket over into your lap. two of you now watching whatever old black and white movie was on.

“can’t sleep?” he asks, voice in a hushed tone watching your body settle into the seats, thigh quickly brushing his before you pulled away. he can’t help but feel the nervousness scatter his stomach.

“not with my brother snoring in the other room.” you roll your eyes, as much as you love Pierre, his nostrils were the death of you every time you take this summer trip.

“why don’t you sleep in my room? Arthur doesn’t snore. we can swap beds.” he suggests, and you almost laugh knowing he doesn’t want to spend his nights in your pink and white wallpapered bedroom. as much as you know he’s in touch with his feminine side, you’re sure he won’t last the night with the pink colors mocking him.

“that or we could just piss Arthur off, have Pierre sleep in your room.” you suggest and he nods. the silence and crackling of the old film are what occupies the air, it’s almost unfamiliar to you both. this room was always full of laughter and joy, you hate hearing it so dead.

“why don’t you just sleep in my bed with me?” he’s half serious, the sleep deprivation was doing most of his talking right now. when he looks you in the eyes he doesn’t expect you to say yes, but you do. now you’re wrapped in his white linen sheets and the cool breeze from his window blows into your face.

you’d be lying to yourself if you didn’t wish this was something more. part of you woke up because you knew he was down there shirtless lounging around in nothing but his tiny shorts. you’re not sure if it’s your own sleep deprivation convincing you that you needed him, but will you be thankful in twenty four hours for what god brings you.

NOW

“sleep well?” Arthur watches you nearly stumble down the stairs into the living room. you’re practically limping, it’s obvious you either hurt yourself at the club or whoever left all those hickeys on your neck left you disoriented.

“something like that.” you wave him off heading into the kitchen where the smell of bacon, eggs, and toast are coming from. your mouth is watering you’re so hungry, you almost don’t even catch your brothers glare while you scarf down two plates of food.

“do I even want to know?” he asks, fork gesturing to the purple and yellow bruises that scatter your neck. he can’t even look at you, he’s disgusted by whoever the man was that left his marking. little does he know the man is his best friend who just entered the kitchen mumbling his late good mornings.

“where were you for our run? I knocked on your door five times.” Lorenzo shoves a plate of food into his brothers chest half caring that some of the egg fell on to the floor. he’s disappointed in his younger brothers lack of motivation and discipline.

“I overslept.” Charles lies. that’s partially true, but while Lorenzo was knocking on his door at five in the morning, you were giving him a good morning treat before his run. he claims it to have been the best way to wake up, it’s why he skipped the run.

Pierre nearly chokes on his dry toast when he sees the nail marks against his friends back. they are still fresh and bright red, he’s surprised Arthur didn’t say a single thing when he walked by.

“and somebody was worried about not getting something this trip.”

“oh wow,” Arthur barely touches one of the marks on his back, it earns a hiss from Charles as he tries to swat the younger man to move along, “these are going to leave quite the mark for awhile.”

you try to hide the red hue that’s floating across your face. you’re lucky all of them are too focused on the nail marks and the details of his wild night. you didn’t expect them to be so obvious, but the acrylics were still fresh from the other day and sharper than you expected them to be.

“would you see her again?” Lorenzo asks sliding into the chair next to Pierre. the question brought you a wave of nausea, you get up instantly once he sits down. there’s no way you’ll be able to hear the truth or the lie. either way you know you crossed a line, and seeing Charles in that setting once more wasn’t an option for you.

“yeah, I would.”

—

“you don’t own a single thing that doesn’t compliment you, huh?” he takes your hand in his allowing you to twirl and show off the tight body con dress.

you shrug, sheepish smile spreading across your lips, “you like it?” you’re not sure what’s provoked you to ask, but he just nods tongue licking his bottom lip watching you saunter on over to find a pair of high heels to match.

his eyes trail after your body, it’s like he’s never seen an ass and a pair of tits as good as yours. everything about you demanded his, hell anybody’s, attention. every inch of you screamed perfection, it’s impossible for a man to look away, and right now it’s impossible for him.

“what’s on your mind, leclerc?” you bend down to pick up your black high heels and move to a chair to slide them on. he’s right at the edge of the coffee table doing it for you instead. his fingers pull the little string through the hoops, finger tips grazing your legs.

“you.” he says, watching you slide your leg off his thigh and stand up adjusting the dress down your thighs. his eyes follow your body with lust, you swear you’ve never seen a man wrapped around your finger so quickly.

you’re smiling, he’s so pure, you think to yourself, as you use your index finger to tilt his chin upwards, “I’m thinking of you too, Arthur.” you bend down, head dipping to press your lips against his. they’re sweet and soft just like he imagined them to be, he practically moans at the delicacy.

he runs his hands up and down your body, you don’t mind that they linger a little too long on your ass, you think it’s adorable how excited he is. little does he know he’d have you sucking on his swollen cock in the public restroom of the bar. you’d be on your knees listening to him moan your name and later that evening he’d be asking if he was just as good as the guy from last night.

he’d then take you to that same car, and just like his brother, his hard cock would be entering your throbbing pussy each stroke full of passion and intimacy. you could melt at how careful the leclerc’s take their sexual activities.

you can’t tell him who’s better, there’s no clear winner. but god forbid you would never tell him the man before him was his own brother.

When the lights go out, she's all I ever think about

The picture burning in my brain, kissing in the rain

I can't forget, my English love affair

[tarosunshine]

are you taking requests? If so can you pleaseee write a reaction for riize when they have a crush on idol reader

⊹ SUGAR RUSH .

fluff headcanons ⭒ riize female r. words 501 . . . 𝒞ataloge !

SHOTARO

the type to do dance covers of your songs.

he got viral for his dancer skills and made a trend on tiktok.

he just went to one of your concerts.

you noticed him two years ago because of the trend on tiktok and because one of his videos on youtube went viral too.

he made his friends like your songs.

he couldn't believe when one day he was there, right in the scenery, being one of the backup dancers.

EUNSEOK

he started by listening to your songs in secret.

you were the star of the moment, but for some reason, he didn't want to anyone knows.

when one of his friends gave him one of your albums for his birthday, he couldn't stop smiling.

he doesn't say it at loud that he likes you as an idol, but everybody knows.

your songs never can be missing on his road trips.

SUNGCHAN

THE fanboy.

he blessed the day he found your music.

sungchan finds your interviews very entertaining to watch.

he thinks you're the funniest person alive.

he went to one of your shows when you weren't so much known.

the biggest cheerleader when you win a prize.

he's compromised when it's about streaming.

WONBIN

definitely he's the type to do guitar covers of your songs.

his viral videos are the ones when he covers your latest album.

he collects photocards... (NOBODY CAN KNOWS THAT)

he completely flushed when once at one of your concerts, you gave him your pink cowgirl hat.

looking cool in an outfit full black, and a poker face while on his earphones are sounding your girlish song ever.

SEUNGHAN

he take inspo of your outfits.

another dancer who makes dance covers, always taking your place in the formation.

your hip hop vibe and music of your group match his taste, so he enjoys to dance.

the type to sing your songs on the car, really feeling the music.

everybody around him says you're his type, but he denials that.

that one time he went to a fan meeting, he was so nervous, that he completely forgot how to talk.

one time he saw you walking on the street with another group memeber but he went too nervous and afraid of scare you two, so he just kept that memorie with him.

SOHEE

the type who smiles like and idiot when you do.

he just loves the way you sing, because he likes it too.

he bought the lightstick of your group.

once he put you as his wallpaper. (it's somebody wanna match his freak?)

he makes cover of your songs in acapella.

the type of cute fanboy.

ANTON

definitely has an edit account. like that account that almost the all random knows.

he knows every. single. son, even the forgotten ones.

he goes to your shows every time he can.

he almost fainted that time when you waived at him.

his friends bother him the entire week after that.

the type who shuts the hater on the comments section (and he ate every time).

[charnelhouse]

press the gas and ride

gif by @riley-keoughs pairing: Joel Miller x f!Reader (nicknamed Dolly) word count: 2.4k+ summary: comfort in a car warnings: hurt/comfort. smut. angst. A/N: this takes place a month after teacups, but no need to read. tlou ep 3 spoilers. this is really just trash smut. Joel Miller Masterlist

She watched Joel's expression buckle as he read the letter. His brow furrowed, the muscle in his jaw tensing. She looked away, suddenly feeling intrusive. She'd never come here with Joel. His trips to Bill were semi-frequent, but this was the first time he’d brought her. Of course, he hadn't expected this. He hadn't thought they'd be walking into a dead house. 

The fresh air through the open front door bullied the stench of rotten meat and vegetables. The dinner on the table buzzed with flies. There were starched, ironed napkins folded in triangles with lovely patterns of woodland creatures. She traced the tiny squirrel sewed into the fabric before studying the label on the wine bottle. She was intent on busying herself. She wanted to give Joel space, but he'd been more paranoid than usual since the attack a month ago. 

I don't want you out of my sight.

She hadn't stopped aching. Brutal. Horrible. She'd slaughtered two people, and her mind continued to spin with the memories of it. She was unable to remove the taste of blood from her tongue. She could not unhear the shuddering death rattle or unfeel the way the man beneath her had wriggled and then spasmed like an electrocuted rodent.  

Joel had also seemingly lost his cool that night. After he'd tucked her into bed, she'd heard him smashing up the first floor. In the morning, he'd refused to let her see what he had done and when she fell apart again (in the safety of their QZ apartment), Joel wouldn't have it.

He'd crouched so they could be eye-level, large hand cupping the back of her skull. "They got what they deserved. Nothin' more than that."

He was right, but teaching her head to stop was easier said than done. 

She scanned the dining room before settling on the mahogany cabinet full of delicate china. When she noticed the powder blue and white teacups, she winced. She couldn't escape it. Everything triggered her. She needed to learn to grow up and out of her pain because it wouldn't serve her and certainly not Joel. He bulldozed through everything, and she had to follow suit. 

Joel cleared his throat. He had stopped reading and was staring out the window, far away. She intended to bring him back to shore. 

"They have a car?" she asked, and Joel's eyes swept toward her. Inscrutable. 

"Yeah." He scraped a hand over his mouth. "Yeah."

***

Joel guided her to a guest room, instructing her to clean up and be ready in an hour.

He'd found her a box of women's clothes that she happily dug through. The very idea of new outfits felt celebratory- even if they smelled a bit stale.

The musty fabric reminded her of her grandmother's closets. She'd used to hide behind the wool coats and leather shoes, toes snug in the sea-green carpet. She'd get light-headed on mothballs. 

Her family was gone. A long time gone.

She supposed Joel was the only person who really gave a shit about her well-being. If she died, he’d have the memory of her, at least. She wouldn’t be dust.

After she showered, she yanked on a sundress and sneakers. Joel would undoubtedly say something, but she was past caring. She stared at herself in the mirror, petting the floral-print bodice. She twisted side to side, the breeze from the open window licking between her legs and under her arms. 

She thought of Bill and Frank in the next room and abruptly stopped. Morbid. Strange to be so fine rummaging through a house when two dead men were feet away. Their window was open, too, and she wondered if the sweet brush of cool air had cradled them into the next life. She stepped forward, pressing her ear against the wood. She listened, tapping her fingertips over the wallpaper. 

Silence. She tapped again. Waiting.

"What are you doing?"

She whirled around to find Joel standing in the doorway with a towel around his waist. He'd combed his wet hair back, but a single strand boyishly drifted over his forehead. The scars across his torso gleamed white under the naked afternoon sun.

"Nothing." She shifted her weight, the dress swishing with her. 

He frowned as he scrutinized her outfit. "You can't wear that."

"Because?"

"Because you can't do shit in a dress that short," he replied flatly. 

She put her hands on her hips. "Can I just wear this today? It's-fuck-it's the prettiest thing I've worn since-since I don't know." She averted her eyes, feeling childish at her reasoning.

Because I want to be beautiful for once. I want to look beautiful for you and not covered in grime, blood, and jeans, two sizes too big. 

The expression on Joel's face flickered between irritated and puzzled. She thought he might stride across the room and tear it off her. 

Once in a while, he'd give her shit about things like this-pecking at her for enjoying luxuries that didn't exist anymore. He'd call her a spoiled brat when he really wanted to tick her off. Instinctively, she knew he was doing it, so she'd snap at him, deal him back with a rough hand. 

He always won and she assumed he’d win here, as well.

She expected him to say no, but he took a breath instead. Running his hand across his chest, he massaged an old bullet wound hidden in the sparse hair before turning back into the hall. White flag. 

Then, his voice pitched so low it grazed the floor. "Fine."

***

The letter must have softened him. Repeatedly punched him until he was a tender, pliant piece of meat. He hadn't even twitched when she snatched two guns too massive for her off the basement wall or smuggled a box of wine into the car.

His hands scraped over the steering wheel when he slid into the front seat. He stared blankly at the dash and then the manicured driveway. The grass was just beginning to creep away from the lawn, encroaching onto the asphalt. 

She wasn't sure how to deal with this. He usually seemed to take death in stride. His grief was like a chalky, oversized pill, but he swallowed it nonetheless. He'd made it clear that he didn't even like Bill yet...

"I'm sorry," she offered.

"Take your feet off the dash," he ordered stiffly.

She scowled but did as she was told, figuring she didn't need to push Joel Miller’s buttons again today. She settled into her seat, hands prim in her lap as she waited for him to begin driving.

He didn't. 

He continued to sit silently, seemingly unable to turn the car on. The hand around the steering wheel tightened, his scabbed knuckles flexing and paling beneath the windshield. His nostrils flared, and she suddenly knew:

He was going to crack. He was going to burst down the middle, and he needed her. 

Abruptly, she crawled over the console, gripping him by the lapels of his button-up to balance her weight. The fresh clothes looked good on him-the plaid green shirt fit his broad frame like a glove. She nearly toppled into the door before he grasped her wrist roughly. “What are you-"

"Shh," she murmured, straddling his lap. He stared at her. 

Joel wore his grief in the creases of his face. His pain. His anger. He was beautiful to her. Sexy in a way that couldn't be understood. Older, too. Older than any man she'd ever had before, but it wasn't like she'd had that many men, to begin with. 

"I'm here," she whispered, her thighs squeezing around his own. His mouth parted, exhaling. 

She wondered what undercurrents ran beneath his skin-his armor. What did he think about? How did he see her? 

She lifted herself onto her knees, and Joel's hands automatically seized her hips. Unbuttoning his jeans, she tugged the zipper down, and his eyes found hers. Good. Coyly, she licked her palm before gripping his half-hard cock. She stroked him slow, glancing down to watch the blush-red head disappear in the circle of her fist. He shuddered, hips lifting a few inches off the leather seat. 

She intended to be fast about this. Pleasurable consolation was a language she knew Joel understood. 

“I’m going to fuck you,” she said and he shivered under her touch. He remained silent as the grave though his eyes never left hers. Perhaps, he was struck dumb by her forwardness.

She clutched his shoulder as she braced herself before sinking down and guiding him into the heat of her cunt. She'd worn the sun dress for a reason. 

Joel made a gritty, strangled noise as she took him to the hilt, lowering herself until his thighs were flush with her ass. The band of his jeans grazed her skin, the metal of the zipper catching flesh. His nostrils flared as she tightened, walls spasming because he was always a little too big. 

Wordlessly, she wrapped her arms around his shoulders, forcing his face against her chest. He sighed deeply as she rocked forward, his fingers biting into her waist. It could hardly be called a fuck, just her grinding down and him pushing his cock upward until he couldn't claim another centimeter. 

She cradled the back of his skull, rooting her nose around his damp hair that smelled like clover and a scent she recalled from before - something generic and artificial like Irish Spring. 

Finding leverage was proving difficult, but she did her best. She rose up, keeping him halfway inside her before sliding down. Repeat. In her defense, she’d never fucked anyone in a car before.

One of her hands snuck out the open window to grasp the top of the car. It was dusty, and she had this ridiculous worry that maybe someone would crawl into the garage and bite her hand. She ripped it back to cup the side of Joel's face instead. His mouth twitched, his lids heavy like he was drunk and dazed. He didn't even care she had smeared old car dust into his beard. He'd have to shower again. She would, too, and she wanted to laugh at the strange coincidence of paving new roads in their relationship through hot showers. After all, he'd wrenched her away from a panic attack in that house outside Boston. He'd held her in the shower, mouth brushing her ear.

"You did a hell of a job."

"You did so fuckin' well, sweetheart."

She swelled from the memory of Joel's praise. She wanted to pay him back.

"I've got you," she murmured against his temple, nails tracing a line across his scalp through his thick damp grays. "I've got you, Joel."

He nodded-or she thought he did. His gestures were always so vague. Sometimes he'd hold her down and fuck her brains out while telling her how much he wanted to kill her for being stupid and acting recklessly. It would then always end with him possessively clutching her body to his.

You send mixed signals, Joel. 

What?

You said you wanted to kill me, and now you won't let me go.

I never said that. 

She felt him twitch inside her, his mouth dragging across her clavicle before he abruptly shoved the top of her dress down and latched to her nipple. He sucked it, tongue darting over the nub and causing her pussy to clench around his length.

"Sweetheart," he mumbled. 

"I know," she said. 

Their grief sat between them - a weight strung about their ankles, dragging them down to the deepest parts of whatever was left. She knew blips of his pain as he knew hers. He comforted her in the ways he understood, not necessarily with words but with actions. She could do that for him now, remind him that he had her.

She rolled her hips, and he groaned, his breath puffing against her sternum. She snagged him tighter and dug her grip into his skin like she was holding fast to a rock in a riptide. The car was so small, the steering wheel bumping against her lower back, and you could hear everything.

The rustle of fabric. The squelch of her sex and slap of skin. 

Finally, Joel planted his feet and began to drive up into her. Short, fast strokes that hit just right. It almost hurt. It gave her a belly ache, but everything else fell away. The car filled with his low, subdued grunts and her whimpers. 

He secured his arms around her waist, one hand sneaking to the base of her scalp to embed his thumb into the muscle beneath her ear. They were tangled in such a way that it would have looked like anything - they could be devouring each other, feasting on the other's throats as they fucked fast and sad.

Somewhere along the way, Joel tilted his head and demanded her mouth.

He kissed her fiercely, tongue hot and aggressive as it wrestled with hers. Exploring. "Baby," he sighed against her slippery teeth. "Fuck."

Joel, her man of few words, but just the right ones. She still didn't call him anything but his name. Nothing else fit him.

"Shit," she gasped as he delivered a harsh thrust. Stay with me. Stay focused.

Her climax paraded around her belly, kicking up dirt and shouting out toward a faceless crowd. It was turning in circles, unable to find the finish line. He was screwing her tectonic plate deep, but the friction wasn't enough for her to get off. It didn't matter. This was about him. Not her. 

He gripped her hip and shoved her down before spearing up, grinding in slow, determined circles. He left her mouth to find her throat, sucking methodically at her pulse. 

It didn't take too long after that. He grumbled something into her jaw (maybe, Dolly) before his hips stuttered beneath her. She felt him fill her, warmth blooming outward. She'd have to deal with that, but for now, she worshiped him. He lifted his face, flushed from exertion - golden, bright, and devastating as his dark eyes searched hers.

“You’re good,” she praised, pressing her lips to his chin.

When she crawled off his lap, she was sticky between her legs. He huffed, tugging at the edge of her dress as if trying to hide her modesty. 

No one's around here, Joel.

No one. It's you, and it's me. It's us. 

She was sore as fuck, like she'd been smacked in the crotch. Her orgasm was lost somewhere, hanging by a few threads, but she didn't want it. Instead, she craved the longing-the lingering frustration of her missed pleasure. She brushed her hair out of her face and smoothed her dress.

"That was-"

She was hauled back over to him. Their brows bumped, noses jamming together before Joel kissed her hard. When he finally pulled away, he asked, "You feel safe with me?"

"What kind of question-

"You feel safe with me?" he urged, hands seizing her cheeks. She wondered if it had something to do with what had happened at that house a month ago. The teacup house. Or was this because of what had been written in that letter beyond Bill and Frank's goodbyes?

She felt that if she probed, he would splinter. It wasn't her business. She told him the truth. 

Smiling, she placed her hand over his. "Yes," she assured him. "I always feel safe with you."

Joel took a breath, nodding once, before pulling away. He stabbed the keys into the ignition, twisting them north, and the car rumbled to life.

When they left the garage, she watched the walls creep over him again. 

[verysium]

ACT 1, SCENE 4: blue lock headcanons

shidou would view traditionally ugly creatures as strangely cute. it's not a disgusting cockroach, it's a silly little bug with eyelashes as long as his. no, he's not going to let go of that scraggly one-eyed cat that likely has rabies. it looks too sweet to be abandoned on the streets. his dream childhood pet was definitely a piranha.

aiku wears band t-shirts without knowing the actual music group. no, he does not listen to sex and the pistols, he just thought the design looked very cool. would also wear lana del rey merchandise just to impress the ladies. the only song he realistically knows is west coast, and even then he's only heard it at a random sushi restaurant.

reo would have stereotypical rich people problems. he can't decide if he should bring his chauffeur and valet or actually drive the car himself for your upcoming date. also spends at least one hour seriously pondering over which gucci silk pattern tie looks better on him. trick question, they're both the exact same shade.

shidou steals your covergirl perfect point eyeliner because he thinks it looks way better on him. also a big fan of body glitter and super vulgar eyeshadow palette names. his favorite hue so far is that one hot pink fuchsia that literally burns your eyes with its brightness. nothing is too neon with this man.

ness is the epitome of the sunshine-turned-unhinged-maniacal-killer trope. he would be the bestest boy, but if someone even lays a single hand on you, he’s already plotting their murder. eerily good at hiding bodies but would never divulge his secrets in fear of scaring you off.

shidou would walk unashamedly to the women’s clothing section of the general department store. would never be embarrassed by the bra sizes. you have a double D? he’s already trying three of the cup sizes on just to see if he can get you a comfortable one. if you’re part of the itty bitty titty committee, he wouldn’t judge either. this man loves femininity in all its full glory.

aryu exclusively uses dior beauty. he would rather die than use a generic drugstore makeup brand. sometimes you wonder if he's secretly a dermatologist because this man knows the exact shade, tint, and quality of product for every possible skin tone and type. also very passionate about the controversies behind animal testing and parabens. would be exceedingly picky when it comes to anything he smears on his face (think jeffree star but without the problematic issues.)

sae has his phone screen set to default wallpaper. he only has the translator app downloaded, and that's about it. his personal trainer takes care of all the rest of his stats. after he started dating you though, he kept pictures of you in his private photo albums.

noa cannot tell a white lie to save his life. if he doesn't know something, he will not know something. he doesn't see the point in hiding that. sometimes has trouble reading the room, so you need to remind him that brutal honesty and pure rationality aren't always the way to go. he does become more conscientious after that.

bachira used to draw crayon portraits of all the imaginary monsters he saw at night. scared the shit out of his parents because they thought he was hallucinating (he actually was.) nowadays, he's a lot tamer because you force him to take his meds.

isagi is, in fact, the number one mind reader and manipulator throughout the entire series. this man is clairvoyant, psychic, and telepathic all packaged into one. sometimes his right ear twitches, and he just knows someone is talking about him behind his back. unfortunately, all of this occurs in his head, so no one on the outside world actually knows about his sixth sense.

rin was absolutely bombarded with valentine's chocolates last year, but when he sorted through the entire pile and realized you hadn't given him one, he returned them all to their respective senders. will refuse any form of sweets unless it came directly from you. you need to be there physically to hand him the box.

kaiser writes, thinks, and speaks entirely in german even if no one else can understand him. he secretly can speak english but chooses not to because he absolutely hates anglicization. refuses to compromise his own language and culture just to fit in with the rest of the world. it's degrading. if he had it his way, german would be the new lingua franca. definitely thinks translation is for dummies. what do you mean you're not already bilingual? you better run, not walk, to that little green owl app. does use his foreign accent to make you feel flustered though. has a voice kink but in a non-traditional sort of way. you have to be the one turned on by his voice. only then will he start feeling it.

yukimiya loves it when you lose your shit. one time a jerk cut you off in traffic, and you started aggressively cursing. he fell in love with you right there on the spot. it was something about the fire in your eyes and the way you refused to take any attitude from the other party. that self-assertiveness you exhibit is so empowering.

aiku takes you out to karaoke bars just to hear you sing. you look so pretty under the purple disco lights, belting your little heart out to the rock lyrics. sometimes he has to take a minute to just appreciate how lucky he is to have you.

nagi didn't know that you have to actively check and update your email inbox. he had no clue school even started until one day the principal called his parents over his thirteen student absences. he thinks it's a headache to even get out of bed and put his fingers on his laptop keyboard. since when was the distance between his arrow cursor and the search bar that wide? it looks too long for him to reach. maybe he should just do this tomorrow.

reo does not know what saving money is. the first time you asked him for a promo code, he looked at you as if you had just spouted a strange language. when you showed him your little wallet full of cut-out coupons, he literally had to hold them up to the light and closely inspect them. it was definitely a moment of enlightenment.

sae likes anklets, especially the super thin gold chain ones. something about the way it brushes against his bare leg when you sleep beside him drives him out of his mind. he's also a sucker for subtle jewelry as evidenced by his necklace and wrist bands.

otoya practically lives for instant gratification. he would be guilty of love bombing. loses interest quickly, but sometimes wishes he could actually commit for once. football is important to him because it is one of the only activities he has consistently practiced for over a decade.

karasu is down bad for anyone who can actually outsmart him. you got a higher mark than him on the recent exam? damn, his heart just beat a little faster. spaces out in a love-filled haze whenever you ramble on about your nerdy little subject interests. he is a sapiophile through and through. intelligence just does it for him.

loki is the type of person who absolutely demolishes your self-esteem, and yet you still cannot bring yourself to hate him. when people say god has his favorites, they mean this man right here. he would be an innately talented genius while simultaneously being the most humble human being in existence. at this point, it's not his problem. it's a you problem. try harder next time.

chris is very similar to a neurosurgery resident. he has the largest self-entitled ego in existence. not a single day goes by when he doesn't remind you that he is, in fact, one of the highest ranking football players in the world. you can't say anything about it though because he has rightfully earned his arrogance. i mean, what are you going to use against him? his grueling hours of blood, sweat, and tears? this man works harder than the devil himself. in fact, he is the devil.

rin is the type to get emotionally attached to the most ordinary objects ever. he collects batteries and keeps a separate drawer as a graveyard for them once they die. the triple A ones get a special funeral since they're so hard to find. he just can't bring himself to let go of objects that no longer serve a purpose (just like his relationship with sae, sorry not sorry.)

hiori cannot go to bed unless it is absolutely dark. the curtains have to be closed. the door has to be locked. everything has to be drowned in pitch black. the reason he does this is because he still has flashbacks from that tiny strip of light underneath his bedroom door. his parents would argue all night when they thought he had gone to sleep. it still haunts him to this very day.

nagi wishes he could be a cat. sleeping all day and sunbathing on the rooftop seem like great ways to spend his life. unfortunately for him, he is not a cat. when he dies though, he wants to be reincarnated as one. either that, or a rock.

rin snores like a whole power drill at night. sae secretly hates his brother for that but can’t bring himself to wake him. whenever the itoshi family goes on vacation, ear plugs are not an option but a necessity.

chigiri knows ventriloquism. he used to play with his sister's dolls and make up character voices for each of them. definitely uses it as a party trick or as a way to make you laugh when you've had a bad day.

sae always keeps his feelings to himself. sometimes he finds it easier to rant to you than others, but then he almost always ends up retracting back into himself after realizing just how much he's revealed. he hates being emotionally slutty.

ness is the big scary dog in his relationship with kaiser, not the other way around. everyone thinks kaiser is the intimidating one, but ness wears a leash for a reason. one of them is the chihuahua, and the other one is a rottweiler. you can already guess who is who.

reo was having a mental breakdown in his limousine one time, but he ran out of his usual luxury aloe vera lotion tissues. instead of buying more, he took out his cheque-book and ripped out the pages to dry his tears. money is just paper to him. it can be recycled (no, it can't.)

loki is the type to show you a sweet and heartwarming smile before pulling out the most atrocious uno card combination in existence. i'm talking reverse, wild card, skip, draw 2. you sat there for twenty-five minutes trying desperately to draw a green. by the time you were done, he only had one card left. (screw you, loki.)

niko draws his own manga whenever he doesn't like how the official plot ends. if the canon ever diverges from the way he imagined it in his own head, he will draft his own fan fiction instead. one time, he rewrote an entire shonen jump series just to bring his favorite character back to life (*cough cough* said character wears a blindfold.)

karasu is definitely the "um, actually..." type of student. he will always have a rebuttal on hand. the truth is never black-and-white with this man, and he will argue both sides if it furthers his own agenda. he reads the encyclopedia front and back every night just so he can pull out a random arbitrary fact to win an argument some time in the near future.

shidou had a bad habit of chewing pens as a child until one day it finally exploded in his mouth. from then on, he vowed only to chew glittery gel pens. that way when it exploded in his mouth, his tongue would be stained a bright, shimmery purple. if you ever got him a scented gel pen pack, his life would finally be complete.

rin cannot differentiate between colors. if you asked him to find the difference between bubblegum pink and cotton candy pink, he would not know. to him, seven colors is already a lot to memorize. when he was a child, he only drew pictures with a single color because it was less of a hassle that way.

otoya used to think lime green was the most aesthetically pleasing color in existence. almost considered dying his hair that shade until karasu told him that girls don't actually like guys who look like neon highlighters. still wishes he did it though. he wants to glow in the dark.

© verysium 2023 / please do not translate, repost, or plagiarize any of my works

[octuscle]

Can you do a sequel/follow up to Fun at the Not so Fair Ground where a paid of rude and obnoxious preppy university guys get on the bad side of the travelling fun fair workers, particularly Daz, and they get the same treatment Darren did? That was such a hot story

This is a sequel to this story:

Robert and Melvyn had been given $200 each by their parents to have fun at the fair. Of course, they both knew that this was the price the two friendly couples were willing to pay for a relaxing evening without their annoying and spoiled brats. And they also knew that $400 was painfully enough to pay for an entire evening of fun. Even at a carnival, which would certainly not be too expensive as entertainment for the lower classes. But the two of them were more than flush with cash themselves. Robert had a well-stocked trust fund from his grandparents, which yielded a more than generous return. And Melwyn had inherited a block of flats from an uncle, the rental income from which could easily finance his life of luxury. The 400 dollars hardly mattered.

So now the two of them were at the fair. Kids' stuff… They had already celebrated their 12th birthday at Disney World. What else could impress them?

As feared, the whole fair was a pretty boring affair. They even had no fun attacking small children in the bumper cars. Nevertheless, they behaved as if they owned everything here. They let every member of staff know what they thought of the underprivileged people here: NOTHING! And they didn't let people they didn't think much of say anything to them either. They didn't care about rules. And if someone reprimanded them for it, they didn't care either. They were both Upper Eastside. And the others there were Staten Island.

“Hey guys!” they heard a voice from behind them. “A number of colleagues and guests have complained about you. Behave yourselves, or I'll have to expel you from the fair!” Robert and Melvyn turned around. Who dared to speak to them like that? The guy who had dared to do that was obviously Staten Island or worse. A lowlife who spent too much time in the gym or working hard. Maybe only five or six years older than them. But from a different world. He smelled like an ordinary cologne, was dressed the way you might expect someone who worked the carnival to be dressed. His heavy chain screamed “fake”. But his eyes! Piercing blue. Almost hynotizing!

“Listen, you asshole, we're guests and we're not going to let someone like you tell us anything anyway!” said Melvyn. Robert laughed, held out 50 dollars to the guy and said, “That's enough for you to stop bothering us?" The guy smiled. Well, his mouth was smiling. His piercing blue eyes didn't. Robert and Melvyn had messed with the wrong guy. Kyle was Daz's right-hand man. Kyle knew his way around the fair almost as well as Daz, who was the undisputed ruler here. And Daz had given Kyle a free hand in how to deal with the two troublemakers. They had a special way of solving such problems here.

“Guys, maybe we just got off to a bad start. Let's forget what happened.” Kyle continued to smile his ice-cold smile. “I'm the boss of the ghost train here. There's a special ride for special guests only. It would be a pleasure to invite you. He held out two plastic chips with “VIP” written on them. Ghost train...! What a pathetic amusement. But it was cool to see how quickly this bastard caved in to them. He was scum. And Robert and Melvyn were the bosses! So they graciously took the chips and followed Kyle to the ghost train.

It was a terribly boring ride. Only small children would be scared of something like that. Robert and Melvyn were glad when the ride was over and the barrier of their little gondola opened again. They headed for the exit. Suddenly a door slammed shut in front of them. And a hidden wallpaper door creaked open. This had to be the part with the special tour. But here too: Boring effects. Some of them were obviously broken. And the dust and cobwebs seemed to be real. Robert and Melvyn stood in front of a picture with the caption “Your greatest horror”. Well, yes. Greatest horror. It showed two young men with cheap clothes, a cheap haircut and obviously no future. Robert and Melvyn weren't afraid of people like that. They ignored people like that. Next to the picture was a mirror. It was labeled “Your future”. Robert and Melvyn saw two young men with cheap clothes, a cheap haircut and obviously no future. Damn! Robert grabbed his face and his reflection did the same.

Robert and Melvyn looked at each other and turned pale. They looked like scum working at the fair. Cheap faux-leather clothes, chavish haircuts. But fit, athletic bodies. “Dude, what do you look like?” Robert wanted to ask. But instead he said “Yo, what do you look like, huh?”. And he spoke in a heavy New Jersey accent. “Yo, we gotta bounce, like, right now! We gotta skedaddle outta here!” Melvyn replied. And his accent was just as heavy!

In a panic, they both looked for the exit. They found themselves behind the ghost train. Above the exit was a sign that read “Employees only”. Darren tried to open the door. Melvyn rattled the handle. A man opened it for him. Behind the door was a small staff lounge. The man asked him if they wanted to apply for the job of young man traveling with the fair. The two ran off in a panic.

“Yo, buddy, you got any smokes or what?” asked Robert Melvyn. Neither of them had ever smoked in their lives. But their nicotine-yellow fingers now spoke a different language. Melvyn looked in the breast pocket of his leatherette vest. There were exactly two cigarettes left in the crumpled pack of filterless Marlboros. Robert took his Zippo out of his trouser pocket. Damn, that felt good!

“Oi, you muppets! How long are you gonna lounge about? Mel, get your butt to the dodgy car ticket stand! And Rob, shift that rubbish from the beer tent, yeah?!” Shit, if Kyle was in a bad mood, he'd just fuck them both hard again. Sure, it wouldn't be that bad. But there was no money in getting fucked. Mel and Rob finished their fags and trudged off to their chores. While Rob dragged the garbage bags to the bins, he wondered for a moment why he was doing this. Wasn't he actually here to have fun? He heard Mel's hoarse voice shouting through the loudspeaker “Oi, lads and lasses, next shindig's 'round the corner! Come and have a right laugh like ya ain't never had before. Let's hit it, yeah? WILD TIMES AHEAD!” It was clear that Mel had got the better job again. He had probably blown Daz or Kyle earlier. Shit, he could do with another fag already.

Rob and Mel were not the smartest employees at the fair. But they could get stuck in and work hard. They had lived in a caravan with Rob's stepbrother Kyle since they were kids. The fact that they were only stepbrothers had the advantage that they could fuck without any problems. And Mel, as a distant cousin or something, who had lost his parents at an early age and moved in with his godfather Daz, was free as a bird anyway. Shit, he'd already had every showman's cock in his face at the funfair. But preferably Daz's. And that gave him a certain special position.

Unlike Kyle and Daz, Rob and Mel weren't lead wolves even after years. But at least visually they could pass for alphas. They loved life at the fair. They wouldn't trade places with the snobs running around at the annual Newport Beach funfair for the world. Mel imagined Rob with silky hair and a polo shirt when he saw a youngster like that running past him. The youngster looked disdainful. Mel snorted. No, his best buddy was more of the bald-and-naked-upper-body type. Thank God!